Confession time: I’ve been a fan of the works of Dashiell Hammett for decades.
If I remember correctly, it was a college professor who recommended Hammett to me back in the day. I’d written something for a creative writing class that the teacher was impressed by, and he encouraged me to check some prose crafted by Raymond Chandler, Thomas Pynchon, and Hammett as part of my summer reading. Well, Pynchon just never quite took. I tore through four of Chandler’s novels over several weeks. Then, I settled in on Hammett, almost immediately falling in love with The Maltese Falcon and some of the stories involving his Continental Op. Afterwards, I briefly recall picking up a copy of The Thin Man, but – like some of the sentences and ideas slung around by Pynchon – it didn’t quite have the same feel as his other stuff. Some of it might be owed to the fact that I couldn’t get into the characters as easily as I could the more traditional and/or hard-boiled private detectives; so I let that one go.
A few years later, I discovered The Thin Man film series on home video. Similar to my experience with the novel, the first film – simply titled The Thin Man (1934) – was a bit zanier and frenetic (at times) than I prefer my mysteries; and, yet, I was somewhat captivated by the work of William Powell and Myrna Loy in the roles of Nick and Nora Charles respectively. I think it was one of the first times that I saw what I viewed as screen chemistry working on a level I fully appreciated in a classic film. The two strutted about as somewhat effete socialites without a care in the world and yet they were completely likable, almost as if they were daring the audiences to think less of them in the process. It was some delicious work, indeed, and watching it now a few decades later it’s clear to see why their match-up launched a series of productions that lasted across six films from 1934 through 1947. Even Wikipedia.org reports that audiences saw this husband-and-wife team working so wonderfully that they fully believed Powell and Loy were married in real life!
That, my friends, speaks volumes about the effectiveness of true talent, great writing, and excellent production values.
Thankfully, the good people at Warner Archive have recently re-released The Complete Thin Man Collection on Blu-ray so that I can rediscover these stories one at a time for my readership as I think they remain the kind of screen gems that should never ever go out of style. First up is 1934’s inaugural flick – The Thin Man – directed by W.S. Van Dyke and adapted from Hammett’s original novel by Albert Hackett and Frances Goodrich. Joining Powell and Loy in the cast are Maureen O’Sullivan, Nat Pendleton, Minna Gombell, Porter Hall, Henry Wadsworth, and others.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Former detective Nick Charles and his wealthy wife Nora investigate a murder case, mostly for the fun of it.”
As I’ve always been a fan of mysteries, the Thin Man series is one that’s often either recommended to me by friends or I’m asked what I think of it. Having watched them many moons ago and not remembered them as distinctly as I would like, I’ve been a bit reticent to offer much of an opinion on them … well, except to say that I’m a huge fan of anything author Hammett penned as well as the screen match-up of Powell and Loy as adventurous investigators trying to get to the bottom of any ill doings. Their repartee is somewhat legendary, and there’s no denying that the actor and actress were in top form for the first outing, The Thin Man (1934).
Suffice it to say, this initial pairing does suffer a bit in the first act from a rather protracted set-up: in fact, Powell and Loy don’t appear until a healthy bit of other characters – ‘the usual suspects’ and more – are introduced. This might put some viewers showing up to watch what the actor and actress do best off to a small degree, but rest assured that once Nick and Nora Charles are on-the-scene the film switches into overdrive quickly, never coming to a halt until the closing title card. Yes, it’s that industrious, but – as I said – it takes its own sweet time in getting there.
If I remember correctly, it was a college professor who recommended Hammett to me back in the day. I’d written something for a creative writing class that the teacher was impressed by, and he encouraged me to check some prose crafted by Raymond Chandler, Thomas Pynchon, and Hammett as part of my summer reading. Well, Pynchon just never quite took. I tore through four of Chandler’s novels over several weeks. Then, I settled in on Hammett, almost immediately falling in love with The Maltese Falcon and some of the stories involving his Continental Op. Afterwards, I briefly recall picking up a copy of The Thin Man, but – like some of the sentences and ideas slung around by Pynchon – it didn’t quite have the same feel as his other stuff. Some of it might be owed to the fact that I couldn’t get into the characters as easily as I could the more traditional and/or hard-boiled private detectives; so I let that one go.
A few years later, I discovered The Thin Man film series on home video. Similar to my experience with the novel, the first film – simply titled The Thin Man (1934) – was a bit zanier and frenetic (at times) than I prefer my mysteries; and, yet, I was somewhat captivated by the work of William Powell and Myrna Loy in the roles of Nick and Nora Charles respectively. I think it was one of the first times that I saw what I viewed as screen chemistry working on a level I fully appreciated in a classic film. The two strutted about as somewhat effete socialites without a care in the world and yet they were completely likable, almost as if they were daring the audiences to think less of them in the process. It was some delicious work, indeed, and watching it now a few decades later it’s clear to see why their match-up launched a series of productions that lasted across six films from 1934 through 1947. Even Wikipedia.org reports that audiences saw this husband-and-wife team working so wonderfully that they fully believed Powell and Loy were married in real life!
