The Thin Man - Pre

Thoughts on
The Thin Man
Essays on the
Delightful Detective Work
of Nick and Nora Charles
Edited by Danny Reid.
With contributions from Cliff Aliperti, Shane Bliss,
E.A. Botta, Vanessa Buttino, Judy Geater, Karen
Hannsberry, Andrew Hathaway, Cameron
Howard, Jared Latore, Letícia Magalhães,
Christina Rice, Ryan Rinchiuso, Michael James
Roberson, Ivan G. Shreve, Tars Tarkas, B.G.
Voita, Andrew Wickliffe, Jake Woehlke, and
Clint Worthington.
Cover illustration by Melanie Berg. You can find more of her work at
melanieberg.carbonmade.com.
Cover layout designed by Wallace McBride. He regularly blogs at
collinsporthistoricalsociety.com.
All stills and posters, unless otherwise noted, are provided in cooperation
from Doctor Macro. You can visit them at doctormacro.com.
All screenshots and promotional material appearing in this publication do
so for the sake of criticism and illustration. They are included in good faith
under the terms of fair use. No infringement on behalf of any copyright
holders is intended and will be removed in further editions upon request.
All written content, save for quotations, screenshots, and images from the
discussed original work, is copyright their respective authors © 2014. All
rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,
or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or otherwise, without
prior permission except as provided by U.S. copyright law. So don’t be a
dick and steal it. Come on.
Table of Contents
Introduction ....................................................................................... 1
Part I - Suspects ................................................................................. 3
DASHIELL HAMMETT:
“I'LL HAVE TO HAVE A DRINK BEFORE I DO ANY TALKING” ................. 5
WILLIAM POWELL: A FORGOTTEN STAR .................................................... 9
MYRNA LOY: ‘THE PERFECT WIFE’ .......................................................... 15
W.S. VAN DYKE: “ONE TAKE WOODY” MEETS THE THIN MAN ..... 21
Part II - Cases .................................................................................. 27
THE THIN MAN (1934) ................................................................................. 29
THIN ICE: A TOAST TO MY FAVORITE DETECTIVES ............................. 38
LIVING A THIN MAN LIFE ........................................................................... 40
EDWARD ELLIS: A BIOGRAPHY OF THE THIN MAN.............................. 44
AFTER THE THIN MAN (1936) .................................................................... 51
MRS. ASTA, HOW COULD YOU? A LOOK AT
THE THIN MAN’S MOST MYSTERIOUS CANINE CHARACTER ............... 59
THE LUX RADIO ADAPTATIONS ................................................................. 68
“ONE FOR MYSELF”:
JIMMY STEWART IN AFTER THE THIN MAN ........................................... 71
ANOTHER THIN MAN (1938)....................................................................... 75
CONVENTIONS AND COMEDY:
MUSIC IN THE THIN MAN SERIES............................................................... 84
SHADOW OF THE THIN MAN (1941).........................................................103
“DARLING, YOU HAVE SUCH LOVELY FRIENDS”:
NICK & NORA ACROSS CLASS LINES .......................................................112
KEEPING THAT OLD SPARK ALIVE:
NICK AND NORA AS THE IDEAL (SCREEN) COUPLE ............................117
THE THIN MAN GOES HOME (1945)........................................................125
EXTERIORS: NICK & NORA OUT OF DOORS .........................................135
SONG OF THE THIN MAN (1947) ...............................................................144
BLUEPRINT FOR NEUROSIS: THE NICKY JR. SAGA ..............................151
“YOU GIVE SUCH CHARMING PARTIES”:
DRINKING TO THE THIN MAN ................................................................157
THE OTHER FILMS OF MYRNA LOY AND WILLIAM POWELL ............164
Part III - Other Investigations ....................................................... 170
“BY THE WAY… MY NAME IS NICK CHARLES.”
THE “THIN MAN” TV SERIES ..................................................................172
THE THIN MAN RADIO SHOW ..................................................................175
FURTHER AND FURTHER ADVENTURES .................................................178
BECOMING A MOVIE FAN BY WAY OF WAX:
THE THIN MAN DISPLAY AT MOVIELAND WAX MUSEUM .................185
Contributors ................................................................................... 192
Appendixes..................................................................................... 200
APPENDIX A: REFERENCES .......................................................................201
APPENDIX B: FULL CAST AND CREW LISTINGS....................................206
“Assuming as we must that The Thin Man is not about a
series of murders and their solution, what is it about? It is about
personal style. About living life as a kind of artwork.”
- Roger Ebert
Introduction
By Danny Reid
When I was a teenager working in a small, rundown videostore in
the middle of the wilds of Central Illinois, I knew one thing for certain:
The Thin Man was catnip for old people.
I didn’t really understand the series then, mind you-- my favorite
movie at 16 was Independence Day, so I won’t pretend that I was smarter than
it. But whenever I had a couple come in who obviously loved black and
white movies and needed something to pass the time, recommending them
the Thin Man series was a safe bet.
It took me several years of maturing to finally get the appeal of
Nick and Nora Charles. It’s not just that they drink, it’s that they get
hangovers. They’re wealthy, but not out of touch. They view life as a lark
but clearly care about the world in ways they can barely express outside of
a room filled with murder suspects.
But their greatest appeal is the passion they have for each other—
and the Thin Man movies may be one of the finest examples of two people
in a long term committed, loving relationship on film. No matter the
murder or the horror that surrounds the world of Nick and Nora, they
always have each other. And frankly, that’s refreshing.
So, in summary, I became an old person. And The Thin Man is now
my catnip, too.
Life is funny sometimes. I began blogging about 4 years ago
covering new releases until I found something I really liked talking about
and dedicated myself to it. Those movies—those of ‘pre-Code
Hollywood’, when movie censorship was undoubtedly more lax and films
more complicated than you’d get for several decades—were filled with
gems. One of which is the very first Thin Man film.
Revisiting it again, I, like always, wanted to know more. I found
the options available in the world, frankly, more or less unacceptable. I
1
wanted something that examined how the Thin Man series ticked. It’s a
series that ranges from the depths of the Depression in 1934 to the postWar boom/pre-Cold War of 1947, and it shows a long story of not just
one fictional couple but how the world they inhabit changes and evolves.
More than that, I wanted something that would be fun to pick up and
peruse for anybody with even a casual curiosity in the series. I know you’re
out there.
The book you hold in your hands is a work of passion from many
different people from all over the world. There are some essays that are
academic in nature, and others merely fun and playful. The essays range
from discussing Dashiell Hammett and the origins of the book to the
movie series and the dozens of spinoffs in the ensuing years. Spoilers are
avoided when possible (and noted when not), and there’s no order you must
read the book in. Pick and choose what catches your eye.
Some of these essayists here are close friends I’ve known since my
teens who’ve written about film on their own day-in and out. Others are
classic film bloggers whose passion and writing acumen constantly
humbles me. And still others are online friends, people who I’ve admired
and enjoyed the company of and encouraged their participation here. And,
lastly, there is my wife, whose encouragement and enthusiasm made this
all happen.
