William Powell as Philo Vance: The Benson Murder Case

William Powell as Vance.

William Powell made his third appearance as erudite detective Philo Vance in this loose adaptation of S.S. Van Dine's 1926 novel. 

The opening scene takes place at Anthony Benson & Co. Stocks and Bonds with Benson’s clients learning that he has “sold everyone out.” The unfazed Benson leaves town with friend Harry Gray and goes to his lodge “up the river.” His guests, all victims of Benson’s financial schemes, include: rich socialite Mrs. Paul Banning; her paramour Adolph Mohler; the flamboyant Fanny Del Roy; and Gray, a prominent bootlegger.

During a thunderstorm, District Attorney John F.-X. Markham, who owns an adjacent estate, stops by with his friend Philo Vance. While Vance and Gray discuss their theories on crime, Benson goes upstairs. A few minutes later, a loud shot rings out and Benson’s dead body tumbles down the stairs.

Eugene Pallette as Sergeant Heath.

Sergeant Heath takes the formal lead on the investigation, though Vance always seems one step ahead of him. Mrs. Banning confesses to the crime, but Vance recognizes it as a weak attempt to shield Mohler (Paul Lukas). Markham focuses his suspicions on Fanny, but Vance ensures him that she is innocent. Having a motive is not enough, he maintains, explaining that “everybody has a motive for murdering somebody.” 

Although poorly paced and static, The Benson Murder Case (1930) is a reasonably entertaining mystery. The killer’s identity is never in doubt. Like the previous Vance films, it plays up the humorous conflict between Vance and Heath, played again by the gravel-voiced Eugene Pallette. When the police detective hears that Vance will be arriving, he confides to another officer: “I’ll try to arrange it so I’ll be just gone by the time he gets here.”

It is unclear why the filmmakers veered from the novel’s superior plot. While the book’s detailed mystery would have required trimming for any film adaptation, its characters and setting are much more interesting than what appears on screen. Furthermore, some of the alterations make little sense, such as changing the name of Vance’s valet from Currie to Sam. Still, a handful of plot elements were retained from the book, including a subplot about stolen jewels, the distance that the lethal bullet was fired from (six feet), Benson’s toupee, and the revelation of one suspect's "secret."

William Powell's likeness on a dust jacket.

Author S.S. Van Dine (a pseudonym for Willard Huntington Wright) based The Benson Murder Case on the real-life murder of New York socialite Joseph Elwell. The victim's claim to fame was a how-to-play-bridge book called appropriately Elwell on Bridge. As for Van Dine's novel, it was an instant bestseller and spawned a series of Philo Vance mysteries. The Benson Murder Case has been adapted for the screen three times: William Powell's version, El Cuerpo del Delito (a Spanish language version filmed concurrently), and La Strana Morte del Signor Benson (1974), an Italian made-for-TV movie. 

Powell, who would play Vance once more in Michael Curtiz's The Kennel Murder Case, projects the proper urgency, but still fails to capture the detective's cynicism (though the script deserves equal blame). Paul Lukas, appropriately wimpy as Mohler, would make an unlikely Vance five years later in The Casino Murder Case. Having consumed all the Vance novels, I always thought that Warren William made the best Philo, with The Dragon Murder Case being his strongest film.

My Man Godfrey (1936)

There are few films from the 1930s that I like more than My Man Godfrey (1936).  Screwball comedies are a particular favorite of mine, and this is one of the best ever made.  It is a film filled with memorable characters and lines.  In addition, it has a bit of a serious side, touching on the plight of the Forgotten Man during the Depression.  When you combine all of these ingredients, you come up with a deliciously entertaining movie.

If you went to see this in 1936 you would have seen William Powell and Carole Lombard’s names on the marquee, but while both give fine performances, they are greatly aided by the stellar supporting performances of Alice Brady, Gail Patrick, Eugene Pallette, and Mischa Auer.  It is the supporting characters that carry this film along its crazy path. 

Powell plays Godfrey Smith/Park, a privileged Bostonian who chucks it all after a woman does him wrong. He ends up living in New York City Dump 32 until Cornelia (Patrick) and Irene Bullock (Lombard) find him there while looking for a Forgotten Man as part of a scavenger hunt.  He soon ends up being their 5th Avenue butler.

