I'd say "NBC, call your lawyer," but these guys came before the peacock.
So the Grinch did it, you say? No.
A group of rich folk are gathered at a mansion one night; some are playing charades. One couple concocts an elaborate way to act out a word - it’s a skit of passion and infidelity that ends with one man shooting another. With blanks, of course. We all know that when playing charades, if you’re going to use a gun, put in the blanks. They’re over there, in the top drawer.
Of course, the gun has real bullets. Who swapped them? Before we’ve time to ask, we’re off on a series of murders, about one every 14 minutes, all committed while a policeman is wandering around the house interviewing people. It has the feel of a stage play; perhaps it’s just a consequence of being an early example of a talkie. All I know is that it’s another one of those dreary movies where people stand around in a house and a cop acts tough and eventually the mystery is solved. They made 189,756 of these movies in the 30s, it seems, and every one bores me dead. I only fear that someone brought up on fast-paced quick-cut movies of today finds this, and thinks it’s typical of cinema before Star Wars. It’s not.
You will, of course, find the usual indulgent 7-star reviews on imdb - fans of the 30s will like it, clever litte B picture, agreeable way to pass the time when it’s a rainy day and you’re on a morphine drip, and so on. No. May I present an entirely typical scene: