Death by Theatre: Quick Curtain by Alan Melville

Quick Curtain by Alan Melville

published 1934

 

 

We have been having quite the discussion here on people being killed on stage by weapons that should have been fake but aren’t, and related similar stories – in fiction.

Theatrical Murders, and a Trial in Three Acts

We have to revisit this topic right now, because by chance there is this extraordinary story in the Guardian newspaper today, about someone accidentally stabbed while performing a play…. IN REAL LIFE

Experience: I was stabbed in the back with a real knife while performing Julius Caesar | Life and style | The Guardian

A very unnerving tale. It was pointed out to me by blogfriend Susanna, who as it happens is one of those responsible for my reading this book in time to write the post…

These were two of the comments on that original post:

Susanna17 November 2025 at 22:34

I think Quick Curtain by Alan Melville uses the fake gun switched for a real one trope. Although I seem to recall finding the protagonists intensely irritating so I'm not inclined to get hold of a copy to check how it's done!

CLM18 November 2025 at 01:10

I liked Quick Curtain by Alan Melville, which involves a prop: https://perfectretort.blogspot.com/2024/04/quick-curtain-by-alan-melville.htm

So obviously I had to read it. And after the rather turgid Ngaio Marsh Vintage Murder, it was at least entertaining and fun – though I can totally see what Susanna means about being irritating. When I started on it I wondered if I would be able to tell whether she meant the sleuths or the showbiz people, but after a brief encounter I wasn’t in the slightest doubt.

The case is investigated by a Scotland Yard Detective Inspector Wilson, and his son Derek, a journalist. (similar to the initial Marsh pairing of policeman and detective, and also resembling the Ellery Queen combo – a writer whose father is a policeman…)

They are about as annoying a pair as you could possibly imagine, not nearly as funny as they and Melville seem to think. ‘Arch’ might be the right word for them.

The crime takes place during the first night of a monumental new musical, Blue Music, which has a huge, cast, chorus and orchestra.

 MR. DOUGLAS’S 110 LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF THE CHORUS.

THE TWENTY-FOUR BALLET WHOS.

AUGMENTED ORCHESTRA

 

The One Hundred and Ten Ladies and Gentlemen of the Chorus opened the second act in a breezy fashion by singing and dancing the hot number “Rough Riff Ruffian Rag” ... fifty-five of them clad sparingly as Harem Girls, and the other fifty-five as members of the Foreign Legion.

This perked me up – I would pay good money to see that performance. Rough Riff Ruffian Rag! Genius.

The stage empties, except for one exotic woman and the hero. They kiss, and then the hero is attacked by the exotic woman’s lover, who shoots…

I don’t think it is much of a

 

SPOILER

 

To say that the leading man now lies dead on the stage, and the curtain comes down. Soon afterwards someone else is dead.

The annoying investigators now question people, and try to get info from the leading lady, Gwen. People disappear. The awful Derek goes undercover to a small village and spies on people.

The sections set in and around the theatre were much more entertaining – the action dips when we follow Derek into the country. Melville was a consummate theatre-man in his other life, and that really comes out in those sections. There is much satirical description, and exaggeration, but it was highly enjoyable and had its own conviction.

There is then an attempt to recreate the crime: a new first night of the show, with different actors, to try to show how, and by whom, the murder was committed. And there is an arrest.

A fairly standard ending, although there are still some surprises. The inspector goes home after the denoument, and there are some interesting letters awaiting him.

I wouldn’t rush to read more by Melville, but I did enjoy this, and it absolutely fulfilled the brief - there is some question over whether the prop gun was really the cause of death, but I’m still going to count it.

The women characters are not portrayed terribly well… you get the feeling Melville was something of a misogynist.

However he plainly didn’t take himself too seriously, all to the good.

The father gets annoyed with the son saying ‘OK’ all the time, grumbling about modern slang – there have been some wild claims online that people did not use the phrase in the 1930s, but they are flatout wrong.

Nazis are mentioned several times in a jocular way: “If that isn’t a bullet-hole, then I’m a Nazi!”

I particularly enjoyed a lovely description of theatre-goers all round London getting ready to head for the West End:

And all over London the same kind of thing was being done by the fortunate thousand or so ladies and gentlemen who managed to obtain seats for the first first night of Mr. Douglas’s new musical comedy, and who consequently had had those seats transferred for the second performance. In the one sex, tugging of ties, brushing of hair, filling of cigarettes-cases, clean handkerchiefs pushed up sleeves and down breast-pockets. And donning of wraps, patting of hair, powdering of noses, and much smaller clean handkerchiefs pushed—well, concealed somewhere in the case of the opposite sex. And are you sure you have those tickets, John?—from the one sex. And no, damn you, I saw you put them on the mantelpiece last Wednesday—from the other. And a whirring of taxis and private cars from various homes to various restaurants, and instructions to taxi-drivers and chauffeurs to be at the theatre at say eleven-forty-five, and tables at all sorts of places, from the Dorchester to a Corner House, rapidly filled up with parties of lucky people going on to Blue Music. And, “No, you haven’t time for tournedos, John—it starts at eight-thirty, and the Douglas shows are always prompt in starting.” And grumbles, and coffee, and liqueurs, and paying of bills, and tips, and a few more taxis, and at last into the squash at the stalls entrance of the Grosvenor Theatre.

 

Picture to match from LOC, 1934.

Melville plainly knew and loved his theatre, and some of his explanations of the way things work are fascinating. The heavy-handed dialogue and trips to the country less interesting, but I very much enjoyed the picture of theatrical life. I said in my recent post on Margery Allingham’sDancers in Mourning (main picture there would have done nicely for this one) that it is hard for us to appreciate or understand the full scale of the importance and fame of musical comedy in the 1930s – it is demonstrated again here.

Martin Edwards in his introduction says

He supplies a storyline with a twist at the end, but the real pleasure of the book comes from his satiric darts.

…and that is about right.

Top picture shows a Dublin theatre in 1923, but I felt could easily stand in for a first night in London 10 years later.

Chorus girls from a revue in NY 1930, NYPL