This low-budget PRC turkey takes full advantage of the location, with ski chase sequences which defy all rational logic and the occasional avalanche to liven things up. All the while, as the murders pile up and everyone acts as guilty as possible, a trained, talking crow serves drinks at the bar (I'm entirely serious). Oh, and there's a gratuitous marionette puppeting sequence, as well.
Bruce Cabot, he of "King Kong", is about as dynamic as a fence post in his role as the T-man-cum-Hercule Poirot, clumsily romancing Helen Mowery, who is often clad in a sweater embroidered with some sort of a note on her shoulder in the film's most peculiar fashion choice. Cabot gets a sweater, too: a real comfy-looking wintry number. Fuzzy.
Roscoe Karns, drunkenly hilarious in "His Girl Friday", provides a faltering attempt at comic relief here as the incoherent mystery deepens. Perhaps the film's greatest mystery, however, is how a sleeping person manages to avoid being shot in the head at close range by hearing the gunshots and moving out of the way of the bullets (which hit the pillow).
It's an astonishing little footnote in B-picture history. See what happens when you don't pay your taxes?