In speaking of the week's program at the Paramount and Fenway, in order to begin with a note of optimism, we have to describe the "second big hit" first. For Warner Oland's mystifying in "Charlie Chan's Secret" proves much more enticing than the rigmarole of "Coronado."

We almost agree with the Paramount's advance statement, which claims that Earl Derr Bigger's oriental sleuth as portrayed in the movies is rapidly taking his place by the lean side of Sherlock Holmes. Charlie Chan, spouting the cherished wisdom of the East, is rapidly becoming one of the screen's few lasting fabrications.

The fact is that many of the best appurtenances of detective stores have been lifted directly from Conan Doyle, to be used most effectively on the screen. There is the subtle trap inveigling the guilty man into betraying himself, the use of a dummy to draw fire from the villain's gun, the spiriting away of a threatened person under pretense of his death, and the complicated machine of destruction. In this picture the infernal device rivals the inventions of Rube Goldberg, for the ringing of a church bell--as innocent a phenomenon as you could hope to find--starts the train of deadly events.

There's no use, of course, in trying to solve the crime before Charlie does; the reels are stacked against you. But just the same we predict that you will be making all sorts of fantastic guesses. For the picture absorbs you in spite of yourself. You'll probably even play so completely into Mr. Chan's hands as to reproach him when he's merely being clever.

Just Another Musical

The other thing is just another musical. Even the color of the name "Coronado," which belongs to a most swanky hotel in Lower California, and the rhythm of Eddie Duchin, a Massachusetts boy who has made good in the grand style, fail to make the picture particularly exciting. There is an adorable collegiate youngster who is everybody's pal and puts tapioca in drain pipes; he doesn't exactly prepossess one.