SHADOW OF THE THIN MAN: Blu-ray (MGM, 1941) Warner Archive

William Powell and Myrna Loy were at it again in director, W.S. Van Dyke’s Shadow of the Thin Man (1941). And, while the iconic franchise still had two more installments to cycle through before retiring from the screen forever, ostensibly, this was the ‘unofficial’ farewell to that memorable series, lionizing the legendary and comedic crime-solving exploits of this dynamic duo. Two years had passed since their previous outing, 1939’s Another Thin Man. In the interim, Powell had undergone highly experimental, though ultimately successful radium treatments to cure his rectal cancer. He had also suffered the loss of his fiancée, screen siren Jean Harlow, felled by uremic poisoning in 1937. Even so, Powell remained, at least on the screen, the personification of that uber-suave man about town, ideally cast opposite his frequent co-star, Loy whose earlier career as a failed sexpot had been forever bettered by her decision to try her hand at ribald comedy instead. We pause here to doff our toppers to Bill Powell, openly loved and respected by his peers in Hollywood. He even remained on good terms with all of his ex-wives, which is saying a great deal. But perhaps, actress Marion Shilling summarized his appeal best, “Self-effacing, deferential, exceedingly thoughtful of other people…one of the kindest human beings I have ever met.” A lot of these qualities translate superbly to Powell’s turn as bon vivant P.I. Nick Charles, a delectable scamp, or so his words would suggest, though his actions, particularly towards his fictional wife, Nora (Loy) infer a tender-hearted man of qualities he otherwise kept close to himself to keep the baddies at bay.

The ever-lasting charm of the Thin Man franchise can be succinctly distilled into just a single sentence: Professional sleuth and his amateur Misses, swap barbs, play comedy and solve crimes. But oh, what MGM’s screenwriters could do with such a seemingly disposable job of it, in this case, Harry Kurnitz (on whose story idea this installment is based) and Irving Brecher. Interestingly, imminent crime-fiction author, Dashiell Hammett, on whose book the first Thin Man movie was based, and who willingly thereafter partook of the screenplays for its two previous sequels, was disinterested in going on with the work here. Perhaps, Hammett was bowing out just in time, although personally, I actually find all of the Thin Man movies highly enjoyable. The final two installments after Shadow of the Thin Man are ‘different’ in tone and temperament to be sure, and, for several reasons, first and foremost, as the world had moved on from the ultra-sheen and super-gloss 1930’s, and, second, as an absence of 4 years after this movie was released, allowed Powell and Loy to gracefully, though nevertheless obviously, grow older together. We get shades of this inevitable transition underway in Shadow of the Thin Man. Young Nickie (Dickie Hall), introduced as a baby in Another Thin Man, is now a tiny tot with burgeoning ideas of his own. And the ‘baby makes three’ alteration somewhat dilutes the elegance and charm of Loy and Powell’s fictional swingin’ marrieds who, despite having tied the knot, behave refreshingly like singles or roomies in the earlier films, with a yen for playing off each other’s genteel antagonism.  That quality is tempered herein. But it virtually evaporates in the final two Thin Man installments made after this.

Plot wise, we return to the monied San Franciscan digs of Nick and Nora Charles. As ever, Nick is trying to enjoy a serene retirement with his attractive/rich wife, their precocious offspring, and, as ever enjoyably playful wire-haired terrier, Asta. After a few short scenes to cement the joys to be gleaned from this sweet domesticity (Nick reads his son the racing form, later regurgitated by Nickie to Nora), the couple decide to attend the horse races, where they quickly learn from Nick’s old pal, Lieutenant Abrams (Sam Levene) that a jockey named, Gomez (whom we never see) has just been murdered. Naturally, Nick’s pals in the press room think he is working the case. Alas, when one of the other jockey’s infers Gomez bought the farm because he refused to throw the race for a west coast crime syndicate fronted by Fred Macy (Joseph Anthony), Nick is intrigued. Just not enough to investigate, despite encouragement from friends, Major Jason I. Sculley (Henry O’Neill), who also happens to be head of the State Athletic Commission, and, investigative reporter, Paul Clarke (Barry Nelson). Sneaking away under the guise of promising to take Nora to a wrestling match, Nick inadvertently draws nearer to another scandal involving reporter, ‘Whitey’ Barrow (Alan Baxter), out to blackmail racketeer ‘Link’ Stephens’ (Loring Smith) gal/pal, Claire Porter (Stella Adler). Even as Nick and Nora attend the match, in another part of the arena, bookie, ‘Rainbow’ Benny Loomis (Lou Lubin) demands a payoff from Whitey for keeping Stephens' name out of the newspapers. Afterward, Benny informs Stephens, Whitey owes him a cool $8,000. To this end, Paul meets up with his girlfriend, Molly Ford (Donna Reed), secretly working undercover as Stephens’ secretary. Very reluctantly, Molly gives Paul the keys to her office. Alas, as Paul searches for clues he is confronted by Whitey, who demands Paul hand over the notebook he has just found. A scuffle ensues and Whitey knocks Paul out. But before he can retrieve the notebook, an unseen assailant murders Whitey, just as a night watchman witnesses Benny leaving by the back way. Now, Abrams informs Nick of Whitey's murder and Paul’s arrest. Knowing their friend to be innocent, Nora implores Nick to take the case.