It’s a ragtag group to be sure, but I couldn’t have put this together
without them. I’ve done a lot of things in my life, but being able to present
this book to you is one of my proudest.
So, please, grab a cocktail—perhaps even the one suggested by
Jared on page 39 -- and find a comfortable chair. There’s a murder
somewhere out there in the dark, and two pleasant, slightly inebriated
people and their adorable dog have a case to solve.
2
Part I
Suspects
3
4
Dashiell Hammett:
“I'll have to have a drink
before I do any talking”
By Michael James Roberson
The titular Thin Man of Dashiell Hammett's 1934 novel is Clyde
Wynant, a thin man made thinner after his body is left decaying in quicklime
for months. But it might as well refer to Hammett himself – the movie
makes this connection clear, placing its opening title card over an iconic
photograph of Hammett on the cover of his novel. Suffering from
tuberculosis he contracted while serving in World War I, Hammett was
perpetually underweight, at times bedridden at barely 125 pounds. It was
his service with the Pinkerton Detective Agency, however, that would
provide him with the inspiration for his writing.
With his final published novel, The Thin Man, another factor in
Hammett's life would influence his work: his heavy drinking. Following the
publication of his 1931 novel The Glass Key, Hammett suffered from writers
block that included a bout with depression, open discussion of suicidal
thoughts, and a trip to New York to go on a bender with William Faulkner
that concluded with Hammett passing out at a party for Willa Cather (a
literary anecdote I found too good not to share – like Nick Charles,
Hammett didn't come to New York to stay sober). Eventually, Hammett
managed to clean up for long enough to write what would be one of his
most enduring novels.
The Thin Man's protagonist, Nick Charles, is often understood to
be a stand-in for Hammett himself. Like Hammett, he is a retired private
detective, one who trades verbal barbs with his quick-witted wife Nora
much as Hammett did with his longtime partner, playwright Lillian
Hellman; Dash and Lily's relationship, of course, was not so lighthearted as
Nick and Nora's, plagued by infidelity and abuse – both physical and
emotional.
And like Hammett, Nick puts it away; my rough count – not
including the implied drinks that occur between the pages – has Nick
Charles as downing 33 drinks in the novel (about one every six pages) and
5
21 in the film (about one every four minutes). Like fellow Hammett
protagonist Sam Spade, who consumes a rather heroic amount of gin over
the course of The Maltese Falcon, the Nick of the novel never seems to really
get drunk; granted, the novel is written from his first-person perspective,
so it's possible that he's not the most reliable narrator, but apart from at
one point losing count of how many cocktails he's had, Nick shows a
prodigious memory and eye for detail, solving the twisted mystery of the
Wynant family when many others would be unable to stand up.
Though Nick never seems to get drunk in the novel, those around
him do. Dorothy Wynant seems to be perpetually stumbling drunk and
distressed into the Charles' apartment. Her fling, Harrison Quinn,
drunkenly confides in Nick that his drinking is ruining his marriage (a
sample of his classic alcoholic reasoning: “It's Alice. She's been sulking for
a week. If I didn't drink I'd go crazy.” “What's she sulking about?” “About
my drinking.”). Shep Morelli, a suspect in the murder of Julia Wolf, gets
soused, instigates a barfight and has to be cold-cocked by Nick's friend and
speakeasy owner Studsy –though they of course all return to the table for
more drinks afterward. And the wicked matriarchal figure Mimi Wynant
knocks back cocktails with impressive velocity, although it's not always
clear from the context of the novel whether she's a mean drunk or just plain
mean.
Nick's ability to hold it together in the face of overwhelming
booze, while those around him succumb, seems to be a kind of
confirmation of his moral correctitude;
basically, in the masculine, Hemingwayesque world of Dashiell Hammett, holding
one's liquor is a virtue and a point of pride
– that Nora at least once openly professes
to being drunk may, then, be a sign of the
implicit sexism of Hammett and the
hardboiled detective story in general.
Though it tones down the actual
number of drinks he consumes, the film of
The Thin Man does place something of a
greater emphasis on Nick Charles'
drunkenness. Embodied by the sleepy-eyed
William Powell with a mildly detectable slur
and a slight wobble in his step, there are few
moments when Nick does not seem to be
6
Cover for the first printing of
The Thin Man featuring Hammett.
half in the bag, whether he's decked out in a tuxedo hosting a dinner party
or taking BB gun potshots at the Christmas tree in his pajamas. However,
Nick still doesn't come off as too much of a lout; my favorite way that the
movie gets around this is by making sure in the Christmas Party scene to
surround him with a crowd of the most pathetic drunken slobs that 1930s
cinema could conjure.
The film tones down other things as well – if the Wynant family in
the film is dysfunctional, in the novel they're downright poisonous.
Dorothy in the novel is a bit of a drunken sloppy mess, openly carrying on
an affair with a married man; in the film, she's a pretty young socialite with
a handsome beau, only betraying a hint of tipsiness in the scene where she
offers a false confession to Julia Wolf's murder. Her brother Gilbert, in the
novel, says he doesn't drink much – but he does experiment with morphine
and shows a desire to get a hold of some cocaine, this use of illicit nonalcoholic drugs placing him disreputably within Hammett's moral
worldview (the volatile Shep Morelli, too, is a “hophead”). The morphine
use, which his otherwise uncaring family admittedly expresses concern
over, could be an attempt by Hammett to explain his borderline sociopathic
behavior, which includes spying on members of his own family and asking
pointed questions to Nick about cannibalism and incest (!). In the film, he
is a teetotaler, but this simply seems to serve as one of the many shorthand
cues for “bookish nerd.” As for Mimi, she may be a bit shrill and unpleasant
in the movie, but in the book she's downright demonic, regularly subjecting
Dorothy to abuse both physical and emotional and exploding into a violent
rage at Nick so severe she has to be wrestled to the ground and doused with
cold water more than once. Notably, in the film, she is not seen to consume
any significant amount of alcohol.
Is Hammett then saying in his novel that alcohol is evil? I would
be hard pressed to say so; though drinking took a toll on his personal life,
the Hammett that wrote The Thin Man seems to enjoy it too much for that.
Though drunkenness often serves as a black mark on certain characters'
moral scorecards, the drinking by Nick and Nora is playful and fun, and
their witty jabs over martinis and scotch and sodas are the hook that the
popularity of both the book and the film is hung on.
It is the characters' reactions to alcohol that are emblematic of their
sins and virtues, as well as being emblematic of Hammett's worldview. The
one time Nick turns down a drink in the novel is when it is offered to him
by Guild, a police officer, with Nick observing “I never had much luck with
policemen's liquor,” as concrete an example of Hammett's notoriously anti7
authority viewpoint as one could hope for. Raymond Chandler once
famously observed that Hammett “took murder out of the Venetian vase
and dropped it in the alley.” The Thin Man, with its parade of high society
social gatherings, maybe brought murder back a bit closer to that Venetian
vase, but as in any novel by Hammett, it is still a hard world, and a hard
world requires hard men that can handle hard liquor.
