AFTER THE THIN MAN: Blu-ray (MGM, 1936) Warner Archive
Having firmly established the screen team of William
Powell and Myrna Loy in 3 movies, Evelyn Prentice, Manhattan
Melodrama and The Thin Man (all, made and released in 1934), it was
inevitable the pair should be reunited for more. And in 1936, Powell and Loy
repeated their hat trick with 3 more offerings rattled off in rapid succession;
The Great Ziegfeld, Libeled Lady and a sequel to their memorable outing
as Nick and Nora Charles. MGM’s raja, L.B. Mayer was fond of film franchises,
and damn successful at them too, with the already lucrative Andy Hardy
and Tarzan serials under his banner. He would launch yet another
series, Young Doctor Kildare in 1938. But just at this moment, Mayer was
eager to have his writers exploit Powell and Loy’s inimitable charm and
exquisite sparring as newlyweds – the elegant heiress and her retired sleuth,
re-teamed in director, W.S. Van Dyke’s After The Thin Man (1936). This
rather pedestrian title belies the movie’s immeasurable strengths as a
wonderfully effervescent whodunit. If anything, After The Thin Man is a more
refined movie than the original with Powell and Loy completely at ease; she,
the ‘lanky brunette with a wicked jaw’ who delights in hubby’s colorful
assortment of crooked cohorts; he, the devil-may-care, chronically sipping
martinis, though miraculously, never to fall-down intoxication. What happened
between the end of the original movie and the start of this hilarious sequel is
actually most succinctly summarized in a one-sided telephone conversation Loy’s
Nora has with her mother in the sequel after this one, 1939’s Another Thin
Man, whereupon Nora admits, “Yes, we had a lovely time. Nick was sober
in Kansas City.” Powell, already nursing a drink, turns to the stuffed
Teddy Bear lying on the sofa next to him, playfully suggesting, “That is a
very bitter woman!”
Most of the success of the Thin Man series
has absolutely nothing to do with its premised ‘crime caper’ backdrop, instead that
rare on-screen chemistry between Powell and Loy, the epitome of razor-sharp-witted
marrieds having a wonderful time, and taking the rest of us along for the ride.
The screenplay to After the Thin Man is penned by husband and wife,
writers extraordinaire, Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett, loosely basing
their shenanigans on a story idea by noted crime/fiction author, Dashiell
Hammett, herein lending his talents too, though never to actually write a follow-up
to his original novel. Instead, the screenplay was Oscar-nominated, and
deservedly so. The stichomythic exchanges between Loy and Powell here are
legendary for their frankness, charm, thrift, eloquence and chutzpah. Just a
few examples to consider: Nora – “Are you packing?” Nick, enjoying a
martini – “Yes dear, I'm putting away this liquor.” Nora – “Aunt
Katherine wants to speak to you. Do you know why Robert wasn’t here tonight?”
Nick – “…because he's smart.” Nora – “…he’s disappeared.” Nick – “Swell.
Now, if we could just get Aunt Katherine to disappear!” And another from
Nick – “…did I ever tell you that you're the most fascinating woman this
side of the Rockies?” Nora – “Wait till you see me on the other side.”
Although Powell and Loy were chums, both on and
off-screen, theirs remained a platonic friendship, much to the dismay of their
public who always hoped the couple would get together in life, and thereupon
fulfill the promises already achieved by their alter egos. However, in reality,
Powell was engaged to screen siren, Jean Harlow – a union never to be when
Harlow unexpectedly died of uremic poisoning at age 26, leaving Powell utterly
devastated. He himself would face an even graver health crisis, successfully
undergoing treatment after being diagnosed with cancer in 1939. Powell remained
one of Hollywood’s most prolific actors, frequently reunited with Loy for a
total of 14 movies of which only 6 belong to The Thin Man franchise. As
for Loy, having been pushed, fully clothed mind you, into a swimming pool by
her future director, W.S. Van Dyke – merely to test her impromptu reaction, Loy’s
cool-headed surprise and Van Dyke’s persistence thereafter to use her in the
original Thin Man forever changed the trajectory of the actress’
career. Mayer was less than enthused, having perceived of Loy as a ‘serious
actress’ to rival Garbo and remain exclusively showcased in melodramas. Van
Dyke disagreed and Loy was willing to try her hand at wry/cultured comedy, a
genre quickly to prove her forte. Indeed, this irony was not lost on Mayer either.
Loy was already a veteran of more than 80 movies. Yet, it was The Thin Man that
launched her identity on the big screen, one to remain inviolate for the rest
of her career. Like Powell, and apart from their future reunions in Thin
Man sequels, Loy would experience a decided downturn in her career
after the mid-1940’s, as the bloom of youth slipped away. Nevertheless, her versatility kept her
fashionable in comedies more so than dramas, especially after 1939’s The
Rains Came, and, 1946’s Oscar-winning wartime ensemble, The Best Years
of Our Lives.