Both sisters are spoiled and narcissistic, but they are different in that Cornelia has a malicious side and Irene is compassionate incarnate.  I suppose this is what makes Patrick’s character the more interesting of the two.  Cornelia is intelligent and jaded, while Irene is flighty and naïve. I often think director Gregory La Cava and screenwriters Eric Hatch and Morrie Ryskind used Cornelia as their focal point in developing their social satire.  Here is a woman who has everything: beauty, class, money, and intelligence. Yet, she seethes with resentment and discontent. A lot of people think Godfrey should have ended up with Cornelia in the end (the whole Taming of the Shrew thing), but what most people forget is Cornelia was the sort of woman Godfrey left back in Boston. For me, Patrick’s is the standout performance.

Eugene Pallette and Alice Brady also do memorable turns as Alexander and Angelica Bullock, the parents of Cornelia and Irene. Pallette, in particular, does a fine job of presenting his character’s astonishment at the complete insanity of his family.  Perhaps it’s his voice, but he conveys both irritation and apathy extremely well.  Brady’s pixie-seeing Angelica is the epitome of oblivious mothering.  Here is a woman who has a protégé (really her paramour, but the Hays Code was around) in would-be musician Carlo (Auer); drinks too much (hence the pixies); and, supports her daughters’ eccentric behavior.  She is no role model, but her daughters are a lot like her—especially Irene, who decides to make Godfrey her protégé. 

Now, I’m not saying that Powell and Lombard don’t give fine  performances, because both are very good.  Powell plays the calm caretaker of the insane asylum that the Bullocks call home well.  He is both bemused and detached in his role as Godfrey.  It is quite comical to watch him thwart off Irene’s advances--especially since Powell and Lombard had been previously married. It is said that she was too animated for him; plus, he was sixteen years older.  So, when Godfrey makes the comment in the film that Irene should find someone her own age and class it was a bit like art imitating life.  Lombard, for her part, plays Irene as a theatrical little girl who doesn’t know how to get what she wants without faux fainting or crying.  The “laugh” is what I find most hysterical about Irene.  Anytime she doesn’t understand what is happening, or when she is unsure of herself, she falls back on that childish laugh. 

Besides fine acting, the writing is superb.  The dialogue is rapid-fire and sharp as an axe.  Each character has their own memorable lines, but I’ve always thought that Angelica Bullock got the best ones—or maybe Alice Brady just delivered hers better than the rest.  My favorite exchange comes between Angelica and Godfrey:

Angelica: My ancestors came over on the boat. Oh, not the Mayflower, but the boat after that. What did your ancestors come over on, Godfrey?
Godfrey: As far as I know, they've always been here.
Angelica: They weren't Indians, I hope.
Godfrey: One can never be sure of one's ancestors.
Angelica: You know, you have rather high cheek bones.

And from that point on there is a running gag about Godfrey being of Indian descent.  Overall, it’s just a pleasure to listen to such clever dialogue (especially if you compare it to some of the dialogue in modern film).  Smart witticisms never age and that’s one of the reasons My Man Godfrey seems timeless.

Finally, what most people forget about My Man Godfrey is that it is a slight social commentary about the difference between the rich and poor during the Depression.  The Forgotten Man, men who served in WWI or lost everything in the Crash, found themselves unemployed and displaced living in places like City Dump 32, while the Bullocks lived the high life on 5th Avenue.  The only time the Bullocks of the world notice the Forgotten Man is when they need him to win a silly game for them.  At one point in the film Godfrey says,  “The only difference between a derelict and a man is a job.” Of course, more could have been done with this theme.  If I have one complaint with the film it would be that Godfrey shouldn’t have been pretending to be down on his luck but actually have been down and out.  Still, it is a nice twist when you learn the reason he can handle the Bullocks so well is that he was once afflicted with their disease as well.

