THE THIN MAN GOES HOME: Blu-ray (MGM, 1945) Warner Archive

William Powell and Myrna Loy marked their penultimate excursion as husband and wife-super-sleuths, in director, Richard’s Thorpe’s bucolic departure from the usual franchise fare with The Thin Man Goes Home (1945) – a picture planned as early as 1942, but repeatedly delayed as Loy preferred a self-imposed retirement from the screen to invest in her new marriage to John D. Hertz Jr. and her all-consuming war work for the Red Cross. Undaunted, MGM’s raja, L.B. Mayer tested the waters by leaking a story Irene Dunne might replace Loy in the role and received a healthy chastisement from fans all over the country. The public wanted Loy - not a reasonable facsimile. Two years later, Loy acquiesced, returning to the series that had made her and Powell one of the most beloved screen teams in movie history, welcomed with as much fanfare by her co-star and virtually everyone on the set. “I've never seen a girl so popular with so many people,” Powell once told an interviewer, “Everybody from wardrobe was over the set, everybody from makeup, everybody from property, everybody from miles around, it looked like.” The Thin Man Goes Home features a different Powell and Loy than the ones we came to love in the first 4 movies. How could it be any other way? Time had passed. By 1944, Powell’s own popularity with audiences had slightly slipped. Indeed, between 1941’s Shadow of the Thin Man and this movie, he had only starred in two others – 1942’s highly forgettable, Crossroads and 1944’s silly little comedy, Heavenly Body, also to appear as ‘himself’ in the briefest of cameos in The Youngest Profession (1943). Behind the scenes, Powell had also survived cancer, but lost his fiancée – arguably – the love of his life, screen sexpot, Jean Harlow to uremic poisoning, age 26, in 1937. And although Powell, as ever, represented himself as the devil-may-care bon vivant, at age 52 in 1945, he was beginning to resemble more the sage than the slick and stylish man-about-town.

Irrefutable, however, was the instantly palpable and highly recognizable on-screen chemistry between Powell and Loy, almost from the instance the main titles fade into the body of this film. Although the public always hoped Powell and Loy would ‘find’ each other and marry in real life, in their ‘reel’ lives they came to typify an idyllic couple, perfectly suited to one another’s temperaments and joyously to make us fall in love with them over and over again in the 13 movies they ultimately committed to celluloid together. It’s called ‘star quality’, folks, and Powell and Loy had it in spades. Robert Riskin and Dwight Taylor’s screenplay, based on a story by Riskin and Harry Kurnitz (using Dashiell Hammett’s beloved characters as their template) is, by far, the most featherweight offering in this franchise, concentrating mostly on a sort of domestic offshoot of the classic screwball; unsurprising, perhaps, as Riskin had been a beloved of director, Frank Capra during his golden-age run at Columbia Pictures. Nick Charles’ drinking, as the cocktail shaker, mainstays of this character’s modus operandi and the focus of much light-hearted jest before, herein were given a sincere slap down as Nick, returning to his home town of Sycamore Springs, was ‘on the wagon’, preferring cider to ‘sin’. The change, however, had less to do with addressing ‘a problem’ then acknowledging how wartime rationing had affected liquor output in he U.S.A.

The Thin Man Goes Home begins with Nick (William Powell) and Nora Charles’ (Myrna Loy) arrival in the New England hamlet of Sycamore Springs (MGM’s ‘Andy Hardy’ street slightly redressed yet again). As Nick’s reputation as a nationally renown sleuth precedes him, everyone in town is convinced he is working on a case. But actually, the Charles’ have come back just to visit Nick’s aging parents, Dr. Bertram Charles (the ever-dependable, Harry Davenport) and his mother (played with the sage wisdom of an all-knowing owl by the marvelous, Lucille Watson). It promises to be a dull vacation indeed; that is, until aircraft factory employee, Peter Berton (Ralph Brooks) implores Nick to listen to his story, but is then murdered before he can reveal anything. Dr. Bruce Clayworth (Lloyd Corrigan) performs the autopsy and extracts a pistol bullet. But when Nick searches Berton's room for clues, he is struck unconscious by local eccentric, Crazy Mary (Anne Revere). Meanwhile, Nora buys a painting for Nick's birthday that inadvertently becomes a clue in this mystery. As Nick is not fond of the artwork, Nora instead elects to donate it to the local charity bazaar where Edgar Draque (Leon Ames) offers her a rather obscene amount of money for it, raising Nick’s suspicions about the painting’s innate value. Nick unearths Draque's wife, Helena (Helen Vinson) has secretly bought the artwork. However, Helena is then knocked unconscious by an unknown assailant and the painting, stolen. Meanwhile, Nick learns Crazy Mary is the late Berton's mother. However, when Nick and his beloved wired-hair terrier, Asta pay a call on Mary’s dilapidated shanty, they find her murdered, but also recover the painting.