That, my friends, speaks volumes about the effectiveness of true talent, great writing, and excellent production values.
Thankfully, the good people at Warner Archive have recently re-released The Complete Thin Man Collection on Blu-ray so that I can rediscover these stories one at a time for my readership as I think they remain the kind of screen gems that should never ever go out of style. First up is 1934’s inaugural flick – The Thin Man – directed by W.S. Van Dyke and adapted from Hammett’s original novel by Albert Hackett and Frances Goodrich. Joining Powell and Loy in the cast are Maureen O’Sullivan, Nat Pendleton, Minna Gombell, Porter Hall, Henry Wadsworth, and others.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Former detective Nick Charles and his wealthy wife Nora investigate a murder case, mostly for the fun of it.”
As I’ve always been a fan of mysteries, the Thin Man series is one that’s often either recommended to me by friends or I’m asked what I think of it. Having watched them many moons ago and not remembered them as distinctly as I would like, I’ve been a bit reticent to offer much of an opinion on them … well, except to say that I’m a huge fan of anything author Hammett penned as well as the screen match-up of Powell and Loy as adventurous investigators trying to get to the bottom of any ill doings. Their repartee is somewhat legendary, and there’s no denying that the actor and actress were in top form for the first outing, The Thin Man (1934).
Suffice it to say, this initial pairing does suffer a bit in the first act from a rather protracted set-up: in fact, Powell and Loy don’t appear until a healthy bit of other characters – ‘the usual suspects’ and more – are introduced. This might put some viewers showing up to watch what the actor and actress do best off to a small degree, but rest assured that once Nick and Nora Charles are on-the-scene the film switches into overdrive quickly, never coming to a halt until the closing title card. Yes, it’s that industrious, but – as I said – it takes its own sweet time in getting there.
Famed inventor Clyde Wynant (played by Edward Ellis) is set to leave town on some super-secret personal mission when his lovely daughter Dorothy (Maureen O’Sullivan) shows up with news of her engagement to Tommy (Henry Wadsworth). Seeking to set the two lovebirds off with a successful beginning, the elder Wynant goes to his safe in search of $50,000 in bonds for a wedding gift. When he finds them missing, he immediately suspects his secretary and former mistress, Julia Wolf (Natalie Moorhead). The man confronts her, demanding that she return them to him as soon as possible, only then to vanish from the scene on his previously scheduled engagement.
Three months later, Dorothy is out celebrating the Christmas holiday when she happens across the old family friend, Nick Charles, and his wife also enjoying the night on the town. Remembering that the now retired Mr. Charles was one of the world’s best-known private investigators in his previous work life, she tries to cajole him into taking up the case to find her absent father. Hoping to enjoy his departure from a life of fighting crime, Nick politely declines … only to be repeatedly egged into casually exploring what might’ve happened to the missing inventor by his wife, Nora. She’s never seen her new husband ‘in action,’ as it were, and she’d love to assist. Eventually against his will and at the behest of several others, P.I. Charles finds himself back on the case, questioning subjects in one whip-crack exchange after another.
The beauty of watching a flick like The Thin Man work is that it invests heavily in its characters. Nick and Nora are no social slouches, and they’re constantly posed with drinks in hand (at, literally, every opportunity), delivering the kind of witty banter that rarely gets seen on screens big or small these days. While the story grows respectably elaborate – shade and suspicion gets thrown at just about anyone who had any recent dealings with the absent Wynant – the clear throughline to all of the action stays grounded with the married detectives and their winning pooch, Asta. About the time that you – the viewer – think you might have an inkling as to the identity of the guilty party, a new thread is pulled, widening the net to include a few unsavory types who might’ve found a way to profit on Wynant’s wealth indirectly, putting you back to square one. It’s smart writing backed by exceptional screen talent, and it moves about as fast as does the dialogue dripping with machine-gun-style delivery. Structuring it all as kind of a mildly devious look into the lifestyles of the rich and famous really only helped cement this product as a potential favorite for the rest of us little people, and it’s splendid.
Frankly, I couldn’t say whether or not The Thin Man series was the first of its kind of utilize that fateful conclusion wherein all the potentially guilty parties are called together to a single room setting wherein the keen intellect of the great detective finally explains to the audiences what went down when, where, and why. I’ve long been told that many in-the-know credit that inspiration to Agatha Christie. Still, I’d put good money on that fact that the Thin Man films were likely one of the first times American audiences were treated to it in so winning a fashion; and this first feature utilizes the structure exquisitely. It’s a great mental showdown for all involved, setting the stage for a popular film franchise with enough fuel for five sequels. Furthermore, I’d argue that the intellectual property was so highly regarded that it helped pave the way for many of TV husband-and-wife fighting crime teams that followed in its wake for a few decades if not more.
