Trent's Last Case


1h 30m 1953

Brief Synopsis

A police detective on the verge of retirement investigates a socialite accused of murdering her wealthy husband.

Film Details

Genre
Suspense/Mystery
Crime
Release Date
Sep 22, 1953
Premiere Information
London opening: 31 Oct 1952
Production Company
Republic Pictures Corp.
Distribution Company
Republic Pictures Corp.
Country
Great Britain and United States
Location
England, Great Britain
Screenplay Information
Based on the novel Trent's Last Case by E. C. Bentley (London, 1913).

Technical Specs

Duration
1h 30m
Sound
Mono (Western Electric Sound System)
Color
Black and White
Theatrical Aspect Ratio
1.37 : 1

Synopsis

In England, Chicago industrialist Sigsbee Manderson is found in his Hampshire estate garden, shot in the head. While news of the conniving financier's death creates havoc on the international stock market, it appears that Inspector Murch of Scotland Yard has a murder case to solve. At the inquest, Manderson's wife Margaret testifies that the dead man had recently seemed depressed. Also testifying to Manderson's moody behavior is his private secretary, John Marlowe, who says that late on the evening of his death, Manderson wanted to be dropped off at the ninth hole of a nearby golf course, then had Marlowe travel out of town to meet a man who failed to show up. During the proceedings, many troubling details are brought out, including how the butler Martin had seen Manderson in his robe at 10:30 p.m. talking on the phone, but his body was fully clothed when found. Despite an indiscreet employee's insinuations that Marlowe and Margaret were having an affair, the inquest jury, knowing that Manderson's prints were on the gun that shot him at close range, concludes that his death was a suicide. However, the testimonies seem incomplete to Philip Trent, a well-known amateur detective and artist who is following the story for a national newspaper, and his editor permits him to continue investigating. By intruding into the Manderson household, Trent manages to interview those closest to the dead man and senses that Margaret and Marlowe are withholding information. While checking out the golf course, Trent encounters an old newspaper crony, retired art critic and Margaret's uncle Burton Cupples, who was out for a walk at 10:15 p.m. on the night of Manderson's death and saw him at the ninth hole. After laying out all the facts, Trent concludes that Martin saw Manderson alive after the time of his supposed death. When Trent's investigation becomes too disturbing to Margaret, she sends Cupples to ask Trent to desist. Certain that Manderson's death was not suicide, Trent writes his dispatch, naming Marlowe as the murderer, but asks Margaret to decide whether to send it to his editor. Trent, now attracted to Margaret, waits for her decision for six weeks in seclusion at his home, painting her portrait while wondering if she is an accomplice to murder. At a Covent Garden musical performance, Trent approaches her, and grateful that he suppressed the story, she tells him what she knows: A week before he died, Manderson's business obligations prevented him from attending a concert, so he asked Marlowe to accompany her. Upon returning home, Marlowe, who Margaret discovered was in love with her, forgot himself and kissed her. Although he regained his composure immediately, Margaret realized that Manderson saw them and is convinced that is the reason he killed himself. However, having heard the story, Trent feels even more certain that Marlowe murdered Manderson, and with her permission, Trent and Cupples meet Marlowe at the estate. Trent tells Marlowe and Cupples his theory that Manderson was murdered at the golf course and moved to the garden. Marlowe, after admitting his love for Margaret, relates the following story: After dinner on the night of his death, Manderson calls him and Margaret to the library to torment them with insinuations of betrayal. Then, Manderson orders Marlowe to travel to Paris immediately, using an assumed name, to deliver an envelope and insists that he pack his gun. However, before Marlowe leaves, Manderson asks to be driven to the golf course, where he takes the gun and gets out at the ninth hole. Marlowe drives away, but troubled by Manderson's crazed and victorious look, stops to examine the contents of the envelope. Seeing that it contains diamonds and a thousand pounds, Manderson guesses that he is being framed for robbery. The sound of a fired gun prompts Marlowe to return to the ninth hole, where he finds Manderson dead. Because he was the last to see Manderson alive, he fears he will be suspected of murder, so working quickly, he moves the body to the garden. Then, Marlowe sneaks into Manderson's bedroom, dons his robe, and calls for the man's ritual nightcap. When Martin delivers it, Marlowe, an amateur actor skilled in impersonations, keeps his back turned and pretends to be Manderson talking on the telephone, causing Martin to believe that he is Manderson. When Marlowe concludes his story, Trent is satisfied that it is the truth, and Trent and Cupples later relate it to the relieved Margaret. However, to the surprise of Trent and Margaret, Cupples also has a confession. On the golf course that night, Cupples says, he tried to stop Manderson from killing himself, but accidentally shot Manderson in the struggle to get the gun away. As he had publicly quarreled with Manderson earlier that day, Cupples feared he would be suspected of murder, so decided to remain quiet, unless someone was accused. As Manderson's intention was to commit suicide, Trent sees no reason to reopen the case. With Cupples' blessing, Trent and Margaret decide to marry.





