Cirrus@Austlit

Novelised version of his play.

'A pebble is best hidden on a beach, and in the same way the danger from an incriminating clue can best be overcome by providing a host of false ones. Thus four apparently quite separate individuals here each confess to the murder of a certain undesirable Count Mattoni (Mr. Leslie Perrins), who is found shot in his bedroom in a fashionable block of flats, and in each case the story they have to tell is supported by substantial evidence. One speaks of smashing a light bulb, and the bulb is found smashed; another tells of blackmail and incriminating letters, and these are discovered in the Count's safe; a third describes how he handled a wad of notes with blood-stained fingers, and his prints are duly found upon them. Yet the times all differ, and there are as many clues to exonerate as there are to convict. Detective-inspector Davidson (Mr. Syd Walker) and his young assistant (Mr. Terence de Marney) not unnaturally find much to puzzle them in all this, but until a spate of confessions comes to shatter their theories they assemble their data by careful investigation, and the director of the film has skilfully observed the several characters with whom they are concerned. The garrulous maid who discovers the body, the indignant liftman with a weakness for dog-racing, the harrassed business man trying to put through a deal with a Frenchman who cannot understand a word he says, the coquettish chorus-girl and the temperamental prima donna–all appear intermittently throughout the film to good effect. Comedy is present but is kept in its place, and the final solution is acceptable. There may seem a doubt about the point of law which finally provides the criminals with a loophole for escape, but the amateur detective can follow their investigation with interest and without any fear of being cheated by its climax.'

Source:

'New Films in London. A Plan for Murder', The Times, 3 July 1939, p.12.

'When Count Victor Mattoni was found dead in his flat at Oxley Court, there was no doubt that he was murdered. No fewer than four persons claimed the honor of doing the fatal deed. And each one of the four produced conclusive evidence that he — and he alone — was the murderer! Small wonder that Inspector Davidson, investigating the crime, was at his wits' end. Well, who did kill the Count? Here is a reduced version of Alec Coppel's brilliant mystery play that baffled and amused audiences in London and in Australia, where it was played some months ago.'

Source:

'I Killed the Count', Barrier Daily Truth, 21 February 1941, p.6.

Radio play adaptation of Alec Coppel's play.

The second film adaptation of Alec Coppel's play, this time adapted by Coppel himself for the BBC.

The third film/television version of Alec Coppel's play, and the second to have a script by Coppel.

Conceivably, this may have been filmed to the same script as the 1948 BBC version, which was also scripted by Coppel, but in the absence of any information confirming that (and in the presence of an entirely different cast and production company), this work has been considered an entirely separate work.

The fourth film/television adaptation of Alec Coppel's play, this time adapted by American script-writer Francis M. Cockrell as a self-contained series within the anthology series Alfred Hitchcock Presents.

A Belgian television adaptation of Alec Coppel's play I Killed the Count.