Tomorrow at Seven
Tags: suspenseful, murder

Plot synopsis:
A man unveils a valuable painting he picked up for $50,000 and is killed. A card with a large black ace (of spades) is put on his chest. Another “Black Ace” victim. The killer sends his victims a Black Ace card, warning them they are to die and then kills them, his way of taunting the police. Neil Broderick, an author, intends writing a book about him and is on his way to see Thornton Drake to get more information about him. Austin Winters is his secretary and Neil met his daughter Martha on the train, on the way to Chicago.
Drake has just received a Black Ace, with the words: “At seven tomorrow night”, the time he is to be killed. Two plainclothes cops arrive from police headquarters, having had a call, Clancy and Dugan (both incompetents). Martha suggests that they leave for Drake’s Louisiana plantation tomorrow morning and be far away from there at seven tomorrow night. Drake agrees and suggests they all go. On the flight, the lights go off for some seconds and when they come on again, Austin Winters is dead without a mark on him.
At the plantation, Clancy ineptly questions the suspects till Neil points out that they are now in another state, so out of their jurisdiction. Neil goes to another room and makes a phone call, then signals to someone outside. After he finishes his call, the line is cut. Meanwhile one of the pilots has taken off in the plane, leaving the other pilot, Henderson, behind who claims he does not know anything though he was out of the cockpit when Winters was killed.
The coroner finds a letter on the dead man which is to be read if Winters dies. It will reveal the identity of the Black Ace. Clancy starts reading it aloud and unsurprisingly the lights go off and the letter has vanished when the lights are turned on again. People locked in their rooms that night and Neil has a hidden car outside signal to him.
Later that night, the coroner turns up, the real one. Neil goes to Martha’s room and asks her what she did with the letter, guessing that she had taken it because was afraid her father might implicate himself with the Black Ace. The letter is gone from where she hid it and all there is, is two sheets of plain paper and a Black Ace card. Clancy and Dugan appear and blame Neil. Clancy and Neil at gunpoint go to Drake’s room and while Clancy is hurling accusations, there is a groan from next door and they find a dead man there (Henderson). A search of Neil reveals he has a skeleton key so might have been able to enter the dead man’s room.
Downstairs, Dugan has been talking to Martha with his back to her, turns and sees she has gone (a mysterious hand reached out for her only moments before). The housekeeper (Mrs Quincy) is seen leading the fake coroner (Jerry Simons) who is carrying Martha. Drake left with Neil threatens him with a gun, demanding Winters’ confession but Neil has signalled Simons (of the Bureau of Criminal Investigations) who disarms Drake who has Winters’ confession implicating him. However, the gardener (Pompey) comes into the room with a gun in his hand and now the villains have the upper hand till there is a knock at just the right moment. Two fights ensue. In trying to kill Simons, Pompey kills Drake with the hidden spike in the walking stick. Pompey is subdued and the two cops arrive to take the credit.

Review: The Black Ace warns his victims ahead when the time will come for them to die.
Interwoven into this basic premise is a young Chester Morris going to a Mr. Thorton Drake because he knows all there is to be known about the Black Ace. Morris is writing a book, meets a cute secretary that can introduce him, and all the main characters from that point on - including two cops included for protection - board a small plane to go to a huge mansion in Louisiana.
All this to escape the ominous note saying Mr. Drake, played indelibly by Henry Stephenson, would die "tomorrow at seven." The old Southern home is reminiscent of the home used in the 1939 version of The Cat and the Canary(also taking place in Loiusiana).
Ralph Spence penned the typically high-quality script - it's impossible to guess the killer.What really makes the film is the comic relief in the form of incompetent detectives played by Frank McHugh and Allen Jenkins.
With a roomful of suspects listening tensely, police detective Frank McHugh reads aloud a letter that may identify the killer known as the Black Ace. Suddenly the lights go out.
–No, it's not the most original plot ever, but good humor and engaging performances still make this a fun little picture.Chester Morris is a crime writer researching a book on the Black Ace, the elusive criminal who always leaves a black ace warning his victims they are soon to die.
These three stars give solid, efficient performances.The real central figures of the picture, however, are dubiously capable detectives Frank McHugh and Allen Jenkins.
The plot, though unoriginal, is nevertheless well managed; even Morris's character, the presumed hero, is a potential suspect, as is everyone else in the story.Funniest bit: McHugh and Jenkins telling the story of their earlier encounter with the Black Ace, rich in impenetrable slang ("So I'm crowdin' him with the heater, but he don't belch") and including McHugh's hilarious admonition to Jenkins—"How many times have I gotta tell ya?
