By the time The Black Camel was released in 1931, the Charlie Chan franchise was just getting into its racist ching-chong swing of things and – The next three films are lost?! Oh man! Part of the fun of studying franchises is to see how they get moving, and we can’t do that here. We just have to take the success and existence of the Charlie Chan franchise as a given, and move along with the later films. And drat these lost movies, for they save me a few days of tedious movie watching! – Er, I mean, drat them for forcing me to sum them up through secondary sources.
Charlie Chan’s Chance (1932): Warner Oland’s third performance as Charlie Chan, brilliant detective and offensive stereotype, is in the second adaptation of Earl Derr Biggers’ “Behind That Curtain.” Now, I’ve seen Behind That Curtain, so obviously the plot is…is…Uh oh, is it a bad sign I cannot recall a movie I watched and wrote about two days ago? I think Behind That Curtain sucked just that much.
Anyway, it barely matters, for Chan was only around for about five minutes of that film, while here he is the hero, the lead, the star. This gives Fox, who now owned the rights to all the Derr Biggers novels, the, er, chance to plug Oland into all those previously adapted Chan novels, stretching out their franchise as best they could. And because this movie is told from Chan’s slanty-eyed POV, that means the story begins with the murder of a Scotland Yard detective who was the main investigator in the previous adaptation (and who maybe didn’t even get killed that time around). Actually, Behind That Curtain was such a piss-poor adaptation, nothing in the new plot summary reflects that movie at all. In this instance, Chan investigates the murder of an inspector and a cat, leading him to the standard morass of suspects. Later on, another cat saves Chan’s life (apparently, the titular “chance” – I don’t see it). Blah blah blah, it’s set in New York now, and the gimmickry involves gas and gas masks.
OCD that the Internet is, I can actually track down period reviews of this movie. Of interest to me, even then the critics discussed things in franchise terms, reflecting how these Chan pictures could maintain their longevity by limiting themselves to one per year (amazingly, this was seen as a slow, retarded production schedule in the workaholic 30s).
Charlie Chan’s Greatest Case (1933): As far as titles go, that just means that the forty remaining Charlie Chan movies are destined to be let downs, am I right? This one is a new adaptation of “The House Without a Key,” the first Chan novel – hence the “greatest.” It is set in Hawaii, normal considering it is Chan’s home. The murder mystery involves a pair of inheritance-obsessed brothers stuck aboard a steamer ship anchored off the coast until Chan can solve a case of heart-stabbing. Already-familiar Chan elements seem to be in place, such as the dubious second murder, the climactic all-suspect dinner scene, and the unwarranted romantic subplot that somehow distracts us all.
Charlie Chan’s Courage (1934): This one is taken from “The Chinese Parrot,” it, like the other recently-adapted entries, having been done before in 1927’s The Chinese Parrot. The plot to this movie I didn’t see sounds identical to the plot of that other movie I didn’t see (both of ‘em are lost). That is, it has the same heady mixture of pearl necklaces, murdered parrots, and the Mojave desert. Same formula elements, and there is a character named Bob. That’s about all I can think of…
We now return to viewable movies, now that the franchise has hit “perpetual motion” mode. No stopping it, and no need to justify each new entry! For proof of these films’ necessity, I might turn to a paraphrasing of St. Anselm’s ontological argument for God:
1. If I am thinking of the Most Racist Franchise Thinkable, then I can think of no franchise more racist.
2. Being is greater than not being.
3. If the franchise I am thinking of does not exist, then it is false that I can think of no franchise more racist.
4. If the franchise I am thinking of does not exist, then it is false that I am thinking of the Most Racist Franchise Thinkable.
Conclusion: Of all the franchises that exist, one must be the Most Racist Franchise Thinkable, and that franchise must be Charlie Chan (or Star Wars).
By the time of Charlie Chan in London, there were no more Derr Biggers novels to adapt, or re-adapt, unless we’d settle for a series of mysteries, one after another, where Chan is always pondering parrots and necklaces. Oh, and with no more books to film, the producers had to do like EON Productions with the Bond movies and just make up their own stories, changing up the cosmetic details to a set-in-stone formula. I shall now try to explicate that formula, in numerical form, seeing as Anselm has inspired me:
1. An inciting murder, necessarily off screen.
2. Charlie Chan is summoned by the clearly-innocent female most connected to the case.
3. An initial lobby gathering, where Chan sizes up the various hoi polloi suspects. (This is like the murder mystery equivalent of a horror film’s “Meet the Meat.” I call this “Assess the Asses.”)
