Song of the Thin Man (1947)

[I accidentally deleted the original entry, so here I am, posting it again. The Thin Man Goes Home will be up tomorrow.]

In this series of musings on the Thin Man movies, I thought it’d be best to start at the end, because then I’ll have the superior, earlier movies to discuss last. It’s a form of delayed gratification which no doubt shows how mature I've become. I get talkative when it comes to the Thin Man, so hang on!

They should've called it SWAN Song of the Thin Man.

Song of the Thin Man (1947) is the sixth and final entry in the legendary adventures of husband and wife detectives Nick and Nora Charles. It came three years after the last entry, 1944’s The Thin Man Goes Home.

I don’t like to summarize plots and they’re really not important to my enjoyment of a Nick and Nora epic, but Song of the Thin Man is this: Big Band leader and all-around jerk Tommy Drake is murdered on a ship where his orchestra is playing a charity benefit. Drake was possibly murdered over money (what’s new?). Nick and Nora are there as guests and are pulled into the case when their friend, Phil Brant is named the suspect. Phil and his fiancée Janet (Jane Meadows, later Mrs. Steve Allen) come to the Charles’ swank NYC apartment and after Phil asks Nick if he saw the paper someone takes a shot at Phil, Nick calls the cops ostensibly to keep the “guilty” Phil behind bars, but really so that Phil will be kept safe in prison from future murder attempts. Nick knows that Phil couldn’t have done it, so he’s on the case!

The running gag that doesn’t work for me is how Nick and Nora are portrayed as being out of step with hip big band Jazz musicians and their crazy slang. It just emphasizes how this series has run out of steam. Just to put this in a pop culture context, big band music was taking it on the chin in 1947, as this was during the time when Bebop was leading a musical revolution, even becoming a national fad! Here we had Nick and Nora struggling to comprehend big band Jazz musicians who were already on the decline in terms of popularity. Orchestras were getting smaller because big band leaders like Benny Goodman and Count Basie had to cut costs to keep their operations in circulation. Even the great Duke Ellington had to scale back, and he’d play any gig.

And speaking of music, there’s a catchy song called “You’re Not So Easy to Forget”, which figures in the mystery and gets performed often. In fact it gets played so much that I found myself making up my own lyrics. When you watch the movie and the song comes on, sing the line “You are a moron Tommy Drake” instead of the title and it’ll stay in your head for days. Why you’d want to do that is anyone’s guess, but it amused me…what’s even more amusing is Gloria Grahame, who’s dubbed warbling the tune before her character…well, let’s just say she moves her lips to the song and that GG’s part in this is tragically brief.

That’s what I love about old movies: the cast is often rife with up-and-comers, crafty veterans, and ubiquitous performers whose names you can never remember.



Keenan Wynn plays Clarence “Clinker” Krause, a clarinetist who helps out on the case. I adore Keenan Wynn. Many of us younger weasels remember him as the voice of “Winter” in the Rankin-Bass production of Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town (1970) or the big business tycoon Alonzo Hawk in 1974’s Herbie Rides Again, where Helen Hayes and that Volkswagen bug rip ol’ Keenan a new one. Wynn isn’t blustery like he would become in the 1960s and 70s, so it’s a refreshing change of pace to see him toned down in Thin Man land. I like the Clinker character assisting Nick and Nora, especially when he helps the Charles’ navigate all of that preposterous 1940s slang, but when you can remember those Thin Man films of yore when all Nick needed was a stiff drink and Asta by his side to crack a tricky murder case. But his continued presence is a reminder of something that often happens in TV: give the established leads “help” and “energy” by providing them with a shoehorned-in sidekick or unwanted new character. There’s no policeman as in previous entries, so Clinker fills that role to a degree.




Don Taylor plays tormented clarinetist and composer Buddy Hollis, whose mental health makes Montgomery Clift look as controlled as Klaus Von Bulow. Buddy’s emotional state runs the gamut from screaming lunatic to half-crazed delusional madman. It was against the Production Code to have him an out and out junkie, but he sure acts like one here. Don Taylor would later go on to marry Elizabeth Taylor’s character in 1950’s Father of the Bride.

The beauty quotient in Song is filled by Patricia Morison, whose entire career can be defined by the word “Underused.” Miss Morison is lovely to gaze upon and she gets to have a big scene in this, but her career never materialized as many thought it should. Morison, unlike Gloria Grahame, was a singer, but she doesn’t sing in this film. Another brunette has a small role here, Marie Windsor, whose appearances in several Film Noir thrillers during the late 1940s and early-50s made her a familiar face on screen. You’ll recognize her immediately, though she has nothing to do but look great.