Film Details

Genre
Suspense/Mystery
Crime
Release Date
Sep 22, 1953
Premiere Information
London opening: 31 Oct 1952
Production Company
Republic Pictures Corp.
Distribution Company
Republic Pictures Corp.
Country
Great Britain and United States
Location
England, Great Britain
Screenplay Information
Based on the novel Trent's Last Case by E. C. Bentley (London, 1913).

Technical Specs

Duration
1h 30m
Sound
Mono (Western Electric Sound System)
Color
Black and White
Theatrical Aspect Ratio
1.37 : 1

Articles

Trent's Last Case


While Orson Welles was knocking around Europe, a postwar Hollywood outcast scrambling from payday to payday, filming piecemeal his own production of Othello (1952) in North Africa, he went before the camera twice for Herbert Wilcox, a prolific Briton married to Transatlantic star Anna Neagle. Although neither Trent's Last Case (1952) nor Trouble in the Glen (1954) is a serious contender for a high rank in Welles' oeuvre, each has its moments, even if they are less than plentiful, or, in the case of Trouble in the Glen, tend toward the deliriously ludicrous. In that entirely forgettable later outing, an attempt to cash in on the success of John Ford's excursion to Ireland in The Quiet Man (1952), Welles plays a South American of Scottish ancestry returning to his land of origin to hold sway as a laird. The only remotely memorable thing about his performance in it is his wig, a towering bouffant meringue subjected to the same sort of blue rinse once favored by ladies attending symphony orchestra matinees.

One didn't direct Orson Welles. One stood aside and joined him in his self-delight at his own flamboyant genius. He was enough of a natural showman to always deliver a good show, even in the inferior material Wilcox handed him. Wilcox was happy enough to oblige Welles, and simply stay out of his way both times out. In Trent's Last Case, Welles shares the spotlight with his spectacular putty nose. It's a mighty ice-breaker of a nose, straight-edged as a steel blade, pulverizing all in its path, including whatever pretension to credibility this creaky British murder mystery might have retained. Welles plays an American gazillionaire whose dead body is discovered near the tool shed in the garden of his English manor house as the film opens. Trent, embodied by Michael Wilding, is the dilettante reporter covering, then solving, the case.

E.C. Bentley's novel regularly appeared on lists of Golden Age classics for four decades since its publication in 1913. (Chronologically, Trent's Last Case is actually his first case, the sleuth being reprised twice more in print, but not on screen, in the 1930s.) Trent's Last Case had been filmed twice in the Silent Era, in 1920 and, with Howard Hawks directing, in 1929. Agatha Christie and Dorothy Sayers thought highly of its clever plotting. Sayers, and writers as contemporary as Elizabeth George, have kept alive as its archetypal titular detective, an amateur who wears an air of societal entitlement like a halo. But Raymond Chandler, that transplanted English progenitor of the American hard-boiled fiction that supplanted it, dismissed the book utterly. This film of it makes him seem the most convincing judge. It may well be a genre classic, but it's not a timeless classic.

It got a lot of mileage as a refreshingly cheeky parody of Sherlock Holmes-like amateurs who make the police seem bumbling idiots and attend black-tie musical soirees at Covent Garden as a matter of course. But what may have begun as a sendup of genteel murder mysteries, in which a corpse is found in the drawing room and the murderer is unmasked by degrees over the rattle of teacups and the sloshing of whiskey into tumblers, here fades into just another tired example of a dated genre. The only thing it still has going for it is that the smug, suave Trent (a painter turned crime reporter and sketch artist) does his own investigative end run around the police, confidently puts the pieces together -- and gets it wrong. And, en route, manages to fall in love with one of the suspects. Not that any of it seems to matter much. Since the victim was an American, and overbearingly vulgar, his death is viewed by the old-boy network of which Trent is a member, as a matter of less than utmost importance.

