The Murder Party

As a mystery fan I was a little disappointed by this whodunit. I was getting the upper crust characters confused with each other and there is little running time to get them and their situations sorted. But there are two distinctive characters who save the film from becoming too stuffy. They are Chidiatt the flowery writer and the slightly dotty Princess Amelia.

Princess Amelia of Corsova is played by Muriel Aked. She's the one who proposes the game of murder in the dark. She has brought a toy gun along for the occasion. In the past she reveals that she's been told that she "can see better in the dark than any other woman I've known" by a man who has had enough experience to tell I expect. She has the best lines in the film especially when she's talking to the General.

Chidiatt is played by Ernest Thesiger. He takes charge of Princess Amelia's toy gun as he enthusiastically joins the game of murder. At one point he says he prefers guns to flowers but I notice he carries a posy in the court scene. He gets away with murder the way he talks to the Judge. Thesiger is so thorny and witty as usual and his impishness brightens up the film.

'The Part of the Nightie' ... sorry, I mean 'The Night of the Party' is yet one more of the many, many, many 'lost' films that have returned from oblivion ... although this particular movie might perhaps have done better to stay lost. The single most notable thing about 'Night of the Party' is that it was directed by Michael Powell ... a film figure of such major importance that *any* movie he directed automatically merits attention. I saw this movie at National Film Theatre in March 2000; as a Powell completist (and a fan of actor Leslie Banks), I'm glad that I saw 'Night of the Party' but I'm in no hurry to see it again. (Full disclosure: in the mid-1960s, I worked with Ralph Smart, who had worked on the screenplay of this movie. He told me quite a bit about his early career, but he never mentioned 'The Night of the Party'. Now I've seen it, I don't wonder.)

Two of Powell's contemporaries in the British film industry were Pen Tennyson and Arthur Woods. Both of these men died very young during World War Two, after making only a couple of films apiece ... but, in both cases, their immense talent was manifest in these films: so much so, that cineastes must deeply regret that neither director lived to create a mature body of work. In Powell's case, although his life and career were thankfully long enough to create some of the greatest movies in the history of cinema, his earliest efforts (unlike those of Tennyson and Woods) showed little hint of his immense talent.

Here goes the plot, then. Lord Studholme (Malcolm Keen) is a press baron -- one of his newspapers is a tabloid cried the Sun -- and, like most press barons, he's a deeply unpopular man. He hosts a cocktail party in honour of Princess Amelta of Corsova (where's that when it's at home, then?). This movie very quickly shapes up to resemble one of those Agatha Christie novels where several different characters all have strong motives for killing the same person: several different people attending the party make clear their animosity for Studholme. This being a very unusual cocktail party, the guests decide to play a brisk round of Murder in the Dark. The lights go out, and when they come on again ... Lord Studholme is dead. Conveniently, who should arrive at just that moment but Sir John Holland, master sleuth of Scotland Yard (played by Leslie Banks, in his 'Arsenal Stadium Mystery' whimsical mode).

As I've noted, there's no end of suspects for murdering Studholme. However, the most obvious suspect is His Lordship's secretary, Guy Kennington (played by Ian Hunter). I was so bored during this movie, I started thinking up dead-awful puns. If Kennington is the killer, would the corpse be Kennington Offal? Ouch! Anyway, this is the sort of movie where the most obvious suspect can't be the real killer. Or can he?

The climactic scene is the murder trial at the Old Bailey, and it just doesn't come off. It's badly paced and very static, betraying the stage origins of this material. The murderer gives an incredibly banal motive for the crime ... and proceeds to whip out a pistol in the middle of the courtroom. I attended several trials at the Old Bailey in the 1960s and '70s, before metal detectors were standard equipment in courthouses. I suppose it's possible that a trial participant (especially one who isn't the defendant) could have smuggled a firearm into the Old Bailey in those days ... and perhaps it was even easier in 1935, when this movie was made. But I found the climax of this movie deeply contrived, not least because the set design only vaguely resembles the interior of the Old Bailey. But maybe that, too, was different in the 1930s.

The popular character actor Ernest Thesiger is in this movie. Thesiger gave one of his very best performances in 'They Drive by Night', directed by the aforementioned Arthur Woods. Those of you who have savoured Thesiger's pull-the-stops-out turns in 'Bride of Frankenstein' and 'The Old Dark House' will have difficulty believing that this actor is capable of giving a dull performance. Overripe, maybe, but not dull. Well, in 'The Night of the Party', Thesiger's performance is dull and lacklustre. I was more impressed with Muriel Aked -- a tiny, bird-like character actress -- as the party's guest of honour.

I'll rate 'The Night of the Party' just 2 out of 10. I don't recommend this movie to fans of Leslie Banks nor of Ernest Thesiger. I can't recommend it to Michael Powell fans either, unless (like me) you're a completist who wants to see as much of this great director's work as possible. Right, you've been warned. Next case!

The film version pays its respects to the play... there's not much camera movement and no music at all. Despite that, the capable cast and brisk pace make this an enjoyable 60 minutes of movie theater. There are a few red herrings thrown in and the culprit could be anyone. There's a watchable copy on YouTube at the moment.

A film from the beginning of Michael Powell's career, still without Emeric Pressburger.

A serial product (Powell made no less than five films in 1934, and would make six more in 1935), with cinema gaining audiences due to the recent introduction of sound.

This is a typical detective film, in the style of Hercule Poirot's whodunit, almost entirely filmed indoors, without much rhythm and whose main virtue is to be able to keep in suspense, until the end, who the murderer is.

It would be hard to guess, from this film, the enormous qualities that the director would demonstrate in the following decade.

There's an inexplicable other-worldliness about this which makes a routine tale of a murder amongst a group of stilted upper-class English folk completely absorbing. It's so much enjoyable than it should be.

One reason this is such compulsive viewing is the presence of the wonderfully camp, wickedly witty, unapologetically over the top Ernest Thesiger. Most people who've actually heard of him will probably just know him as the weird one in BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN but this larger life living Roman candle can't help but adding an almost magical sparkle to anything he's in. His effervescence works perfectly here amongst the staid, stiff upper lipped ensemble.

You might at first think that watching a group of relics from a bygone age would be unrelatable to us now but as stiff as they first appear, they're all such well rounded, well directed and believable characters, you will easily engage with them. Leslie Banks, our version of Walter Huston: Mr integrity, plays his usual upstanding role anchoring the story firmly in reality but the biggest surprise is Malcolm Keen. His loathsome character really does engender absolute hatred in your heart. In an astonishing performance, especially from this era, you will feel like applauding when he eventually meets his well-deserved comeuppance.

Whilst it's obviously based on a stage play, Gaumont achieved something not too common in the 1930s - to make a real movie, not a filmed stage play. Fans of murder mysteries won't be too taxed in working out who did what and why but the journey along the way is presented so skilfully that you won't be able to look away.