The weakest link in Song of the Thin Man is unfortunately Mrs. Charles herself, Myrna Loy. Yes, it’s sad to admit, but Loy displays none of the energy, mischief, or on-screen charisma that moviegoers loved during the 1930s. She looks a bit older, but none the worse for wear. Gone are the cherubic features of the first two Thin Man films and Loy’s features looks thinner and more angular. However, her appearance is not the problem, but her vacant and tired expressions and lifeless delivery of her lines that gets me. Whereas in previous films her dry wit worked well with her delivery but now it’s as though she were just sleepwalking through the role. Even her character’s motivations have changed. The Nora of the first four films urged Nick to take on the murder cases, but in Song all Nora wants to do is go to bed and get some sleep! Maybe Myrna’s changing public persona as the ideal wife cut into the adventurous spouse of the 1930s. It’s a depressing alteration of identity of one of the 1930s greatest stars.

There’s some effective cinematography and set design here, as the gambling ship has a Film Noir quality about it. MGM did a fine job creating a dark, foggy, and ominous atmosphere. When Nick and Asta sneak aboard the ship for a look, you’d think that you were watching a crime drama from RKO or Universal, not something from high-gloss Metro Goldwyn Mayer. Impressive! It’s the best scene in the entire film, even if it is reminiscent of a similar sequence in Shadow of the Thin Man and the original 1934 film. I also like the set that serves as the Charles’ home. They’re back in New York again, in keeping with the alternating west coast-east coast locales of each movie, excluding The Thin Man Goes Home, which takes place in the Midwest. The Charles place isn’t as great as their smashing art deco digs in After the Thin Man (1936) but there’s a huge skylight in their entry hall that’s worth noting. They still sleep in separate beds, as was the real-life custom of the time--yeah, right!

After the mystery is solved, Nick and Nora return home where this final exchange occurs:

Nick: “Now Nick Charles is going to retire.”

Nora: “You’re through with crime?”

Nick: “No, I’m going to bed.”

Song of the Thin Man isn’t awful. It’s not even sub-par. It’s actually a breezy ninety minutes and if it were any other series with other actors, I’d probably enjoy it even more. But this is The Franchise, The Template for The Husband and Wife Detective genre. If it weren’t for Myrna Loy’s tired performance, this final entry in the series would rate a lot higher, but there’s nothing worse than a disinterested performer in a role they no longer like, and Myrna Loy fits that description here. The Thin Man films succeeded because of the fantastic and witty rapport between Powell and Loy, and we don’t get much of that here. Jon Tuska’s book The Detective in Hollywood even goes so far as to claim that the two stars weren’t even on speaking terms during this time!

I’ll admit that I would’ve preferred William Powell and Dean Stockwell solving the case themselves and leaving Nora at home, since that’s where she wanted to be during the course of Song of the Thin Man. Now isn’t that most un-Nora like?

Look Ma, Squares: The Charles family in its final incarnation.

The Ex-Mrs. Bradford (1936)

I finally got to watch one of my most-sought-after movies on TCM last night, 1936’s The Ex-Mrs. Bradford, starring William Powell and Jean Arthur. The film is part of what I call the Husband and Wife Detective Team genre. I did enjoy the movie, which sped by at a brisk eighty minutes. It’s not a great movie like The Thin Man, and it falls short of the 1935 Thin Man knockoff also starring Powell, Star of Midnight (1935), co-starring Ginger Rogers. But The Ex-Mrs. Bradford has enough going for it to recommend to obsessed fans of the Husband and Wife Detective sub-genre. Here we have William Powell on loan from MGM and Jean Arthur was also on loan, as she was under contract to Columbia Pictures until 1944.

Lawrence Bradford (Powell) a successful doctor, is enjoying dinner (prepared by his butler, Stokes; a shamefully underused Eric Blore) when his ex-wife Paula (Jean Arthur) comes in with a lawyer who serves Dr. Bradford—called “Brad” by Paula—with a subpoena for “non-payment of support” which the wealthy mystery writer Paula says was just an excuse to see him again. Paula joins Brad for dinner and drops the bombshell that she wants to re-marry the good doctor. According to Bradford-- in a line I’ve quoted for years—the reason for their divorce was her cockeyed murder mysteries. Why this destroyed their marriage is never explained, except that they made Dr. Bradford “a wreck.” It’s pretty thin stuff, even for a 1930s sleuthing couple movie. Anyway, a jockey dies under mysterious circumstances and the jockey’s trainer asks Brad to investigate. When the trainer ends up dead at Bradford’s door, the doctor must clear himself with the help of his kooky ex-wife; or something like that.

