Charlie Chan in Egypt

Louis King, 1935

This black and white B movie runs for a bit over an hour, but within the first ten minutes the viewer will be aware of its primary selling points: it's a standard detective story, it's set in exotic Egypt, and it contains a bevy of racial stereotypes. Charlie Chan is, after all, an obsequious Chinese-American detective, and in this movie—one of sixteen films starring Warner Oland as Chan—an archaeologist's disappearance has brought him to the Pyramids to search for an answer.

When Charlie Chan arrives in Egypt, he soon learns that the disappearance of Professor Arnold (George Irving) is only part of the misfortunes and dark rumors floating around the tomb. Arnold's son Barry (James Eagles) was earlier injured in an accident; Arnold's daughter Carol (Pat Paterson) is so distraught that she can hardly sleep without the pills provided by local doctor Racine (Jameson Thomas). In an additional mystery, the artifacts from the tomb, which were meant to be given to museums, have found their way into private collections. Professor Arnold's partner and brother-in-law, Professor Thurston (Frank Conroy), admits that he sold them to pay off their shared debt to Dr. Racine, who helped fund their expedition. Meanwhile, Egyptian servants Edfu Ahmed (Nigel De Brulier) and Nayda (Rita Hayworth) lurk suspiciously in the background. With so many possibilities, it is difficult to find the real culprit.

Unlike other detective protagonists, Chan does not bumble his way to a solution. He goes about his work so quietly and competently that it can be difficult for a viewer to tell what he is thinking. We are given hints: close-ups on items like Carol's cigarettes show that they will be important, and the tendency of supporting characters to start dropping like flies as the story gets underway narrows down the list of suspects. We are also given red herrings, like the servants whose loyalty to Egypt's tombs help mask the real killer's motive. Perhaps the ideal viewing experience is not one in which the viewer seeks to solve the crime with Chan (since the solution seems a bit out of left field anyway), but rather one in which the viewer delights in watching Chan solve the crime himself. It's certainly enjoyable to see Chan, on the verge of being cast out of the Arnold's home, ask politely if he can explain one thing before he leaves—and then immediately use his knowledge of chemistry, the violin, and the resonating frequency of glass to put together a demonstration of how Carol's brother was killed.

The stoic, deferential, proverb-spouting Chinaman is a stereotype, but Chan's character is portrayed throughout as admirable. He is the cleverest person present, unquestionably coming off better than the African-American Snowshoes (played by Stepin Fetchit), the greedy Arabic swindler, or the shady household servants. At a time when both China and America had pressing world issues to be concerned about, it might have been nice for Chinese-Americans to see a hero of their own mold on the silver screen.

Brianna Clampitt