8
William Powell:
A Forgotten Star
By Ryan Rinchiuso
Humphrey Bogart, John Wayne, Jimmy Stewart, and Cary Grant:
these are names that everyone knows, even if they haven’t seen any of their
movies. If a person saw a picture of any of them, they could probably
identify who they are and tell you something about them without breaking
a sweat. These actors weren’t just stars, they were legends. There is another
name that could and should have been included in this list but has slowly
faded into semi-obscurity as time marched on. That is William Powell.
William Powell was born in 1892 in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and
originally studied to be an accountant at the University of Kansas. Soon
after he moved to New York and started a successful career in Broadway.
While in the play Spanish Love, Powell was cast as the villain in the silent
film adaptation of Sherlock Holmes with John Barrymore. During the silent
era, Powell played the villain or heavy in many films and was soon awarded
a seven year contract with Paramount Pictures. With his role as dapper
Detective Philo Vance in The Canary Murder Case and its three sequels,
Powell started branching into different type of roles.
William Powell was one of the special few that were able to
transition seamlessly from silent films to “talkies” thanks to his one-of-akind speaking voice. He became one of Paramount’s biggest romantic leads.
During this period he was cast opposite such big stars as Kay Francis and
Carole Lombard (whom he married and divorced, though they remained
friends to her death). In 1931, Powell moved to Warner Brothers and
started starring as suave, lady killers in such famous pre-code films as Jewel
Robbery and Lawyer Man.
It wasn’t until he went to MGM and made Manhattan Melodrama
that he started to hit his stride. In the movie, he played Jim Wade, an orphan
who rises up to be DA and then Governor of the state of New York. He
starred opposite Clark Gable, who is delightful as fellow orphan come
crook Blackie Gallagher. Powell holds his own in the movie from the
charismatic Gable and shows that he can play serious when the need would
arise. For fans of cinema, it is best known for starting one of if not the best
screen pairings of all time. The main female role was played by the beautiful
9
A portrait of William Powell.
and enchanting Myrna Loy and it was instantly evident that the two had
wonderful chemistry.
Striking while the iron was hot, the director of Manhattan
Melodrama, W. S. Van Dyke, cast the two in his next film, an adaptation of
the Dashiell Hammett novel The Thin Man. The Thin Man was a runaway
success for many reasons that will likely be covered in this book and made
10
both Powell and Loy huge stars as well as one of the most bankable pairings
in all Hollywood. Powell and Loy would go on to star together in 12 more
films, including 5 sequels to The Thin Man.
Look at the stars I mentioned in the beginning and think about
what timeless movies they are associated with. Do you know Bogart as a
private investigator in The Big Sleep or as Rick in Casablanca? John Wayne
brings up memories of westerns and his slow drawl. Jimmy Stewart was that
guy you wished you were friends with (or married to) in movies like It’s a
Wonderful Life. Cary Grant just oozed sex and charm in all of his movies but
especially in the classics he did with Hitchcock. All these actors are known
partially because of the movies they starred in became seared into our public
consciousness. Why didn’t this happen with The Thin Man? Why didn’t this
happen with Powell?
My two favorite actors from the classic era of movies are Powell
and George Sanders. While George Sanders’ performances always had a
bit of bite to them (look no further than Addison De Witt in All About Eve
for that), Powell was able to play rich or poor, suave or bumbling, good or
evil always with a twinkle in his eye and an air of superiority that never came
off as condescending. Most of The Thin Man films are spent with him
insulting most of the cast and wanting to sneak away to get hammered. But,
somehow, he never comes off as anything but charming! In a lesser actor’s
hands, he could have come off as a giant asshole, but Powell makes Nick
Charles a guy that you would love to go out on the town with.
Powell wasn’t just great at both being and thumbing his nose at the
upper class in The Thin Man but through many of his films of the 30’s. When
the country was going through a horrible depression, Powell was able to
balance showing cash strapped people the good life through film but never
making his character just about the money. During his heyday of the 30’s
and 40’s, there might have been some bad William Powell films, but there
was never a performance of his that was not highly engaging and
entertaining.
While other movies of his like My Man Godfrey and Libeled Lady are
considered screwball classics, they are both on that lower rung of classics
behind the all-time well known films. What I mean by this is you could talk
to any film fan and they could probably talk forever about Powell’s
performance in Godfrey and how that movie was released at the perfect time
or they could talk about how great Powell and Loy were in all of their films.
You could get this out of big film fans, but you ask a regular person off the
11
street about those movies and 9 out of 10 times you will be met with a
confused stare. You ask this same person about Casablanca and I bet they
can quote many lines from the film. Ask them about Psycho and they could
do the screeching violin music. Start the line “every time a bell rings…” and
they can finish the quote.
These are the movies that have stayed with us and carried on even
though they are over 50 years old. It is very hard to get to this level of film
and only the cream of the crop can do it, yet I still can’t figure out why The
Thin Man never reached that pinnacle. It is a movie that stands the test of
time. Take that screenplay and film it today and you would have the same
exact film. It is funny and immensely quotable with very memorable
characters. Most importantly, the two leads have the most wonderful
chemistry and people that everyone would want to have as friends.
And, honestly, who wouldn’t want to be Nick Charles? Charles is
married to a beautiful, funny, wonderful, woman who is also fabulously
rich. He is able to do whatever he wants to do because of the money and
what he wants to do is absolutely nothing other than drink a lot and have a
few parties. Powell and Loy pretty much play the Charles’ as highly
functioning alcoholics but they make it seem glamorous. The movie is a
comedy, a caper and a romance rolled into one with enough of everything
to make all genre fans happy at the end of the day. The Thin Man should
have been Powell’s Casablanca or Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, but it never
quite made it to that level.
Was it the fact that the sequels to the original weren’t ever quite as
good again? Did the TV show based on the same novel steal its thunder in
the 50s? Did the genre mashing of the film keep it from being among the
best of any one genre? These all could true to different extents but the
simple fact of the matter is twofold:
1. The Thin Man not only was one of the most popular series of its time,
but has help up through the decades to be as funny and entertaining a
movie now as it was 80 years ago. With the script, directing, cast and
most definitely the chemistry between the pair, MGM caught lightning
in a bottle. If I was doing a list of the ten funniest comedies of all time,
I could safely say that this film would easily make the list, maybe even
in the top five.
12
Powell poses with a pal, late-1940s.
2. William Powell was one of the most charismatic actors of his
generation and should be a household name to everyone. Powell was
a character actor that was too big of a presence to fade into the
background. His pairing with Loy is one of the greatest on screen
couples in the history of Hollywood, but he also created sparks with
numerous leading ladies including Jean Harlow, Carole Lombard, Joan
Crawford and Kay Francis. No man was better at being suave and
could play bumbling at the same time.