All the Thin Man ingredients are sort of in place but the script lets everyone down. The mystery is somewhat interesting but we never get to know the suspects or their motives. The supporting cast is flat and anonymous—even the usually-dependable James Gleason seems out of his element—and Eric Blore is criminally underused in the potentially hilarious role of the butler, Stokes. He gets one good sight gag, and that’s all. Jean Arthur gets nothing to work with and many of her lines—seeming misunderstandings—fall flat every time. She’s also filmed through an industrial-strength cheese cloth for some of her close ups--extreme even for this era! Arthur looks as though she were filmed through a cloud. And I kept waiting for William Powell to dazzle me with his usual panache, but even the potential gags and one-liners he gets don’t come off with any energy.

The real star of this film is the Art Deco apartment by Van Nest Polglase, whose praises I’ve sung before. It’s a way of fully absorbing this world that I obsess over the living quarters of a detective movie set. Dr. Bradford has a beyond-great apartment—I can’t remember if it's in New York or Los Angeles—and I spent much of the movie trying to navigate its dimensions. It has a foyer with an entrance to the living room and to Bradford’s doctor office on the other, located in the turret of the place on an upper-level floor. The living room is like a wheel with the adjoining rooms spokes leading to and from it. Watching this movie is worth it just for this great apartment. Bradford even has a projector niche hidden behind a painting that allows for movies to be shown across the dining room and on the living room wall. This is what every self-respecting, wealthy, urbane 1930s detective should have! The projector also features in the film’s closing gag and ensures a happy ending. If I ever get the chance to watch The Ex-Mrs. Bradford again, it will be to sketch out a blueprint of his elegant and sophisticated apartment.

Could RKO have had an Ex-Mrs. Bradford film series based on this single entry? Probably, but the movie is slight and half-hearted in almost every aspect of its execution, even for this genre. A better supporting cast would’ve worked wonders here, as would a coherent script with some bite. It’s barely adequate as is and even the titanic star power of Powell and Arthur cannot make it shine. The Art Deco set is a wonder, and anyone with an interest in 1930s high glamour should watch just for that. I’m a big enough fan of the Husband and Wife sub genre to watch The Ex-Mrs. Bradford over and over, but not because it’s a great—or even average—movie.

Now What Would Asta Do...?

Jean Arthur on August 30th

August 30th can't come soon enough, as Turner Classic Movie's glorious Summer Under the Stars theme will be dedicated to lovely and screwy Jean Arthur. There'll be plenty of her movies that I haven't seen airing on that day, but the best of all is 1936's The Ex-Mrs. Bradford, a Thin Man-style mystery/comedy (co-starring William Powell) that leads my list of wanted films not on DVD. I haven't seen this in about two years, and look forward to adding it to my ongoing Husband and Wife Detectives series with a nauseatingly in-depth review. I know I'm excited...though I doubt I'll be moved enough to want to purchase a recording device to capture this glorious film for my compulsive viewing pleasure.

I apologize for not posting longer pieces lately. My father died on July 20 and I haven't been feeling up to anything, really. But I will bounce back and continue to (hopefully) keep your interest.

Review- The Thin Man: Murder Over Cocktails

Charles Tranberg, author of the highly-praised I Love the Illusion: The Life and Career of Agnes Moorehead, has turned his attention to the Thin Man film series with The Thin Man: Murder Over Cocktails. It’s a well-written and well-researched work, and when considering the paucity of material and interviewees available, it’s a valiant effort, too. In writing a book about Nick and Nora’s screen adventures, Tranberg has to compete with the sad reality that the internet has made books like this largely superfluous. For instance, there’s a lot of substance in Rich Drees’ excellent Thin Man article from Film Buff Online of some years ago. There’s plenty of information for an extended online article, but not necessarily for a three hundred page book. However, I’m glad that there’s even a Thin Man book available in this day and age. It’s informative, and reading this information in a book is preferable to being hunched over the computer screen’s sinister glow, but it isn’t as focused on the film series per se. It’s most likely that there just isn’t all that much Thin Man information around.

