Grand Central Murder (1942) Dir: S. Sylvan Simon

Production: MGM

This mediocre 'B' mystery was one of only five films released in 1942 with Simon as director. Surely he could have fit another Red Skelton film or two on his schedule! Anyway, Grand Central Murder is a shameless rip-off of the Thin Man films minus the wit, charm, and chemistry of the leads. We are treated to a paper thin plot that can barely support its 73 minutes, bad acting and weary gags.

Van Heflin and Virginia Grey play Nick and Nora Char--er, Rocky and Butch Custer. He's a PI and she's his wife and sleuthing partner. They engage in "humorous" banter with each other. See? It's completely different already. Heflin's the only one here who hints at bigger and better things, although he's real close to being a jerk in this. Virginia Grey was in Another Thin Man, but again, let me stress, THIS FILM IS NOTHING LIKE THAT ONE, no sir. And just in case we start to think that this film is absolutely nothing like another film (say, THE THIN MAN) we actually like, Sam Levene pops up as the lead detective who's kind of dim and has to have Van Heflin subtly direct him toward all the important leads. Hmmm.

Quickly, the 'murder' is that of bitchy schemer Mida King, who likes to trade up on rich men until she finds an even richer one. She's played by Patricia Dane, who's like a C- version of Hedy Lamarr, until she opens her mouth and turns into an F. There's a whole array of wacky suspects, all with their own motivation for wanting Mida dead. There's the society type, the tough talking dames, the thug, the ex-lover, and a shady theater impresario (Tom Conway, here saddled with the unlikely character name of 'Frankie Ciro'). Roman Bohnen plays a nervous, jittery type, something I believe he may have done before. Millard Mitchell plays an idiot cop who, in a running gag that won't quit, can't stop thinking about the piece of ass he's got waiting for him once this case gets wrapped up (that's right, Millard Mitchell, swordsman). Finally, in a completely ground breaking method of storytelling, something we've never seen before, all the suspects are gathered up in one place where they tell their stories (as flashbacks) to the detective, as Rocky takes mental notes, until eventually the guilty person is compelled to dramatically blurt out a confession.

On top of the actual picture being a dud, I naively thought going in that there might be a couple of location shots of the actual 1942-era Grand Central, but alas, no. There's merely one very brief shot at the beginning. Thanks for nothing, Grand Central Murder. So, to sum up, a wee bit formulaic, but Heflin was okay.

*½ out of 4