The Missing Juror

There is not one juror going missing here, but they are all gradually being disposed of one by one, until only five remain. We never learn what ever happened to those last five.

Jim Bannon plays the reporter who starts paying attention to the case, investigating it and digging it up, while the murders just go on. The case is the problem of a murderer convicted of a murder he did not commit, he is sentenced to be hanged, and not until in the last moments before his hanging he is pardoned, as the case is solved. But he is already destroyed, distraught by the hardships in the prison with the terrible psychological torture of daily having to witness other convicts being brought out to be hanged, and he has to be confined to a mental asylum. There he hangs himself and destroys all traces of himself by setting fire to the cell. The case is closed, but that's how it opens.

You will immediately grasp the plot if you are not stupid, but although it's all self-evident, it keeps developing and getting more complicated, as another is caught for the murders who confesses to all of them in detail. So where does this labyrinth lead?

It is one of Budd Boetticher's early films, and already here he excels with his special tricks, number one being an excellent camera work, supported by exquisite photo. In spite of all its B-superficiality, the film is worth watching - and enjoying. It is also graced by Janis Carter's enchanting appearance.

Film Daily said this picture was for people who were not too demanding. I would say it's for people who are not too awake. As sloppy as it is moronic (the deaths are described as accidents, though one man is shot from a passing car), it has a murderer whose identity is obvious very soon after the start. We are asked to believe that a man can, with hair dye, glasses, and a false beard, impersonate someone who has spent several days with his victim. The impersonator also has a very distinctive, velvety voice that would not have been identical with the absent man's. The impersonation is blindingly obvious to anyone watching the movie, so how can all the people IN the movie be taken in?

If a real woman were as passive and dumb as Janis Carter's character, the menaced heroine, she would not have lasted to adulthood. Approached by the weaponless murderer (who has fooled her for days), Janis has two opportunities to save her life, but just stands there, looking mildly worried.

This movie certainly makes a demand of its own--for one's disbelief to be suspended higher than any of the movie's gallows.

The story may have more holes than Grandma's sieve, but it's still worth catching up with. For one, it's got cult actress Janis Carter who always shows more eyeball than ought to be legally allowed, along with the high-class George Macready just then perfecting his mad cackle-- and whoever in production thought his cultured voice was not a dead give-a-way. It's also one of director Buddy Boetticher's first outings, and already he's a camera master—catch those graceful dolly moves across the cut-a-way rooms. Then there's literary muscleman and masseuse Mike Mazurki throttling Macready's face blue while on a flight of poetic abandon. I just wish some of that imagination had carried over to repairing the story holes, like how crank-confessor Trevor Bardette knows so many details of the killings. Speaking of Bardette, his highly enthused performance suggests A-grade pay for a B-grade movie, making his mad lather a movie high point. Clearly, the 50-dollar budget didn't go into lighting since some scenes resemble a bat's cave and require the eyes of one to make out what's happening. Nonetheless, the film has almost as many promising noirish elements as the classic Stranger on the Third Floor (1940)—as another reviewer aptly compares. Too bad someone didn't send the script down to Rewrite for some hole-plugging plaster.

This film, rarely seen on TV, is one of the great over-looked film noirs of the 1940's. Similar in tone to such noirs as the "Stranger On The Third Floor", the movie plays out as a noir-twist on the film "And Then There Was None" with George Macready at his nasty best.

Breezy B detective movie from Columbia, who made some of the best B movies of the 1940s. Jim Bannon stars as a reporter investigating the murders of jurors from a high profile case. The mystery here is not very compelling. The identity of the killer is obvious from the start. So obvious that I have to wonder if it was even expected to fool the audience. Maybe it was supposed to be a Vertigo type of thing. At any rate, the movie is a fun watch despite the weak mystery. The cast is likable and director Budd Boetticher keeps things moving along quickly. The following year Bannon would rejoin co-star George Macready in the first of Bannon's short-lived I Love a Mystery series.