The Ace leaves a calling card with the time of his victims death on it.
Chester Morris plays a mystery writer putting together a book on the killer.
Not long after that Winters receives a death threat and while in the middle of an air plane flight the flights flicker for a moment and he is killed.This is an okay film that is ruined by two bumbling cops Dugan and Clancy who push a witty and clever mystery into the realm of silly.
Normally I like the work of Frank McHugh and Allen Jenkins but here they just come off as being bumbling fools.
There is no real reason for them to exist except to kill time.If you can divorce them from the rest of the movie this is a good little mystery, something not easy to do.Worth seeing if you run across it.
Great 1930's character actors Frank McHugh and Alan Jenkins provide some laughs as two bumbling, cowardly cops.
A killer taunts his victims and the police by sending them the Ace of Spades as a sign that they're going to be murdered the following night at 7 P.M..
Most good murder mysteries give us at least four or five to consider.Still, a mixture of light humor together with a few moments of danger makes this film quite pleasant..
'Tomorrow at Seven' is one of those wildly implausible movies from Hollywood's studio era which still manage to be hugely enjoyable on the strength of sheer audacity and some colourful performances.
Here we have that old chestnut: the serial murderer who announces his crimes in advance, in a highly theatrical manner, yet repeatedly kills his victims without getting caught.
We also have that even mouldier chestnut: the amateur sleuth who is able to outwit the cops and nab the baddie.In this case, the murderer proclaims his intentions in advance by delivering to each victim an ace of spades (the death card), with a neatly-written message announcing the hour at which he intends to do the deed.
As the killer neglects to leave his name in the guest-book, he is cried the Ace of Spades.He murders wealthy art dealer Asa Marsden, and here we get another old-movie cliché: the murder shown from the killer's viewpoint.
We see the victim goggling into the camera as the killer carks him, but the murderer is unseen.Next, the Ace of Spades announces his intention to murder wealthy Thornton Drake 'tomorrow at seven'.
Afterwards, the pilot claims to know nothing.The official detectives in this movie are played by two of my favourite character actors: Frank McHugh and the superb Allen Jenkins.
Unfortunately, both actors perform their sleuth roles as comedy relief, which I found regrettable: the murders in this movie are played straight, so the seriousness of the homicides is undercut by the intentional comedy of the detectives trying to catch the killer.
Screenwriter Ralph Spence often combined straightforward chills and broad comedy in his scripts -- notably in his play 'The Gorilla' -- but here the mixture isn't as smooth as usual.The hero of this film is played by Chester Morris, so it's obvious who will solve the crime.
Here, Morris plays a mystery novelist (oh, boy) who is researching the criminal career of the Ace of Spades as material for his next book.
Morris decides that it might make a nice finish for his book if he actually catches the murderer.Along with this film's other merits, there's the Batman factor.
A good cast enlivens this rather routine closed circle of suspects murder done by RKO.
Chester Morris over from MGM stars in this film, as a rather cocky crime novelist out to solve some real crimes.
Over at Warner Brothers James Cagney would have fit this part better than O.J. Simpson fit that glove.Morris is on the trail of a killer known as 'the Black Ace' who leaves an ace of spades at each of his crime scenes daring the police to catch him.
Morris is following a lead concerning millionaire Henry Stephenson and on the way he meets up with Vivienne Osborne who is the daughter of Stephenson's private secretary Grant Mitchell.When Stephenson gets a calling card they all decide to fly to his bayou plantation including a couple of Chicago cops played by Frank McHugh and Allen Jenkins.
Political influence wasn't exactly unknown in Chicago.This probably would have been done with more style at Warner Brothers, still this is an entertaining mystery with more laughs than usual thanks to McHugh and Jenkins..
Tomorrow at Seven (Ray Enright, 1933) is like a Monogram Chan before the fact: a creaky, archaic mystery with a none-too-surprising culprit - but fun just the same.
Chester Morris (later Boston Blackie in Columbia's exceptional B movie series) is a novelist investigating the inspiration for his latest book, a killer known as The Black Ace. He travels to see wealthy Henry Stephenson, who's also researching said homicidal maniac, and before you can say "when you finish that jigsaw, it's going to contain a threat from the killer", Stephenson's secretary finishes a jigsaw, and finds it contains a threat from the killer.
This is a slow-moving production that recalls movies made in the early days of sound cinema, but the name cast keeps the questionable narrative afloat and it's a delight to see legendary character actors Frank McHugh and Allen Jenkins as a pair of thick cops.
