Monday, May 18, 2009

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.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

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.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Classic Film Chemistry 101

It brings a smile to my face when I see the great movie couples onscreen. Every scene they have together crackles with a wonderful energy: tense, sensual yet with a sense of humor. All of these attributes go goes beyond mere flirting. I haven't a clue about what makes chemistry what it is, but I can say that it's at least a bona fide understanding of one another's tendencies. Sure, two of the three were actual couples offscreen, but even if you're new to classic film and didn't know that, you'd probably say to yourself "These two have to be married!" There are many notable movie couples in the Golden Age, but the three represented here are the best that ever were, or will likely ever be. If you want a real laugh, say aloud the names "Tracy and Hepburn" and then, if you can, pick out two of today's "big stars" and then say their names out loud. Funny how the newbies don't compare, isn't it? Actually, it's pathetic and sad. But who cares? We deal in magic and dreams here at Hollywood Dreamland, but also chemistry.

Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn: These titans appeared in nine films together. You should watch them all, but start at the beginning with Woman of the Year (1942) and see how Tracy is the quintessential American male and how Hepburn is well into her liberated woman stage--which spanned her entire life. Still, her role as Tess Harding is among her best. She, as always, has a timeless appeal. Now skip ahead to Adam's Rib (1949) and see them as married lawyers--the two are at their peak in terms of their onscreen rapport. Finally, jump to the preachy, mawkish, and cheap-looking Guess Who's Coming to Dinner? (1967) Criticisms aside, the duo are wonderful in this, Tracy's final film. I've always viewed these three movies as chronicling the beginning, middle, and end of their onscreen partnership, as if it were the same couple in all three films. That relationship is summed up by Tracy's speech at the end of Dinner. If that speech doesn't bring a tear to your eye, have someone in the room call a coroner, 'cause you're dead, pal.

Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall: It begins with To Have and Have Not (1944) He was forty-five and she was...nineteen??? That's no girl, that's a real woman! I still watch in amazement when I watch their scenes together. Bacall mesmerized both Bogie and director Howard Hawks, who both knew a real woman when they saw one. Bogart got the girl and they married in real life. Now take a look at Key Largo (1948) The couple barely have any dialogue with each other, but they say more with smouldering glances than any other pair I've seen. Readers of this blog should know by now how much I appreciate understatement in acting, and that what's implied and unsaid is so much more effective than the mere obvious act of just speaking the lines. Take that, Johnny Rocco!


William Powell and Myrna Loy: Of the couples here, this one is what I'd call "The Well-Oiled Machine." They hadn't the slightest romantic notion towards one another and were often involved in tragic or failed relationships while working together, but these two professionals are probably the best ever, because what they did was act. Show business pros like no other. Watch them in The Thin Man (1934), and note the scene in the kitchen, when Powell is taking a tray of cocktails out and he gives Loy a peck on the cheek as he's leaving. Her reaction looks like the bit was improvised, but the scene is perfect for Nick and Nora's characters, and both actors knew it was part of their magic onscreen. In all, Powell and Loy did fourteen films together, but this series remains their legacy.

Now, go and watch these masters at work. Or if you're already familiar with them, go and watch them again--I know you will.

Friday, May 8, 2009

Gary Cooper in High Noon (1952)

"If I'm a Man, I Must be Brave": Gary Cooper is Marshal Will Kane.

In the seven months that I've been scratching out this blog, I've somehow neglected to mention one of my all-time favorite stars--Gary Cooper. I never did do a 20 Favorite Actors list, but Cooper (1901-1961) would be a sure-fire member of that group. Once the most popular and highest-paid man in America, Cooper's legacy hasn't proven to last like many long-dead stars. He's not the object of some girl's pre-pubescent crush like 1950s icons Brando, Dean, or even Clift, and you won't find a silkscreen t-shirt of him at the mall like one would with John Wayne.