Having learned the value of a delayed entrance from The Third Man (1949), Welles isn't seen until just over an hour of this 90-minute film has elapsed. We are told the world's markets tremble before this fiduciary colossus. His death is treated as front-page news all over the world. But the only bit of business savvy we are shown consists of him buying a bag of uncut diamonds. Welles only comes on in the part that shows us what happened, and how. His instinct seems to have been to put as much between himself and this farrago. Initially, we see him wearing heavy-framed glasses, industrial-strength bushy eyebrows, a wavy wig you could practically surf on, and that nose that makes you wonder if he might be rushing directly from the set to an audition for Cyrano de Bergerac.

His vocal choice was to forego his usual sonority in favor of a nasal Midwestern rasp. This choice was justified by the fact that in the original novel, Sigsbee Manderson, the hated plutocrat, hails from Chicago. Welles was born nearby, in Kenosha, Wisconsin. To help boost U.S. receipts, we learn of Manderson's death in a scene set in a Chicago broadcast studio, complete with a copy of Variety prominently displayed and an Irish-accented deejay breaking the news. At least Welles was able to have a little fun. At one point, the understandably sour Manderson, toying with the right-hand man (John McCallum) he caught kissing his much younger wife (Margaret Lockwood), quotes Shakespeare's Othello, the role Welles had played onstage at Laurence Olivier's St. James Theatre, and was struggling to get filmed. Referring to having seen that stage production, Welles' Manderson mutters, "Didn't like the leading actor much."

Neither, in fact, did London critic and enfant terrible Kenneth Tynan, whose review called him "Citizen Coon." Welles insisted that his blackface approach was intended to stress Othello's "otherness." Trent's Last Case understandably was purged of the novel's jaw-droppingly matter-of-fact bigotry and stereotyping. And it does feature enjoyably polished performances by Wilding's Trent, Lockwood's widow, McCallum's prime suspect, and the ever-reliable Miles Malleson's art critic uncle of the widow and tweedy, knickered golfer. Welles worked with Lockwood, whose wide-set eyes and dark-haired glamour made her face a perfect vehicle for sensitive distress, and McCallum in Trouble in the Glen, too. As for Trent's Last Case, it's undermined (apart from its societal baggage) by two things that carry forward from the original. We in no way sense that Manderson deserves to die. And Trent, the gentleman paparazzo, is pretty much insufferable, with his self-satisfied air of superiority.

The film feebly tries for a veneer of class by inserting stock shots of Covent Garden and footage of Eileen Joyce, a leading artist of the day, more than doing justice to Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 24, but the manor house of the richest man in the world is a modest two-story affair, minimally staffed. Other signs of corner-cutting are present, perhaps not surprising in view of the fact that Trent's Last Case was produced by Herbert J. Yates, kingpin of Republic Pictures, which despite having produced Welles' Macbeth (1948), and taking other stabs at quality, never quite escaped its Poverty Row beginnings. On the plus side of the ledger, it's amusing when Trent's boss, almost as full of himself as Trent, asks his secretary to find out why six weeks have gone by and Trent still hasn't handed in his story. Snaps the amazingly (until then) patient boss: "Try his club, his studio, anywhere!" But that flourish and, for the first time in genre history, the detail of false teeth figuring as a clue, aren't quite enough. Trent's Last Case is still pretty much D.O.A. Cause of death, multiple shortfall wounds.

Producer: Herbert Wilcox
Director: Herbert Wilcox
Screenplay: E.C. Bentley (novel); Pamela Bower
Cinematography: Mutz Greenbaum
Art Direction: William C. Andrews
Music: Anthony Collins
Film Editing: Bill Lewthwaite
Cast: Michael Wilding (Philip Trent), Margaret Lockwood (Margaret Manderson), Orson Welles (Sigsbee Manderson), John McCallum (John Marlowe), Miles Malleson (Burton Cupples), Hugh McDermott (Calvin C. Bunner), Jack McNaughton (Martin), Sam Kydd (Inspector Murch).
BW-90m.

