The Missing Juror: Budd Boetticher

I've spent the past few weeks immersing myself in Budd Boetticher's Westerns, particularly the ones he made with Randolph Scott. But before he became one of the unsung heroes of the Western genre, he spent years making low budget potboilers like The Missing Juror. The film was what critics of the day referred to as a "murder-a-reel" flick. Basically, in such features the plot would be driven forward by a constant stream of killings, thereby motivating the protagonists to pursue the villain. In this case, the killer is Harry Wharton, a crazed ex-death row inmate who was wrongly convicted for a crime he didn't commit. Before he was executed, though, the authorities discovered the real criminal and released Wharton. But the damage had already been done to Wharton's poor psyche. Claiming to have "died" every time one of his fellow inmates was executed, Wharton considers himself to be deceased. Even worse, his crazed mind believes that the only way he can come back to life is to kill the twelve members of the jury who accidentally convicted him.  Hot on his trail is Joe Keats, an ace reporter who is somehow better than the cops at doing their own job.  Keats is one of those classic, straight-shooting 40s heroes who is always ahead of the game and misogynistic in a way that must have seemed endearing back then ("Why don't you go do those files like a good little girl, huh?"). He only really starts to hunt Wharton when he discovers that one of his targets is the beautiful Alice Hill. Oh, there were other women on the jury, too. But they had frumpy haircuts and glasses. Alice Hill is a pert blonde, and therefore worth saving, know what I mean? Anyway, The Missing Juror is a competent little thriller. George Macready's performance as Wharton is especially enjoyable, particularly when a twist about his identity is revealed near the middle of the film.

7/10