Dir: Franz Josef Gottlieb
Star: O. W. Fischer, Karin Dor, Doris Kirchner, Klaus Kinski

The success of the Edgar Wallace krimi films inevitably meant that similarly styled movies would follow suit. These weren’t just the work of other studios, hoping to ride on the coat-tails of Constantin-Film’s success. They, themselves, were also looking for source material which could be adapted, and found a worthwhile seam in the works of Louis Weinert-Wilton, Two of these had already been turned into movies, in 1962 and earlier in 1963 respectively: Der Teppich des Grauens (which translates into the rather less scary-sounding, The Carpet of Horror!) and Die weiße Spinne, or The White Spider. The success at the box-office of the latter perhaps explains why, for the third of their four adaptation, the name was changed from the book’s Die Königin der Nacht (The Queen of the Night) to a similarly arachnid-themed title, The Secret of the Black Widow.

Like many of the Edgar Wallace films, it was set in London, which does create a certain amount of cognitive dissonance, watching quintessential British “bobbies” speaking in German. Adding to this, it was filmed entirely in Spain, with a combination of Spanish and German cast and crew. The hero is Wellby (Fischer), a journalist for the ‘London Sensations’ newspaper, who is investigating a pair of bizarre murders. The victims are shot with poisonous projectiles, to which are attached fake spiders. He discovers a connection between the two dead men: they took part in an expedition to Mexico, on which leader Alfons Avery was killed, supposedly by the bite of a black widow spider. The rest of the group found Aztec treasure, and became rich on their return to England.

With further expedition members also being killed in similar fashion, it appears someone is not happy about the situation. The “Talk or Die!” notes being sent to the survivors are especially unsubtle. But might one of the group themselves be responsible? For they agreed that, in the event of a death, the deceased’s fortune would be divided among the other members. Or is it an outsider, such as Avery’s daughter, Clarisse (Dor)? Her actions are certainly suspicious, having taken an assumed name to work in the antique store run by one of her father’s colleagues. Complicating matters further, another of the group is the publisher of London Sensations, and is not happy about his employee’s investigation. Then there’s the sinister Boyd (Kinski), a bowler-hatted gentlemen lurking on the fringes, dropping thinly-veiled threats on Wellby.

It’s a fairly straightforward whodunnit, with the numbers of the guilty parties involved in Avery’s death steadily being thinned, which reduces the number of potential suspects in parallel. But they’re an oddball selection of candidates, and given their disparate nature it feels a little questionable that they would all go on an archaeological expedition. The most dubious is Selwood, who now owns a time-capsule sixties arcade, where seedy types hang about, playing pinball and table-football. He, in particular, doesn’t take kindly to Wellby digging into his affairs, and sets a couple of his thugs on the writer in the basement, to dissuade further questions. However, does that aversion to inquiry necessarily make him the murderer? There are certainly other possibilities, and Wellby doesn’t let his growing fondness for Clarisse interfere with her possible guilt.

This particularly shows up, when he more or less kidnaps her – Wellby doesn’t exactly appear to be a supporter of equal rights for women – in order to take her to a nightclub, where the star act sings about the plot of the film.

There is a woman, who in the dark of the city,
has thoughts of hate and corruption.
She kills in the shadows, and avoids the light.
And nobody knows her face.

You walk through the streets and don’t look back
Maybe you are dreaming of fortune and love,
when you get hit by a shot and your life slips away.
A scream gets carried away by the wind.
And nobody knows how it happened.
Because nobody who ever saw her is still alive.

The Black Widow, who is that woman?
She finds her victim and it’s never a miss.
Why are the streets so lonely and empty?
Why are all the people walking around so scared?
There is a woman, who in the dark of the city,
has made a deal with death.

Catchy, isn’t it? I’m not sure if this was some bizarre attempt to get Clarisse to confess to the murders, or if the hero’s idea of a good time is listening to the warblings of a deep-voiced cabaret singer. He does seem more than a little fond of an alcoholic beverage, so his tastes in entertainment are probably a bit questionable.

The film’s biggest strength is likely its supporting cast. Kinski – who isn’t in the film as much as the poster above would imply – makes a solid impression. I don’t think there’s a scene where he’s not wearing a bowler hat, and he comes off as a more ambiguous version of John Steed from The Avengers. I will say, I was surprised when his connection to the murders was revealed in the end. I don’t want to give anything away, but let’s just say, perhaps it was before Klaus became typecast! I also enjoyed another Edgar Wallace regular, Eddi Arent as Wellby’s researcher sidekick and comic relief. It’s the kind of role which could easily seem jarring, yet Arent plays it lightly enough that it works, better than it should.

It all ends as you’d expect, with the murderer – who may or may not be as you’d expect – being revealed, and brought to justice. It’s okay, though I wasn’t all that impressed with Fischer’s performance as the lead character. Some elements feel as if they were going for something relatively hard-boiled, such as his drinking and womanizing, yet the actor doesn’t seem to have the macho air necessary to pull it off. It needs someone who can do a better job of holding the audience’s attention. It may be significant that, while Kinski would return for the studio’s fourth and final Weinert-Wilton adaptation, Fischer would not.