The Black Ace warns his victims ahead when the time will come for them to die. Such is the basic premise of Tomorrow at Seven directed by Ray Enright and scripted by Ralph Spence. Interwoven into this basic premise is a young Chester Morris going to a Mr. Thorton Drake because he knows all there is to be known about the Black Ace. Morris is writing a book, meets a cute secretary that can introduce him, and all the main characters from that point on - including two cops included for protection - board a small plane to go to a huge mansion in Louisiana. All this to escape the ominous note saying Mr. Drake, played indelibly by Henry Stephenson, would die "tomorrow at seven." The old Southern home is reminiscent of the home used in the 1939 version of The Cat and the Canary(also taking place in Loiusiana). This film works because it has a pretty tight and inventive script, some good direction, and good acting. The mystery is not too terribly easy to solve - and though I figured it out - I could never be 100% sure!
22 Reviews
Light and Breezy Murder Mystery
jayraskin15 November 2010
I was impressed by Chester Morris as the square-jawed hero. He seems to be a more rugged version of Dick Powell. He is Clint Eastwood intense in some scenes, but quite relaxed on others. Great 1930's character actors Frank McHugh and Alan Jenkins provide some laughs as two bumbling, cowardly cops.
The plot is intriguing. A killer taunts his victims and the police by sending them the Ace of Spades as a sign that they're going to be murdered the following night at 7 P.M.. There are several nicely done scenes with some suspense, including an early 1930's passenger plane ride with lounge chairs rather than the passenger seats we're used to.
I thought the number of suspects should have been increased. There are really only about three people who could have committed the murders. Most good murder mysteries give us at least four or five to consider.
Still, a mixture of light humor together with a few moments of danger makes this film quite pleasant.
The plot is intriguing. A killer taunts his victims and the police by sending them the Ace of Spades as a sign that they're going to be murdered the following night at 7 P.M.. There are several nicely done scenes with some suspense, including an early 1930's passenger plane ride with lounge chairs rather than the passenger seats we're used to.
I thought the number of suspects should have been increased. There are really only about three people who could have committed the murders. Most good murder mysteries give us at least four or five to consider.
Still, a mixture of light humor together with a few moments of danger makes this film quite pleasant.
Good mystery ruined by two unfunny cops
dbborroughs29 July 2006
A killer known as the Black Ace is on the loose. The Ace leaves a calling card with the time of his victims death on it. The Ace has killed several prominent people and a rich friend of some of the victims, Winters, is looking to put a stop to it. Chester Morris plays a mystery writer putting together a book on the killer. He meets the daughter of Winters on a train on his way to offer what he knows in the hunt for the killer. Not long after that Winters receives a death threat and while in the middle of an air plane flight the flights flicker for a moment and he is killed.
This is an okay film that is ruined by two bumbling cops Dugan and Clancy who push a witty and clever mystery into the realm of silly. Normally I like the work of Frank McHugh and Allen Jenkins but here they just come off as being bumbling fools. Its awful, or rather not funny. They take the desire to know more out of the mystery and the laughs out of the comedy. There is no real reason for them to exist except to kill time.If you can divorce them from the rest of the movie this is a good little mystery, something not easy to do.
Worth seeing if you run across it. Not sure its a rental but on late night TV its worth trying.
This is an okay film that is ruined by two bumbling cops Dugan and Clancy who push a witty and clever mystery into the realm of silly. Normally I like the work of Frank McHugh and Allen Jenkins but here they just come off as being bumbling fools. Its awful, or rather not funny. They take the desire to know more out of the mystery and the laughs out of the comedy. There is no real reason for them to exist except to kill time.If you can divorce them from the rest of the movie this is a good little mystery, something not easy to do.
Worth seeing if you run across it. Not sure its a rental but on late night TV its worth trying.
Did the Joker follow the Ace of Spades?
F Gwynplaine MacIntyre15 March 2005
SLIGHT SPOILERS AHEAD. 'Tomorrow at Seven' is one of those wildly implausible movies from Hollywood's studio era which still manage to be hugely enjoyable on the strength of sheer audacity and some colourful performances. Here we have that old chestnut: the serial murderer who announces his crimes in advance, in a highly theatrical manner, yet repeatedly kills his victims without getting caught. We also have that even mouldier chestnut: the amateur sleuth who is able to outwit the cops and nab the baddie.
In this case, the murderer proclaims his intentions in advance by delivering to each victim an ace of spades (the death card), with a neatly-written message announcing the hour at which he intends to do the deed. Naturally, he consistently manages to kill his victims (and get away clean, his identity a secret) even though they've been well and fairly warned. As the killer neglects to leave his name in the guest-book, he is cried the Ace of Spades.
He murders wealthy art dealer Asa Marsden, and here we get another old-movie cliché: the murder shown from the killer's viewpoint. We see the victim goggling into the camera as the killer carks him, but the murderer is unseen.
Next, the Ace of Spades announces his intention to murder wealthy Thornton Drake 'tomorrow at seven'. (Presumably this is P.M., not A.M. ... surely even serial murderers shouldn't have to get up early.) At the fatal hour, the deed is done aboard an aeroplane in flight. At the stroke of seven, the lights go out in the passenger cabin ... then they switch on again, and there's a corpse on the deckplates, stabbed through the heart. But the dead man isn't Drake: it's his secretary Austin Winters. Afterwards, the pilot claims to know nothing.
The official detectives in this movie are played by two of my favourite character actors: Frank McHugh and the superb Allen Jenkins. Here they play characters named Clancy and Dugan, which gives you some idea of what to expect. Unfortunately, both actors perform their sleuth roles as comedy relief, which I found regrettable: the murders in this movie are played straight, so the seriousness of the homicides is undercut by the intentional comedy of the detectives trying to catch the killer. Screenwriter Ralph Spence often combined straightforward chills and broad comedy in his scripts -- notably in his play 'The Gorilla' -- but here the mixture isn't as smooth as usual.
The hero of this film is played by Chester Morris, so it's obvious who will solve the crime. For some reason, a lot of Hollywood whodunnits of the 1930s and '40s featured *amateur* detectives. Here, Morris plays a mystery novelist (oh, boy) who is researching the criminal career of the Ace of Spades as material for his next book. Morris decides that it might make a nice finish for his book if he actually catches the murderer.