by Jay Carr
Trent's Last Case

Trent's Last Case

While Orson Welles was knocking around Europe, a postwar Hollywood outcast scrambling from payday to payday, filming piecemeal his own production of Othello (1952) in North Africa, he went before the camera twice for Herbert Wilcox, a prolific Briton married to Transatlantic star Anna Neagle. Although neither Trent's Last Case (1952) nor Trouble in the Glen (1954) is a serious contender for a high rank in Welles' oeuvre, each has its moments, even if they are less than plentiful, or, in the case of Trouble in the Glen, tend toward the deliriously ludicrous. In that entirely forgettable later outing, an attempt to cash in on the success of John Ford's excursion to Ireland in The Quiet Man (1952), Welles plays a South American of Scottish ancestry returning to his land of origin to hold sway as a laird. The only remotely memorable thing about his performance in it is his wig, a towering bouffant meringue subjected to the same sort of blue rinse once favored by ladies attending symphony orchestra matinees. One didn't direct Orson Welles. One stood aside and joined him in his self-delight at his own flamboyant genius. He was enough of a natural showman to always deliver a good show, even in the inferior material Wilcox handed him. Wilcox was happy enough to oblige Welles, and simply stay out of his way both times out. In Trent's Last Case, Welles shares the spotlight with his spectacular putty nose. It's a mighty ice-breaker of a nose, straight-edged as a steel blade, pulverizing all in its path, including whatever pretension to credibility this creaky British murder mystery might have retained. Welles plays an American gazillionaire whose dead body is discovered near the tool shed in the garden of his English manor house as the film opens. Trent, embodied by Michael Wilding, is the dilettante reporter covering, then solving, the case. E.C. Bentley's novel regularly appeared on lists of Golden Age classics for four decades since its publication in 1913. (Chronologically, Trent's Last Case is actually his first case, the sleuth being reprised twice more in print, but not on screen, in the 1930s.) Trent's Last Case had been filmed twice in the Silent Era, in 1920 and, with Howard Hawks directing, in 1929. Agatha Christie and Dorothy Sayers thought highly of its clever plotting. Sayers, and writers as contemporary as Elizabeth George, have kept alive as its archetypal titular detective, an amateur who wears an air of societal entitlement like a halo. But Raymond Chandler, that transplanted English progenitor of the American hard-boiled fiction that supplanted it, dismissed the book utterly. This film of it makes him seem the most convincing judge. It may well be a genre classic, but it's not a timeless classic. It got a lot of mileage as a refreshingly cheeky parody of Sherlock Holmes-like amateurs who make the police seem bumbling idiots and attend black-tie musical soirees at Covent Garden as a matter of course. But what may have begun as a sendup of genteel murder mysteries, in which a corpse is found in the drawing room and the murderer is unmasked by degrees over the rattle of teacups and the sloshing of whiskey into tumblers, here fades into just another tired example of a dated genre. The only thing it still has going for it is that the smug, suave Trent (a painter turned crime reporter and sketch artist) does his own investigative end run around the police, confidently puts the pieces together -- and gets it wrong. And, en route, manages to fall in love with one of the suspects. Not that any of it seems to matter much. Since the victim was an American, and overbearingly vulgar, his death is viewed by the old-boy network of which Trent is a member, as a matter of less than utmost importance. Having learned the value of a delayed entrance from The Third Man (1949), Welles isn't seen until just over an hour of this 90-minute film has elapsed. We are told the world's markets tremble before this fiduciary colossus. His death is treated as front-page news all over the world. But the only bit of business savvy we are shown consists of him buying a bag of uncut diamonds. Welles only comes on in the part that shows us what happened, and how. His instinct seems to have been to put as much between himself and this farrago. Initially, we see him wearing heavy-framed glasses, industrial-strength bushy eyebrows, a wavy wig you could practically surf on, and that nose that makes you wonder if he might be rushing directly from the set to an audition for Cyrano de Bergerac. His vocal choice was to forego his usual sonority in favor of a nasal Midwestern rasp. This choice was justified by the fact that in the original novel, Sigsbee Manderson, the hated plutocrat, hails from Chicago. Welles was born nearby, in Kenosha, Wisconsin. To help boost U.S. receipts, we learn of Manderson's death in a scene set in a Chicago broadcast studio, complete with a copy of Variety prominently displayed and an Irish-accented deejay breaking the news. At least Welles was able to have a little fun. At one point, the understandably sour Manderson, toying with the right-hand man (John McCallum) he caught kissing his much younger wife (Margaret Lockwood), quotes Shakespeare's Othello, the role Welles had played onstage at Laurence Olivier's St. James Theatre, and was struggling to get filmed. Referring to having seen that stage production, Welles' Manderson mutters, "Didn't like the leading actor much." Neither, in fact, did London critic and enfant terrible Kenneth Tynan, whose review called him "Citizen Coon." Welles insisted that his blackface approach was intended to stress Othello's "otherness." Trent's Last Case understandably was purged of the novel's jaw-droppingly matter-of-fact bigotry and stereotyping. And it does feature enjoyably polished performances by Wilding's Trent, Lockwood's widow, McCallum's prime suspect, and the ever-reliable Miles Malleson's art critic uncle of the widow and tweedy, knickered golfer. Welles worked with Lockwood, whose wide-set eyes and dark-haired glamour made her face a perfect vehicle for sensitive distress, and McCallum in Trouble in the Glen, too. As for Trent's Last Case, it's undermined (apart from its societal baggage) by two things that carry forward from the original. We in no way sense that Manderson deserves to die. And Trent, the gentleman paparazzo, is pretty much insufferable, with his self-satisfied air of superiority. The film feebly tries for a veneer of class by inserting stock shots of Covent Garden and footage of Eileen Joyce, a leading artist of the day, more than doing justice to Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 24, but the manor house of the richest man in the world is a modest two-story affair, minimally staffed. Other signs of corner-cutting are present, perhaps not surprising in view of the fact that Trent's Last Case was produced by Herbert J. Yates, kingpin of Republic Pictures, which despite having produced Welles' Macbeth (1948), and taking other stabs at quality, never quite escaped its Poverty Row beginnings. On the plus side of the ledger, it's amusing when Trent's boss, almost as full of himself as Trent, asks his secretary to find out why six weeks have gone by and Trent still hasn't handed in his story. Snaps the amazingly (until then) patient boss: "Try his club, his studio, anywhere!" But that flourish and, for the first time in genre history, the detail of false teeth figuring as a clue, aren't quite enough. Trent's Last Case is still pretty much D.O.A. Cause of death, multiple shortfall wounds. Producer: Herbert Wilcox Director: Herbert Wilcox Screenplay: E.C. Bentley (novel); Pamela Bower Cinematography: Mutz Greenbaum Art Direction: William C. Andrews Music: Anthony Collins Film Editing: Bill Lewthwaite Cast: Michael Wilding (Philip Trent), Margaret Lockwood (Margaret Manderson), Orson Welles (Sigsbee Manderson), John McCallum (John Marlowe), Miles Malleson (Burton Cupples), Hugh McDermott (Calvin C. Bunner), Jack McNaughton (Martin), Sam Kydd (Inspector Murch). BW-90m. by Jay Carr

