Robert J. Maxwell It's a film about bootlegging rubber tires in the middle of the war and opens with an elderly Irish cop coming across some suspicious characters standing in front of a warehouse. "What's going on here?" Oh, nothing. "I'll just take a look in that warehouse if ye don't mind," says the cop, who is shot to death while trying to open the door. Delaney, the cop, is in violation of the Fourth Amendment to the Constitution, which requires a search warrant from a judge after establishing probable cause. But never mind. This isn't a technically demanding film. The old cop's murder sets the son, a private detective, on the trail of the gang, to their ultimate disadvantage.It should be pointed out that during World War II, tires and the rubber they were made from, were as valuable as gold. You couldn't GET new tires. The rubber that they were made from came from Southeast Asia, now in the hands of the Japanese. What little rubber the Allies had were used to build tires for military vehicles like Jeeps. Stealing tires was not just a criminal act but an unpatriotic one.Well, the cop's son, Damian O'Flynn, is about to be inducted into the U.S. Army. As a first lieutenant. (How do you do that?) He's angry and fast. He cooperates with the police at first because they're both in pursuit of the chief heavy -- Jack La Rue, not to be confused with "Lash" La Rue. Some reviewers keep pointing out that I'm criminally careless for having mixed up the two. Well, I AM criminally careless but at least I don't suffer from obsessive-compulsive disorder! Anyway, the heavy here is Jack La Rue, née Gaspere Biondolillo in New York. And kindly don't confuse him with Jack La Rue, Jr., son of Jack La Rue, not son of Lash La Rue. Now, I'm glad we got that out of the way.No particular acting skills are on display. None are necessary. It's a fast paced mystery with no fooling around and no time for theatrics. The performers are professionals. They hit their marks, say their lines, express whatever feelings are appropriate to the situation, and dart out for the next scene. They're all likable enough, and Helen Parrish is conventionally attractive.

Paularoc I have a fondness for B detective movies from the 1940s. While this isn't a great one, it is an entertaining one worth a watch. A private detective, Eddie Delaney, has just been commissioned a Lieutenant in the Army and has to report for duty in three days. Delaney's father is an Irish cop who is murdered by gangsters who have just stolen a truck loan of tires. Rubber was a big black market item during World War II. The gangster, Marty Clark, is played by Jack LaRue ( who made a career of playing gangsters) who was a big time booze runner during prohibition who avoided prison because he always paid his income tax. Clark owns a night club called 'The Spot.' Delaney finds out that Clark was responsible for his father's murder and when Clark is murdered, Delaney becomes the number one suspect. Delaney then must find the real murderer and the ringleader of the rubber heisting gang. One of the most interesting things about the movie was its depiction of a central music exchange operation where, for a nickel, people could call the exchange and order a particular song to be played through the exchange's juke box. The discovery of the ringleader of the gang wasn't really much of a surprise since the two most likely candidates had already been murdered. It was nice seeing Anne Jeffrey's in one of her very early credited roles. This movie is a pleasant way to spend an hour.

MartinHafer This film is a B-picture--a term used to denote a "second feature"--a lesser and less expensive film to be shown with a higher-quality/budget film (an A-picture) back in the 1930s and 40s. Bs were mostly passable entertainment or often a bit less, but occasionally a B rises above the modest expectations...a bit. "X Marks the Spot" is a better than normal B and even though it clocks in at well under one hour, it has some originality and a few decent plot twists.The film begins by introducing a cop and his son who is soon to be inducted into the military, as the film was made during WWII. This can also be seen in the plot, as the film involves a smuggling ring--one that deals in black market tires--because tires were limited due to rationing. The good ol' cop accidentally wanders into the midst of the activities of the gang and is killed. So, his son (who is still a detective) goes to investigate. However, when the chief suspect is murdered a bit later, people assume the son did it--and it's up to him to escape from custody and prove his innocence (a rather standard cliché of the day).What I liked about it was the whole rubber tire angle--something you'd only see in a WWII flick. I also liked the twists when the REAL culprits are discovered. While the film doesn't have any real stars in it, it's well acted and interesting.

JohnHowardReid It's disheartening to see Stuart Palmer's name mixed up in this little film (in every respect of the word) about rubber racketeers. The identity of Mr Big is as obvious as the dimple in Helen Parrish's cheek, thanks not only to Palmer's fall-back on a standard plot stratagem, but to rigid type-casting. Dull Damian is a ho-hum hero, and if I see Robert Homans go into his Irish-on-the-beat act just once more, I'll sic Jack LaRue on to him like a shot. Jack plays a heavy as usual, although Palmer gives him a smart intro as the gangster who survived the police clean-up after prohibition, because he'd taken great care to pay his income taxes on all the murder and high-jacking contracts he took out. Sounds fishy to me, but at least it's a new angle. Vince Barnett has a brief role as a waiter, while Neil Hamilton wastes our time as a crooked businessman. The only bright spot in the movie is provided by happy-as-a-thug Dick Wessel (of all people) who takes a shine to our cute-as-a-vinyl heroine. Yes, Helen plays a disc jockey in one of these places where customers placed a dime in the juke box and relayed their music order to a central exchange full of 78s. This ingenious set-up was featured in several "A" features but here it's given the strictly from hunger treatment.Sherman's direction is B-grade competent, but boring as all get-out. Bring back Sam Newfield! Muddy photography doesn't help liven up interest either. Other credits are equally shoe-string.For a climax, Sherman uses the old Poverty Row dodge of staging a scene on the actual floor of an unvarnished Republic sound stage. Well, he does fill the space up with lots and lots of fake rubber tires. We all know that rubber tires are so pictorially attractive, what could be more excitingly suspenseful than a mild little chase through such wonders?