I am calling this thing Meeting at Midnight, though that’s probably the most obscure name it goes by. Most common, as seen in the title placard, is the title Black Magic, and even then that’s disregarding the various Charlie Chans they like slapping onto these Chan-free late entry titles. But it doesn’t matter; by any name, it’s a mediocre Monogram era Chan.
One new thing I’ve noticed about these Monogram Chans is how their credits often state, “suggested by Earl Derr Biggers character,” damn the lack of that possessive apostrophe. I think this was a legal protection. See, Sidney Toler was still playing Chan, and he personally owned the movie rights to the guy, but perhaps they couldn’t quite say this Chan was literally the same Chan as Toler’s Chan in the Fox Chans. Chan. Considering the complete lack of continuity between entries, though, it barely matters from an audience perspective.
On to the movie! It seems that this, the third Mono-Chan (and the freaking thirty-third Chan overall!), is Monogram’s effort to touch upon the horror Chans that make up roughly every third flick – had I been paying attention, I could’ve perhaps guessed this move. And knowing it’s Monogram, wouldn’t you know it, their horror entry is far less inspiring. It’s basically a watered down remake of Charlie Chan at Treasure Island (one of the best entries), minus all the visually stupendous exoticism Fox could afford. There are, eventually, the unique Monogram Chan charms to enliven things a tad, though.
This entry’s mass of eccentric, wealthy fruitcake suspects is gathered together for a séance, ‘cause the ‘40s were the era of buying into all that B.S. This nebulous put-upon is instantly revealed as a hoax (to us), but the hoi polloi all dig it. Leading the charade is William Bonner (Dick Gordon), aided by his wife Justine (Jacqueline deWit), who instantly runs through the most artless cast introduction in all of Chan (and after I praised The Chinese Cat for how well it handled this chore) – let’s just say a character’s name while he’s onscreen, sans any details whatsoever, then move on to the next. I’ll do likewise: Harriet Green (Geraldine Wall), PAUL Hamlin (Frank Jaquet), Charles Edwards (Harry Depp), Nancy Wood (Helen Beverly). That’s all we’ll ever know about any of ‘em. I swear, the final murderer isn’t even onscreen again until the moment Chan reveals him at the end.
Of note in this scene: For reasons I cannot now fathom, a disembodied séance voice poses the question of what happened in London, November 5, 1935. (Er, professional jockey Lester Piggott was born?...Thank you, Google.)
Charlie Chan is eventually called along to help in the case, supporting the traditional incapable policemen (though I genuinely think they’d’ve solved this one, considering most of Chan’s “clues” come in the form of forensics the cops would’ve done anyway). So really, why call Chan along in the first place?
Well, one of his offspring was there at the séance. No, not “No. 3 Son” Tommy – he proved so useless to Chan in The Chinese Cat, now even the movies have no use for him. (Besides, he was off portraying the enemy in the anti-Jap flick Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo.) Nope, today’s honorary Chanlette is entirely new – Frances Chan, apparently playing herself. This actress has hardly any other film roles, the other most notable was as “Youngest Chan Daughter” in the lost 1933 Chansterpiece Charlie Chan’s Greatest Case. And quite unlike Tommy, she shall prove useful, and never once do anything to embarrass her race or species. Sadly, though, she shall not become a regular – this is Frances’ only entry.
Chan’s real new partner in crime-solving is – yo sho’ nuff done guessed it, massuh – Mantan Moreland as indentured servant Birmingham Brown. Somehow once again I must pause to consider this man. While The Chinese Cat depicted Birmingham well and truly teamed up with Chan, in Meeting at Midnight he’s back to serving in a menial position as house staff. So here we have a truly astounding coincidence: randomly Birmingham has accidentally intricated himself into a Charlie Chan murder mystery for the third time in a row. Birmingham asks what sort of higher power is dictating such events, never suspecting the evil hands of a hack Poverty Row screenwriter. And this particular coincidence is made even worse by Chan’s daughter’s presence. Ugh, such hoop-leaping challenges many a sequel!
And since Frances is fulfilling the “be useful” plot duties, Birmingham is almost completely divorced from the A-plot, rarely ever even interacting with perpetual costar Toler. Birmingham is thus mostly relegated to screamin’ and buggin’ at the de rigueur psychic ghostliness on display. He also gets a very weird running gag, where he is convinced he will vanish from this series for good if he says “abracadabra.” On the page, it’s the same bunch of ancient negro stereotypes as defines Fox Chans, but Mantan Moreland, bless him, plays it as straight and inoffensive as is humanly possible. Of course a script littered with the word “spook” and its various meanings doesn’t help. Nor do post-fright lines like “I’m practically pale, that’s me.”
Red herrings are lobbed about, and I shall do as usual and ignore them. In all of Chan’s expected investigation of the bonnie Bonner boudoirs, there is but one interesting notion – When Frances asks Chan why he’s so good at anticipating séance parlor tricks, he states it’s because he’s done this before. Ah hah, in-jokery, ‘40s style! Meta humor about metaphysics! (This fleeting meta sensibility also informs Frances’ own sense of herself, and little else.)
Chan then finds the one room that does have spirits – the bar. Ha! (Also, I haven’t equated Chan with drunkenness since Warner Oland’s era.)
As we’re about halfway through, we can have our first attempt on Chan’s life – this is the official point where the Mono-Chans become interesting. It’s the usual looming handgun routine, and while the scriptwriters may be lazy, at least they film a new looming handgun each time. The killer misses Chan, of course, for no justified reason apart from the narrative. Chan then goes and turns on the room’s lights, providing an excellent example of how quickly this series’ cinematography can go from moody to boring.