Yes, it’s all that damn good.
The Thin Man (1934) was produced by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer and Cosmopolitan Productions. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Warner Archive. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can assure you this film’s provided sights-and-sounds are spectacular: this black-and-white picture remains as vivid and as vibrant as it probably was back in its original theatrical release. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts a radio adaptation of the script along with an episode of The Thin Man TV show – some nice extras but something a bit more centered on the main project would’ve been nice.
Strongly Recommended.
Look, if you’re a fan of witty banter, then you absolutely have to go back to something like The Thin Man (1934) to see one of the true original examples of it. What Powell and Loy accomplished in this flick is timeless – their screen presence and the shared command of the narrative gets recreated in countless good and bad knockoffs ever since they set the standard – and the completed film remains a favorite amongst many who discover its charms. I only stop short of giving it my highest recommendation possible because it does take a bit of patience to get through some rather protracted set-up … but I assure you: the wait is worth it.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The Thin Man (1934) – as part of their The Complete Thin Man Collection – by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Three months later, Dorothy is out celebrating the Christmas holiday when she happens across the old family friend, Nick Charles, and his wife also enjoying the night on the town. Remembering that the now retired Mr. Charles was one of the world’s best-known private investigators in his previous work life, she tries to cajole him into taking up the case to find her absent father. Hoping to enjoy his departure from a life of fighting crime, Nick politely declines … only to be repeatedly egged into casually exploring what might’ve happened to the missing inventor by his wife, Nora. She’s never seen her new husband ‘in action,’ as it were, and she’d love to assist. Eventually against his will and at the behest of several others, P.I. Charles finds himself back on the case, questioning subjects in one whip-crack exchange after another.
The beauty of watching a flick like The Thin Man work is that it invests heavily in its characters. Nick and Nora are no social slouches, and they’re constantly posed with drinks in hand (at, literally, every opportunity), delivering the kind of witty banter that rarely gets seen on screens big or small these days. While the story grows respectably elaborate – shade and suspicion gets thrown at just about anyone who had any recent dealings with the absent Wynant – the clear throughline to all of the action stays grounded with the married detectives and their winning pooch, Asta. About the time that you – the viewer – think you might have an inkling as to the identity of the guilty party, a new thread is pulled, widening the net to include a few unsavory types who might’ve found a way to profit on Wynant’s wealth indirectly, putting you back to square one. It’s smart writing backed by exceptional screen talent, and it moves about as fast as does the dialogue dripping with machine-gun-style delivery. Structuring it all as kind of a mildly devious look into the lifestyles of the rich and famous really only helped cement this product as a potential favorite for the rest of us little people, and it’s splendid.
Frankly, I couldn’t say whether or not The Thin Man series was the first of its kind of utilize that fateful conclusion wherein all the potentially guilty parties are called together to a single room setting wherein the keen intellect of the great detective finally explains to the audiences what went down when, where, and why. I’ve long been told that many in-the-know credit that inspiration to Agatha Christie. Still, I’d put good money on that fact that the Thin Man films were likely one of the first times American audiences were treated to it in so winning a fashion; and this first feature utilizes the structure exquisitely. It’s a great mental showdown for all involved, setting the stage for a popular film franchise with enough fuel for five sequels. Furthermore, I’d argue that the intellectual property was so highly regarded that it helped pave the way for many of TV husband-and-wife fighting crime teams that followed in its wake for a few decades if not more.
Yes, it’s all that damn good.
The Thin Man (1934) was produced by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer and Cosmopolitan Productions. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Warner Archive. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can assure you this film’s provided sights-and-sounds are spectacular: this black-and-white picture remains as vivid and as vibrant as it probably was back in its original theatrical release. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts a radio adaptation of the script along with an episode of The Thin Man TV show – some nice extras but something a bit more centered on the main project would’ve been nice.
Strongly Recommended.
Look, if you’re a fan of witty banter, then you absolutely have to go back to something like The Thin Man (1934) to see one of the true original examples of it. What Powell and Loy accomplished in this flick is timeless – their screen presence and the shared command of the narrative gets recreated in countless good and bad knockoffs ever since they set the standard – and the completed film remains a favorite amongst many who discover its charms. I only stop short of giving it my highest recommendation possible because it does take a bit of patience to get through some rather protracted set-up … but I assure you: the wait is worth it.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The Thin Man (1934) – as part of their The Complete Thin Man Collection – by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
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