Powell had a great career filled with huge successes, critical acclaim and
a robust personal life. From the start of his film career in the 1920s until
his retirement in 1955, Powell had a wide and varied career. He was
nominated for three academy awards: in 1934 for The Thin Man, in 1936 for
My Man Godfrey, and in 1948 for Life with Father. He was married to Carole
Lombard for three years and then friends with her until her death, engaged
to Jean Harlow until her death, and married actress Diana Lewis after 3
weeks and was with her for the rest of his life. Other recognitions he
received included a star on the Walk of Fame, The George Eastman Award,
New York Film Circle Critics Award and a star in Palm Springs Walk of
Fame. After 1955, Powell retired to Palm Springs with Diana Lewis and
13
lived out the rest of his life until his death in 1984 at age 91, 30 years after
his retirement, which might have been the best award he could have
received.
When someone is interested in learning about classic films and
wants to know what actor to watch, it is easy to say Bogart or Stewart and
have them go on their merry way. I always point them in the direction of
William Powell and tell them to try to pull your attention away from him
when he is on the screen. It is impossible to do. Powell commanded the
screen like few people could and could make any film better just by showing
up. Let’s raise a glass to the forgotten master of class and sophistication,
William Powell, and hope that he will be part of a renaissance someday that
rockets him into that next stratosphere so he can take his place among his
peers.
14
Myrna Loy:
‘The Perfect Wife’
By Letícia Magalhães Pereira
I never get tired of Myrna Loy. There is always a glamorous new
photo of her to find, a different movie of hers to discover and a new
persona to look forward to in everything she did. She wasn’t a woman of a
thousand faces, but a face suitable for thousands of women (and not only
because her profile was the most asked for in plastic surgeries in the 1930s!).
Myrna could and did play any part, from the femme fatale of the pre-Codes
to the faithful wife waiting for her husband to return from the Second
World War. It’s surprising that such a versatile actress was never nominated
for an Academy Award in more than 55 years working in film and TV, just
as it’s surprising that Myrna is not as well-known or loved as she deserves
to be.
Myrna Adele Williams was born August 2, 1905 in Montana. She
was raised in a ranch near the city of Helena—which is also Gary Cooper’s
hometown, with whom Myrna recalled playing once in her childhood. She
always loved the stage, and her first live performance was at age 12,
presenting a dance she had choreographed herself... and with a dress she
had designed! It was the only time that her father saw her perform.
David Williams, Myrna’s father, the man who named her after a
whistle stop, died from the Spanish influenza in 1918, a disease teenage
Myrna also contracted, but (luckily for us) recovered from. Myrna, her
mother, and her brother went to live in Los Angeles. In her new school she
started appearing in small stage productions and in 1921 she posed for the
nude sculpture “Inspiration” that was eventually displayed on the school’s
campus. At 18, she stopped studying and started working to support the
family. It was a rough start, like so many in Hollywood.
But Myrna worked hard and soon danced her way to stardom.
Myrna was one of the dancing ladies in the choruses that performed during
the live prologues of silent films like “The Ten Commandments” (1923) at
Grauman’s Chinese Theater. Failing a screen test for a Valentino movie
strengthened her resolve to break into the movie business. As with so many
starlets, her first jobs in front of the cameras were as extras, and it was in
one of these jobs in 1925 that she met longtime friend Joan Crawford, then
15
The sculpture "Inspiration" that Loy posed for at Venice High School.
also a beginner in Hollywood. It was by that time that she changed her last
name to Loy in honor of the British poet Mina Loy. Myrna’s beauty and a
well-placed recommendation from Natacha Rambova, Valentino’s wife,
helped Myrna get juicier roles, usually as a seductive vamp character.
If there was anyone who fully experienced the passage from silent
movies to the talkies, that someone was Myrna. She was a supporting
character in the first movie with a recorded soundtrack (Don Juan, 1926),
had a brief appearance in the first movie with recorded dialogue (The Jazz
Singer, 1927) and did an exotic dance number in the first musical ever (The
Desert Song, 1929). She could be remembered just for this trivia. But the best
was yet to come.
She started the pre-Code era (1929-1934) unemployed. Warner
Brothers couldn’t offer more diverse roles to her and cancelled her contract.
She worked as a freelancer for several studios and portrayed women as
diverse as half-Javanese villainess Ursula Georgi in Thirteen Women, spooky,
man-hungry royalty Countess Valentine in Love Me Tonight, and no-good
seductress Becky Sharp in Vanity Fair, all in 1932. But the year that changed
Myrna’s life was 1934, when she made Manhattan Melodrama, the first of 14
films with William Powell. It is most often remembered as the last film seen
by notorious gangster John Dillinger before being shot. It was said that he
was lured to the theater because Myrna was Dillinger’s favorite actress.
16
Myrna Loy poses dressed as Nick Charles as a promotion for The Thin Man.
Myrna’s “screen test” for Nora Charles is one of the most unusual
in Hollywood: director W.S. Van Dyke pushed the actress into a swimming
pool, and her humorous, tongue-in-cheek response to the “accident” got
her the role. Nora was always more of a sidekick to husband-detective Nick,
but Myrna made this character a scene-stealer. The original book by
Dashiell Hammett was written from Nick’s point of view, but the movies
needed Nora to be remarkable. It is impossible to forget her lining six
17
martinis in the bar table to accompany Nick in the first movie of the series
or the night she spent in jail in After the Thin Man.
She skyrocketed to fame as Nora Charles, and in 1936 was voted
“Queen of the Movies”, with Clark Gable as the “King”. The two friends
were crowned, and it would take more than 50 years for the public to know
that Gable and Loy had had a rough start after he’d made a pass at her on
set once.
But at that point in the late 30s, she had never been so popular and
was one of the top 10 box office stars in both 1937 and 1938. Her chemistry
with a co-star was never so fiery or fun as it was with Powell, what made so
many in the audience imagine that they were a couple in real life.
“Minnie” and “Bill” became friends in the first days of shooting
Manhattan Melodrama. In their friendship circle there were also Powell’s
second wife Carole Lombard, Clark Gable, and Jean Harlow. The chemistry
onscreen created a curious episode: in a hotel, a bridal suite was booked for
Powell and Loy, while Jean Harlow stayed in a single bedroom downstairs.
But at the time Jean and Bill were dating, and, to avoid a misunderstanding
in the hotel, Bill stayed in the single bedroom, while good friends Myrna
and Jean stayed in the suite, talking the whole night long.
Another cute anecdote involving the sweetest screen couple of all
time starts with Bill recovering from a cancer treatment in the late 30s.
Instead of waiting for Myrna to visit him, he left the hospital, went to her
house, picked flowers from her own garden and thanked her for being
always a great friend. Later, Myrna would say: “I never enjoyed my work
more than when I worked with William Powell. He was a brilliant actor, a
delightful companion, a great friend and, above all, a true gentleman.”