One interesting aside about My Man Godfrey is that it was the first film to receive nominations in all four acting categories: Best Actor (Powell), Best Actress (Lombard), Best Supporting Actor (Mischa Auer) and Best Supporting Actress (Alice Brady). While none of the actors won the coveted statue, they should have taken solace in the fact that La Cava was passed over as Best Director and Hatch and Ryskind didn’t win Best Screenplay either.  However, the strangest thing about the whole Oscar situation is this: My Man Godfrey wasn't even nominated for Best Picture. Somehow the math just doesn’t seem right there.  Oh, well…

A Month of Mysteries: Warren Williams as Philo Vance in "The Dragon Murder Case"

This snappy 1934 B-movie mystery represents the most successful attempt to bring S.S. Van Dine's erudite sleuth, Philo Vance, to the screen. Van Dine (a pseudonym for Willard Huntington Wright) introduced Vance to mystery readers in 1926 with The Benson Murder Case. Over the next 13 years, Van Dine published twelve highly successful Vance novels.

These intriguing-plotted mysteries became sought-after movie properties in spite of some significant obvious liabilities. These drawbacks included Van Dine's tendency to expound excessively on artistic or scientific subjects related peripherally to the mysteries. He also wrote the novels in first person, casting himself as Vance's companion/lawyer, a literary device borrowed from Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories. However, whereas Conan Doyle had Dr. Watson occasionally play an active role in Holmes' investigations, Van Dine (the writer) used Van Dine (the character) simply to narrate the proceedings.

Yet, the biggest problem with adapting these best-selling mysteries was Philo Vance himself. The wealthy, amateur criminologist was an aloof intellectual and could be downright cold when questioning suspects. He also lived by his own moral code--to the point of rearranging poison-filled glasses to trick a murderer into killing himself. Many filmmakers deemed such a detective too unlikable for the screen. Therefore, most of the movie Vances were rich and intelligent, but also charming and debonair. The best-known screen Vance was the always-likable William Powell, who played the sleuth four times with his best effort being The Kennel Murder Case (1933). Powell was a fine performer, but his film detective was not the Philo Vance admired by Van Dine's readers.

Enter Warren William, who debuted as Philo Vance in 1934's The Dragon Murder Case, an adaptation of the seventh Vance novel published the previous year. William projected the perfect note of acidity as Vance. He handled his white gloves and cane with aplomb, while talking down to everyone in sight. He also benefited from a tight adaptation of one of Van Dine's more baffling crimes.

The film's plot follows the book closely, although it adds a restaging of the murder and deletes an incident in which a boulder conveniently crushes the guilty party. As in the novel, the identity of the killer is fairly obvious. The puzzle lies in how the murder was accomplished.

The crime takes place at a country estate in upper New York where wealthy playboy Sanford Montague disappears after a night-time dive into a natural lake called the Dragon Pool. When Montague fails to turn up after a day, the police drain the pool and discover claw marks on the sandy bottom. Later, Vance discovers Montague's dead body in a "glacial pot-hole" on another part of the estate. The victim's mangled body is covered with large claw marks--as if he had been ripped open by a dragon.

Although shot entirely on a stage, The Dragon Murder Case utilizes its atmospheric sets effectively. The mysterious pool looks eerie, with its lighted areas contrasting with the dark, murky waters. The only other principal set, the living room of the country mansion, is filled with exotic aquariums, including one suspended from the ceiling. (The aquariums naturally afford Vance the opportunity of showing off his knowledge on breeding tropical fish.)

The performers playing the suspects have little to do. They exist principally to provide verbal targets for William's Vance. However, Eugene Pallette gives one of his most restrained performances as Sergeant Heath (he played the role with William Powell, too). Etienne Girardot steals several scenes as coroner Dr. Doremus, who gripes constantly at having his meals interrupted by inconvenient dead bodies.

Still, the film belongs to Warren William and he makes it a delight for viewers who have actually read the Van Dine novels. Sadly, William's only other portrayal of Vance was in the 1939 comedy-mystery The Gracie Allen Murder Case. It's too bad he didn't get a crack at the best of the books: The Greene Murder Case (filmed with Powell) and The Bishop Murder Case (with Basil Rathbone).

Neither the Vance films nor the novels achieved the classic status of fellow sleuths such as Jane Marple, Peter Wimsey, and Philip Marlowe. The last Vance film appeared in 1947. Several attempts to create reader interest with paperback editions of the novels failed. Despite such setbacks, Philo Vance has maintained a few loyal mystery fans who admire cynical, detached, and morally questionable detectives.