The set up in Murder Over Cocktails is simple: Tranberg lays out a brief plot synopsis, adds some memorable quotes from the film, and includes a precious handful of anecdotes about the behind-the-scenes goings on, many of which have appeared in Jon Tuska's (highly-recommended) Jon Tuska’s The Detective In Hollywood and Myrna Loy’s autobiography, Being and Becoming. The rest of the chapter is a compilation of blurbs from various press sources of the day, extolling each movie’s virtues. There's also a rundown of the supporting players’ career highlights. In fact, so much space is dedicated to actor biographies that I found myself impatiently flipping ahead in the dim hope that I’d find something else—anything—on the movies themselves. The index wasn’t any help—there isn’t one! Curse you, Bear Manor Press! However, these actor and technician profiles may prove to be the best thing about Murder Over Cocktails. But while it's nice to have a performer’s career highlights at one’s fingertips, I’d prefer that there be more about the actual Thin Man movies, even if it were just photos, extended dialogue, or publicity materials. It’s also unfortunate that Tranberg didn’t dedicate some time on the actual era in which the series was made, instead of merely listing the personnel’s film credits. Was Nick Charles the ideal American male? Was Nora the feminine ideal? What about those other Sleuthing Couples? The book includes a decent selection of photos, some of which I hadn’t seen before, and instead of an index, there's a supporting actor portrait gallery, which varies in quality; some actors’ photos are from much later in their career; Sam Levene’s (Lt. Abrams in the second and fourth films) picture looks like it was taken in 1971 rather than 1941.

Despite my own mild disappointment with Murder Over Cocktails, I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend the book to someone just getting interested in The Thin Man movies, as it would serve as a good primer in learning about the actors and behind-the-scenes technicians involved. And there’s something to be said about any book getting published about Nick and Nora Charles; for that alone I'd give this book five stars! This volume is #1 in the Film Series Series. Redundant title aside, I hope there are more volumes in this new series, as it would be great to have future volumes cover the Andy Hardy, Blondie, Bowery Boys, and Charlie Chan films. For the longtime fan there’s nothing here we haven’t already read before, but I guess I’ll have to accept the fact that there’s a finite amount of Thin Man information out there. Whatever the case may be, count me as grateful that a publisher even put this book out there.

Left To Right: Maureen O'Sullivan, William Powell, Producer Hunt Stromberg[?], Director W.S. Van Dyke, Myrna Loy, and actor Ronald Colman on the set of The Thin Man (1934). Note Loy's beautiful dress, worn in the film.

My, My Myrna

I wonder how often the MGM publicity machine used the title of today's post when it came to promoting Myrna Loy (aka "The Queen of Hollywood")? William Powell's nickname for her was Minnie.

Fridays tend to be the least-active days in the classic movie bloggosphere, but since I'm "hard at work" on a couple of Husband and Wife Detectives entries, I thought that this delightful photograph of Nora Charles herself would serve as divine inspiration to me. Ahh...it certainly will. The Marvelous Myrna deserves, and will receive, a full write up in these pages soon enough. But for now, her lovely visage will suffice.

Replacing The Thin Man

A Man in Demand: Melvyn Douglas was chosen to play a Nick Charles-style detective in two potential film franchises in 1938.

I've written a few entries on what I refer to as the Husband and Wife Detective Team , so I was fortunate to find a book, Jon Tuska’s The Detective in Hollywood (1978) which covers the many movie series detectives popular in the 1930s and 40s. The book is noteworthy, despite its often cynical tone, for providing the interesting backstory on The Thin Man series and MGM’s desire to strike gold once again by pairing another onscreen couple in the hopes of replicating the William Powell-Myrna Loy electricity.

William Powell had a tremendous career year in 1936 (the best year any actor ever had), but 1937 found the actor dealing with life and death situations. In June, his fiancée Jean Harlow, 26, died of uremic poisoning. Shortly afterwards, Powell was diagnosed with colon cancer, which required surgery and radium treatments. He would not make a movie for the next two years. MGM, looking to keep the money rolling in, began searching for substitutes for another husband and wife detective team series. The move was seen by Metro as “insurance”, and as the author cynically notes:


"Metro announced to the trades that in view of Powell’s difficulties the next Thin Man picture would star a new team consisting of Virginia Bruce and Melvyn Douglas…Metro had been taking out insurance, looking for a new team that clicked like Powell and Loy. Not only were they concerned about Powell’s living long enough to make another picture, but Loy herself, who was quite difficult to get along with and anything but the perfect wife off-screen, was constantly after the studio to give her major star buildup like that of Joan Crawford and Greta Garbo."

