The Silk Express

Fast paced little mystery yarn features handsome NEIL HAMILTON in the lead as a man anxious to get his shipment of silk safely removed at the train's destination--but hampered in his efforts by a murder aboard The Silk Express.

Hamilton is determined and spunky as the lead, a far departure from his fate in a film from 1944 (SINCE YOU WENT AWAY) where he was only shown in a photo within a picture frame as Claudette Colbert's husband.

The supporting cast has a number of familiar Warner Bros. faces: Allen Jenkins, Guy Kibbe, Robert Barratt, Vernon Steele--but the round-up of suspects by detective Guy Kibbe is just one of the many clichés in the script which is riddled with just such moments. It comes across as Agatha Christie, without the wit, not that this is from a Christie play or novel.

Guy Kibbe as the detective is overly emphatic in his gruffness, as are just about all of the performances. It's strictly for movie buffs who aren't fussy about how over-baked acting was back in 1933 melodramas.

With advance information that all the designers will be using silk for their spring lines, Arthur Hohl corners the commodity. Industry leader Neil Hamilton arranges for a major shipment from Japan. But when it arrives in San Francisco, it still has a train journey to the silk mills in New York. If Hamilton can get through, Hohl will be ruined. If not, Hamilton. Hohl has an agent aboard the train. Hamilton has the train's staff, Dudley Digges, whose scleroderma is turning him to stone, Digges' daughter Sheila Terry, and doctor Vernon Steele, and his lawyer. With railroad detective Guy Kibbee coming aboard to investigate a murder, can the train get through?

It's a highly imaginative set-up for a murder mystery, with the motive apparent from the beginning. It also deals with the motionless of many a mystery by putting it aboard a moving train, ably realized by Ray Enright. He was one of Warners' workhorse directors. He was able to turn out a musical or a war movie on demand. Studio directors like him are not held in such high esteem as 'auteurs', whose styles and themes are instantly recognizable. But directors who worked in a large variety of genres had the advantage of letting the well of creativity fill up a bit between, say westerns, while they worked on a comedy. They might not be possessed of a singular voice, but they turned out solid work and kept the standards of film making high. This improbably plotted movie is a good example of that sort of work.

With Arthur Byron, Allen Jenkins, and Vernon Steele.

There was a time when lousy movies were entertaining. And "The Silk Express," released in 1933 when films were just learning to talk, is a prime example. First, you gotta' believe that a criminal syndicate has cornered the entire American silk market and unless a trainload of silk from the Orient reaches New York within three days, the nation's fashion industry will collapse. A mysterious criminal mastermind has been planted aboard the silk express to stop it in its tracks. But who is he? The paralyzed scholar being rushed to New York for emergency surgery? His beautiful daughter? The doctor who doesn't seem to know as much as he should about medicine? The erudite hobo? The smooth-talking lawyer? It couldn't possibly be the bellowing railroad detective played by Guy Kibbee, could it? This ain't Agatha Christie. But the dialogue's crisp, the pace never lags and the solution to the mystery actually comes as a surprise.

Silk is in and everybody is looking to buy. Unscrupulous businessman Wallace Myton (Arthur Hohl) has cornered the market. Donald Kilgore (Neil Hamilton) imports silk into Seattle and intends to transport it on the train to New York. Myton's men intend to stop it by any means necessary including murder.

Silk is a weird McGuffin for a gangland movie. I guess a story could make it into anything and real world fashion business could be this ruthless. One does have to overlook a lot of the specific details. It all boils down to a gangland murder thriller on the enclosed setting of a train. It is fine.

... because this is a film about getting silk to the New York mills in time for the latest Paris fashions to hit the market on schedule. In 1933 a quarter of Americans were unemployed, and it's not like the cargo is something vital to life like baby formula or iron lungs. I can't see how you are going to get an audience worked up about a shipment of silk. But I digress.

So think of the silk as a McGuffin. Donald Kilgore (Neil Hamilton) is head of the New York mills protective association. Bad guy Wallace Myton (Arthur Hoyl) has bought up all of the silk he can lay his hands on and is price gouging. Kilgore can get a huge shipment sitting on the docks at Seattle on a train and back to the east coast in three days. Myton says if the association does that he won't sell them silk at any price. They refuse his offer and go with Kilgore's plan. So Myton does everything in his power to sabotage Kilgore's mission and stop that silk from getting to New York, and that includes murder.

Kilgore is aware of this possible threat, and brings on a transportation attorney to help with any legal snags (Robert Barrat as Calhoun). Also on board is a man with a rare form of sleeping sickness who will die in three days if he can't get to New York and the only clinic that can treat him. Accompanying him is his doctor and his grown daughter. Along the way there are two murders. And we already know from the scenes with Myton that he has three men on the train. Two are common criminals, but the third is an elite criminal who never fails. That is the set-up for this transcontinental trip.

The man with sleeping sickness and the urgency of his situation was probably inserted to A. Get a pretty young lady into the cast B. Inject some human interest rather than making this all about silk. It's a taut little film, running at a fast paced 61 minutes. It gives both Allen Jenkins and Guy Kibbee a chance to be something more than just the comic relief for a change, with Kibbee being a railroad officer and Jenkins an erudite boxcar tramp. That's the nice thing about these WB precodes. Each player always played a certain type. For example, you see Arthur Hoyl and you know right away his character is probably a slimy little weasel. You don't have to waste script space showing the audience he is a slimy little weasel.

This was a good little precode era film with nothing precode about it. WB should have used it as a model on how to make comedy in the production code era that would pass the censors but, alas, they did not.