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 onscreen 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 effortlessly together 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. Next up is 1936’s After The Thin Man directed by W.S. Van Dyke and adapted (from a Hammett story) by Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett. Of course, Powell and Loy returned – as did the adorable Asta – and all were joined by James Stewart, Elissa Landi, Joseph Calleia, Jessie Ralph, Alan Marshal, and more. Interestingly enough, the story picks up not all that long after the conclusion of the first feature, which Nick and Nora arriving in San Francisco to once again get conscripted back into the world of criminal investigations when Nora’s cousin, Selma, is accused murdering her estranged husband.
Why, it’s an offer that this dynamic duo just couldn’t refuse …
(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:
“Back in San Francisco after their holiday in New York, Nick and Nora find themselves trying to solve another mystery. It's New Year's Eve and they are summoned to dinner with Nora's elderly, very aristocratic family. There they find that cousin Selma's husband Robert has been missing for three days. Nick reluctantly agrees to look for him but the case takes a twist when Robert is shot and Selma is accused of murder. Several other murders occur, but eventually Nick gathers everyone in one room to reveal the identity of the killer.”
The addition of a theatrical sequel to any intellectual property almost guarantees that the core mythology of the growing series is going to get a bit more complex. New characters are introduced – sometimes families are even expanded upon – and audiences typically learn a bit more about the central players in the process as well. Generally, these new additions don’t radically change anything that’s come before; rather they’re looked upon as organic extensions to an already existing commodity, more often than not adding a thin veneer of new characterization upon what’s already known. And, of course, there will likely be ample amounts of what made the previous installment work so well.
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 onscreen 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 effortlessly together 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. Next up is 1936’s After The Thin Man directed by W.S. Van Dyke and adapted (from a Hammett story) by Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett. Of course, Powell and Loy returned – as did the adorable Asta – and all were joined by James Stewart, Elissa Landi, Joseph Calleia, Jessie Ralph, Alan Marshal, and more. Interestingly enough, the story picks up not all that long after the conclusion of the first feature, which Nick and Nora arriving in San Francisco to once again get conscripted back into the world of criminal investigations when Nora’s cousin, Selma, is accused murdering her estranged husband.
Why, it’s an offer that this dynamic duo just couldn’t refuse …
(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:
“Back in San Francisco after their holiday in New York, Nick and Nora find themselves trying to solve another mystery. It's New Year's Eve and they are summoned to dinner with Nora's elderly, very aristocratic family. There they find that cousin Selma's husband Robert has been missing for three days. Nick reluctantly agrees to look for him but the case takes a twist when Robert is shot and Selma is accused of murder. Several other murders occur, but eventually Nick gathers everyone in one room to reveal the identity of the killer.”
The addition of a theatrical sequel to any intellectual property almost guarantees that the core mythology of the growing series is going to get a bit more complex. New characters are introduced – sometimes families are even expanded upon – and audiences typically learn a bit more about the central players in the process as well. Generally, these new additions don’t radically change anything that’s come before; rather they’re looked upon as organic extensions to an already existing commodity, more often than not adding a thin veneer of new characterization upon what’s already known. And, of course, there will likely be ample amounts of what made the previous installment work so well.
Much of this could be said for After The Thin Man, the follow-up to the successful first outing that introduced Powell and Loy partners in love and crime (solving, that is). Audiences are quickly introduced to the extended family of Nora Charles, including vociferous and opinionated Aunt Katherine (played by Jessie Ralph) and the frail and mildly emotional Selma Landis (Elissa Landi). It isn’t long after the Charles arrive back in California that Selma’s husband Robert (Alan Marshal) is murdered; and – for all intents and purposes – the scene is played out in black and white fully suggesting to the audiences that Selma herself shot him in cold blood. As one who has watched more than a fair share of mysteries, I always question sequences that imply instead of specifically detail such particulars, and I encourage readers to do the same: trust me when I say this will likely keep you one step ahead in solving the mystery.
Frankly, there’s quite a bit more to this evolving story. Given that Nick was a famed investigator not all that long ago, a fair number of his previous associations figure somewhat conveniently into this affair, including nightclub and possible criminal mastermind Dancer (Joseph Calleia) and his business partner Lum Kee (William Law). Without spoiling some of the finer points, these characters wind up serving ultimately as distractions away from the guilty party, but classic screen mysteries – especially those evolving from written works – tended to lean heavily into some elaborate set-ups, ones that at first blush might be a bit difficult to follow. Regardless, Nick and Nora manage to whittle away the unnecessary details in the conclusion when all the possible suspects are rounded up once more for a chatty showdown if ever there were one.