Vamp, glamour girl, perfect wife: nobody went through such
different kinds of typecasting like Myrna. The only other actress who came
near in this crazy typecasting was Greta Garbo, and in very similar
conditions: both Loy and Garbo were vamps in the silent era and started
playing glamorous characters when sound came in the 1930s. But, if Garbo
had not retired in 1941, I still doubt she would have been believably cast as
a wife. As an aging empress or queen, maybe, but never a wife.
Myrna, on the other hand, could be it all: royalty, as in A Connecticut
Yankee (1931) or a mother of 12, as in Cheaper by the Dozen (1950) and its
sequel Belles on their Toes (1952). And she was totally believable in the wife
18
and mother role. Just see the climax of Cheaper by the Dozen: she doesn’t have
to say anything during the phone call. We can guess all of her feelings just
by looking at her eyes. If this isn’t supreme talent, I don’t know what would
be.
The strong actress also proved to be a strong woman. When others
in the movie industry were reluctant to be involved in politics, Myrna spoke
openly against Adolph Hitler and was included in the dictator’s blacklist.
Audacious Myrna was also among the first actresses to walk out on a studio
contract. She was suspended but received better scripts and a bigger salary
from 1936 on.
During World War II, she toured selling war bonus and visited
veteran’s hospitals, taking time away from the movies to help her country.
Her successful comeback was a double punch of The Thin Man Goes Home
(1945), the fifth in the series, and, what is certainly one of the highlights of
her career, a supporting role in The Best Years of Our Lives (1946). She kept
working with the Red Cross after the war and was the very first actress to
be assigned as a film industry advisor for UNESCO in 1950.
Her busy life in pictures and helping out charities prevented Myrna
from returning to the stage until 1961. She wouldn’t debut on Broadway
until 1973, when she was in the cast of The Women as Mrs. Morehead.
(Notably, Myrna and Garbo were the only big MGM superstars to not
appear in the film version of the play in 1939.) She continued working on
the screen, too, and her talent was there for younger generations to see in
From the Terrace (1960), in which she played Paul Newman’s alcoholic
mother. Her two last works were on TV, in the movie Summer Solstice (1981)
that was also Henry Fonda’s swan song, and as a guest on the sitcom “Love,
Sidney” the following year. Myrna was awarded the Kennedy Center Life
Achievement Award in 1988 and an Honorary Oscar in 1990.
Despite her “perfect wife” image, Myrna married and divorced
four times: first with movie executive Arthur Hornblow Jr. (1936-42), heir
John Hertz Jr. (1942-44), screenwriter and producer Gene Markey (194650) and UNESCO delegate Howland H. Sargeant (1951-60). Myrna didn’t
have any children, but was a fond stepmother for Hornblow’s kids. She was
called by director John Ford “the only good girl in Hollywood” for her
more reserved way of living and loving.
19
Portrait of Myrna Loy.
I was born July 1993. Myrna died December 1993. She didn’t know
that, but I think I was lucky to have lived (even for a short while) in the
same world as Myrna Loy.
20
W.S. Van Dyke:
“One Take Woody” Meets
The Thin Man
By Karen Burroughs Hannsberry
If you don’t know anything else about Woody Van Dyke, you
should know that he was referred to as “One-Take Woody.” That simple
moniker represented the director’s speed and efficiency behind the camera,
but it didn’t begin to encompass the lasting impression he left on the
cinematic world, not only with his work on the first four films in the Thin
Man series, but also on such widely divergent features as Manhattan
Melodrama (1934), Rosalie (1938), and Journey for Margaret (1942).
Woodridge Strong Van Dyke, II, was born in San Diego,
California, on March 21, 1889. His father, a Superior Court judge, died
around the time of young Woody’s birth – sources disagree on whether his
death came the day before, the day of, or the day after Woody was born,
but according to an interview Van Dyke gave in the mid-1930s, it’s clear
that his father died shortly before: “They kept the news from my mother,”
Van Dyke said, “but she, certain that something was wrong, got up from
her bed to try to find him. In the kitchen she collapsed, and there I saw the
light of day.”
A former actress, Van Dyke’s mother, Laura Winston, returned to
the theater after the death of her husband, appearing throughout the
country in vaudeville and travelling stock companies. When he was old
enough, Woody joined his mother on the stage, making his debut when he
was three years old in Damon and Pythias. Van Dyke later recalled appearing
at the age of five in a production called Blind Girl at the San Francisco Grand
Opera House: “Much to my disgust, I played the little blind girl,” Van Dyke
said, “in wig and pinafore.”
Van Dyke received his education on the road, either being
schooled by his mother, or attending schools throughout the country. “I
think I’ve been to school in every state in the Union,” he once said.
“Whenever the company stopped off long enough in any city, I went back
behind a school desk.” At the age of 14, Van Dyke moved to Seattle to live
21
with his grandmother, and later took business courses there, working his
way through school by taking on a variety of odd jobs, including waiter,
grocery clerk, and railroad attendant. For a time, he hit the road, working
as a gold prospector and a lumberjack, but before long he returned to the
stage in Seattle and in 1907 he married a fellow performer, Zina Ashford.
(The union didn’t last, though, and the couple divorced in 1920. In 1935,
Van Dyke would marry again, this time to Ruth Mannix, the niece of MGM
executive Eddie Mannix. The two went on to have three children and would
remain married until Van Dyke’s death.)
After touring with various theater companies, Van Dyke wound up
in Tinseltown in 1915: “Hollywood was just beginning to dawn,” he later
recalled. “The city was just becoming picture conscious. I found an old
stage friend, Walter Long, working [in] pictures, and it was Walter who first
talked me into trying my luck on the screen.” After a serendipitous
encounter, he first landed a job as a handyman with director D.W. Griffith,
but he was later named as an assistant director on Griffith’s epic production
Intolerance (1916), in which he also played a bit part. Later that year, Van
Dyke served as an assistant director on Oliver Twist, again serving double
duty on screen, this time in the role of Charles Dickens. He made his debut
as director behind the camera just a year later on the Land of Long Shadows
(1917), for which he also served as writer. During the silent era, Van Dyke
went on to direct more than 40 feature films with such future stars as Carole
Lombard, Joan Crawford, Eugene Pallette, Dorothy Sebastian, and Evelyn
Brent.
During the filming of the 1920 feature Daredevil Jack, starring
heavyweight boxing champ Jack Dempsey, Van Dyke earned the “OneTake Woody” sobriquet that would follow him throughout his career.
Because Dempsey typically knocked out his opponents with the first punch,
it was imperative that Van Dyke get the scenes on the first take. Afterward,
Van Dyke took his “one-take” prowess to MGM, signing a contract with
the studio in 1926. One of his first assignments was White Shadows in the
South Seas; Van Dyke accompanied documentary filmmaker Robert J.
Flaherty to Polynesia for filming, but wound up taking over the film’s
direction when Flaherty got sick.