So Suave: Melvyn Douglas looks characteristically dapper in 1938's "Arsene Lusin."

The first of these Thin Man substitutes featured Melvyn Douglas. In The previously-mentioned mystery-comedy, Fast Company (1938), Douglas and Florence Rice are rare-book dealers Joel and Garda Sloane, who become involved in a murder mystery after a rival book dealer is killed. Strangely enough, MGM recast the next two Fast movies, Fast and Loose (1939) with Robert Montgomery and Rosalind Russell and then that same year, Fast and Furious, with Franchot Tone and Ann Sothern as Joel and Garda.

Columbia pictures tried its own hand at grabbing some of that Thin Man action and tapped--you guessed it-- Melvyn Douglas as detective-turned-lawyer in 1938’s There’s Always a Woman, in which he and Joan Blondell played sleuthing couple Bill and Sally Reardon. Bill wants to give up detecting and return to his job at the district attorney’s office, but Sally is hired by a friend to determine if her fiancée is having an affair. Of course, a murder is committed, and both Bill and Sally are both on the case. An interesting aspect of the film is that Sally is the heart of the detective agency, and an equal partner in the firm. Heady stuff in 1938! An actress like Joan Blondell was just the sort of personality who could pull that off, too. However, the studios didn’t think so, because the sequel, 1939’s There’s That Woman Again, had Sally being played by Virginia Bruce. Melvyn Douglas was back as Bill Reardon, though. Apparently both MGM and Columbia believed that Douglas, who bore a passing resemblance to William Powell, was the man to be the “next” Nick Charles. I believe that while Douglas was a fantastic actor, the sometimes-broad comedy that Powell could do with ease was not Douglas’ forte. Douglas’ humor was dry, subtle, and sophisticated, whereas Powell, while all of those things, also brought a physical presence to his comedy that Douglas lacked.

Both the “Fast” and “Woman” series were scrapped. MGM and Columbia probably realized that William Powell could not be replaced. In the non-tormented, non-Noir detective racket, there’s Nick Charles and then there’s everyone else. No wonder the studios were scrambling like panicked schoolgirls when Powell was diagnosed with cancer. The Thin Man series was a huge moneymaking franchise and an unexpected success, to boot. The studio suits believed that they could replicate the Sleuthing Couple formula with some combination of their stable of stars and contract players, but it didn't happen. However, from the tragedy that was Jean Harlow’s death and the serious health problem that was colon cancer, The Dapper One would return to movies in 1939’s Another Thin Man, the trailer of which includes a “Welcome Back, Bill Powell!” banner written below Powell’s visage at ad’s end while accompanied by the strains of “Happy Days are Here Again.” There would be three more Thin Man movies: in 1941, 1944, and 1947. William Powell would live another forty-five years, happily married to his wife Diana Lewis (twenty-three years his junior) and live in blissful retirement in their Palm Springs home for nearly thirty years after walking away from films in 1955. Powell reportedly loved reading and watching TV in his mammoth bed, wearing his silk robe, and with an ever-present cocktail in hand; sounds like a happy ending worthy of Nick and Nora Charles.


As for those would-be Thin Man knock offs, they're best viewed today as amusing entries in the sleuthing couples sweepstakes, but when seen in the context of the 1930s, when desperate movie studios attempted to replace their biggest moneymaker in the detective genre, one can see that they're pale substitiutes compared to the superior films--and actor-- they were supposed to replace.

The Template: No one played suave, smooth, and silly like William Powell.

The Thin Man: Murder Over Cocktails

I just found this listed at Amazon and put in my order. The Thin Man: Murder Over Cocktails was published in November, 2008. I've been craving books like this, especially in light of my ongoing Husband & Wife Detectives obsession. Is it just me or are there few books being published about the Golden Age these days? I'll provide a detailed review of the book right after I'm done reading it. In the meantime, here's the blurb:


"The Thin Man films are one of the most highly regarded and successful series of films from Hollywood's classic era. This book looks at the people who populated the films, including full chapter profiles of its stars, William Powell and Myrna Loy, whose chemistry together was a huge reason for the success of the films. As Nick and Nora Charles they knocked the stereotypes of on-screen marriage out of the park and replaced the stiff and formal with fun and sexy. But not to be forgotten are the great character actors who added their own special magic to each and every film. Each chapter includes profiles of these actors as well as the creative teams behind the films. The book offers up detailed synopses of each of the films as well as behind-the-scenes anecdotes and trivia. If you love The Thin Man then this is the book for you!" 312pp. Bear Manor Media. Trade Paperback.