To my surprise, there’s a bit more humor – not all of it as cunning or inventive from the preceding film – that fills the screen in quieter moments. For example, Asta gets a bit more exposure as viewers learn that he, too, is married and has his own troubles that require a bit of attention. Such schlock has never been to my liking, but – like with any relationship – you take the good with the bad, and I’ll bite my tongue instead of piling on. There’s also another sequence shot in the dark with some gunplay that tries a bit too hard to be funny; any time there are guns fired, I’m not all that interested when I learn the screenwriters intended something so dangerous as comic relief. Hopefully there won’t be more of that as the series goes on as such humor feels a bit out of place when the writing is otherwise so smart.
And, yes, you caught that above: screen legend James Stewart makes a surprise appearance in the film, playing Selma’s previous lover who can’t quite seem to shake the lady’s charms. About the time that viewers realize that his David Graham do anything to have her again it becomes easy to believe his role in all of this might turn out to be bigger than it looks. As I always stop short of spoiling any of the big surprises, I’m just going to leave it at that. The truth is there are plenty of shady characters in After, and audiences will likely be kept guessing until Nick uncovers the fatal misstep only he would, could, and should see coming. It’s a doozy.
After The Thin Man (1936) was produced by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been handled by the fine folks at Warner Archive. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be pretty exceptional in this sequel: I honestly wasn’t as impressed with the quality as compared to the first flick as I noticed a bit of grain here and there largely owed to several scenes being photographed in near darkness. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts a few extras drawn from the era (a short, a cartoon) along with the radio theatre adaptation of the film. It’s a little something extra for those so inclined.
Recommended.
Though not as enamored with After The Thin Man (1936) as I was its predecessor, I’m still hesitant to suggest in any way that the sequel in an inferior film. It has most of the elements that made the first one so memorable, but I’m rarely a fan of humor thrown in for humor’s sake as a good deal of what’s in here feels. Perhaps producers wanted to lighten the mood a bit too often, or maybe they even miscalculated just a bit what made the Powell and Loy pairing so groundbreaking. Whatever the case, the magic still works wonderfully. Viewers are encouraged to continue to sit back and enjoy the masters doing what they do best … even if there might be a cringe or two along the way.
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 After The Thin Man (1936) – 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
Frankly, there’s quite a bit more to this evolving story. Given that Nick was a famed investigator not all that long ago, a fair number of his previous associations figure somewhat conveniently into this affair, including nightclub and possible criminal mastermind Dancer (Joseph Calleia) and his business partner Lum Kee (William Law). Without spoiling some of the finer points, these characters wind up serving ultimately as distractions away from the guilty party, but classic screen mysteries – especially those evolving from written works – tended to lean heavily into some elaborate set-ups, ones that at first blush might be a bit difficult to follow. Regardless, Nick and Nora manage to whittle away the unnecessary details in the conclusion when all the possible suspects are rounded up once more for a chatty showdown if ever there were one.
To my surprise, there’s a bit more humor – not all of it as cunning or inventive from the preceding film – that fills the screen in quieter moments. For example, Asta gets a bit more exposure as viewers learn that he, too, is married and has his own troubles that require a bit of attention. Such schlock has never been to my liking, but – like with any relationship – you take the good with the bad, and I’ll bite my tongue instead of piling on. There’s also another sequence shot in the dark with some gunplay that tries a bit too hard to be funny; any time there are guns fired, I’m not all that interested when I learn the screenwriters intended something so dangerous as comic relief. Hopefully there won’t be more of that as the series goes on as such humor feels a bit out of place when the writing is otherwise so smart.
And, yes, you caught that above: screen legend James Stewart makes a surprise appearance in the film, playing Selma’s previous lover who can’t quite seem to shake the lady’s charms. About the time that viewers realize that his David Graham do anything to have her again it becomes easy to believe his role in all of this might turn out to be bigger than it looks. As I always stop short of spoiling any of the big surprises, I’m just going to leave it at that. The truth is there are plenty of shady characters in After, and audiences will likely be kept guessing until Nick uncovers the fatal misstep only he would, could, and should see coming. It’s a doozy.
After The Thin Man (1936) was produced by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been handled by the fine folks at Warner Archive. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be pretty exceptional in this sequel: I honestly wasn’t as impressed with the quality as compared to the first flick as I noticed a bit of grain here and there largely owed to several scenes being photographed in near darkness. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts a few extras drawn from the era (a short, a cartoon) along with the radio theatre adaptation of the film. It’s a little something extra for those so inclined.
Recommended.
Though not as enamored with After The Thin Man (1936) as I was its predecessor, I’m still hesitant to suggest in any way that the sequel in an inferior film. It has most of the elements that made the first one so memorable, but I’m rarely a fan of humor thrown in for humor’s sake as a good deal of what’s in here feels. Perhaps producers wanted to lighten the mood a bit too often, or maybe they even miscalculated just a bit what made the Powell and Loy pairing so groundbreaking. Whatever the case, the magic still works wonderfully. Viewers are encouraged to continue to sit back and enjoy the masters doing what they do best … even if there might be a cringe or two along the way.
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 After The Thin Man (1936) – 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
RSS Feed