The movie, MGM’s first talkie, was a box-office hit – Van Dyke
followed this with another South Seas adventure, this time in Tahiti with
Pagan (1929), starring Ramon Navarro. Next was Trader Horn (1931) – also
known as seven months of grueling on-location filming in Africa and a year
of post-production to mold the massive amount of footage into a movie
22
about two traders who search for a missionary’s missing daughter. The film
was a huge hit and snagged an Academy Award nomination for best picture
(it lost to Cimarron). Incidentally, the film’s female lead, Edwina Booth,
contracted an illness during the long shoot in Africa that led to the demise
of her career. Confined to her bed for more than five years, she sued MGM,
seeking more than a million dollars. The suit was later settled out of court
and Booth never made another movie – but she lived to the age of 86.
But I digress. Back to Van Dyke.
(L to R) Maureen O'Sullivan, Powell, W.S. Van Dyke, unknown, Loy, and Ronald Coleman.
During the next few years, Van Dyke helmed several first-rate preCodes, including Guilty Hands (1931) with Lionel Barrymore and Kay
Francis; Night Court (1932), starring Walter Huston, Anita Page and Phillips
Holmes; Penthouse (1933), with Warner Baxter and Myrna Loy; and
Manhattan Melodrama (1934), with Clark Gable and Spencer Tracy, famed as
the last film seen by gangster John Dillinger before he was gunned down
by police in Chicago. He also helmed the first film in the popular Tarzan
series, Tarzan the Ape Man (1932). Then, in 1934, Van Dyke stepped behind
the camera to launch another series – the entertaining, stylish, and
sophisticated detective features known as The Thin Man.
23
As it happens, the series owed a lot to Van Dyke – although there’s
more than one story to explain exactly how he became involved with the
project. According to one version, MGM Story Editor Samuel Marx was
the first to see the potential in Dashiell Hammett’s best-selling novel, The
Thin Man. Marx took the book to producer Hunt Stromberg, who stated
that he’d buy the rights to the novel if Van Dyke agreed to sign on as
director. But another source states that MGM had already acquired the
rights to Hammett’s novel when Van Dyke got wind of it – and that he was
alone in his persistent admiration for the mystery novel.
Regardless of how the source material reached Van Dyke, it can’t
be denied that he saw the lighthearted potential in the novel, and directed
husband-and-wife writers Albert Hackett and Frances Goodrich to create
a screenplay that captured his witty and urbane vision. It took the couple
just three weeks to come up with the script. It was also Van Dyke’s idea to
cast William Powell and Myrna Loy in the starring roles of Nick and Nora
Charles – despite the misgivings of MGM studio head Louis B. Mayer.
Years after the release of the film, Loy recalled Van Dyke’s “one-take”
proclivities and his overall influence on the film: “He wanted spontaneity,
and speed ensured it,” Loy said in her autobiography, Being and Becoming.
“Woody demanded extraordinary deeds and you needed the discipline to
go along with it or you couldn’t work with him. He ultimately became too
fast; it became an obsession. But his pacing and spontaneity made The Thin
Man.”
The film was a smash hit and a darling of the critics – in a typical
review, Mordaunt Hall wrote in The New York Times that The Thin Man was
“an excellent combination of comedy and excitement.” It went on to earn
more than $2 million at the box office and land four Academy Award
nominations, including one for Best Director. Decades later, in 1997, the
film would be added to the United States National Film Registry for its
“cultural, historical, or aesthetic significance.”
Although Van Dyke lost the Best Director Oscar to Frank Capra
for It Happened One Night, he and The Thin Man were on top of the world,
and it didn’t take long for MGM to capitalize on the popular feature. In
1936, the studio released After the Thin Man, which became the sixth highest
grossing film of the year, and prompted this acclaim from Frank Nugent in
The New York Times: “W.S. Van Dyke retains his directorial facility and
William Powell and Myrna Loy still persuade us that Mr. and Mrs. Nick
Charles are exactly the sort of people we should like to have on our calling
list on New Year’s Day.”
24
In 1939, Van Dyke directed the third in the series, Another Thin
Man – the last of the series to be written by the team of Hackett and
Goodrich – followed two years later by Shadow of the Thin Man (1941) –
which, according to the critic for the New York Times, lacked the “reckless
joie de vivre” of the previous entries but still offered “choice company”.
Between Thin Man features, Van Dyke continued to expand his directorial
resume with a wide variety of films, including six starring Jeanette
MacDonald, with whom he would develop a lasting friendship. (In fact, in
1939, MacDonald reportedly tried to commit suicide by swallowing a
handful of sleeping pills after the wedding of her longtime singing partner,
Nelson Eddy, to another woman. It’s said that Van Dyke found her and
saved MacDonald’s life.) The films in which Van Dyke directed MacDonald
included San Francisco (1936), which featured a harrowing and realistic
earthquake recreation, and earned Van Dyke his second Academy Award
nomination. (This time he lost to Frank Capra for Mr. Deeds Goes to Town.)
Also during this period, Van Dyke helmed three Joan Crawford starrers –
including Forsaking All Others (1934), I Live My Life (1935), and Love on the
Run (1936). After filming the first of these, the director had a run-in with
Production Code enforcer Joseph Breen, who reportedly punched Van
Dyke in the nose when he balked at Breen’s proposed changes for the film.
Other films directed by Van Dyke – and demonstrating his
versatility behind the camera – included The Devil is a Sissy (1936), with
Mickey Rooney, Freddie Bartholomew, and Jackie Cooper; Marie Antoinette
(1938), starring Norma Shearer and Robert Morley; It’s a Wonderful World
(1939), starring Claudette Colbert; and The Feminine Touch (1941), with
Rosalind Russell and Kay Francis. Also during these years, which saw the
outbreak of World War II, Van Dyke was commissioned as a major in the
U.S. Marines and established a recruitment center at MGM, urging his
colleagues to join in the war effort. (In his subsequent films, the director
was credited as “Major W.S. Van Dyke.”)
By the early 1940s, Van Dyke’s health began to fail. He suffered
from a serious heart condition and was diagnosed with cancer; a devout
Christian Scientist, he refused medical treatment and continued to work,
finishing what would be his final film, Journey for Margaret, with Margaret
O’Brien, in late 1942. On February 5, 1943, Van Dyke said goodbye to his
wife and family and committed suicide. He was 53 years old. The manner
of his death was not mentioned in the obituaries of the day, which merely
stated that he’d died at his Brentwood home. At his request, Jeanette
MacDonald and Nelson Eddy sang at Van Dyke’s funeral.
25
Although Woody Van Dyke is not often remembered today as one
of the greats of Hollywood’s Golden Age, there’s no denying that he was
one of MGM’s most respected and dependable directors, whose skills
launched or enhanced the careers of a number of stars, and led to Oscar
nominations for four: William Powell, Spencer Tracy, Norma Shearer, and
Robert Morley. On February 8, 1960, Woodbridge Strong Van Dyke, II,
was honored with a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
It was a well-deserved salute to One-Take Woody.
26
Part II
Cases
27
28
The Thin Man (1934)
Based on a novel by Dashiell Hammett.
Written by Albert Hackett and Frances Goodrich.