Husband & Wife Detectives: Star of Midnight (1935)

In the comments section of the Husband and Wife Detectives entry, Hollywood Dreamland reader Brian Sheridan mentioned the 1935 William Powell-Ginger Rogers Thin Man-style mystery, Star of Midnight. In Star of Midnight, Powell is a lawyer and amateur detective who is asked to find a friend's missing girlfriend. The movie is often dismissed as a lightweight misfire, but with those two stars, I will be tuning in! It should be noted that Powell and Rogers technically do not play husband and wife, though they are soon to be married, but who cares? She and Powell were near their peak in 1935.

"Just because I like to solve a mystery once in awhile, everyone thinks I'm Charlie Chan, Philo Vance, and The Sphinx all rolled into one."

~Clay 'Dal' Dalzell (William Powell) in Star of Midnight

Star of Midnight features William Powell as lawyer Clay "Dal" Dalzell who is well known in New York for his expertise in criminal law but also revered for his ability to solve tough criminal cases. Dal's friend Tim Winthrop comes to him and asks Dal's help in finding his girlfriend, Alice, who had vanished a year ago. When a gossip columnist named Tennant is shot in Dal's swank (and I do mean swank!) apartment, Dal must once again take the case to clear his name and find out who the killer is. Dal's fiancee, Donna Mantin (Ginger Rogers) works with him on the case. The complete synopsis is here, complete with spoilers, but one of the things I place the least emphasis on in movies like these are the plots, which are often indecipherable the first time around, at least to me!


This was clearly RKO's attempt to cash in on the Thin Man film, which had been an surprise hit in 1934. No doubt the prospect of Powell co-starring with RKO's box office champ Rogers had the RKO bigwigs seeing dollar signs in their dreams. But RKO's entry into the Thin Man sweepstakes has a lot to offer fans of the earlier film. Powell's Dal Dalzell is a sophisticated New Yorker, with a swellegant apartment complete with his loyal butler, Swayne (Gene Lockhart), and an amazing bathroom including a barber's chair and toilet (unseen, of course) which plays "Pop Goes the Weasel" when someone sits on it! Much of the film takes place in Dal's apartment and with a stellar RKO set by Van Nest Polglase, it's easy to see why; it's gorgeous!



Dal's world is very much in the Thin Man mold, as the amateur sleuth has a steady stream of cocktails flowing at home as well as at the King Charles Hotel's bar. Girlfriend Donna matches him every drink of the way, as well as in witty repartee. In fact, Star of Midnight finds Ginger's Donna every bit Powell's equal here, unlike Nora Charles, who often had to meddle in her husband's cases. Dal even refers to Donna as his "partner"; that's uncommon in 1930s cinema and it was refreshing to see. Initially, I was concerned that the Powell-Rogers chemistry might not be so hot, but about forty-five minutes in, I realized that things were quite good between the two stars, as if they had finally gotten used to one another after an inauspicious beginning. Their rapport is nowhere near the Powell-Loy level, but then, no one's is. Still, it's a shame the two stars never worked together again.


I'd recommend Star of Midnight to anyone who loves what I call the "Husband and Wife Detective" genre. Fans of the Thin Man series as well as RKO features will marvel at the beautiful sets, and of course Ginger Rogers is quite a sight to behold. She's not at her most beautiful ever, but that would come soon enough.


I hope this comes to DVD soon. TCM's voting as of this writing is 145 votes and the movie ranks 494 on their list, so go and vote for Star of Midnight! It's another healthy dose of 1930s wit, glamour, and Thin Man-esque mystery.

Update: Laura's Miscellaneous Musings has an entry on Star of Midnight.

They'd Peak in 1936: William Powell and Ginger Rogers in 1935's Star of Midnight.

Husband and Wife Detectives

Ever since I saw The Thin Man I’ve been fascinated with the concept of the “Husband and wife sleuthing team.” It’s probably my number one “Silver Screen Dream”, to exist in an ongoing, never-ending Thin Man movie. For those who don’t know, William Powell and Myrna Loy perfected the genre in that first Thin Man entry, which was adapted from the Dashiell Hammett novel of the same name. Hammett based his novel on the tippling and banter of he and paramour Lillian Hellman. The original movie was a surprise hit largely due to the sparkle between the two stars. MGM had the making of a hit movie series. In all, Powell and Loy would play the roles in six Thin Man films.