Along with this film's other merits, there's the Batman factor. It's well known that Batman's greatest villain the Joker (created in 1939) was inspired by the character played by Conrad Veidt in 'The Man Who Laughs'. But the premise of 'Tomorrow at Seven' strongly resembles the premise of the Joker's debut story, and this 1933 movie may have supplied some inspiration to Batman's scriptwriter Bill Finger.
'Tomorrow at Seven' has a lot of the little touches that make 1930s B-movies so enjoyable. Unfortunately, this movie also has a couple of the little touches so typical of that time which are very much *less* enjoyable. Here, we get a mercifully brief turn by African-American actor Gus Robinson in a 'yassuh!' role. I don't blame Robinson, whose options as a black actor in 1930s Hollywood must have been limited. I'll rate this otherwise enjoyable movie 7 out of 10.
In this case, the murderer proclaims his intentions in advance by delivering to each victim an ace of spades (the death card), with a neatly-written message announcing the hour at which he intends to do the deed. Naturally, he consistently manages to kill his victims (and get away clean, his identity a secret) even though they've been well and fairly warned. As the killer neglects to leave his name in the guest-book, he is cried the Ace of Spades.
He murders wealthy art dealer Asa Marsden, and here we get another old-movie cliché: the murder shown from the killer's viewpoint. We see the victim goggling into the camera as the killer carks him, but the murderer is unseen.
Next, the Ace of Spades announces his intention to murder wealthy Thornton Drake 'tomorrow at seven'. (Presumably this is P.M., not A.M. ... surely even serial murderers shouldn't have to get up early.) At the fatal hour, the deed is done aboard an aeroplane in flight. At the stroke of seven, the lights go out in the passenger cabin ... then they switch on again, and there's a corpse on the deckplates, stabbed through the heart. But the dead man isn't Drake: it's his secretary Austin Winters. Afterwards, the pilot claims to know nothing.
The official detectives in this movie are played by two of my favourite character actors: Frank McHugh and the superb Allen Jenkins. Here they play characters named Clancy and Dugan, which gives you some idea of what to expect. Unfortunately, both actors perform their sleuth roles as comedy relief, which I found regrettable: the murders in this movie are played straight, so the seriousness of the homicides is undercut by the intentional comedy of the detectives trying to catch the killer. Screenwriter Ralph Spence often combined straightforward chills and broad comedy in his scripts -- notably in his play 'The Gorilla' -- but here the mixture isn't as smooth as usual.
The hero of this film is played by Chester Morris, so it's obvious who will solve the crime. For some reason, a lot of Hollywood whodunnits of the 1930s and '40s featured *amateur* detectives. Here, Morris plays a mystery novelist (oh, boy) who is researching the criminal career of the Ace of Spades as material for his next book. Morris decides that it might make a nice finish for his book if he actually catches the murderer.
Along with this film's other merits, there's the Batman factor. It's well known that Batman's greatest villain the Joker (created in 1939) was inspired by the character played by Conrad Veidt in 'The Man Who Laughs'. But the premise of 'Tomorrow at Seven' strongly resembles the premise of the Joker's debut story, and this 1933 movie may have supplied some inspiration to Batman's scriptwriter Bill Finger.
'Tomorrow at Seven' has a lot of the little touches that make 1930s B-movies so enjoyable. Unfortunately, this movie also has a couple of the little touches so typical of that time which are very much *less* enjoyable. Here, we get a mercifully brief turn by African-American actor Gus Robinson in a 'yassuh!' role. I don't blame Robinson, whose options as a black actor in 1930s Hollywood must have been limited. I'll rate this otherwise enjoyable movie 7 out of 10.
Strong Cast Makes This Film a Winner!!
kidboots21 July 2010
Warning: Spoilers
Dynamic Chester Morris leads a high grade cast in this excellent who-done-it from Jefferson Pictures Corp. who only produced 4 films over the 1932-33 period. Unusual for poverty row films, the comedy actually enhances the film with Frank McHugh and Allen Jenkins (both from Warners, as was the director, Frank Enright) both giving hilarious performances as a pair of bumbling detectives.
When crime writer Neil Broderick (Chester Morris) meets pretty Martha Winters (Vivienne Osbourne) on a train, he confesses he is basing his new book on a real killer - "The Black Ace", who is on a murderous rampage in a small town. He always leaves a calling card - a black ace - and always warns his victims of their death beforehand. Neil is on his way to meet Thornton Drake (Henry Stephenson), an expert on The Black Ace, hoping he will be able to help him with his research. Martha then reveals she is the daughter of Winters, Drake's fussy old assistant. When Neil arrives, he finds himself in the thick of things - a message has just been found embedded in a jigsaw - "tomorrow at seven". They are then joined by two bumbling detectives - Clancy and Dugan, who come to get the "real dope" on the phantom killer. Together, they all decide to fly down to Drake's plantation in Louisiana, where they hope to escape the killer but things go wrong, however, when Winters is murdered mid flight.
Once they arrive at the plantation the movie becomes part of the "old dark house" genre. Neil phones the coroner but secretly signals someone hiding outside, when the pilot tries to phone his office, the wires are mysteriously cut, a letter is found in Winter's pocket revealing the identity of the Black Ace but after a black out the letter disappears. Charles Middleton makes his ominous presence felt as a "creepy" coroner.
Identity of the killer is kept just out of reach as each person who arouses suspicion is usually the next person killed - although there is a small clue when Neil arrives at Drake's house. Special mention should be made of the unjustly forgotten Vivienne Osbourne, who will be remembered for her spellbinding performance as the evil prostitute in "Two Seconds" and as the unforgettable murderess in "Supernatural". She deserved to be a much bigger star than she was.
Recommended.
