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
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!
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
Comments
Post a Comment