The Crooked Circle (1932)

Col. Walters (Burton Churchill) and his Sphinx Club of Amateur sleuths is responsible for the arrest of a member of the evil Crooked Circle. The black-hooded members of the Circle choose their only female member as their assassin to avenge themselves on the Colonel tonight when he and other members of his club are staying at Melody Manor, an Old Dark House with all the trimmings. It will be Brand Osborne’s (Ben Lyon) last night in the Club after which he will be replaced by Hindu Yoganda (C. Henry Gordon). Brand is resigning at the insistence of his newly-met fiancée Thelma Parker (Irene Purcell), who has a mysterious connection to Yoganda. Might they be members of the Crooked Circle? Also joining the Club members are morbid and dim housekeeper Nora (Zasu Pitts) and incompetent policeman Arthur Crimmer (James Gleason).

Not much effort went into character or dialog or plot in this silly mix of Old Dark House and kid’s adventure, with an evil paranormal society and upper class do-gooders straight from a radio show. But then none of those were the point. Top billing didn’t go to the generic he-man hero, or his slightly goofy sidekick, or the lovely romantic interest, but to Zasu Pitts. For a brief and confusing time in the 1930s, Pitts was a star, and her shtick was a combination of cowardly and sorrowful, which she used in every film. She’s often described as being like Popeye’s girlfriend Olive Oyl, which isn’t a coincidence as the cartoon character’s delivery was based on Pitts. She has no part in the story of The Crooked Circle, such that it is, but instead pops up about once a minute, to either scream or despondently point out the bleak affair of things. She utters her catch phrase, “Something always happens to somebody” dozens of times. If Zasu Pitts amuses you, then you’ll find this film amusing, but I suspect that her comedy has fallen out of style. I can handle five or ten minutes of her. Any more and it’s nails on blackboard time, and she’s around a lot more than ten minutes.

Next in importance to the film is James Gleason, who was another successful comic actor of the times, and whose character also has nothing to do with the story. He played a lot of flustered cops and criminals. With the right director and some decent dialog, I find Gleason engaging. In this case, however, he was on his own, so did a low rent version of his normal routine. It’s not funny, but it isn’t half as annoying as whatever Pitts was doing.

Beyond those two, well, things happen and none of it matters. There’s ghostly violin music, a skeleton, secret passageways everywhere, a clock that strikes 13, and none of it is in the least bit creepy. It isn’t supposed to scare you, but give opportunities for Pitts and Gleason to screech.

At least the house looks properly foreboding. So if you have more tolerance than I for Zasu Pitts, you can give it a try on a rainy afternoon. It’s easy to find online.