After watching this poverty row mystery -- and re-running the climactic scene three or four times -- there's no need for a spoiler alert. I still have no idea who committed the murders nor why. Which sorta' takes the wind out of watching Dave O'Brien as the drama critic for the New York Record playing amateur sleuth, probing the slayings that are decimating the cast of a New York repertory theater. Then again, why was the film called "Phantom of 42nd Street" when live theater had long given way to grind movie houses on 42 Street by the time it was made in the 1940s? That's easy. While "Phantom of 47th Street Between Seventh and Eighth Avenues" would have been more accurate, it wouldn't have had nearly the cache. And fitting it on marquees -- especially at theaters that played PRC releases -- would have been a challenge.