mark.waltz Here's the scenario: costume party in progress, body found. Scream. Detective arrives. Questions behind. Romantic couple on the road, decide to go back. More questions asked. Couple asked why they left. Suspicions arise. Accusations and hints of motives are made. Servants indicate they hated the victim. Suspects go to bed and can't sleep. Questions continue the next day. More clues, more motives. Gather suspects together and reveal exactly what happened. Will the guilty party give themselves up without pulling out a gun? You'll find out in under an hour in this stagy, often awkwardly acted melodrama.Forgotten matinee idols Charles Starrett and Shirley Grey are the romantic leads with a cast of actors who either speak very slowly or overly emote or pose or just bellow. Claude Gillingwater, best known for Shirley Temple movies, is perhaps the most familiar member of the cast, with the rest of the cast extremely obscure. The actress playing the housekeeper may look like Mary Gordon (and sound like like her), but is not. This is a film for severe classic film fans only. Others will be excruciatingly bored.

BA_Harrison Made in 1934, less than a decade after the introduction of the 'talkie', this crusty old murder mystery makes the most of the relatively new sound technology, being 99.9% talk—which, consequently, makes the film 100% boring.Rather than concentrate on thrills and suspense, Green Eyes is all about the post-murder investigative procedure carried out by Inspector Crofton (John Wray), with a little amateur sleuthing from crime novelist Michael Tracy (Charles Starrett). Theories are bandied back and forth, clues are discussed, and suspects are interviewed at length, none of which is in the slightest bit entertaining.It's a whole load of talk, followed by some more talk, a little chit-chat, a bit of conversation, more talk, even more talk, and then… well, you get the idea. By the end of this film, you'll be wishing that Al Jolson had kept his mouth shut and that the 'talkie revolution' had never happened.

dougdoepke Cops investigate a costume party murder in a rich man's mansion.Thoroughly routine whodunit, despite the promising opening scenes. Not surprisingly, it's one of the type popular in the 30's, when amateur sleuths out-sleuthed the professionals. Here it's Charles Starrett as a novelist figuring out the clues before the cops do. But at least the screenplay doesn't turn the head cop into some kind of buffoon as often happened in these 30's programmers.Now I'm used to seeing Starrett with a six-gun and Stetson giving the bad guys a hard-eyed stare. So, seeing him here as a loosey-goosey lounge lizard in alpine shorts took some getting used to. But he does liven up the acting, which otherwise tends toward the dull side. Still, that last scene in the lethal bedroom stands as a real grabber of staging. Too bad the rest of the movie doesn't show a similar level of imagination. (In passing—Am I mistaken or does Starrett look like an early version of Rock Hudson.)

rsoonsa This somewhat less than rewarding production is based closely upon a novel by Harriette Ashbrook: "The Murder Of Steven Kester", to a point of its inclusion of substantial swatches of Ashbrook's stilted dialogue, but since the original book remains safely confined within a rather narrow spectrum of sleuthing utilized by the English writer, it can be no surprise that the film is also dull and generally predictable. Action opens briskly with assistant director Melville Shyer, who also contributes the script, effectively leading a congregation of extras during a lively costume party sequence, this festivity organized at the home of wealthy Steven Kester by his granddaughter Jean (Shirley Grey) as a diversion to facilitate her unobstructed elopement with beau Cliff Miller (William Bakewell). Here the pace of the film begins to flag as journeyman director Richard Thorpe mishandles the tempo following discovery of Steven Kester's corpse, decorated with stab wounds, and a homicide investigation then begins under the supervision of Captain (or Chief, at times Inspector) Crofton (John Wray) who fails to acknowledge any recognizable form of correct investigative police procedures as he browbeats a large contingent of available suspects. Needless to report, many of these latter have apparent motives to have committed the slaying, and if Crofton neglects one of them, a meddlesome crime novelist, Michael Tracy (Charles Starrett), a recurring lead character as "Spike Tracy" in the publications of Ashbrook, is on hand to abet the detective. Viewers, however, will not require similar assistance, due to the story hardly being abstruse enough to challenge most armchair detectives. Production values for this low tier Chesterfield Pictures item are expectedly paltry, but some performances from players are to be valued, in particular a brief turn by Lloyd Whitlock, and neatly developed characterizations from Grey and Dorothy Revier as female suspects. Director Thorpe, ever respectful of his cast members, and especially of those whom are stage trained, leads with a loose rein.