Despite a good cast, the writing and direction are pretty awful at times..
I, however, am a masochist and watched the entire DVD."Tomorrow at Seven" is a murder whodunnit about an unknown killer who refers to himself as 'The Black Ace'.
To help investigate the murders is Chester Morris (who is good as usual) and two half-witted jerks (Alan Jenkins and Frank McHugh) who pretty much ruin the film.
Their stupid detective routines runs VERY thin after a while and even for a 1930s murder film, they are incredibly stupid and 100% unbelievable.
It's sad, as Charles Middleton, Henry Stephenson, Grant Mitchell, Chester Morris, Frank McHugh and Allan Jenkins make up would should be a very good cast--the director should have been able to put these folks to better use..
Or maybe it's mystery writer Chester Morris who could be researching the plot of his next blood-curdling thriller.
This is held up by some decent performances from the lead actors, but overall it comes across as a rather lifeless murder mystery.
A killer called "The Black Ace" is on the loose.
He announces his intentions to kill in advance by sending an ace of spades to his next victim.
The movie opens with one of the killings and then shifts to the victim's best friend, Thornton Drake (Henry Stephenson) who is the next announced victim when an ace of spades shows up along with a letter announcing that he'll be killed "tomorrow at seven." To avoid his fate, he bundles those around him on a plane and travels to his plantation in New Orleans, but on the way the plane's lights go off and there's another murder on board in the dark, with an obviously limited number of suspects.
In New Orleans, the search continues.Stephenson was good in his role, and Chester Morris (as crime novelist Neil Broderick) was decent enough as well.
Particularly disappointing were the attempts to inject a degree of comedy into the story, revolving around the futile attempts of a couple of keystone cop type of characters to identify and catch the murderer.
Tomorrow at Seven (1933) ** (out of 4)Forgotten mystery/horror film has a town being stalked by a mysterious killer known as the "Black Ace".
The Black Ace lets his victims know that he's going to kill them so a novel writer (Chester Morris) and a couple detectives (Frank McHugh, Allen Jenkins) try and catch him before the next victim, which is set to die at seven.
This is yet another in the never-ending run of "old dark house" films that were incredibly popular during this period of time.
The screenplay writes the two detective characters are idiots, which is okay in my book as this genre always had comedy running throughout it but the writing isn't strong enough to get any real laughs.
McHugh and Jenkins were terrific character actors at Warner so they certainly can hold their own against anyone but they get very few shots at delivering any laughs.
Chester Morris is writing a book on a psychopathic murderer who warns his victims with an Ace of Spades, and murders them mysteriously at an appointed hour.
All the suspects get off in Louisiana, and it turns into an Old Dark House mystery, complete with a skeletal hands reaching around the drapes and a couple of dumb cops, played with no timing by Frank McHugh and Allen Jenkins.With a promising cast that includes Henry Stephenson, Grant Mitchell and Virginia Howell as the inevitable mute housekeeper, it's surprisingly dull.
Dynamic Chester Morris leads a high grade cast in this excellent who-done-it from Jefferson Pictures Corp.
Unusual for poverty row films, the comedy actually enhances the film with Frank McHugh and Allen Jenkins (both from Warners, as was the director, Frank Enright) both giving hilarious performances as a pair of bumbling detectives.When crime writer Neil Broderick (Chester Morris) meets pretty Martha Winters (Vivienne Osbourne) on a train, he confesses he is basing his new book on a real killer - "The Black Ace", who is on a murderous rampage in a small town.
He always leaves a calling card - a black ace - and always warns his victims of their death beforehand.
Neil is on his way to meet Thornton Drake (Henry Stephenson), an expert on The Black Ace, hoping he will be able to help him with his research.
They are then joined by two bumbling detectives - Clancy and Dugan, who come to get the "real dope" on the phantom killer.
Together, they all decide to fly down to Drake's plantation in Louisiana, where they hope to escape the killer but things go wrong, however, when Winters is murdered mid flight.Once they arrive at the plantation the movie becomes part of the "old dark house" genre.
Neil phones the coroner but secretly signals someone hiding outside, when the pilot tries to phone his office, the wires are mysteriously cut, a letter is found in Winter's pocket revealing the identity of the Black Ace but after a black out the letter disappears.
Charles Middleton makes his ominous presence felt as a "creepy" coroner.Identity of the killer is kept just out of reach as each person who arouses suspicion is usually the next person killed - although there is a small clue when Neil arrives at Drake's house.