Rather effortlessly, Nick discovers a piece of paper lying on the floor and reasons it to be part of a tally from the bookie operation. Nick skulks off to the racetrack to search for clues.  He discovers Gomez died in a rather freakish accident. He wasn’t murdered. He killed himself. Determined to flush out Whitey’s killer, Nick fakes evidence he presents to Abrams, suggesting Gomez and Whitey were murdered by the same person, forcing Abrams to release Paul from custody. On nothing more than a hunch, Nick questions Claire, who lies about only knowing ‘of’ Whitey. However, when Nick breaks into Whitey's apartment he finds a diamond bracelet used to blackmail Claire, and furthermore, while concealing himself in the room, witnesses Claire’s arrival in search of the same bauble. Confronting her now, Claire confesses she was once Whitey’s girl, although she does not believe Stephens knows this to be true. Claire also tells Nick about the money Whitey owed Benny. Nick and Nora inadvertently meet up with Benny at a restaurant where Nick plants the idea a watchman saw him departing Whitey’s flat on the night of the murder.

But Nick also notices Benny is exceedingly nervous and wearing a bulletproof vest. He isn’t the killer. He’s more worried about becoming the next victim. Now, Paul telephones Sculley on Nick’s behalf, the trio agreeing to meet at Benny's apartment where, alas, they discover Benny’s lifeless remains dangling from the ceiling. The ligature marks rule out suicide. But Nick already knows who is responsible for the crime. Gathering the suspects in Abrams’ office, Nick reveals to all that only Sculley could have murdered Whitey as Nick never told him where Benny lived…only to meet him and Paul at Whitey’s apartment. Furthermore, Whitey had only taken possession of the apartment three hours before his death.  So, Sculley murdered Whitey and Benny to conceal his being bribed by Stephens. Trapped, Sculley grabs Nick's gun. Nobly, Nora jumps in front to save her husband. All to the good, but all for not as Nick casually reveals he preempted such an outcome by previously emptying out the bullets.

W.S. Van Dyke, professionally known around the MGM backlot as one-take Woody for his proficiency in bringing complex movies in on time and under budget, marked his farewell to the Thin Man franchise with this movie. A fitting goodbye it proved to be, ringing registers worldwide to the tune of $2301,000 and showing a tidy profit of $769,000 on Metro’s ledgers. It’s easy to see why. Shadow of the Thin Man is yet another exuberant installment in this highly profitable series. While other studios, most notably Universal, often mashed their franchise pictures together, increasingly to skimp on quality in favor of quantity, MGM’s studio chieftain, L.B. Mayer’s philosophy was to gently parcel off the entertainment value to be had from a profitable series with Grade ‘A’ production values intact, leaving whole respites between in which the public’s appetite for yet another movie grew fonder. Mayer’s philosophy was sound, although in hindsight one can never truly get enough of Powell and Loy doing what they always did best while together. Fans of their day sincerely wished for a romance of celluloid to blossom between these two co-stars in life as well. But it was never to be. And, after 13 films within only 14 years, including the Oscar-winning Best Picture, The Great Ziegfeld (1936), the pair parted company after 1947’s Song of the Thin Man, and, The Senator Was Indiscreet.

