Fantastic!

The film was still a fun one that will make you laugh and have you leaving the theater feeling like you just stole something valuable and got away with it.

The movie runs out of plot and jokes well before the end of a two-hour running time, long for a light comedy.

This is a small, humorous movie in some ways, but it has a huge heart. What a nice experience.

Almost half of the movie shows a womanizing actor's life of apparently enviable debauchery; several scenes are offered to a chimpanzee's naughtiness and mischief, to old detective Jimmy's singing, etc., while the bare plot was hugely exciting, but squeezed to suit the whims mentioned, and a sort of obliqueness; since I mentioned squeezing, occasional humor is squeezed out of racial jokes, and of all stereotypes, there's a caricature of a Jewish manager, a tandem of cops (Jimmy and Marty), a reporter, but the older detective manages to take over his scenes, anyway the awkwardness, the looseness may be attributed to nonchalance, while the puzzle is given away from the 1st scene …. The murder mysteries, several, are obliquely referenced, which makes the storyline look awkward but enthralling.Once upon a time, movies, and movies like this one, meant a different thing, they were shows to enjoy, and none foresaw they might be, 83 yrs later, analyzed on a website; they were watched in a theater, and were mainly shows, like the TV episodes have been later, 15 yrs after this movie was released.Dorothy Mackaill plays Lola, her character is creepy, but the actress was classier than her colleagues (the tycoon's daughter was appealing only, while the wife was a vulgar shrew). It was her 12th year in the cinema, her 14th if we count the shorts and lost movies from her first couple of yrs. From '55 on (by then she was 52, and a thrice divorcée), Dorothy spent her next decades in Honolulu, for another 35 yrs.

This inconsequential mystery starts off intriguing and descends rapidly from there. Paul Cavanagh plays a Broadway playboy actor who has broken several hearts, tee'd off a few husbands and made other assorted enemies, so when he gets shot in the middle of a party (with the lights all of a sudden going out of course), who is really surprised? The focus goes off the human suspects and onto a trained chimpanzee when detective Jim Hanvey (an over the top C. Aubrey Smith) arrives, and for the next few reels, it's chimp and mouse as the pranksterous monkey even gains a front page headline. Former Warner Brothers ingénue Dorothy MacKaill descends to the skids, receiving only a few moments of screen time as the most vulnerable of all the suspects with the always tough Natalie Moorehead at her typical bitchiest as another predatory female.If there was a bit more focus on the human characters for at least ten minutes, this might have been a fair bottom of the barrel Z-grade programmer. Not enough detail, past the opening flashback of the sins of the soon to be murdered actor, keeps this from really providing an even remotely tense conclusion. While the idea of having a non-human suspect in a murder is an obviously original plot twist, the subtext of comedy behind it all makes the whole thing totally difficult to swallow.

Movies like this make me appreciate the technical categories of Academy Awards. In this case, especially film editing and camera work. Both come into question in "Curtain at Eight," along with directing. The cast is mostly OK in this early "B" level mystery, but no one particularly shines in his or her role. The bombastic Sam Hardy stands out some in his role as Martin Galllagher, chief of detectives. Dislikable as he is, his braggadocio helps viewers see the clear difference in the abilities of the two policemen. That probably was intended in the script. We are supposed to like C. Aubrey Smith as the more calm and collected detective, Jim Hanvey. Smith is OK, but there is nothing special in his or any of the other performances. The plot of this film is interesting, and is what kept me watching. But a number of disconnects makes it difficult to follow at times. It jumps around between abrupt scene breaks and suffers from lack of cohesion. Again, that may be the editing. The ending is rather abrupt as well. And though it leaves us with a sense of justice having been achieved, it also reinforces doubt about the police work. And, the character of the police. The production quality is very poor, and even a digital remastering of this film couldn't improve it enough to make it a good movie to recommend. One other reviewer noted the retort by the reporter, Terry Mooney (played by Russell Hopton), to a boastful comment by Gallagher. "Says Hitler!?" surely says a lot about the times. Hitler had only just risen to power in Germany the previous year. The press on him was obviously good enough that the folks in Hollywood already perceived him as a liar and untrustworthy. But then, we should remember that a number of entertainers, writers and other artists were among the early people to flee the Nazis, in the early 1930s.

"Curtain At Eight" is only 61 minutes long, and I can't figure out if that's an asset or a detriment. It should have been longer to allow more plot development and it suffers from an editing problem - some scenes seem to be out of sequence and continuity suffers as a result.On the other hand, maybe it's a blessing it was wrapped up quickly, as the production in general and the acting in particular is too stagey. There were no exterior shots and I thought that Sam Hardy, as the Detective Captain, nearly sank the whole picture with his outrageous overacting and obnoxious demeanor. He detracted from every scene he was in. C. Aubrey Smith and the female actresses were quite good, and the women were attractive (always enjoy watching Dorothy Mackaill), given that this was 1933, and this was an early 30's production through and through.The mystery was above average and accounted for my rating - after all, the play's the thing, right? It was a whodunnit right up until the final scene, and with lots of suspects to choose from. Interesting and marginally entertaining.