Halfway to Shanghai

"Halfway to Shanghai" is a B-movie from Universal Pictures. And, like a B, it's about an hour in length, features mostly unknown actors and was quickly made. Since it was made during WWII, it's also not surprising that there is an element of propaganda within it as well.

The story is set aboard a train in Asia (I assume China or Burma). On board are lots of folks with a variety of backstories that you see and hear about as the film progresses. However, a few are also Axis spies or pro-Nazi and not surprisingly, there is some intrigue and even a murder. Can our Burmese version of Charlie Chan solve the mysteries and help the Allies?

The film benefits from having George Zucco. While nearly everything he did was a B-movie, he was an excellent actor...particularly playing villains like he does here. The rest of the actors and acting are pretty much uninspired...but there's enough Zucco to make Zuccophiles happy. Easy to watch and mildly enjoyable.

Just as there are a few versions of the Maltese Falcon, this is a near copy of Sleeping Car to Trieste with a few minor changes. Worth an hour and a bit. Always like George Zucco.

A train hurtles from Lashio, end of the Burma Road, towards Rangoon, with a bunch of Occidental travelers with a bunch of back stories. There are also Axis spies on board, with information on a munitions dump. Its destruction can close the Burma Road. When one of the passengers turns up as a corpse, enters Inspector J. Edward Bromberg, legendary founder of the Group Theater as Inspector Vinpore, with two Sikhs, to uncover the murderer.

It's a very cheap Universal mystery, shot entirely on sound stages, with some obvious back projection. It's got two things going for it: a cast of competent B players, including Kent Taylor, Irene Hervey, Henry Stephenson, George Zucco, and Fay Helm, and a script by Stuart Palmer, best known for his Hildegarde Withers mysteries.

Clearly intended to fill out a double or even a triple bill, it uses every cliche in the book, it certainly wastes neither money or time in its 62 minutes. Producer Paul Malvern was expert at turning out these cheapies, and in ex-editor John Rawlins, he had a director who could bring it in on budget. Despite those shortcomings, the performers, like many unremembered actors during Hollywood's factory era, hit their marks, speak their lines, and don't trip over the furniture, making this a fine time-waster.