When crime writer Neil Broderick (Chester Morris) meets pretty Martha Winters (Vivienne Osbourne) on a train, he confesses he is basing his new book on a real killer - "The Black Ace", who is on a murderous rampage in a small town. He always leaves a calling card - a black ace - and always warns his victims of their death beforehand. Neil is on his way to meet Thornton Drake (Henry Stephenson), an expert on The Black Ace, hoping he will be able to help him with his research. Martha then reveals she is the daughter of Winters, Drake's fussy old assistant. When Neil arrives, he finds himself in the thick of things - a message has just been found embedded in a jigsaw - "tomorrow at seven". They are then joined by two bumbling detectives - Clancy and Dugan, who come to get the "real dope" on the phantom killer. Together, they all decide to fly down to Drake's plantation in Louisiana, where they hope to escape the killer but things go wrong, however, when Winters is murdered mid flight.
Once they arrive at the plantation the movie becomes part of the "old dark house" genre. Neil phones the coroner but secretly signals someone hiding outside, when the pilot tries to phone his office, the wires are mysteriously cut, a letter is found in Winter's pocket revealing the identity of the Black Ace but after a black out the letter disappears. Charles Middleton makes his ominous presence felt as a "creepy" coroner.
Identity of the killer is kept just out of reach as each person who arouses suspicion is usually the next person killed - although there is a small clue when Neil arrives at Drake's house. Special mention should be made of the unjustly forgotten Vivienne Osbourne, who will be remembered for her spellbinding performance as the evil prostitute in "Two Seconds" and as the unforgettable murderess in "Supernatural". She deserved to be a much bigger star than she was.
Recommended.
Murderer leaves a calling card
bkoganbing13 May 2013
A good cast enlivens this rather routine closed circle of suspects murder done by RKO. Chester Morris over from MGM stars in this film, as a rather cocky crime novelist out to solve some real crimes. Over at Warner Brothers James Cagney would have fit this part better than O.J. Simpson fit that glove.
Morris is on the trail of a killer known as 'the Black Ace' who leaves an ace of spades at each of his crime scenes daring the police to catch him. Morris is following a lead concerning millionaire Henry Stephenson and on the way he meets up with Vivienne Osborne who is the daughter of Stephenson's private secretary Grant Mitchell.
When Stephenson gets a calling card they all decide to fly to his bayou plantation including a couple of Chicago cops played by Frank McHugh and Allen Jenkins. As they are about to land Mitchell is murdered when the lights go out.
Things might have been solved faster if the law wasn't in the persons of McHugh and Jenkins. These two geniuses couldn't catch a cold they must have had influence at City Hall to have been made detectives. But they are a great deal responsible for a lot laughs in this film. Political influence wasn't exactly unknown in Chicago.
This probably would have been done with more style at Warner Brothers, still this is an entertaining mystery with more laughs than usual thanks to McHugh and Jenkins.
Morris is on the trail of a killer known as 'the Black Ace' who leaves an ace of spades at each of his crime scenes daring the police to catch him. Morris is following a lead concerning millionaire Henry Stephenson and on the way he meets up with Vivienne Osborne who is the daughter of Stephenson's private secretary Grant Mitchell.
When Stephenson gets a calling card they all decide to fly to his bayou plantation including a couple of Chicago cops played by Frank McHugh and Allen Jenkins. As they are about to land Mitchell is murdered when the lights go out.
Things might have been solved faster if the law wasn't in the persons of McHugh and Jenkins. These two geniuses couldn't catch a cold they must have had influence at City Hall to have been made detectives. But they are a great deal responsible for a lot laughs in this film. Political influence wasn't exactly unknown in Chicago.
This probably would have been done with more style at Warner Brothers, still this is an entertaining mystery with more laughs than usual thanks to McHugh and Jenkins.
Slow-moving, low-budget mystery with a good cast
rick_711 June 2010
Tomorrow at Seven (Ray Enright, 1933) is like a Monogram Chan before the fact: a creaky, archaic mystery with a none-too-surprising culprit - but fun just the same. Chester Morris (later Boston Blackie in Columbia's exceptional B movie series) is a novelist investigating the inspiration for his latest book, a killer known as The Black Ace. He travels to see wealthy Henry Stephenson, who's also researching said homicidal maniac, and before you can say "when you finish that jigsaw, it's going to contain a threat from the killer", Stephenson's secretary finishes a jigsaw, and finds it contains a threat from the killer. This is a slow-moving production that recalls movies made in the early days of sound cinema, but the name cast keeps the questionable narrative afloat and it's a delight to see legendary character actors Frank McHugh and Allen Jenkins as a pair of thick cops. "Anyone touch the body?" a creepy coroner enquires of them. "Nobody," replies McHugh confidently. "Only Dugan and me and Drake and that guy Henderson and Broderick."
'Tomorrow At Seven' (1933)
mfnmbvp19 April 2012
Warning: Spoilers
A surprisingly enjoyable Depression-era murder mystery, 'Tomorrow At Seven' has many conventional themes that we have seen over and over and over again repeatedly in the murder mystery: the old dark house, the two bumbling detectives who play a major part of this entire tripe, and the large cast of whodunnits. Allen Jenkins and Frank McHugh's characters are both pretty enjoyable, and characters like theirs were probably the highlight of the feature to Depression-era audiences who managed to get away and retreat to see a motion picture.
The acting isn't great by any means, and the plot can be conceived as quite silly by today's standards, but keeping in mind the year in which this film was brought to us, it still plays out as an entertaining and watchable film. I was completely convinced as to who the killer was the entire time, using my 21st century horror movie analysis to try and figure out who it might be, but alas I was wrong. Henry Stephenson is a good and notable actor here, and I would be pleased to see more of his work as well.
Quite a nice attempt here, with some noir conventions that still manage to please viewers nearly eighty years later. Overshadowed by more popular horror and dramas of the day, 'Tomorrow At Seven' isn't a bad way to spend an hour at all.
TOMORROW AT SEVEN -----7/10.
The acting isn't great by any means, and the plot can be conceived as quite silly by today's standards, but keeping in mind the year in which this film was brought to us, it still plays out as an entertaining and watchable film. I was completely convinced as to who the killer was the entire time, using my 21st century horror movie analysis to try and figure out who it might be, but alas I was wrong. Henry Stephenson is a good and notable actor here, and I would be pleased to see more of his work as well.