A surprisingly enjoyable Depression-era murder mystery, 'Tomorrow At Seven' has many conventional themes that we have seen over and over and over again repeatedly in the murder mystery: the old dark house, the two bumbling detectives who play a major part of this entire tripe, and the large cast of whodunnits.
Allen Jenkins and Frank McHugh's characters are both pretty enjoyable, and characters like theirs were probably the highlight of the feature to Depression-era audiences who managed to get away and retreat to see a motion picture.The acting isn't great by any means, and the plot can be conceived as quite silly by today's standards, but keeping in mind the year in which this film was brought to us, it still plays out as an entertaining and watchable film.
Mystery novelist Neil Broderick, played by the ever engaging Chester Morris, plans to base his next book on the real life serial murderer known as The Black Ace. The killer always lets his victim know before hand that he plans to kill them by leaving a black ace.
When Broderick is on his way to meet an expert in the Black Ace, Thornton Drake, he has a humorous encounter with Martha Winters, who is the daughter of Thornton's secretary.
Soon after Broderick meets Thornton, a representation of a black ace is found.
Two cops, Dugan and Clancy (Allen Jenkins and Frank McHugh) come to investigate.
Dugan is relating how they almost caught the Black Ace after nabbing his girlfriend: "She's a snowbird and I gives her some gold dust and she opens up." His entire account is hilarious.
In an effort to escape the Black Ace, the entire group decides to fly to Thornton's plantation in Louisiana.
64 minutes.SYNOPSIS: A serial killer, known as "The Black Ace", is stalking wealthy collectors.NOTES: Hard to believe this film originated in Poverty Row!COMMENT: Superbly photographed, smoothly directed, but somewhat disjointedly scripted thriller comedy.
The problem is that the comedy — which is often very funny indeed, Jenkins has a couple of really hilarious lines — doesn't jell at all with a mystery thriller that is often nerve-wracking and suspenseful.
The reason for this failure, I suspect, is that Jenkins and McHugh play regular Chicago cops.
Vivienne Osborne makes a wonderfully vulnerable heroine, Chester Morris is ideal as the tough, yet personable hero, whilst Henry Stephenson has one of the most memorable roles of his career as the Black Ace's next victim.
"Tomorrow At Seven" begins with a cracking idea: a killer so arrogant and sure of himself, he warns his intended victims beforehand via his calling card, an ace of spades.
The script on the whole is quite unpredictable, with even the hero a suspect until the very end, and even if you guess who the "Black Ace" is, you probably won't guess his weapon.
But the movie is actually more of a comedy than a mystery, since two inept policemen who at first appear to be used only as comic relief take center stage for large sections of the film.
It has an interesting premise, a killer leaves an Ace of Spades calling card at the scene of his crimes, while alerting the victim in advance.
The execution falls flat however, and to say that the movie has it's share of plot holes would be to imply that there actually is a plot.Chester Morris portrays mystery writer Neil Broderick, weaving elements of actual murders by the Ace of Spades killer into his latest novel.
That line unceremoniously endears him to the "nut's" daughter Martha (Vivienne Osborne), who offers to make the introductions.Broderick meets Thornton Drake (Henry Stephenson) just as the latter is about to complete a jigsaw puzzle delivered by a courier that morning.
The only remaining pieces, as we learn in the following scene, form the bold, black shape of the Ace of Spades containing the words "At Seven Tomorrow Night".
Initially I was intrigued by the appearance of Frank McHugh and Allen Jenkins in their roles as a pair of police detectives summoned to the Drake residence.
McHugh's Clancy in particular winds up shouting objections to inane comments made by his partner Dugan, and both usually head in the opposite direction when real trouble might turn up.Now here's a question - in light of the identity of the Ace killer, why would he have invited a novelist and a pair of cops that he just met, on a flight to his Louisiana plantation?
The early suspicion falls on pilot Henderson (Cornelius Keefe) following a lights out scene, but Henderson still hasn't reported the murder to his supervisor until well after he arrives at Drake's plantation with everyone else.
In a second dark out scene, a letter from the murder victim Austin Winters is about to be read.
There's really only one humorous moment worth repeating; while aboard the plane, the detectives have this exchange: Dugan - "Hey Clancy, how often do these things fall?" Clancy - "Once!" Except for McHugh and Jenkins, I can't say I've seen any of the other players in films of the era, though I'm a fan of most "B" grade mystery movies from the '30's through the '50's.
The best I can offer about "Tomorrow at Seven" is a quote from Martha Winters about midway though this turkey - "This is just a silly waste of time".