Romantic screen teams were a main staple of Hollywood during its golden age. Yet, for the most part, MGM’s seem to have withstood the test of time: Clark Gable and Jean Harlow, Gable and Joan Crawford, Spencer Tracy and Kate Hepburn, and, undeniably, William Powell and Myrna Loy. Lest we forget the other beloved in this latter pairing – the wired-hair terrier, Asta (played by Skippy) who, after a memorable appearance in 1932’s Merrily We Go to Hell, was one of the hardest working animals in show biz, appearing in a spate of movies before being replaced by a likeness for the final three Thin Man movies. Hammett’s Asta was not a wired-haired terrier, but a schnauzer. Nevertheless, the screen incarnation of that beloved hound would lend itself to Skippy’s inimitable intelligence, paid a whopping $200 a week when other trained animals earned less than $5.00 a day. The dog actually belonged to silent screen comedienne, Gale Henry East. Yet, while seemingly engaging on the screen, Skippy was not allowed to interact with his co-stars between takes as it tended to break his concentration. Loy was to discover by how much when, during between takes on Shadow of the Thin Man, in an attempt to be sociable, Skippy took a little nip at his co-star, leaving a sizable welt on Loy’s leg. Skippy died in 1941, reincarnated by other terriers who carried on the tradition in his stead, and, notably, for the short-lived fifties’ TV spin-off costarring Peter Lawford and Phyllis Kirk.

Running barely an hour and a half, Shadow of the Thin Man is yet another deftly directed minor masterpiece in the comedy/crime vein with Powell and Loy, by now, well-seasoned in their brilliant timing. The Kurnitz/Brecher screenplay allows the couple their share of digs, diatribes and deliciously daft repartee. The supporting cast is best served by Sam Levene’s perpetually befuddled Lt. Abrams and Stella Adler, as the reticent sophisticate, Claire Porter. Blink and you’ll miss an opportunity to see Mickey Rooney’s dad, Joe Yule as the night security guard at the race track. But for those unfamiliar, Stella Adler was more than just a pretty face, forming the Stella Adler Studio of Acting in New York City in 1949. It has since gone on to have a life of its own. Adler’s grandson, Tom Oppenheim runs the school today, which boasts an enviable alumnus of famous faces to its rich heritage, including Marlon Brando, Robert De Niro, Harvey Keitel, Elaine Stritch, Kate Mulgrew, Kipp Hamilton, Jenny Lumet, Martin Sheen, Dolores del Río, Roy Scheider, Vincent D'Onofrio, Mark Ruffalo, Warren Beatty, Salma Hayek, Sean Astin, Judd Nelson, Christoph Waltz, and, Benicio del Toro. Brando and Beatty both served as the New York studio's honorary chairman. And in 2010, the school added a campus in L.A. also run by Adler’s descendants.

Shadow of the Thin Man is yet another superb Blu-ray from the Warner Archive. We sincerely hope they are hard at work remastering the final two movies in the Thin Man franchise.  This 1080p image is marvelous. Owing to properly archived materials, this one gives every indication of coming from original nitrate elements. Contrast is excellent and fine detail is always razor-sharp crisp without any untoward digital manipulations. Tonality in the gray scale reveals all of the subtleties in William H. Daniel’s original cinematography, free of age-related dirt and debris. The 2.0 DTS mono audio is excellent with clean dialogue. Extras have always remained a disappointment on WAC’s Blu-ray releases. While the main features have always been given utmost consideration, extras are something WAC appears to be interested in only as carry overs from their tired old DVD releases (when extras were considered more than mere filler), herein, given no further consideration or clean-up and looking very rough in standard def. It’s a minor quibble, I suppose, but I sincerely wish these extras were given at least some consideration before being slapped to Blu-ray. That goes for every WAC release. If not a ‘ground-up’ restoration, then how about at least a new 1080p scan so that they don’t suffer from horrendous 720i combing and chroma bleeding, virtually, to render their appeal in the hi-def age utterly moot. On this disc we get The Tell-Tale Heart – superb 20-minute adaptation of the Edgar Allan Poe’s literary masterpiece from 1941, directed by Jules Dassin. There’s also The Goose Goes South – a barely 6-min. cartoon, and a trailer for Shadow of the Thin Man. Bottom line: WAC is nicely whittling down its Thin Man franchise in hi-def. Only two movies remain. Hopefully we’ll get both before Christmas of this year. For now, and, arguably, for always, Shadow of the Thin Man comes very highly recommended!

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

4

VIDEO/AUDIO

5

EXTRAS

1