Directed by W.S. Van Dyke. Produced by Hunt Stromberg.
Starring William Powell, Myrna Loy, Maureen O’Sullivan, Nat Pendleton, Minna Gombell,
Porter Hall, Henry Wadsworth, William Henry, Harold Huber, Cesar Romero, Natalie
Moorhead, Edward Brophy, Edward Ellis, Cyril Thornton, and Asta.
Mr. Clyde Wynant (Edward Ellis) is not an easy man to like.
Despite his loving daughter Dorothy (Maureen O’Sullivan) and her new
fiancé Tommy (Henry Wadsworth), the rest of his personal life is a mess,
either inspired by his cruelty or because he surrounds himself with crooks
and double crossers. His lawyer, Herbert McCauley (Porter Hall), is nosey
and pushy. His unfaithful wife, Mimi (Minna Gombell), has been
‘sponsoring’ a young artist named Chris (Cesar Romero). There’s also
Wynant’s accountant, Tanner (Cyril Thornton), who seems to be dipping
into the scientist’s bonds. And, most of all, there’s his mistress Julia Wolf
(Natalie Moorhead) and the scummy men like Morelli (Edward Brophy)
and Nunheim (Harold Huber) who seem to hang out with her a bit too
much. Someone has stolen Wynant’s money, and it’s up to him to find out.
A few months later, it’s Christmas Eve and Dorothy hasn’t heard
from her father; she fears the worst. Across the bar from where she’s
dancing, she spies Nick Charles (William Powell) carefully explaining the
proper way to shake drinks to an attentive wait staff. Dorothy walks up to
him and reintroduces herself.
Dorothy: “You know, we do know each other.”
Nick: “Of course we do, we’ve known each other for
years!”
Nick tells her that he’s out of the detective game, but Dorothy begs
for him to look into it. He suggests contacting McCauley, and she goes to
call him up.
Meanwhile, Nora (Myrna Loy), carrying a dozen packages, is
dragged into the hotel by Asta (Skippy). Nick helps her up.
29
Nick: “Oh, it’s all right, Joe. It’s all right. It’s my dog.
And, uh, my wife.”
Nora: “Well you might have mentioned me first on the
billing.”
Dorothy reenters and says that she is headed to meet up with
McCauley. Nick and Nora take a seat.
Nora: “Pretty girl.”
Nick: “Yes. She’s a very nice type.”
Nora: “You got types?”
Nick: “Only you, darling. Lanky brunettes with wicked
jaws.”
Nick deflects the questions she asks about who Dorothy was and
lets Nora order as the waiter, Leo, arrives.
Nora: “How many drinks have you had?”
Nick: “This will make six Martinis.”
Nora: [to the waiter] “All right. Will you bring me five
more Martinis, Leo? Line them right up here.”
The next morning, Nick is preparing a water bottle for Nora’s
headache.
Nora: “What hit me?”
Nick: “The last martini. How about a little pickmeup?”
Nora: “NO.”
The bell rings and Nick finds McCauley on the other side.
McCauley confirms that Wynant hasn’t been heard from in months and
30
that the only contact seems to be Julia who sends him money. The phone
rings and it’s for McCauley.
Hearing that Wynant is back in town McCauley takes off, and Nick
calls Dorothy to tell him that he’s around. Dorothy’s family has different
reactions, from Gilbert’s bookish apathy to Mimi’s panic, as she really needs
to shake her ex-husband down for more money. Mimi calls upon Julia,
hoping she knows where Clyde is, only to find her dead. She screams, but
steals something out of Julia’s clasped hand before calling the police.
News spreads fast. Detective Guild (Nat Pendleton) is on the
scene. We see him interview McCauley, and it’s apparent from Guild’s
gruffness that he thinks Wynant is behind it. One detective comes in and
tells Guild that he’s checked all the witnesses he can find.
Guild: “So you did your duty and now you done it. You
gonna stop at that?”
Detective: “… no, sir.”
Guild also confronts Mimi, who denies taking anything from Julia’s
hand. He doesn’t buy it, but Gilbert’s fascinated by the whole procedure.
Gilbert: “Could I come down and see the body? I’ve never
seen a dead body.”
Guild: “Why do you want to?”
Gil: “Well, I’ve been studying psychopathic criminology
and I have a theory. Perhaps this was the work of a sadist
or a paranoiac? If I saw it I might be able to tell!”
Guild: “Yeah, that’s a good idea. But don’t you bother to
come down — we’ll bring the body right up to you.”
Dorothy confronts her mother over the missing evidence.
Apparently, to her horror, it’s her father’s watch.
Back over at the Charles’, Nick and Nora are throwing a huge
gathering, with guests and booze galore. Most of the guests are friends and
31
convicts that Nick had put away at one point or another. No one holds a
grudge against Nick, though.
A pair of newspaper reports arrive, demanding to know if he’s
working on Julia’s murder. He denies it.
Reporter: “Then why are you in town?”
Nick: “My wife’s on a bender. I’m trying to sober her up.”
Nora takes Nick into the kitchen and insists that he’d be the best
man to solve the case, which he brushes off. Dorothy arrives at the party
and asks to see Nick alone. There, she lays claim to the murder, but Nick
quickly proves that she is trying to cover things up for her father.
Nora walks in and offers her a drink. Mimi arrives shortly
thereafter, and Nick takes her into the bathroom. Gil arrives, too. Mimi
flips out when she learns that Dorothy is there. Gil, meanwhile, is sprouting
psychological nonsense to the reporters. This merriment is interrupted
when Nunheim calls, but he’s cutoff before he can pass off any
information.
After the party, Nora is reading in her bed.
Nora: “Nick? Nicky?”
Nick: “What?”
Nora: “You asleep?”
Nick: “Yes!”
Nora: “Good. I want to talk to you. Wouldn’t you like to
do some detective work once in a while just for fun?”
Nick: “Can’t you get to sleep?”
Nora: “No.”
32
Nick: “Well maybe if you took a drink it would help.”
Nora: “No thanks.”
Nick: “Well maybe it will help if I took a drink.”
There’s a knock at the door. It’s Morelli, and he has a gun.
Nick: “Hey, would you mind putting that gun away? My
wife doesn’t care, but I’m a very timid fellow.”
Nora: “You idiot!”
Nick [to the gunman]: “Alright, shoot! I mean, uh, what’s
on your mind?”
Morelli demands Nick tell him what he knows about the Julia Wolf
murder, but is cutoff by the police banging on the door. Siezing on the
interruption, Nick hits Nora and throws a pillow at Morelli. He then tackles
him to the ground and wrestles the gun away. With the police inside and
Morelli subdued, Nick rushes to Nora and revives her.
Nora: “You darn fool! You didn’t have to knock me out. I
knew you’d take him, but I wanted to see you do it.”
Guild [laughs]: “There’s a girl with hair on her chest.”
Guild orders the apartment searched and turns up the gun that
Dorothy had brought up. Nora protests.
Nora: “What’s that man doing in my drawers?”