Mayer’s ambitions in franchise film-making were
considerably different from his competition. While other studios saw this type
of movie as nothing more than ‘B’ (sometimes even ‘C’ grade) fodder, fit for
the matinee – cheaply made filler to pad out the production slate, Mayer’s goal
was to churn out quality fair with A-list players and, if not quite the
top-tier of studio-budgets, then certainly, with enough backlot glamour to
promote them as modestly budgeted A-list product. Indeed, After the Thin Man
cost twice as much as the original movie, at 112 mins. remains the longest in
the franchise, and, owing partly to Mayer’s due diligence, was to reap the
rewards from a delayed release of 2 years. It would go on to become the 5th
highest grossing movie of the season, earning an impressive $3.1 million on an
investment of only $673,000. After the Thin Man is also notable for its
casting of congenial every-man, James Stewart, stepping entirely out of
character as the villain of the piece – a decision that had Stewart’s agent,
Leland Hayward, nervously scratching his head, lest Stewart’s performance as the
serial killer taint his future aspirations to become a leading man. Indeed,
while Stewart had been kicking around Hollywood since the mid-thirties, and appeared
to great effect as a supporting second-string male ingenue, his star had yet to
rise on the Metro backlot. Mayer saw Stewart as a “lanky young bumpkin with
a hesitant manner of speech” whose biggest role to date was as Jeanette
MacDonald’s convict brother in the operetta, Rose Marie (1936). And
while the critics were quick to pick up on Stewart’s intelligence and screen
presence, Mayer was not, prompting Hayward to begin an aggressive campaign to
have the actor ‘loaned out’ to other studios to make his bones. Stewart’s
performance in After the Thin Man, was singled out by New York Daily’s
Kate Cameron who wrote, in part, he possessed “…one grand scene in which he
demonstrates most effectively that he is something more than a musical comedy
juvenile.”
Plot wise: after their whirlwind honeymoon, Nick and
Nora are newly arrived at their fashionable San Franciscan home on Telegraph
Hill. While Nick hails from a spurious world of colorful reprobates, Nora’s haughty
relatives have begrudgingly invited the couple to an artificially stimulating
‘formal dinner’ at Aunt Katherine Forrest’s (Jessie Ralph) snob hill abode.
Kate can barely tolerate Nick. The feeling is mutual, as Nick considers Nora’s
family a lot of stuffed shirts. These include her neurotic cousin, Selma
(Elissa Landi) who tells Nora how her own ne'er-do-well hubby, Robert (Alan
Marshal) has vanished without a trace. In his absence, ex-fiancé, David Graham
(James Stewart) is a great comfort. Indeed, he has offered to buy off Robert
for a cool $25,000. Meanwhile, Nora implores Nick to find out what has become
of Robert. The results are not pretty. Indeed, Robert has been carrying on with
sexy chanteuse, Polly Byrnes (Penny Singleton, of future Blondie and Dagwood
fame) at the LiChi Club, a hotbed for all sorts of other illegal activities.
The club’s owner, Dancer (Joseph Calleia) plans to embezzle David’s payoff to
Robert. Meanwhile, Polly's ‘brother’, Phil (Paul Fix) is attempting to extort
the payoff from her to cover his own debts.
Dancer has Phil ejected from the club just as Nick and Nora arrive in
search of Robert.
Informed of David's offer, Robert skulks back to Aunt
Katherine's while Nick quietly observes Dancer and nightclub co-owner, Lum Kee
(William Law) each leave the club, suspiciously on their own. Alas, at the
stroke of midnight, Robert is murdered on an eerily quiet, fog-laden street. Discovering
Selma standing over Robert’s body with a gun in her hand, David attempts damage
control – subterfuge that does not delay Lt. Abrams (Sam Levene) in his suspicions
Selma is a murderess, despite her crumbling mental state. Selma insists she
never fired the gun, a claim that cannot be substantiated as David has since
disposed of the firearm into the bay. Now, a mysterious note attached to a rock
is thrown into Nick and Nora’s home, suggesting Polly and Dancer were
conspiring to murder Robert. The note also reveals Phil is Polly’s husband –
not her brother – and, an ex-con besides. The plot thickens! Lt. Abrams unearths
several checks that point to Robert bribing Polly. Only Nick exposes virtually
all but one as a forgery - a truth revealed too late as Phil is discovered
murdered in his hotel room. Nick also discovers someone has been bugging
Polly’s apartment from above and, upon hearing Dancer enter, he makes chase, ultimately
losing Dancer in the dark. Together with Nora, Nick also locates the body of
the building’s custodian whom Nora identifies as the ex-gardener on her
father’s estate and presumably, the man responsible for the cryptic note and a
mysterious telephone call alerting Nick to investigate Polly’s apartment.