I got interested in Gary Cooper initially because he was a good friend of another highly-regarded icon of mine, writer Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961) ("Papa" to his devotees). When I was exploring Hemingway's work, Cooper figured in many of the author's movie endeavors. He was Frederick Henry in 1932's A Farewell to Arms and Robert Jordan in For Whom the Bell Tolls (1940). Hemingway often said that Cooper embodied the Hemingway hero to a fault and though Papa despised most every film adaptation of his work, he always praised Cooper for his portrayals, as well as his personal character, as the actor was a true outdoorsman, just like the rugged author. The two often hunted together in Sun Valley, Idaho or Billings, Montana and had a morbid, running joke about who would die first, or as they put it, who would "beat the other to the barn." The Hemingway association built Cooper's reputation in my eyes, so I was off to discover his movies.


In 1997, I saw High Noon for the second time. The first time I had been a kid and didn't have the background on Cooper then. After seeing the western classic a second time, it became an obsession. I watched the film dozens of times, finding all kinds of meaning in Coop's Oscar-winning performance as Marshal Will Kane. I had read that High Noon was a not-do-thinly veiled commentary on HUAC (House Un-American Activities Committee), but I loved the movie because it was a statement about the individual, which was obviously something Cooper saw, too.

For those who haven't seen it, High Noon concerns newlywed Hadleyville Marshal Will Kane and his young wife, Amy (Grace Kelly) who are to start their new life together, but on their wedding day, word comes that a killer Kane put away is out of jail and coming back to enact bloody revenge. The Marshal decides he must stay to defend the town he himself cleaned up. However, the townsfolk are spineless and complacent. They've forgetten the man who brought the town peace and don't want to be involved, each with their own tidy, gutless excuse. Kane alone who must take on the killer and his gang. The simple message of standing up and acting when danger is imminent resonated with me. I even went as far as to look for people in my day-to-day life acting like the spineless Hadleyville residents in their lack of courage in the most trivial things. I probably took my love for this movie too far, but that's what I do.


High Noon is a classic on many levels, not the least of which is Dimitri Tiomkin's haunting theme song Do Not Forsake Me, Oh My Darlin', one of the greatest songs ever written for a film. Coupled with the spare song, is the minamilist direction of the movie's opening sequence, which is equally brilliant. The song is told from Kane's point of view and the weight of its power factors into Cooper's wonderful portrayal. It should be noted that this western, that most American of genres, was directed by a German, Fred Zinneman, with music composed by a Russian, Dimitri Tiomkin. That's America to me!


But it was Gary Cooper's career-defining performance that I loved over everything else. I saw his technique of letting the spaces between his dialogue say what words couldn't, and he communicated what he and the audience felt. It's every bit as important as how an actor says his lines. There's a Hemingway connection with Cooper's acting style, in that the author's "Iceberg Theory" lets the reader know what's going on with just a bit of dialogue, but what's unsaid is much more substantial, and it's so obvious when I watch High Noon. I loved it when Cooper is arguing with his oversexed deputy, Harvey Pell (Lloyd Bridges) and when Pell says that Kane should just leave town, Coop respons with "I want to, Harv; but I can't do it." As silly as it sounds, I used to rewind to the part Cooper said "I can't do it" several times because the way he said it spoke volumes. You knew that he thought long and hard about up and splitting that ungrateful town, but his conscience and character wouldn't allow that. He also says the line with the subtlest of anger and the greatest conviction. I think I'm the only film nut who harps about that bit of dialogue and its delivery, but it remains one of my favorite movie moments. Not bad for simple country boy Cooper, who could teach more to Lee Strasburg's students in High Noon than a lifetime of classwork could ever instill.


I haven't seen High Noon in quite some time, and don't even have the DVD, but the movie is burned (branded?) into my brain. I need to go and revisit that old icon, Cooper, whose simple, understated performance captivated me and more than lived up to the legend bestowed upon it. Funny that it took me so many words to discuss Cooper, a man of few words. Oh, the irony...