Before I became enamored with Nick and Nora’s adventures, I was a Film Noir devotee and routinely dismissed what I saw as “lightweight” detectives like Nick Charles and other “non-tormented” characters. I was big on tormented protagonists; in fact, I still am. However, when I became obsessed with the 1930s, Nick Charles became my new hero. He was cool, calm, collected, and always ready with a glib remark. In other words, everything most of us are not. He didn’t want to be a private detective anymore, especially since he married Nora, the inheritor of her wealthy industrialist father’s fortune. Comfortably well off Nick and Nora drink to excess (it is the recurring gag in the first two films, reflecting the nation’s joy at the repeal of prohibition). The couple crack wise with one another, play the ponies, dine at the finest restaurants, stay at the best hotels, and generally act as though there is no Great Depression. Nora meets and is amused by the many colorful characters from Nick’s days as a detective and chides him for the dubious company he kept. What’s more, the crooks that Nick “sent up the river” have nothing but affection and admiration for him! In the middle of all this revelry and amusement, Nick solves the occasional murder. Nora is Nick’s catalyst, often urging him into action, asking about his previous adventures and pestering him about taking on another case, which is never for payment but rather to assist the police, who are always too happy to have his help. Oh, and they have a delightful wire-haired terrier, Asta, (female in the novel, male in the films), who is practically a partner in the Charles’ adventures.

The Thin Man series is a rarity in that it's one of the few times in film that a couple is shown in the “ever after” stage of the romance. Nick and Nora are a happy, confident, and well-adjusted couple who enjoy one another's company; it's not a concept that Hollywood has embraced--then or now-- with any degree of regularity. Subsequent attempts to replicate this formula have been marginally successful and Nick and Nora remain the exception to the rule; they remain the model for the concept. William Powell would appear in a film that attempted to replicate the magic he had with Myrna Loy, 1936’s The Ex-Mrs. Bradford, which featured Powell alongside Jean Arthur. In it Powell is a doctor whose ex-wife drags him into yet another murder case, which was the reason he divorced her!

After devouring the Thin Man movies multiple times, my quest for similar crime fighting couples grew. My search for similar fare led me to upon Joel and Garda Sloane of the Fast series, written by Harry Kurnitz. The characters appeared in three movies produced by MGM during 1938-39 and featured three different couples as the rare book dealer turned detectives:

Fast Company: Melvyn Douglas and Florence Rice. Married book-dealers Joel and Garda Sloane try to clear a friend in the murder of a rival book-seller.

Fast and Loose: Robert Montgomery and Rosalind Russell. Joel and Garda Sloane investigate the killing of a noted collector.

Fast and Furious: Franchot Tone and Ann Sothern. The couple get mixed up with murder during a beauty pageant.

Why MGM didn’t sick with one couple is a mystery in itself. Perhaps it was because the search for another couple with Powell-Loy style chemistry proved elusive. All three films have their charms, and I regularly bounce back and forth between which is my favorite, with the present frontrunner being Fast and Furious, as Tone is a delight and Ann Sothern is…irresistible! The men play Joel Sloane in varying degrees: from a dry and subtle wit (Melvyn Douglas), to more obviously comedic (Bob Montgomery & Franchot Tone). The various Gardas are alternately silly, meddlesome, and unlike the supercool Nora Charles, jealous of the attention their husbands receive from the lovely young ladies. It’s unfortunate that a regular duo wasn’t used. We’re still waiting for the Fast films to appear on DVD.


A "novel" twist on husband-wife detectives is the series of mystery novels by George Baxt. Baxt (1923-2003) employs famous movie couples as the protagonists. The intriguing concept is perhaps best realized in his last novel, The Clark Gable & Carole Lombard Murder Case. Amateur detectives Gable and Lombard are in pursuit of a kidnapper of movie star babies amid the backdrop of Gone with the Wind’s premiere, though the plot is also a nod to the Lindbergh baby kidnapping of 1932. Lombard’s Screwball persona and Gable’s wisecracking propels the tale, which is best read for its atmosphere of the era and allowing the on screen personas of the two stars to be the focus. George Baxt had previously written The Fred Astaire & Ginger Rogers Murder Case, with its Cold War-era intrigue in Moscow and early 1950s Hollywood, and The William Powell & Myrna Loy Murder Case. Not husband & wife teams, but the public saw them that way, even though the stars were “just good friends.” The Powell and Loy mystery has the duo investigating an infamous Hollywood madam’s death, and the actors are buoyed by their experience as a silver screen sleuthing team! I just wish that Baxt had just written the "Continuing Adventures of the Thin Man", but give him credit for trying something different.

