The Keyhole (1933)

Director:

Michael Curtiz

Writers:

Alice D.G. Miller (story)
Robert Presnell Sr. (screenplay)

Release Date:

25 March 1933 (USA)

Genre:

Comedy | Drama | Romance

Plot:

Anne Brooks is being blackmailed by her old dancing partner Maurice. They married when she was young...

Plot Keywords:

Divorce | Dancing | Blackmail | Reputation | Telegram

Cast

Kay Francis	...	Ann Brooks
George Brent	...	Mr. Neil Davis
Glenda Farrell	...	Dot
Monroe Owsley	...	Maurice Le Brun
Allen Jenkins	...	Hank Wales
Helen Ware	...	Portia Brooks
Henry Kolker	...	Schuyler Brooks
Ferdinand Gottschalk	...	Brooks' Lawyer

Runtime:

69 min

Country:

USA

Language:

English

Color:

Black and White

Aspect Ratio:

1.37 : 1

Sound Mix:

Mono

Certification:

USA:Approved (PCA #2615-R, 27 March 1933 for re-release)

Company:

Warner Bros. Pictures

Trivia:

The film was shot in 25 days.

Quotes:

Ann Brooks: [to Maurice] And the next time you try to kill yourself, let me know; I'd love to help you.

Soundtrack:

Am I Blue?

fast-paced and entertaining

THE KEYHOLE has a clear plot hook, strong characters (you love 'em or hate 'em), non-static cinematography and colorful details that keep you entertained from the first frame. A number of Kay Francis movies had a similar plot structure: wealthy, beautiful, fashionable, sophisticated woman with man problems, usually triangular, but in this case quadrangular. Michael Curtiz keeps this one moving at a fast clip. In this particular plot, Francis's nasty ex-husband (Monroe Owsley) is blackmailing her while her jealous, aging current husband (Walter Kolker) hires a dapper private eye (George Brent) to follow her to make sure she's not seeing another man and of course Brent and Francis fall in love. Allen Jenkins (as Brent's dopey sidekick) and Glenda Farrell (as a crooked golddigger) are on hand as comic counterpoint to the lead players. Francis is charming as usual, exhibiting her trademark "look" - the raven hair swept back to show off her natural widow's peak, the unique eyebrow penciling that curves around her melancholy eyes, and the statuesque grace; and of course her character goes through about 15 costume changes in the 69-minutes of running time (a different drop-dead outfit for every segment of the day). The public inevitably tired of her, which is why she is forgotten today; she was more interested in her salary than in the quality of her roles, as she freely admitted. But when she was in her prime, wow, what a prime. Moving with feline grace in backless satin gowns, she is phantasmal and ravishing, yet still earthy, accessible and even vulnerable. You can't look away. So what if she couldn't pronounce her r's?