Catch that hair-raising car chase as Geary (Kennedy) escapes prison. It's a dilly, but the crash is not one you walk away from. The movie's a 60-minute gangster programmer from the specialists, Warner Bros. Nothing memorable here, but there are highlights—the great Howard de Silva as a cruel prison guard (I'd rather serve my time in heck); battle-axe Florence Bates in an actual sympathetic role; and the race between fleeing car and speeding train. Okay, I kept a notepad so I could keep up with the maze-like plot. Seems cop Geary goes undercover to get goods on city corruption. But things don't go as planned. Meanwhile characters come and go, which is where the notepad comes in. Then too, there're more than the usual plot contrivances, but they go down easily, since director Lederman keeps things moving in typical Warners fashion.Can't help noticing the work party scenes were filmed at all-purpose Bronson Canyon. Despite appearances, it's plumb in the middle of LA, next door to the studios. That's why it turns up in so many cheapo films, especially from the sci-fi 1950's. And get a load of leading lady Perry (Alice). No wonder Columbia's ogre Harry Cohn grabbed her off as his wife. Looks like she had a knack for marrying rich guys, so no surprise she left the business. Anyhow, it's a decent little slice of thick-ear, with a good chance to catch one of Hollywood's best actors honing his skills, the great Arthur Kennedy. Besides, who can resist a name like 'Fido Durkin'.

Arthur Kennedy is a police sergeant who goes undercover to root out crooked cops, only to get framed by those very cops for the murder of the police chief he was working for, and winds up being sent to prison. Kennedy, in an early role, is quite good and the film is chock full of the great character actors that pop up in these neat old Warners "B"s--guys like Jonathan Hale, Dick Rich, John Ridgely, Ben Welden and, in a scene-stealing role, Howard Da Silva as a sadistic prison guard. Director D. Ross Lederman, an old hand at these kinds of pictures, keeps things moving at lightning speed, and it has the sneering thugs, tough cops, gun molls with a heart of gold, screaming sirens, screeching tires, breakneck car chases and everything else that made so many of the Warners "B" pictures of the '40s worthwhile. Check it out.

Strange Alibi harks back to the quick, crude Warners crime-and-corruption movies of the 1930s, showing none of the more nuanced, ambiguous style that started to coalesce in the early 40s. It's a rough and ready programmer, just watchable because of a few of its cast members.Arthur Kennedy, in one of his earliest roles, plays a cop who stages a dishonorable discharge from the force in order to work the shady side of the street. But, framed for the murder of the one man who can vouch for his honesty, he ends up in the Big House, a target both of other cons (since he was a cop) and the guards (since they think he was a dishonest one; Howard Da Silva plays a particularly sadistic screw). He's in for life, which promises to be nasty, brutish and short, but a few fast friends on the outside are trying to get him exonerated. Chief among them is gold-hearted vice queen Florence Bates, one of the movies' most formidable old battleaxes (before taking to acting, she was the first woman to practice law in Texas).The plot races and bumps along but manages to work itself out with passable cleverness: Kennedy contrives a scheme in which his innocence is proved by the "testimony" of a corpse.

Often ridiculous but breathlessly paced and mostly entertaining. It's got all of the Warner Brothers staples: quick pace, lots of gun play, average looking leading man with above average acting ability (in this case a very young Arthur Kennedy) and a convincing rough and tumble feel. (You sometimes fear for the actors' safety.) It also has the great Howard Da Silva stealing every scene he's in as a sadistic prison guard.Sacrifices logic for speed. Hey, plausibility slows things down. A standard undercover-cop-stuck-in-prison flick, though a bit more interesting because of its cast.