Television has tried its hand at husband and wife detectives as Nick and Nora Charles would re-emerge in a 1957 TV series, starring Peter Lawford and Phyllis Kirk. But it just wasn’t the same having Nick and Nora amid bongo-playing beatniks and Nick sans the fedora. Lawford possessed zero comic ability, though Phyllis Kirk wasn’t bad as Nora. The last gasp would appear to be the 1979-84 TV series Hart to Hart, starring Robert Wagner and Stephanie Powers, with 1930s character actor Lionel Stander as their butler. The Harts also had a dog, “Freeway”, though he wasn’t a wire-haired terrier. The series was successful and was clearly patterned after Nick & Nora. The show’s been off the air for over twenty-five years, so is that all? Are there no more crime solving couples out there? Is the genre dead? Perhaps it’s time for another crack at making funny, sophisticated married couples “hip” again. If not, we’ll always have William Powell and Myrna Loy’s Nick and Nora.

In Dreams: William Powell & Carole Lombard would've made a great onscreen detective team.

Happy New Year, Strangers!

At Last: The Charles family spends some quality time together--finally--in 1936's After the Thin Man.

One of my favorite scenes in After the Thin Man (1936) is when Nick and Nora, exhausted after solving the Wynant case and just back from a cross country train journey, come home to that beautiful mansion high up in San Francisco. Wanting nothing more than to “sleep for a week”, the sleuthing couple are dismayed to discover a wild party in progress, ostensibly in their honor, and they find that virtually all of their “guests” are complete strangers! Even Asta seeks refuge from the drunken revelry!

So here’s hoping that your New Year’s festivities are memorable for all the right reasons and that you’re all in the company you know and enjoy.


Happy New Year!

2009 Unreleased DVD Wishlist

When asked by the young Reverend Billy Graham if he’d pray with him, President Harry S. Truman reportedly replied: “Well, it can’t hurt.” Now I’m not praying for these movies to be released on DVD in 2009, but wishing for them certainly couldn’t hurt. My list is far from comprehensive, but these are the ones that lead the pack:

A Bill of Divorcement (1932) John Barrymore, Katharine Hepburn. Kate's feature-film debut; who wouldn't want that? Directed by perennial favorite George Cukor.

Fast Company (1938) Melvyn Douglas, Florence Rice. Joel and Garda Sloane, rare book dealers turned husband & wife detectives.

Fast and Loose (1939) Robert Montgomery, Rosalind Russell. Same characters, another murder mystery; my favorite casting combination of the three-film series, though not my favorite film in the series.

What a Couple: Robert Montgomery & Rosalind Russell in what will likely be the cover to a DVD release of 1939's Fast and Loose.

Fast and Furious (1939) Franchot Tone, Ann Sothern. Here's the favorite! Yet another incarnation of Joel and Garda Sloane. Ann Sothern is incredibly cute--and gorgeous.

She Moves Me: Ann Sothern plays Garda Sloane in 1939's Fast and Furious.

Vivacious Lady (1938) James Stewart, Ginger Rogers. A slap-happy good time of a film, with nightclub singer Ginger falling in love with engaged small-town teacher Stewart.

The Ex-Mrs. Bradford (1936) William Powell, Jean Arthur. A trifle compared to the other 1936 releases that starred William Powell, this husband and (ex)wife detective team movie has always amused me.

Skyscraper Souls (1932) Warren William, Maureen O’Sullivan. Pre-Code naughtiness in a film that would appear to be a commentary on the Empire State Building. Beautiful Deco sets and a delightfully debauched scene with Maureen O’Sullivan being plied with booze.

Johnny Eager (1942) Robert Taylor, Lana Turner, Van Heflin. The film that proved to me that Taylor could act. He plays a gangster who falls in love with the district attorney’s daughter (Turner). Van Heflin won a Best Supporting Actor Oscar as Taylor’s alcoholic pal.

World Weary: Robert Mitchum as Philip Marlowe in 1975's Farewell, My Lovely.

Farewell, My Lovely (1975) Robert Mitchum, Charlotte Rampling. The movie I've been waiting the longest for on DVD. It needs to be done right, unlike the cruddy pan-and-scan edition pictured above. Farewell, My Lovely is also one of my favorite novels of all time. As for the film, I prefer it to the infinitely more famous Chinatown. At least David Shire’s excellent music score is available.

So now it's wait and see time. It'll be interesting to see how many--if any--of these movies will make it to DVD in the coming year.