Quite a nice attempt here, with some noir conventions that still manage to please viewers nearly eighty years later. Overshadowed by more popular horror and dramas of the day, 'Tomorrow At Seven' isn't a bad way to spend an hour at all.
TOMORROW AT SEVEN -----7/10.
Despite a good cast, the writing and direction are pretty awful at times.
planktonrules27 March 2013
The DVD for "Tomorrow at Seven" by Alpha Video is not especially high in quality. One thing all Alpha releases have in common is that the company does nothing to restore the films to watchable pictures. This one has a decent quality picture but the sound is VERY annoying--as there is a his that constantly fades in and out. You can't help but notice it and I would assume most people would just stop watching it because of this. I, however, am a masochist and watched the entire DVD.
"Tomorrow at Seven" is a murder whodunnit about an unknown killer who refers to himself as 'The Black Ace'. To help investigate the murders is Chester Morris (who is good as usual) and two half-witted jerks (Alan Jenkins and Frank McHugh) who pretty much ruin the film. Their stupid detective routines runs VERY thin after a while and even for a 1930s murder film, they are incredibly stupid and 100% unbelievable. A couple of tomatoes in these roles would have been more believable and enjoyable. It's a shame, as I usually like these two supporting actors in films but their parts were just way overdone and seriously impeded an otherwise decent plot. It's sad, as Charles Middleton, Henry Stephenson, Grant Mitchell, Chester Morris, Frank McHugh and Allan Jenkins make up would should be a very good cast--the director should have been able to put these folks to better use.
"Tomorrow at Seven" is a murder whodunnit about an unknown killer who refers to himself as 'The Black Ace'. To help investigate the murders is Chester Morris (who is good as usual) and two half-witted jerks (Alan Jenkins and Frank McHugh) who pretty much ruin the film. Their stupid detective routines runs VERY thin after a while and even for a 1930s murder film, they are incredibly stupid and 100% unbelievable. A couple of tomatoes in these roles would have been more believable and enjoyable. It's a shame, as I usually like these two supporting actors in films but their parts were just way overdone and seriously impeded an otherwise decent plot. It's sad, as Charles Middleton, Henry Stephenson, Grant Mitchell, Chester Morris, Frank McHugh and Allan Jenkins make up would should be a very good cast--the director should have been able to put these folks to better use.
Has big faults, but big thrills too!
JohnHowardReid23 August 2017
Warning: Spoilers
Presented by M. & A. Alexander Productions. Copyright 2 June 1933 by RKO Radio Pictures and Jefferson Pictures Corp. Released through RKO Radio Pictures. New York opening at the Roxy: 2 July 1933. U.S. release: 2 June 1933. U.K. release: 30 December 1933. Australian release: October 1933. 7 reels. 64 minutes.
SYNOPSIS: A serial killer, known as "The Black Ace", is stalking wealthy collectors.
NOTES: Hard to believe this film originated in Poverty Row!
COMMENT: Superbly photographed, smoothly directed, but somewhat disjointedly scripted thriller comedy. The problem is that the comedy — which is often very funny indeed, Jenkins has a couple of really hilarious lines — doesn't jell at all with a mystery thriller that is often nerve-wracking and suspenseful. The dramatic and comic elements are given equal time and tend to play against each other rather than form a cohesive whole. The reason for this failure, I suspect, is that Jenkins and McHugh play regular Chicago cops. Both are so inept that it's impossible to accept them as real characters. In order for a comic thriller to work successfully, the author must paint his comedians as amiable idiots like Laurel and Hardy or Abbott and Costello; or as wise-cracking, cowardly custards like Bob Hope; or as well- intentioned but maladroitly ingenious eager-beavers like Arthur Askey.
From the moment they first enter, flashing their outsize badges like burlesque or circus clowns, it's absolutely impossible to credit that even a corrupt Chicago constabulary would tolerate imbeciles of this caliber on the beat, let alone place them in charge of the city's major newspaper-headlined murder investigation.
A pity the script is burdened with this basic and insoluble problem for, as said above, the comedy in itself is nothing short of inspired lunacy, whilst the thriller is both ingeniously intriguing and cliffhanging yet charged with suspense.
RKO acquired this "B" from a Poverty Row outfit, releasing it as an "A" — and no wonder! What a cast! Vivienne Osborne makes a wonderfully vulnerable heroine, Chester Morris is ideal as the tough, yet personable hero, whilst Henry Stephenson has one of the most memorable roles of his career as the Black Ace's next victim. Good to see Charles Middleton as the enigmatic Simons, plus an equally big cheer for Gus Robinson as the brutally thuggish Pompey. Also to be highly praised, Virginia Howell, doing a marvelous Martha Mattox interpretation of the obligatory spooky housekeeper.
Schoenbaum's lighting — a wonder of moody atmospherics — is skilfully abetted by Ray Enright's unfaltering and pacy direction.
SYNOPSIS: A serial killer, known as "The Black Ace", is stalking wealthy collectors.
NOTES: Hard to believe this film originated in Poverty Row!
COMMENT: Superbly photographed, smoothly directed, but somewhat disjointedly scripted thriller comedy. The problem is that the comedy — which is often very funny indeed, Jenkins has a couple of really hilarious lines — doesn't jell at all with a mystery thriller that is often nerve-wracking and suspenseful. The dramatic and comic elements are given equal time and tend to play against each other rather than form a cohesive whole. The reason for this failure, I suspect, is that Jenkins and McHugh play regular Chicago cops. Both are so inept that it's impossible to accept them as real characters. In order for a comic thriller to work successfully, the author must paint his comedians as amiable idiots like Laurel and Hardy or Abbott and Costello; or as wise-cracking, cowardly custards like Bob Hope; or as well- intentioned but maladroitly ingenious eager-beavers like Arthur Askey.
From the moment they first enter, flashing their outsize badges like burlesque or circus clowns, it's absolutely impossible to credit that even a corrupt Chicago constabulary would tolerate imbeciles of this caliber on the beat, let alone place them in charge of the city's major newspaper-headlined murder investigation.
A pity the script is burdened with this basic and insoluble problem for, as said above, the comedy in itself is nothing short of inspired lunacy, whilst the thriller is both ingeniously intriguing and cliffhanging yet charged with suspense.
