Since the dawn of time, one of the existential questions which has puzzled humankind is who, exactly, let the dogs out. In 2000, The Baha Men released an incredibly popular song concerning this philosophical brainteaser, not realizing the question had already been answered in 1942 horror B-movie The Strange Case of Doctor Rx.
In this picture, we see the wealthy Samuel S. Hinds release them with the mere push of a button that looks like a doorbell. I found it interesting the actor who released the hounds could have played a live-action Montgomery Burns, had he somehow been preserved at his then-present age for a half-century. I was also wondering how the dogs return to the kennel.
I would explain how we arrived at this point in the film where this happens, except I’m rather confused by what happened exactly. The twists and turns feels like everything was being adlibbed, and I stopped trying to follow the plot early on.
The picture opens with a radio announcer telling his listening audience about the strangest case in the history of police annals. Am I the only person tired of hearing about what happens in the anuses of the keepers of the peace? We also get to see his eyebrows raise suggestively when he tells of the “impotency” of the district attorney.
Ostensibly, the case concerns the mysterious “Doctor Rx”, who has been killing criminals who are unable to be prosecuted successfully. A note found on each victim has only an “Rx” and the number of the victim on it. It’s like the killer is starting some sort of weird collector’s series, and I wish the victims were bagged in protective plastic, so as to preserve their value.
Now, the film is supposed to be about this killer. Instead, the script seems intent on following all manner of strange tangents until we have a penultimate scene where a scientist tells our hero (Patric Knowles) he going to be the subject of a brain transplant operation with a gorilla as the other patient. Almost as odd is when our protagonist discovers his apartment is being surveilled and that this is being done by his girlfriend (Anne Gwynne), and she’s not even doing this for any nefarious purposes. The two even elope that same night after this discovery.
Knowles actually used his butler (Mantan Moreland) to break into that apartment where this ruse is discovered. This is accomplished by going through a short door into what I assume is where the garbage can would go. There isn’t a padlock on this or anything, and I continue to be amazed how trusting people were back then. I also never stop being aghast when films from his era show people leaving the front doors to their houses unlocked.
Moreland is Black, and some sort of code of the time mandates him to be the comic relief in this picture. That said, instead of being a minor character, his performance is memorably quirky. He has this thing he does with word association as if he is an early Beat poet. Consider this: “Airports. Airplanes. Clouds. Birds. Nests. Eggs. Breakfast.” It’s like he was somehow going to break into R.E..M.’s “It’s The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)” at any moment.
Despite this film skewing far more towards comedy, I was still very surprised to see Shemp Howard as a police detective. He isn’t given as much to do as Moreland, but he still has a memorable line when interrogating somebody: “Where were you the night of January?”
B-movies often allowed more latitude than more money productions, something The Strange Case of Doctor Rx pushes to new limits. It packs a lot into its 66 minutes, not that much of it makes any sense either while watching it or upon later reflection. I felt like I was watching the cinema equivalent of condensed soup—what we are given is too much in too small a serving, but I somehow doubt his nonsense would fare any better if diluted across a longer runtime.
Dir: William Nigh
Starring Patric Knowles, Lionel Atwill, Anne Gwynne, Mantan Moreland
Watched as part of Shout Factory’s blu-ray box set Universal Horror Collection Volume 2