4. The discovery of novelty clues.
5. A thoroughly pointless romantic subplot threatens to divert our attention.
6. A secondary murder takes place, halfway through. This is to eliminate some suspect with knowledge of the killer. Somehow, no one ever seems to care about this particular violent death, and probably half the time it’s the direct result of Chan’s meddling.
7. An attempt is then made on Chan’s life, which would have worked much better earlier, saving the murderer the need for excess slaughter.
8. Attempted murder of some other suspect. By now, in each entry we start to ponder just how a murder plans to avoid detection by scrupulously creating more clues.
9. Chan assembles all remaining suspects in the Accusing Parlor, a sort of “Reassess the Asses.” This is perhaps the most common scene from any murder mystery.
10. Chan then manages to coax the murderer into revealing himself. This seems to be his particular skill, as Chan never has enough evidence to just go ahead and arrest someone.
11. As though we care, the romantic subplot ends in a kiss, indicating the movie is over.
As with all formulas, one may toy with the details as much as possible. I’d say that much of my fascination with movie series comes from this formula variation, how these new details can create totally unique adventures – when used well. With something like the Charlie Chan formula, elements which may be altered include cast, setting, and individual clues. Of course, I have devised this formula from the minority of entries I’ve seen so far, so it may possibly evolve later. Nonetheless, these eleven rules most directly conform to Charlie Chan in London, for it is that film that I used in devising this. Let us consider that film in more detail according to these standards.
The opening murder, beyond simply being off screen, has happened long before the movie starts. Three years before, to be precise. What incites Chan’s sudden intrusion is that an innocent man, Paul Gray (Douglas Walton), is to be hanged in three days’ time. Paul’s sister Pamela (Drue Leyton) seeks justice, and can no longer get it through Britain’s barrister system. Oh, right, the movie takes place in and around London, in case you didn’t see the title. You see, London is a sufficiently exotic location, and I’m told the English speak English.
Through the aid of her lawyer/convenient love interest Neil Howard (Ray Milland, the only cast member with an image on IMDb, and therefore the only one to have a subsequent career – in TV and cheapo horror), Pamela is connected with Charlie Chan. Warner Oland’s performance some four movies since The Black Camel is now, if possible, even more racist. His eyes are slantier, his English more broken, and he’s somehow even more humbled before whitey. There are no indefinite articles used. I mean, one of his first lines of dialogue is “Me rowry Chinaman.” Seriously. Need I say anything more?
Chan reports to GEOFFREY RICHMOND’S COUNTRY HOUSE IN RETFORDSHIRE, as titles tell us. So far, the series seems addicted to placeholder titles, to let us know where these studio sets are supposed to be. Here Chan satisfies No. 3, Assessing the Asses. “Asses” is a truly apropos term for the entitled idle rich on display here, a bunch of inbred, seething British noblemen who spend all day ensuring the depletion of the local fox population. With three days before Paul’s hanging, Chan learns the details of the case from former RAF officer Richmond (Alan Mowbray), Phillips (Murray Kinnel), and assorted grotesque British and Cockney stereotypes. It seems Paul had an argument with a man named Hamilton, who was found two hours later in the stables with his head nearly decapitated. Mmm…
The worst thing about The Black Camel, the supremely grotesque Kashimo, is nowhere to be found here – Calming my fears, research reveals he is not a series regular. But do not despair, for they’ve conveniently found a neat new way to be astoundingly racist. You see, there is a filthy Cockney maid (don’t worry, she’s an ignorant maid, not an obviously-murderous maid). The mere sight of Chan sends her into shrieking paroxysms, convinced that all foreigners are rapists and murderers purely by dint of being foreigners. Sure, this is played for laughs, but it is founded upon a hyper-xenophobic notion that undoubtedly many have held.
As though Chan’s mere Chinese heritage weren’t enough to earn the enmity of a dozen priggish Limeys, he has the gall to emulate the French in his murder investigation. To wit, Chan assembles all the suspects together in the horse stables to reenact the murder three years later. Chan advises Richmond “take knife” and fake-murder Philips. The nearby horse freaks out at this development, something that did not happen the night of the killing – a clue! Or, in Chan’s own words, “noble animal” only “cut up” when “stranger near” unless “Lake with.” Lake is the horse’s keeper, by the way, and not granted a cast credit, so minor is he.
