Murder on a Bridle Path

This series started out as one of the many experiments in building a detective narrative (where we share the unrolling of the narrative with a character) based on specific personality types. The original idea was to harden the Miss Marple type and recast her as brusque matron with a mischievous bent. And the detective would be a snappy, skinny hardnosed type who ends up a softy with this schoolmarm. In the first episode, they actually run off to get married, a situation forgotten later.

But all these experiments ran out of gas, even the "Thin Man" thread. By this edition, we have a whole different set of goals, and of course a different Hildegard. This woman isn't old, imperious, thickbottomed and selfish. She's a much hipper soul and in any case she doesn't have the focus any more.

And despite there being a younger sister cast for her figure, this is all about the men. And the characters we (as guys) create. Its nothing more than that, and as big as that. (The plot revolves around an exhusband thrown in "alimony jail" because of slow payments.)

Gleason is at his most extreme, strutting with a smile. Its a smile of an actor winking at the audience, something that was passed through (in my small experience) Red Skelton, Burt Reynolds, Bruce Willis.

But the extraordinary thing — and this may not be readable to some — is that it is all done by acting with hats. Its an amazing experience. These are theatrical hats, a bit over-sized. All the important facial expressions have a hat equivalent or compliment.

One of the men actors is a black man playing a specific character type, a dim, stepinfetchit "boy" named Highpockets. In life, it reflects as a stereotype and is harmful because no one can deny racism. But as a character its fantastic and comes less from society directly than a long and honorable stage minstrel tradition, Watch his hat.

There are other "stereotypes," a dumb Irishman, a stilted German... but none as gracefully presented.

If the world were all hats, there would be no problems, no war, except maybe alimony.

Its set in Central Park, though not actually shot there. Too bad.

Ted's Evaluation -- 2 of 3: Has some interesting elements.

I was reading the review by Calvinnme and agree heartily. If the viewer never saw the previous Hildegard Withers films that starred Edna May Oliver, you might enjoy "Murder on a Bridle Path" even more. While Helen Broderick is very good in this role, Oliver was just better as Hildegard. Apparently, Oliver and the studio had a 'parting of the ways' and they unsuccessfully tried Broderick and later Zasu Pitts in Oliver's place. But, no matter how they tried, no one could match the charming crankiness of the original!

The film starts with a blonde lady being disagreeable with several folks--a clear giveaway that she'll soon be murdered (it's a standard cliché in mystery films of the time). VERY soon after, she's killed while out riding her horse. Again, Calvinnme was right--this character wasn't developed enough and her death came too quickly. The police assume she died by accident but soon they notice a few clues that indicate she was NOT killed by being kicked by a horse. Around this time, Hildegarde shows up and immediately begins digging for clues. Like any murder mystery of the era, there are lots of dead ends and twists--along with a VERY florid ending involving the murderer--and it's by far the best part of the movie.

This is a pretty good mystery film. Unfortunately, the snappy dialog from Withers isn't as obvious--not just due to Broderick but because the writing is a bit less snappy. Enjoyable but that's really about all.

"It would be you," Inspector Piper nods the moment he turns and sees Hildegarde Withers arriving on the scene. "It's gotten so, Hildegarde, a person can't be killed within the city limits without your showing up."

This is, indeed, the fourth murder case on which Miss Withers assists, critiques, leads, follows, and just generally offers suggestions to her crusty detective friend. James Gleason's Oscar Piper is once again easily chagrined but grudgingly respectful of Miss Withers' detecting skills; Helen Broderick takes on the role of school teacher and amateur sleuth Hildegarde Withers for the first and only time. This Withers is a bit less tart and somewhat more conscious of her own wittiness than the earlier Withers (as portrayed by Edna May Oliver). Broderick and Gleason quickly establish a rapport and relationship that—as in the earlier films in the series—is easily our primary reason for watching.

The plot involves the death of society girl Violet Feveral, played (albeit briefly) with delicious nastiness by Sheila Terry. Suspects abound—this Violet was, in the best whodunit tradition, wildly unpopular and had handed out insults and injuries to numerous other characters in the hours and days before her death. The familiar faces in the lineup of suspects include Louise Latimer as a sister to the victim; John Carroll as a family employee; and Leslie Fenton, who is quite good as the nervous ex-husband who has just been mysteriously released from jail. Willie Best stands out in his usual thankless role as a stable boy who may have a clue or two; his deadpan delivery when answering questions (What was he doing in jail? "Shooting craps." No, what was he in jail for? "Shooting craps.") squeezes the maximum out of a role that's otherwise a lame stereotype.

The mystery itself is not particularly inventive or suspenseful; however, the story moves along briskly and the actors and script are competent if not brilliant. The interaction between Gleason and Broderick is clearly presented as the center of the picture—and that relationship between a couple of pros is a lot of fun to watch. (One example: Oscar suggests that the murder was a "crime of passion," to which Hildegarde snaps, "Oscar, don't you think we'd better try to keep this case clean?")

Bonus: we are instructed what can be learned about a person from examining his pipe!

Violet Feverel is found dead on the Central Park bridle path. Police Insp. Oscar Piper (James Gleason) is ready to declare it an accident until his friend, amateur detective Hildegarde Withers (Helen Broderick), uncovers more clues. Together, they work to solve the case.

It's the fourth movie in the Hildegarde Withers series. This is Broderick's only performance in the lead role. She plays it like a strict school teacher. It's fine. She's no Edna May Oliver. She's not having enough fun with the role. The investigation is rather slow and static. Without Edna May, there isn't enough in this one.

When the body of Violet Feverel is discovered on the Central Park bridle path, Inspector Oscar Piper is about to declare her death accidental from a thrown horse, until his friend and amateur detective Hildegarde Withers locates the horse and discovers blood on the horse.

Helen Broderick gives Hildegard a very different slant than did Edna May Oliver - she's more energetic and even more sharp tongued with plenty of great one liners, but I miss Oliver whose arched expressions of dismay at the police stupidity; I loved her voice, too. But Broderick does her best and comes across being on the ball. It's a good mystery, plenty to be puzzled over till the case is solved.