RKO acquired this "B" from a Poverty Row outfit, releasing it as an "A" — and no wonder! What a cast! Vivienne Osborne makes a wonderfully vulnerable heroine, Chester Morris is ideal as the tough, yet personable hero, whilst Henry Stephenson has one of the most memorable roles of his career as the Black Ace's next victim. Good to see Charles Middleton as the enigmatic Simons, plus an equally big cheer for Gus Robinson as the brutally thuggish Pompey. Also to be highly praised, Virginia Howell, doing a marvelous Martha Mattox interpretation of the obligatory spooky housekeeper.
Schoenbaum's lighting — a wonder of moody atmospherics — is skilfully abetted by Ray Enright's unfaltering and pacy direction.
Ruined by clowns
jonfrum200030 November 2010
It's not often that I can't finish a 1930s murder mystery, but this is one of them. Up to a point, it was a typical early 30s mystery. The acting is a bit clunky, but typical of the time. The setup has a gimmick, which was fine. But when the two policemen crashed into the story, I couldn't go on.
I've learned from other reviews here that the two policemen in this movie were some kind of a comedy team. Unfortunately, they take their shtick totally over the top here, turning the official lawmen into clowns. Now there's room for clowning in this genre - Mantan Moreland and the various Sons of Chan did it well in the Charlie Chan series. However, in the Chan series, when a cop is portrayed as a fool, he usually isn't on the screen for long. In this case, the two bumblers are invited to Louisiana on a plane flight. Their clown act includes the common shtick of talking in slang, which is not understood by the sophisticated lead characters. In this case, the shtick goes on, and on, and on, and on.... you get the idea.
Some other reviewers seem to enjoy this brand of humor. Needless to say, there's no accounting for taste. For me, buffoonery is fine in sidekicks, and in small doses. In characters with serious jobs like policemen, it destroys the 'suspension of disbelief.'
I've learned from other reviews here that the two policemen in this movie were some kind of a comedy team. Unfortunately, they take their shtick totally over the top here, turning the official lawmen into clowns. Now there's room for clowning in this genre - Mantan Moreland and the various Sons of Chan did it well in the Charlie Chan series. However, in the Chan series, when a cop is portrayed as a fool, he usually isn't on the screen for long. In this case, the two bumblers are invited to Louisiana on a plane flight. Their clown act includes the common shtick of talking in slang, which is not understood by the sophisticated lead characters. In this case, the shtick goes on, and on, and on, and on.... you get the idea.
Some other reviewers seem to enjoy this brand of humor. Needless to say, there's no accounting for taste. For me, buffoonery is fine in sidekicks, and in small doses. In characters with serious jobs like policemen, it destroys the 'suspension of disbelief.'
Ralph Spence at his Best (and Allen Jenkins)
Eric Miller-217 June 2002
I think this qualifies as an "Old Dark House" film. Most of it takes place in a house, which is indeed both old and dark. Ralph Spence penned the typically high-quality script - it's impossible to guess the killer.
What really makes the film is the comic relief in the form of incompetent detectives played by Frank McHugh and Allen Jenkins. Actually, they're in the film as much as the leads. I'm a big Allen Jenkins fan. His Depression-era dumb guy persona brought a charm to every film it graced that's totally missing in today's actors. 8/10.
What really makes the film is the comic relief in the form of incompetent detectives played by Frank McHugh and Allen Jenkins. Actually, they're in the film as much as the leads. I'm a big Allen Jenkins fan. His Depression-era dumb guy persona brought a charm to every film it graced that's totally missing in today's actors. 8/10.
Who is the Black Ace?
gridoon202415 February 2011
Warning: Spoilers
"Tomorrow At Seven" begins with a cracking idea: a killer so arrogant and sure of himself, he warns his intended victims beforehand via his calling card, an ace of spades. The script on the whole is quite unpredictable, with even the hero a suspect until the very end, and even if you guess who the "Black Ace" is, you probably won't guess his weapon. But the movie is actually more of a comedy than a mystery, since two inept policemen who at first appear to be used only as comic relief take center stage for large sections of the film. Their comedy is only occasionally amusing, but they do have some very funny lines ("What is the condition of the corpse?" - "Dead!"). The film ends with a double fight which looks pretty sloppy today, but must have impressed audiences at the time, especially because it goes on for quite a bit. **1/2 out of 4.
No clues to the killer...
MikeMagi20 February 2016
There's a murderer loose in the spooky Louisiana estate that serves as the setting of this mystery. Is it the mansion owner's lawyer's zoftig daughter? Or either one of the two characters who turn up claiming to be the coroner. Or maybe it's mystery writer Chester Morris who could be researching the plot of his next blood-curdling thriller. As unlikely as it seems, perhaps it's one of the two buffoons tossed in for slapstick relief, Frank McHugh and Allan Jenkins. Don't expect any clues from the screenwriter who seemed to be making up the story as it went along and had no idea of the culprit until it was time to turn in a script and he had to pin the slaying on somebody.
One Good Moment
tobermory2-15 July 2022
I have to agree with the reviewers who think the bumbling cops spoil an otherwise good murder mystery romp. What was the director thinking? However, there is one director's moment that shines, if you're paying attention, hilariously. This movie should have had more moments like this and a lot less of the cops doing one schtick over and over and... It is when the mute housekeeper, played in a wonderfully creepy manner by Virginia Howell, uses sign language to talk to Vivienne Osborne. Osborne's character says, "I don't understand." And Howell signs again only much more slowly.
A Rather Lifeless Murder Mystery
sddavis633 October 2011
This is held up by some decent performances from the lead actors, but overall it comes across as a rather lifeless murder mystery. A killer called "The Black Ace" is on the loose. He announces his intentions to kill in advance by sending an ace of spades to his next victim. The movie opens with one of the killings and then shifts to the victim's best friend, Thornton Drake (Henry Stephenson) who is the next announced victim when an ace of spades shows up along with a letter announcing that he'll be killed "tomorrow at seven." To avoid his fate, he bundles those around him on a plane and travels to his plantation in New Orleans, but on the way the plane's lights go off and there's another murder on board in the dark, with an obviously limited number of suspects. In New Orleans, the search continues.