Since I stated the cops are helpful in this one, pretty soon Chan is back at the police station, lovingly titled the Shatland Building. Um…okay then. Along comes the widow Bonner, following a particularly unmotivated route all the way up to the rooftop. There a voice beckons the hypnotized Bonner to walk off the ledge, Happening style. She obliges. How very thoughtful of her, even though it’s now the Splatland Building.
Nonchalantly responding to this latest (O.S.) corpse, Chan requests Crime Lab™ examine her dress stains. Okay, firstly, ew!, and secondly, [Monica Lewinsky joke deleted by the Internet]. And here’s what Crime Lab™ came up with: Nope, it wasn’t blood, or any more foul bodily fluid, but some sort of brain washing drug. Convenient. At least “CSI” today is no stupider than procedurals always were.
Chan works out a little more business with Crime Lab™, who happen to have completely cracked the case at this point. We won’t learn this until the appropriate climactic moment, mostly so Chan can try to take all the credit for himself, Stephen Hawking style.
Following Chan in his investigation, he tracks Mrs. Bonner’s former tracks, and happens upon a Scientology-surplus brainwashing chamber. The killer captures Chan in a net like a common giraffe, and, one cutaway later, Chan is tied up in the torture chair. Chan is force-fed the “mesmeril” drug, the same one that made Mrs. Bonner as cooperative as a ‘50s housewife, and told to go do likewise – that is, jump off a building.
This is the most interesting part of Meeting at Midnight, and the most Monogramistic – it’s pure death trap goodness in the ‘60s “Batman” mode. Monogram is doing right to use Golden Age comics narrative devices, they are. And Chan is all set to jump when at the very last second…he doesn’t. It turns out Crime Lab™ had slipped him an antidote to that noxious mesmeril, just in case. All hail Crime Lab™!
They’ve also gotten the ballistics on the bullet that was never found in Mr. Bonner’s body.
Chanquest! Of course, I was hoping to see less of these, but when they can be done in a satirical pastiche of a séance, that’ll do. Cutting to the chase, Chan has all the assembled suspects play a word association game. Chan sez “5:18,” Edwards sez “train.” Chan sez “revenge,” Nancy sez “no.” (That clears her, I guess!) Chan sez “case,” PAUL sez “icy.” Apparently this is all Chan needs to accuse PAUL of murder, for you see, the bullet that killed Mr. Bonner was made of frozen blood – That’s just awesome (though not as uncommon as you’d think)! Of course Chan has no real evidence against PAUL, except PAUL obliges by essentially confessing, pulling out another gun to commit trademark cold-blooded murder (I just realized that). Chan defeats him with a spring-loaded handkerchief (!).
Now, for the motive. (Thought they’d forgotten about those, eh?) It seems that in London, on November 5, 1935, a magician called Chardeaux the Great was, er, minorly injured by Mrs. Bonner. Sure, that’s all the reason in the world to plot revenge against her and her undecided husband-to-be. And, for the 6th time in a Chan picture, the murderer had all-powerful plastic surgery to hide his identity – this is useful for screenwriters when they don’t want to fashion plausible motives for the cast as individuals (what with laziness and all).
Birmingham’s movie-closing final gag: He eats Mexican Jumping Beans. Um…okay then. That sort of had nothing to do with anything…
And that’s Meeting at Midnight. Reasonably entertaining when Charlie Chan is threatening to leap off a building (schadenfreude, anyone?), but otherwise simply a retread of series elements which were becoming pretty stale in the first place. And for as much as I called it a horror entry, that extends only to the fact that séances figure into the content – unless you count bouncy-wouncy rubber skeletons as “horror,” which is apparently all it took for most folks in the ‘40s (Val Lewton aside). So…kinda boring, but with a little Monogram silliness peeking through. It ain’t The Chinese Cat, but it ain’t Charlie Chan in the Secret Service either.
Related posts:
• No. 3 Behind That Curtain (1929)
• No. 4 Charlie Chan Carries On (1931)
• No. 5 The Black Camel (1931)
• No. 9 Charlie Chan in London (1934)
• No. 10 Charlie Chan in Paris (1935)
• No. 11 Charlie Chan in Egypt (1935)
• No. 12 Charlie Chan in Shanghai (1935)
• No. 13 Charlie Chan’s Secret (1936)
• No. 14 Charlie Chan at the Circus (1936)
• No. 15 Charlie Chan at the Race Track (1936)
• No. 16 Charlie Chan at the Opera (1936)
• No. 17 Charlie Chan at the Olympics (1937)
• No. 18 Charlie Chan on Broadway (1937)
• No. 19 Charlie Chan at Monte Carlo (1938)
• No. 20 Charlie Chan in Honolulu (1938)
• No. 21 Charlie Chan in Reno (1939)
• No. 22 Charlie Chan at Treasure Island (1939)
• No. 23 City in Darkness (1939)
• No. 24 Charlie Chan in Panama (1940)
• No. 25 Charlie Chan at the Wax Museum (1940)
• No. 26 Charlie Chan’s Murder Cruise (1940)
• No. 27 Murder Over New York (1940)
• No. 28 Dead Men tell (1941)
• No. 29 Charlie Chan in Rio (1941)
• No. 30 Castle in the Desert (1942)
• No. 31 Charlie Chan in the Secret Service (1944)
• No. 32 The Chinese Cat (1944)
• No. 34 The Shanghai Cobra (1945)
• No. 35 The Red Dragon (1945)
• No. 36 The Scarlet Clue (1945)
• No. 37 The Jade Mask (1945)
• No. 38 Dark Alibi (1946)
• No. 40 Dangerous Money (1946)
• No. 41 The Trap (1946)
• No. 42 The Chinese Ring (1947)
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