Determined to bottle up these loose ends, Nick has Abrams
gather his suspects together, whereupon Dancer and Polly confess they intended
to use a forged check to steal Robert's money. Nevertheless, the blackmailers
profess innocence to the crime of murder. David hints to have known the
building’s deceased caretaker but has not seen him in 6-years, remembering the
dead man with a long, white moustache. Yet,
in pursuing this claim, Nick finds a picture of the man from roughly this same
vintage, his moustache significantly less prominent and grey – not white,
suggesting David has seen him more recently. Indeed, in reconstructing the
events, Nick realizes David loathed Robert for marrying Selma, and equally despised
Selma for throwing him over for Robert. David’s original plan was to spy on
Polly, frame him in his adultery and murder him there. Instead, he devised a
much more insidious plot to frame Selma for Robert’s murder, thereby exacting
his revenge on them both. Nevertheless, from his surveillance of Polly’s
apartment, David discovered Phil’s real identity, with even more ambitious
plans to blackmail the couple. Alas, David then murdered Phil, planting the
message with a rock to misdirect Nick. As the former caretaker clearly recognized
David, he too had to be killed. Cornered, David threatens to murder Selma with
a concealed gun. Instead, Lum Kee deflects David’s attentions with his hat,
allowing Nick and Abrams to overtake him. Nora is startled by this turn of
events as Nick was instrumental at putting away Kee’s brother. But as Kee
explains, “I don't like my brother. I like his girl. You my friend.” At story’s
end, Nick and Nora depart for the East Coast, accompanied by Selma, who is
knitting baby booties. Nora teases Nick, “…and you call yourself a
detective!”
After the Thin Man is a deliciously stylized and
intriguingly complex whodunit, embellished by MGM’s verve for creating
cosmopolitan glamour. Powell and Loy are at the top of their game, sparring and
sparkling like vintage ‘speak-easy’ champagne. The assorted cast of spurious
suspects dish out an awful lot of red herrings along the way, though never to
obfuscate the intent or motives of the real killer. The picture’s other saving
grace is its verve as a light-hearted comedy, with our two stars doing
everything in their power to keep this a fun-filled event. Cedric Gibbons’
clever and evocative art direction, moodily lit and photographed by Oliver T.
Marsh creates a reasonable facsimile of the San Franciscan skyline, cobbled
together mostly from free-standing sets on the Metro backlot, filtered through
man-made fog and chiaroscuro B&W cinematography. James Stewart’s agent
really had nothing to fear in his casting as the heavy. Very shortly
thereafter, Stewart would revert to being typecast as the typical ‘all
American’ good guy in a successful string of comedies – his two best, You
Can’t Take It With You (1938) and Mr. Smith Goes to Washington
(1939) made for Frank Capra over at Columbia. Stewart’s own sense of duty caused
him to go over the head of L.B. Mayer and join the war effort where he distinguished
himself in combat. At war’s end, Stewart
though older, was nevertheless, hotter than ever – an endurance run to last
well into the 1970’s and Stewart’s own 70’s, his final appearance in the
all-star television mini-series, North and South: Book II (1986), though
thereafter he committed his voice to the animated movie, An American Tail:
Fievel Goes West in 1991. So, is After the Thin Man a ‘better’
movie than the original? As a huge fan of both movies (and, in fact, the entire
Thin Man franchise), let me suggest this first sequel is, in every way,
a valiant successor that lives up to its predecessor’s reputation as a very
fine entertainment, neatly wrapped up with all the trimmings, as only MGM in
its heyday could deliver.
Produced from a fine grain master, Warner Archive’s
(WAC) new-to-Blu of After the Thin Man is exquisite from start to
finish. Not only does it sport a nuanced
grey scale, with exceptional tonality, deep blacks, and gorgeous fine-detail
throughout, but contrast is excellent. On TV monitors, it looks amazing, but in
projection, it is positively divine, exposing a fine patina of film grain
looking as though it were directly derived from a 35mm archival print and not a
disc. Your old DVD can be officially retired as a coaster for your drink. The
DTS 2.0 mono is pitch perfect with not a hiss or pop in its finely wrought
remastering. Extras are all ported over from the old DVD release with no
additional upgrades and include the Lux Radio version, also starring Powell and
Loy, a vintage radio promo, and 2 short subjects – neither, directly related to
the movie – plus, an original trailer. Bottom line: After the Thin Man
is required viewing. This charmer comes
VERY highly recommended on all levels.
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
4.5
VIDEO/AUDIO
5+
EXTRAS
2
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