Stephenson was good in his role, and Chester Morris (as crime novelist Neil Broderick) was decent enough as well. Those two aside, though, there really didn't seem to be a great deal of energy in this. Particularly disappointing were the attempts to inject a degree of comedy into the story, revolving around the futile attempts of a couple of keystone cop type of characters to identify and catch the murderer. They really weren't that funny, and they took away from whatever degree of suspense there might have been as we came closer to learning the killer's identity.
It's nothing noteworthy; very much a product of its times. (3/10)
Stephenson was good in his role, and Chester Morris (as crime novelist Neil Broderick) was decent enough as well. Those two aside, though, there really didn't seem to be a great deal of energy in this. Particularly disappointing were the attempts to inject a degree of comedy into the story, revolving around the futile attempts of a couple of keystone cop type of characters to identify and catch the murderer. They really weren't that funny, and they took away from whatever degree of suspense there might have been as we came closer to learning the killer's identity.
It's nothing noteworthy; very much a product of its times. (3/10)
Didn't Commit
view_and_review23 November 2023
"Tomorrow at Seven" is a terrible murder mystery. Actually, it's just a terrible movie.
There's a killer called The Black Ace at large and it seems that his next target is an old rich man named Thornton Drake (Henry Stephenson). The Black Ace is called that because he leaves a black ace of spades symbol at the location of his next victim. Because Thornton Drake is rich he has a large compound and is always surrounded by guests, friends, and the help which is a standard formula for 1930's murder mysteries (i.e. Having many suspects).
After learning of his fate he decided to go to Louisiana. Surely The Black Ace can't get to him out there. Nevertheless, on the plane ride to Louisiana the lights went out and Austin Winters (Grant Mitchell), Drake's main servant, was killed. It was just one of at least a couple lights-out-for-a-crime-to-be-committed scenes. After you've seen a few such murders it gets quite tiresome. This was particularly unintelligent because there were only a handful of people on the plane. They could've solved the mystery before they landed had there been one adequate cop on the plane.
Instead, to help make this movie nearly unwatchable, there were two bungling detectives named Clancy (Frank McHugh) and Dugan (Allen Jenkins). These two idiots shouldn't have even been on the police force, let alone become detectives. And to make matters worse, they were detectives going after one of the biggest serial killers in Chicago.
"Tomorrow at Seven" was a poorly written comedy that was more drama than comedy which made it awful. If the movie fully committed to either it had a chance, but it didn't.
Free on YouTube.
There's a killer called The Black Ace at large and it seems that his next target is an old rich man named Thornton Drake (Henry Stephenson). The Black Ace is called that because he leaves a black ace of spades symbol at the location of his next victim. Because Thornton Drake is rich he has a large compound and is always surrounded by guests, friends, and the help which is a standard formula for 1930's murder mysteries (i.e. Having many suspects).
After learning of his fate he decided to go to Louisiana. Surely The Black Ace can't get to him out there. Nevertheless, on the plane ride to Louisiana the lights went out and Austin Winters (Grant Mitchell), Drake's main servant, was killed. It was just one of at least a couple lights-out-for-a-crime-to-be-committed scenes. After you've seen a few such murders it gets quite tiresome. This was particularly unintelligent because there were only a handful of people on the plane. They could've solved the mystery before they landed had there been one adequate cop on the plane.
Instead, to help make this movie nearly unwatchable, there were two bungling detectives named Clancy (Frank McHugh) and Dugan (Allen Jenkins). These two idiots shouldn't have even been on the police force, let alone become detectives. And to make matters worse, they were detectives going after one of the biggest serial killers in Chicago.
"Tomorrow at Seven" was a poorly written comedy that was more drama than comedy which made it awful. If the movie fully committed to either it had a chance, but it didn't.
Free on YouTube.
Unassuming mystery with fun cast, plenty of laughs
csteidler2 December 2011
With a roomful of suspects listening tensely, police detective Frank McHugh reads aloud a letter that may identify the killer known as the Black Ace. Suddenly the lights go out. There are shrieks and shouts. When the lights come back on, the letter has vanished! –No, it's not the most original plot ever, but good humor and engaging performances still make this a fun little picture.
Chester Morris is a crime writer researching a book on the Black Ace, the elusive criminal who always leaves a black ace warning his victims they are soon to die. Morris visits Henry Stephenson, a well-known expert on the subject in hopes of joining forces. Vivienne Osborne is the plucky daughter of Stephenson's secretary; her father is an early victim. These three stars give solid, efficient performances.
The real central figures of the picture, however, are dubiously capable detectives Frank McHugh and Allen Jenkins. The two make a catchy team, take turns butchering the language, and just generally undermine any attempts by the other characters—or the audience—at taking this whole picture too seriously. I guarantee you—if you don't like dumb detective humor, you will not enjoy this film!
The plot, though unoriginal, is nevertheless well managed; even Morris's character, the presumed hero, is a potential suspect, as is everyone else in the story.
Funniest bit: McHugh and Jenkins telling the story of their earlier encounter with the Black Ace, rich in impenetrable slang ("So I'm crowdin' him with the heater, but he don't belch ") and including McHugh's hilarious admonition to Jenkins—"How many times have I gotta tell ya? These guys don't understand them technical terms!"
Chester Morris is a crime writer researching a book on the Black Ace, the elusive criminal who always leaves a black ace warning his victims they are soon to die. Morris visits Henry Stephenson, a well-known expert on the subject in hopes of joining forces. Vivienne Osborne is the plucky daughter of Stephenson's secretary; her father is an early victim. These three stars give solid, efficient performances.
The real central figures of the picture, however, are dubiously capable detectives Frank McHugh and Allen Jenkins. The two make a catchy team, take turns butchering the language, and just generally undermine any attempts by the other characters—or the audience—at taking this whole picture too seriously. I guarantee you—if you don't like dumb detective humor, you will not enjoy this film!
The plot, though unoriginal, is nevertheless well managed; even Morris's character, the presumed hero, is a potential suspect, as is everyone else in the story.