Now, Nick has the usual suspects rounded up to prove the legitimacy of his profession to his father, who has never quite warmed to having a detective in the family. Nick uses his dad’s fluoroscope to reveal a blueprint hidden underneath the painting. Several of the suspects immediately identify it as the specs for a new aircraft propeller, if stolen, to be worth a great deal to a ‘foreign power’. Berton, working for a consortium of spies, made copies of the blueprints, concealed under five paintings. However, at some point, his own patriotism shone through, and Berton was determined to make amends for his complicity in their crime, alas killed by his cohorts before the truth could be revealed. Now, Nick suggests Dr. Clayworth’s souvenir World War II Japanese Nambu sniper rifle is the murder weapon. Clayworth and the Draques are exposed as spies. Clayworth seizes his rifle, confesses to the murder, but also a deep-seeded hatred of Nick since childhood. Clayworth takes dead aim at Nick, only to discover Nick has removed the rifle’s firing pin as a precaution. Having stealthily solved a crime right before him, Dr. Charles develops a deep admiration for his son’s chosen profession.

The Thin Man Goes Home is a delightful dramedy of errors in which the focus is ever-so-slightly shifted from the usual whodunit hokum to the lithe and laughable antics of our middle-aged meddlers in crime. Over the years, many have tried to recapture the essence of what made Nick and Nora Charles so incredibly lovable. None have managed to unearth the exact kernel of their winning chemistry. Powell and Loy, as always, put the pretenders to shame. And while each star is, arguably, past their prime, the inescapable truth here is that second-tier Powell/Loy is almost always better than first-tier everybody else. As before, the stars are surrounded by a potpourri of Metro’s most memorable character actors, of which Harry Davenport and Lucille Watson provide amiable anchors. It is a bit off-putting to see Leon Ames (the beloved dad in 1944’s Meet Me In St. Louis) as a vile spy here. But it works, mostly because Ames, like his contemporaries, is a chameleon who can make most any part stick to his ribs. The exquisite, Wellseley-educated Anne Revere is marginally wasted, in the same year she would win her Best Supporting Oscar as Mrs. Brown in National Velvet (1945). Revere, an actual descendant of American revolutionary, Paul “the British are coming” Revere, and, whose own outspokenness against the House Un-American Activities Committee was to cut her film career short after being blacklisted, plays an old, demented coot – effective, perhaps, but otherwise, with a limited range of possibilities imposed upon the ill-fated Crazy Mary.  

The Thin Man Goes Home arrives on Blu-ray via the Warner Archive (WAC) and, even more predictably, looks exceptional in hi-def, thanks to WAC’s meticulous preservation/restoration work, performed on elements properly curated over the decades. The B&W image is exceptionally nuanced, capturing all of the subtleties in Karl Freund’s cinematography. Contrast is excellent and a light smattering of film grain looks very indigenous to its source. Fine details abound. I never cease to be amazed by the exceptional baked-in quality in these golden-age movies, shot using film stocks far less photosensitive than todays, and under some of the most stringent lighting conditions, though nevertheless, to reveal key-lit perfection, virtually impossible to top and quite unlike anything we have seen from Hollywood since. Truly, there were masters in Hollywood then, who painted their Rembrandts using light and shadow, to put even the likes of Vermeer to shame. The Thin Man Goes Home looks immaculate and sparkly and will surely NOT disappoint. The 2.0 DTS mono audio is crisp and refined. Save a trailer, there are no extras. Bottom line: The Thin Man Goes Home is yet another wonderful way to spend a cozy night in front of the fire, basking in the afterglow of MGM’s craftsmanship par excellence. For although the studio has not survived these changing times, its legacy in picture-making is a rare opportunity to revisit L.B. Mayer’s magical land of make-believe whenever the lights are low, spirits too, and, we are in need of its timeless sentiment. Very highly recommended!

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

4

VIDEO/AUDIO

5+

EXTRAS

0