Well, Lake’s acting role here is of little importance, but his plot role isn’t. See, Lake is the necessary secondary death, marking the film’s halfway point. I understand the need to satisfy formula, but Lake’s killing is pretty stupid. I mean, this case is solved (as far as the police care), the murderer to be executed. A fresh killing destroys that whole house of cards! Ah, but Lake’s death was meant to seem a suicide – a rouse that takes Chan all of three seconds to see through. But Chan is in the business of stringing hapless murderers along, so he has the entire estate maintain the suicide ruse in order to draw the killer out. As Chan says, it “let murderer feel safe.”
The plot meanders a little after this, until No. 7 can come into play – the attempt on Chan. He seemingly has a once-per-movie death exemption, as mass murderers regularly develop Stormtrooper affliction when trying to shoot him. Making this particular effort unique, the killer misses Chan with a dart. Oh, and it happens as Chan investigates the study, which lets Chan know there’s something important in the study. Don’t help the detective too much there, anonymous killer.
The next formula element to satisfy is the attempt on a non-Chan. This role shall be filled tonight by Lady Mary Bristol (Mona Barrie), who has also been something of a narrative red herring by enjoying a second, even less useful romantic subplot with some ponce named Jerry. The thing is, she saw the killer dart off post-darting. Now, why, why, why the hell doesn’t she just tell Chan right away and get this whole silly façade over with? Because there’d be no climax that way. Rather, she simply writes Chan a letter telling him to meet with her later. [Sigh.] Potential victims in these movies sometimes act as stupid as the killer himself. Having 76 years of experienec beyond this movie, I instantly recognize that she will be attacked (if not killed), eliminating her evidence. But I’ll try a little here to create a little suspense, and put off discussing the outcome for another paragraph.
In the meanwhile, Chan has reported to Hamilton’s (the dead man’s) commanding Air Force officer at the local airbase – as per the titles, FARNSWORTH AERODROME, ROYAL AIR FORCE. Here Chan learns an obvious, obvious bit of news that somehow missed all those Scotland Yard investigators for three years; namely, Hamilton was a notoriously good inventor. Also, he shared his inventions with someone at Richmond Manor. This offers up a new motive (the former was “passion”). This motive: to steal the plans to a silent warplane. Ooh, a little Hitchcockian sabotage in your murder mystery, I like that! I’ve already pegged the killer, and I believe there’s enough information in the recap above for you to do so too.
Now it’s time for Mary to suffer an unfortunate accident. Indeed, most of the blueblood bozos accompanying her on their daily genocidal fox hunt believe it is an accident when Mary’s horse suddenly becomes blind and topples into a chalk pit…one day after a “suicide,” all this while a detective is there investigating a murder. Sure, idiots! And, well, Mary ain’t dead, ‘cause we’re supposed to like her, but she’ll be unconscious through the closing credits. But Chan is one to beat a dead horse, as it were, and returns to the chalk pit to beat the dead horse. Here he learns – the horse’s brakes were cut! Or…whatever the organic, non-automotive equivalent is.
Where does that leave us? Ah, the Accusing Parlor scene. The remaining jerks assemble before Chan by the fireplace, where he utters that classic cliché, “Someone here in this room is murderer.” Cue suspicious glances. Man, I tell you, it’s liberating to actually see such archetypal scenarios. I hope that in one of these franchises there’s a damsel tied up on railroad tracks.
Now all Chan has to do is pull off a Charlie Chan Special and draw the murderer out. He knows who the killer is, you see, but he needs evidence. For this, Chan volunteers the help of Richmond in finding the missing warplane plans in the study – for fingerprints. Now, did you guess the killer? It’s Richmond! So when Chan hands him a revolver, naturally Richmond will try shooting Chan with it. That’s why Chan put blanks in that revolver, and has British bobbies stationed outside, ready to go all L.A. cop on Richmond afterwards. And as a final little “ah, whatever,” Phillips reveals himself to be Captain Seton, military intelligence, on the trail of Richmond’s true identity, Paul…Er, not that Paul, a new one. Seeing as this comes in the final minute, I’m not even going to pick at whatever wounds this opens up.
But the movie can’t be over yet, ‘cause no one’s kissed. Chan knows this, so he orchestrates the smooching of Pamela and Neil (the designated romantics). Now it’s over.
Okay, good enough, that movie fit formula – even if adherence to it can create certain oddball plot holes. For now, I’m interested in seeing what sort of new formula variations later entries can create. We’ll see just how long it takes for me to get sick of this…
Related posts:
• No. 3 Behind That Curtain (1929)
• No. 4 Charlie Chan Carries On (1931)
• No. 5 The Black Camel (1931)
• 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. 33 Meeting at Midnight (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)
No comments:
Post a Comment