Funniest bit: McHugh and Jenkins telling the story of their earlier encounter with the Black Ace, rich in impenetrable slang ("So I'm crowdin' him with the heater, but he don't belch ") and including McHugh's hilarious admonition to Jenkins—"How many times have I gotta tell ya? These guys don't understand them technical terms!"
Nice Cast, Disappointing Results
Michael_Elliott18 April 2010
Tomorrow at Seven (1933)
** (out of 4)
Forgotten mystery/horror film has a town being stalked by a mysterious killer known as the "Black Ace". The Black Ace lets his victims know that he's going to kill them so a novel writer (Chester Morris) and a couple detectives (Frank McHugh, Allen Jenkins) try and catch him before the next victim, which is set to die at seven. This is yet another in the never-ending run of "old dark house" films that were incredibly popular during this period of time. There's no question that every studio out there could turn out one because all you needed were some actors and a house. The biggest problem with this one is that the screenplay is so bad that it will really let you down because it wastes a pretty good cast. The opening murder sequence is pretty effective as director Enright does a good job with the murder. The scene is shot extremely well and is pretty creative in its own right. There are a couple murders that happen in the film and if you put any thought to them you'll see that they really don't make any sense nor does a couple other events that happen. The screenplay writes the two detective characters are idiots, which is okay in my book as this genre always had comedy running throughout it but the writing isn't strong enough to get any real laughs. McHugh and Jenkins were terrific character actors at Warner so they certainly can hold their own against anyone but they get very few shots at delivering any laughs. Morris is pretty much wasted as well as he stands around either thinking, acting tough or trying to be charming. His performance is good but it gets buried behind the bland character. He does have a few good moments early on with Vivienne Osborne. Henry Stephenson, Grant Mitchell and Gun Robinson round out the cast. The film has that good opening sequence and the final few minutes are quite good as well as we learn who the killer is. I must admit that I enjoyed how everything played out in the end but you can't help but wish more thought went into the middle segment of the film. At only 62-minutes the film flies by but in the end we're left with yet another disappointment in the genre.
** (out of 4)
Forgotten mystery/horror film has a town being stalked by a mysterious killer known as the "Black Ace". The Black Ace lets his victims know that he's going to kill them so a novel writer (Chester Morris) and a couple detectives (Frank McHugh, Allen Jenkins) try and catch him before the next victim, which is set to die at seven. This is yet another in the never-ending run of "old dark house" films that were incredibly popular during this period of time. There's no question that every studio out there could turn out one because all you needed were some actors and a house. The biggest problem with this one is that the screenplay is so bad that it will really let you down because it wastes a pretty good cast. The opening murder sequence is pretty effective as director Enright does a good job with the murder. The scene is shot extremely well and is pretty creative in its own right. There are a couple murders that happen in the film and if you put any thought to them you'll see that they really don't make any sense nor does a couple other events that happen. The screenplay writes the two detective characters are idiots, which is okay in my book as this genre always had comedy running throughout it but the writing isn't strong enough to get any real laughs. McHugh and Jenkins were terrific character actors at Warner so they certainly can hold their own against anyone but they get very few shots at delivering any laughs. Morris is pretty much wasted as well as he stands around either thinking, acting tough or trying to be charming. His performance is good but it gets buried behind the bland character. He does have a few good moments early on with Vivienne Osborne. Henry Stephenson, Grant Mitchell and Gun Robinson round out the cast. The film has that good opening sequence and the final few minutes are quite good as well as we learn who the killer is. I must admit that I enjoyed how everything played out in the end but you can't help but wish more thought went into the middle segment of the film. At only 62-minutes the film flies by but in the end we're left with yet another disappointment in the genre.
"You all got a corpse around here?"
classicsoncall28 January 2006
Warning: Spoilers
Potential viewers be warned, the current IMDb viewer rating for "Tomorrow at Seven" is an anomaly of low voter turnout. It has an interesting premise, a killer leaves an Ace of Spades calling card at the scene of his crimes, while alerting the victim in advance. The execution falls flat however, and to say that the movie has it's share of plot holes would be to imply that there actually is a plot.
Chester Morris portrays mystery writer Neil Broderick, weaving elements of actual murders by the Ace of Spades killer into his latest novel. Broderick intends to interview a wealthy businessman for his book, but first he has to get past the man's eccentric secretary - "If you line his relatives up, you'd have enough nuts to hold a Ford together". That line unceremoniously endears him to the "nut's" daughter Martha (Vivienne Osborne), who offers to make the introductions.
Broderick meets Thornton Drake (Henry Stephenson) just as the latter is about to complete a jigsaw puzzle delivered by a courier that morning. The only remaining pieces, as we learn in the following scene, form the bold, black shape of the Ace of Spades containing the words "At Seven Tomorrow Night". Now what person putting together a puzzle doesn't use the pieces with contrasting colors FIRST!
Initially I was intrigued by the appearance of Frank McHugh and Allen Jenkins in their roles as a pair of police detectives summoned to the Drake residence. Generally, their characters are colorful enough to offer genuine comic relief, but here they're just plain annoying. McHugh's Clancy in particular winds up shouting objections to inane comments made by his partner Dugan, and both usually head in the opposite direction when real trouble might turn up.
Now here's a question - in light of the identity of the Ace killer, why would he have invited a novelist and a pair of cops that he just met, on a flight to his Louisiana plantation? Especially when at seven o'clock, all parties would be a captive audience aboard the plane when the first murder is committed. It's not Drake however who's dead, but his secretary Austin Winters (Grant Mitchell). The early suspicion falls on pilot Henderson (Cornelius Keefe) following a lights out scene, but Henderson still hasn't reported the murder to his supervisor until well after he arrives at Drake's plantation with everyone else. Can you imagine anyone trying to get away with that today, unless your name was Ted Kennedy?
With the cause of death yet to be determined, the local coroner is called in, but the first one that shows up (a Broderick accomplice) is a phony. Yet, when the real coroner shows up, he simply disappears immediately after! In a second dark out scene, a letter from the murder victim Austin Winters is about to be read. It winds up missing when the lights return, and because it may point to the murderer, it becomes a clue that must be retrieved. So where was the letter? Winters' daughter Martha grabbed it and placed in on the mantle of the living room! How much thought was put into this?
