Robert J. Maxwell A short, comic murder mystery at a radio station, with a couple of songs thrown in, presented at a speed that can only be measured in Mach numbers.It's strictly functional. At one point, Frankie Darro, the diminutive hero and page boy, blows a line but just corrects himself and dashes on. Two lady singers are featured, both looking pretty good.The direction, like the acting, is effectively rudimentary. If five people are going to be in the scene, two of them arguing, the five actors are lined up next to one another like troops at attention. The jokes are applied with such blunt force they could be hammering nails.But the movie does have Mantan Moreland at his glorious best. Oh, how un-politically correct it all seems now. Darro dresses up in black face and he and Moreland do an Amos and Andy number trying to get on a radio show. A singing cowboy calls him "Banjo Eyes." The police lieutenant calls every suspect by name except Moreland, who become "the porter there." Moreland, on the other hand, addresses everyone as "Mistuh Frankie" or whatever. Speaking of eyes, his seems to be on springs. They pop out just before he becomes frightened and flees the scene, which is about every other five minutes.What a time of innocence. Except for Moreland, I can't think of many other reasons to bother watching what is a routine B movie about the solution of a murder.

JohnHowardReid One movie genre that a normal person might think off-limits to Poverty Row is the musical (because of the extra expense involved with orchestras and singers, not to mention songs and copyright clearances). Yet quite a few musicals made their appearance from time to time along the Row. For this one, Monogram has ingeniously combined the songs and musical capers with a typical murder mystery. And who solves these radio killings that have stumped the keenest minds of the Los Angeles Police (Hollywood Division)? Why none other than dapper, personably brash Frankie Darro and his delightfully hesitant, broom-wielding sidekick, Mantan Moreland (soon to enrich the Charlie Chan series with his smile-a-minute, banjo-eyed presence). Further enjoyment is provided by that really lovely girl, Marjorie Reynolds, as the one-step-into-fame heroine. Her voice is a real treat too. The support players do everything that's expected of them and Mr Bretherton's direction definitely rates a cut or two above the average.

kidboots Frankie Darro did pretty well for a child actor. Starting off in the silents, he appeared in "The Public Enemy" (1931) and was the star of William Wellman's heart wrenching tale of the depression "The Wild Boys of the Road" (1933). By the mid 30s he had his own series at Conn Pictures Corp and by the late 30s he was teamed with Mantan Moreland for a Monogram series of comedy mysteries with plenty of music and up and coming female talent. He was once co-starred with Gale Storm in "Let's Go Collegiate" (1941) but usually it was with the very pretty Marjorie Reynolds.Frankie (Frankie Darro) is a page at the local radio station. He has an eye for the ladies and he spies pretty receptionist Ann (Marjorie Reynolds) who yearns to be a singer. He "arranges" an audition and finds she really has a voice - she sings "By the Look of Things" and really swings it. By the song's end she realises that Frankie is not a big wig but a lowly page. Meanwhile the station's top singer Rita (Lorna Grey) throws one tantrum too many and the station is on the look out for a new talent. Not before Rita begins a sultry rendition of "Doin' the Conga" - suddenly the lights go out, a shot rings out and when the lights go on - Rita is found dead!!!Mantan Moreland is always great and here he is Jeff, Frankie's amiable sidekick. He does a soft shoe shuffle to "By the Look of Things" only to be told that it won't go down on radio!!! The suspects mount - a suspicious cowboy, Tex (Gordon Jones), drops into the broadcast - Rita seems scared of him - he disappears in all the commotion. Frankie has overheard Farrell (Tristram Coffin) having words with Rita before the broadcast - he says he will help Ann with her career if Frankie doesn't mention the fight to the police. Frankie (in blackface) and Jeff audition for the comedy spot on the radio, when they decide to show Hastings (Dick Elliot) the manager, they find Tex Barton dead!!!Ann gets another chance and really puts over "Somehow or Other" - "mmmm not bad" - a radio technician sums her up. Frankie thinks he has solved the mystery. He thinks Gladys Wharton, a girl that Tex was previously involved with, is really Ann, because he found Ann's picture in Tex's belongings. It is pretty plain that Rita is really Gladys. Rita and Tex had a singing act at a Cheyenne radio station but left due to a shooting scandal. Frankie finds this all out by sending a wire - he is just about to find out the executive's name in the scandal when the line goes dead.Who did it???? I didn't guess and I thought it was one of Darro's and Moreland's better pairings - even though Frankie didn't do any stunts!!! Darro and Moreland had an easy rapport and a great friendship that really comes through the film. The film ends with Marjoie Reynolds singing "Doin' The Conga" and really giving it her all.Recommended.

ONenslo The morning after watching this, my wife and I sat at the kitchen table discussing it, and found we had nothing to talk about but Mantan Moreland. The plot is pretty much a series of contrivances to hang situations on, and the inevitable solution of the "who killed..." mystery doesn't seem to be the driving force. It's all about Mantan. I have seen him as comedy relief in a dozen movies, and he always steals every scene he is in, but I have never seen him dominate like this. He makes everyone else into his straight man, and constantly subverts and deflates authority figures. Every time someone says "I've got an idea," or "I've been thinking," he's on the spot with his "UH-OH!" There is nothing cowardly (as it often appears in his Charlie Chan roles) about his fierce common- sense determination to move away from trouble, not toward it. He sometimes seems like the only one who is not dangerously foolish. Mantan and Frankie Darro work together really well here and, though modern sensibilities may be jarred by Darro donning blackface to try to get them a radio job as a comedy duo, they come across as peers and friends, not boss and lackey as so often occurs in films of this era. The highest point is Mantan's dance scene - inserted into the story for no reason but its sheer entertainment value - in which he is so suave, smooth, cool, cute, and downright huggable it's difficult not to exclaim in delight. The movie plugs along gamely in the moments when Mantan is not on screen, and provides some pretty fair musical numbers, but he is the real shining light in this production.