Quotes

Trivia

Notes

The film, which contains flashback scenes with voice-over narration, is based on the 1913 novel Trent's Last Case by London journalist Edmund Clerihew Bentley (1875-1956). According to a December 1963 New York Times article, the book introduced a naturalism and understated humor to the genre that eventually changed the course of the popular literary form and made Bentley, to some, "the father of the contemporary detective novel." Bentley, who also originated a light-verse form called the "clerihew," later wrote other novels and short stories in which "Philip Trent" was the protagonist.
       The film version released by Republic was one of four films the studio co-produced with Herbert Wilcox and Anna Neagle. Produced entirely in England, the film was distributed there by British Lion and premiered in London on either 29 or October 31, 1952, a year before it was seen in the United State. Sequences set at London's Royal Opera House at Covent Garden feature an excerpted performance by pianist Eileen Joyce with the London Symphony Orchestra. Joyce's onscreen title card reads: "Piano Concert in C Minor by Mozart played by Eileen Joyce." The film's writer, Pamela Bower, and production manager, J. D. Wilcox, are the daughter and son of Wilcox.
       In a flashback scene, Orson Welles, as "Sigsbee Manderson," makes an inside joke when he mentions that he did not care for the leading actor in Othello at the St. James Theater. In October 1951, shortly before the filming of Trent's Last Case, Welles directed and starred in a production of Othello, which received mixed reviews by the press. According to a modern source, Welles is said to have quipped, "I have just come from the St. James Theater, where I have been murdering Desdemona-or Shakespeare, according to which newspaper you read!"
       Other films based on Bentley's book include a 1920 British film and the 1929 Fox Film Corp. silent picture directed by Howard Hawks and starring Donald Crisp and Raymond Griffith, both bearing the same title (see AFI Catalog of Feature Films, 1921-30).