Obviously, the entire affair is so inane that Morris' character solves the case rather easily. Even though the film comes in at just about an hour, it becomes almost a chore to watch with all the nonsense going on. There's really only one humorous moment worth repeating; while aboard the plane, the detectives have this exchange: Dugan - "Hey Clancy, how often do these things fall?" Clancy - "Once!"
Except for McHugh and Jenkins, I can't say I've seen any of the other players in films of the era, though I'm a fan of most "B" grade mystery movies from the '30's through the '50's. Fortunately, the pair fares much better backing up Humphrey Bogart in a goofy 1938 gem - "Swing Your Lady", where the laughs are intentional. The best I can offer about "Tomorrow at Seven" is a quote from Martha Winters about midway though this turkey - "This is just a silly waste of time".
Chester Morris portrays mystery writer Neil Broderick, weaving elements of actual murders by the Ace of Spades killer into his latest novel. Broderick intends to interview a wealthy businessman for his book, but first he has to get past the man's eccentric secretary - "If you line his relatives up, you'd have enough nuts to hold a Ford together". That line unceremoniously endears him to the "nut's" daughter Martha (Vivienne Osborne), who offers to make the introductions.
Broderick meets Thornton Drake (Henry Stephenson) just as the latter is about to complete a jigsaw puzzle delivered by a courier that morning. The only remaining pieces, as we learn in the following scene, form the bold, black shape of the Ace of Spades containing the words "At Seven Tomorrow Night". Now what person putting together a puzzle doesn't use the pieces with contrasting colors FIRST!
Initially I was intrigued by the appearance of Frank McHugh and Allen Jenkins in their roles as a pair of police detectives summoned to the Drake residence. Generally, their characters are colorful enough to offer genuine comic relief, but here they're just plain annoying. McHugh's Clancy in particular winds up shouting objections to inane comments made by his partner Dugan, and both usually head in the opposite direction when real trouble might turn up.
Now here's a question - in light of the identity of the Ace killer, why would he have invited a novelist and a pair of cops that he just met, on a flight to his Louisiana plantation? Especially when at seven o'clock, all parties would be a captive audience aboard the plane when the first murder is committed. It's not Drake however who's dead, but his secretary Austin Winters (Grant Mitchell). The early suspicion falls on pilot Henderson (Cornelius Keefe) following a lights out scene, but Henderson still hasn't reported the murder to his supervisor until well after he arrives at Drake's plantation with everyone else. Can you imagine anyone trying to get away with that today, unless your name was Ted Kennedy?
With the cause of death yet to be determined, the local coroner is called in, but the first one that shows up (a Broderick accomplice) is a phony. Yet, when the real coroner shows up, he simply disappears immediately after! In a second dark out scene, a letter from the murder victim Austin Winters is about to be read. It winds up missing when the lights return, and because it may point to the murderer, it becomes a clue that must be retrieved. So where was the letter? Winters' daughter Martha grabbed it and placed in on the mantle of the living room! How much thought was put into this?
Obviously, the entire affair is so inane that Morris' character solves the case rather easily. Even though the film comes in at just about an hour, it becomes almost a chore to watch with all the nonsense going on. There's really only one humorous moment worth repeating; while aboard the plane, the detectives have this exchange: Dugan - "Hey Clancy, how often do these things fall?" Clancy - "Once!"
Except for McHugh and Jenkins, I can't say I've seen any of the other players in films of the era, though I'm a fan of most "B" grade mystery movies from the '30's through the '50's. Fortunately, the pair fares much better backing up Humphrey Bogart in a goofy 1938 gem - "Swing Your Lady", where the laughs are intentional. The best I can offer about "Tomorrow at Seven" is a quote from Martha Winters about midway though this turkey - "This is just a silly waste of time".
Slow and Dull
boblipton16 July 2017
There is a lot of Warner's talent, including director Ray Enright, in this slow-moving RKO flick. Chester Morris is writing a book on a psychopathic murderer who warns his victims with an Ace of Spades, and murders them mysteriously at an appointed hour. He's on his way to meet criminologist Oscar Apfel for research, when Apfel is threatened and then murdered on an airplane. All the suspects get off in Louisiana, and it turns into an Old Dark House mystery, complete with a skeletal hands reaching around the drapes and a couple of dumb cops, played with no timing by Frank McHugh and Allen Jenkins.
With a promising cast that includes Henry Stephenson, Grant Mitchell and Virginia Howell as the inevitable mute housekeeper, it's surprisingly dull. You can skip this one.
With a promising cast that includes Henry Stephenson, Grant Mitchell and Virginia Howell as the inevitable mute housekeeper, it's surprisingly dull. You can skip this one.
A winning combination of murder and mystery
Paularoc26 August 2013
Warning: Spoilers
Mystery novelist Neil Broderick, played by the ever engaging Chester Morris, plans to base his next book on the real life serial murderer known as The Black Ace. The killer always lets his victim know before hand that he plans to kill them by leaving a black ace. When Broderick is on his way to meet an expert in the Black Ace, Thornton Drake, he has a humorous encounter with Martha Winters, who is the daughter of Thornton's secretary. Soon after Broderick meets Thornton, a representation of a black ace is found. Two cops, Dugan and Clancy (Allen Jenkins and Frank McHugh) come to investigate. Dugan is prone to using very dense slang and Clancy "translates" the slang so others can understand. Dugan is relating how they almost caught the Black Ace after nabbing his girlfriend: "She's a snowbird and I gives her some gold dust and she opens up." His entire account is hilarious. In an effort to escape the Black Ace, the entire group decides to fly to Thornton's plantation in Louisiana. Dugan is terrified of flying and asks how often do these things fall? "Once" says Clancy. Before they land, Winters is found murdered. Once at the plantation another murder occurs. In spite of the murders, this movie is mostly a comedy and a highly entertaining one at that. The cast is excellent and the dialog sparkles. I'm a huge fan of 1930s and 40s comedy/mysteries and this is one of the most entertaining I've seen.
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