This Monogram quickie is better than it has a right to be. A convict, Robert Armstrong, is about to be executed in the gas chamber. Visited by his paramour, Jean Gillie, he tells her that he will never reveal the location of the $300,000 from the heist. He'll take the secret to his grave.
That's what he thinks. Miss Gillie, a serpentine, recreant witch, seduces the innocent Doctor Craig, Herbert Rudley, into a scheme to hijack Armstrong's dead body on the way to the crematorium and bring it back to life by counteracting the effects of hydrogen cyanide with an antidote, methylene blue. Rudley, the fool, thinks that Gillie wants the revived Armstrong to give them the money so that the two of them, Rudley and Gillie, can move elsewhere, live together, and he can begin a more prosperous practice. The revivification scheme works, but it's necessary for Gillie and her new boyfriend, Edward Norris, to knock off a couple of people along the way, arousing the interest of a pugnacious cop, Sheldon Leonard.
By the time Rudley wises up to the fact that he's a sucker, it's too late. He, Gillie, and Norris are on their way to the site of the buried treasure, with Rudley being held at gunpoint. When their car gets a flat, Gillie takes advantage of the opportunity to run her boyfriend over and turn him into road kill. I told you she was treacherous. And when she and Rudley finally dig up the locked box with the money, she shoots Rudley twice and leaves him for dead. He is not, however, dead yet. He washes his filthy hands in a grimy gas-station sink, the way no doctor ever should, then hitches his way back to town, manages to reach Gillie's apartment (or "flat", to her) and plugs her. She's been swooning over the box but when Sheldon Leonard's detective opens it, it's filled with ripped paper and a sarcastic note: To whoever double-crossed me and dug dis up, I leave dis one dollar bill for yer trouble. The rest of da money I leave to da worms. (Trying to approximate Sheldon Leonard's working-class, New York accent, as he reads the note aloud.) Look, it's the kind of movie that is so fast paced that even if you don't thoroughly enjoy it, it's over quickly. Yet it does have some redeeming features which can be glimpsed like playful ghosts grinning through the artificial fog and the haze of cyanide and shadows and low budget and spare sets.
The acting isn't at all terrible. It's no worse than mediocre. And Jean Gillie is a beautiful young woman. And if the plot itself is straight out of Charlie Chan, the writer (Stanley Rubin) must have had a little fun with the dialog, because there are some zippy lines.
One of the assistants at the prison morgue has a habit of reading the dictionary and he savors the word "dichotomy," pronounced with the "ch" of "choose." Later he chides his colleague: "Now don't be obfuscatory." And Gillie, salivating over the prospect of being rich, pipes up with, "C'mon! I've got money singing in my head!" Cop to Gillie: "People who use pretty faces the way you use your pretty face usually don't last too long." At the end, the detective cradles the dying Gillie in his arms and carries her to the couch. "Jo-Jo," she begs, "just this once, come down to my level," and she poses for a kiss. Leonard bends over her tentatively and she laughs loudly in his face and promptly gives up the ghost. This babe is a winner in my book, and the movie's not bad either.
If you have the chance, be sure to listen to the audio commentary on the DVD. Stanley Rubin is co-commentator, in his 80s, and sharp as a tack.
That's what he thinks. Miss Gillie, a serpentine, recreant witch, seduces the innocent Doctor Craig, Herbert Rudley, into a scheme to hijack Armstrong's dead body on the way to the crematorium and bring it back to life by counteracting the effects of hydrogen cyanide with an antidote, methylene blue. Rudley, the fool, thinks that Gillie wants the revived Armstrong to give them the money so that the two of them, Rudley and Gillie, can move elsewhere, live together, and he can begin a more prosperous practice. The revivification scheme works, but it's necessary for Gillie and her new boyfriend, Edward Norris, to knock off a couple of people along the way, arousing the interest of a pugnacious cop, Sheldon Leonard.
By the time Rudley wises up to the fact that he's a sucker, it's too late. He, Gillie, and Norris are on their way to the site of the buried treasure, with Rudley being held at gunpoint. When their car gets a flat, Gillie takes advantage of the opportunity to run her boyfriend over and turn him into road kill. I told you she was treacherous. And when she and Rudley finally dig up the locked box with the money, she shoots Rudley twice and leaves him for dead. He is not, however, dead yet. He washes his filthy hands in a grimy gas-station sink, the way no doctor ever should, then hitches his way back to town, manages to reach Gillie's apartment (or "flat", to her) and plugs her. She's been swooning over the box but when Sheldon Leonard's detective opens it, it's filled with ripped paper and a sarcastic note: To whoever double-crossed me and dug dis up, I leave dis one dollar bill for yer trouble. The rest of da money I leave to da worms. (Trying to approximate Sheldon Leonard's working-class, New York accent, as he reads the note aloud.) Look, it's the kind of movie that is so fast paced that even if you don't thoroughly enjoy it, it's over quickly. Yet it does have some redeeming features which can be glimpsed like playful ghosts grinning through the artificial fog and the haze of cyanide and shadows and low budget and spare sets.
The acting isn't at all terrible. It's no worse than mediocre. And Jean Gillie is a beautiful young woman. And if the plot itself is straight out of Charlie Chan, the writer (Stanley Rubin) must have had a little fun with the dialog, because there are some zippy lines.
One of the assistants at the prison morgue has a habit of reading the dictionary and he savors the word "dichotomy," pronounced with the "ch" of "choose." Later he chides his colleague: "Now don't be obfuscatory." And Gillie, salivating over the prospect of being rich, pipes up with, "C'mon! I've got money singing in my head!" Cop to Gillie: "People who use pretty faces the way you use your pretty face usually don't last too long." At the end, the detective cradles the dying Gillie in his arms and carries her to the couch. "Jo-Jo," she begs, "just this once, come down to my level," and she poses for a kiss. Leonard bends over her tentatively and she laughs loudly in his face and promptly gives up the ghost. This babe is a winner in my book, and the movie's not bad either.
If you have the chance, be sure to listen to the audio commentary on the DVD. Stanley Rubin is co-commentator, in his 80s, and sharp as a tack.