Guild promises to come around the next day, and it looks like Nick
is one the case—whether he likes it or not.
It’s Christmas morning, Nora is enjoying the fur coat that Nick
gave her, while Nick is using his new BB gun to shoot out the balloons on
the tree. Nora reads over the newspaper which covers the previous night’s
events.
33
Nick: “I’m a hero. I was shot twice in the Tribune.”
Nora: “I read where you were shot 5 times in the tabloids.”
Nick: “It’s not true. He didn’t come anywhere near my
tabloids.”
Nora sorts through the telegrams and finds one from Wynant.
McCauley arrives up at the apartment soon after, offering to put Nick in
touch with the missing inventor. He’s interrupted, though, by a phone call
from the police reporting that Wynant tried to kill himself. McCauley rushes
out while Asta chases after and defeats a stray balloon.
Nora: “Asta, has your balloon busted? So has mine.”
Nick: “What’s the matter with you?”
Nora: “Oh, the mystery’s all gone. I was hoping you’d find
out who did it.”
Nick: “Mm, maybe I will.”
Nora: “Well… Wynant.”
Nick: “I don’t believe he did it.”
Nora: “Well, why don’t you?”
Nick: “No reason, just a hunch. But I’m gonna find out. I’m
tired of being pushed around. Come on, Doctor Watson,
let’s go places.”
Nick and Nora and Asta head downstairs where they run into
Lieutenant Guild. The suicide was mistaken, and Guild discovers that
Nunheim seems to be holding on the two. Guild and Nick decide to go
visit him, while they trick Nora into a cab that Nick sends to Grant’s Tomb.
At Nunheim’s, his girl, Marion (Gertrude Short), gets into a fight
with him. When she discovers he’s a stool pigeon, she storms out. Nick,
34
meanwhile, is working on his smoke rings. Nunheim ducks out, and is soon
making a call demanding a ransom for keeping quiet. He’s soon shot dead.
Back at police headquarters, Nick, Guild and the other detectives
are mulling over this development when Nora calls. She asks to speak to
her husband.
Nick: “How’d you like Grant’s tomb?”
Nora: “It’s lovely. I’m having a copy made for you.”
Mimi’s called and she’s filled with anguish. Her beau has
disappeared, and, to avoid suspicion, she decides to show the police the
watch chain that would seem to prove Wynant was behind everything.
Dorothy is convinced that her father is guilty, and breaks things off with
Tommy.
Nick isn’t convinced, and he decides to head to Wynant’s shop to
investigate. Nora is worried that Wynant may take a shot at Nick anyway.
Nora: “All right! Go ahead! Go on! See if I care! But I
thinks it’s a dirty trick to bring me all the way to New York
just to make a widow of me.”
Nick: “You wouldn’t be a widow long.”
Nora: “You bet I wouldn’t!”
Nick: “Not with all your money...”
Not wanting to let him leave on that note, Nora chases after him.
Nora: “Take care of yourself.”
Nick: “Why, sure I will.”
Nora: “Don’t say it like that! Say it as if you meant it!”
Nick: “Well, I do believe the little woman cares.”
35
Nora: “I don’t care! It’s just that I’m used to you, that’s
all.”
Down in the darkened warehouse, Nick and Asta snoop around.
Asta discovers a block of recently-laid concrete. Nick pokes at it; there’s
something in there.
Nick heads to the offices to call Guild and report the discovery.
But a shadowy figure heads into the room. It’s Tanner, who Nick
remembers from his crime fighting days. Nick has him talk to the police,
who soon arrive. The police take a look over the clothes and bones that
were buried in the concrete. The clothes make it look as if Wynant has killed
another old rival, but Nick doesn’t agree. Looking over the x-rays, Nick
notices that the corpse and Wynant share an injury.
Reporters flood the Charles’ apartment. Nick, obviously, doesn’t
think the case is closed, but won’t say as much to the newspapermen.
Reporter: “Well, can’t you tell us anything about the case?”
Nick: “Yes, it’s putting me way behind in my drinking.”
Nick tells Nora that he’s certain that it’s Wynant’s body in the
concrete block.
Nick: “I’ve got an idea. You want to see me take them?”
Nora: “Yes.”
Nick: “Have you got a nice evening gown?”
Nick gathers up the suspects in his apartment for dinner and to play them
against each other. This is the way each Thin Man entries end: all of the
suspects arrive, and the guilty one slips and Nick catches them.
Nick: “The murderer is right in this room. Sitting at this
table. …You may serve the fish.”
Keeping in tradition with other books about mysteries, this one
will not reveal the killer nor the process led to deduce their guilt.
36
The Thin Man is a rousing mix of comedy and mystery. The film
was highly acclaimed at the time it was released, earning a Best Picture
Nomination almost in spite of its 2-week filming time and B-picture budget.
Dashiell Hammett’s The Thin Man was published in Redbook
magazine, and then collected in 1934. It eventually went on to sell more
than 34,000 copies in its first 18 months of printing. The novel was brought
to the attention of MGM Producer Hunt Stromberg who then enlisted
director W.S. Van Dyke to shoot it.
Van Dyke handpicked his cast, against the studio’s better wishes,
and choose two of the leads of his last film, Manhattan Melodrama, to star as
the married Charleses. He even choose Skippy, a wire haired terrier, to play
Asta after seeing how well-trained and expressive the pooch was.
The book was adapted for the screen by Albert Hackett and
Frances Goodrich in under three weeks. A married couple themselves, they
were also known for their playful repartee, and would adapt the next several
Thin Man movies from Hammett’s stories.
Released on May 25, 1934, the film was a huge hit, garnering four
Academy Award nominations and ecstatic critical reviews. The movie was
inducted into the National Film Registry in 1997 and remains popular to
this day.
37
Thin Ice: A Toast
to My Favorite Detectives
By Jared Latore
“The important thing is the rhythm. Always have rhythm in
your shaking. Now a Manhattan you shake to fox-trot time, a Bronx
to two-step time, a dry martini you always shake to waltz time.”
– Nick Charles
After Prohibition, Nick and Nora made functional alcoholism
seem like carefree fun again. They transformed public intoxication into
“cocktail culture” with the sheer force of their impeccable taste, and their
sophisticated preferences were the envy and enjoyment of Depression-era
audiences.
Taking their high-class predilections, as well as the film’s setting
(Christmastime in NYC), as my inspiration, I’ve come up with a drink I
think those sparring partners might approve of. I’m calling it “thin ice.”
Our detectives are particularly fond of martinis (see: the scene
where Mrs. Charles orders five of them at once, in order to catch up with
her husband), so let’s start with some gin and vermouth.
I’ve selected Brooklyn gin, a botanical “new American” gin. It’s
made with cracked juniper and lots of citrus peel for a wintry palette, and
it’s distilled from corn rather than grain, which is appropriate for the time
period. (Imported, grain-distilled gins were the norm until Prohibition,
during and after which American bootleggers manufactured their own gins
from corn mash.)
Now for the wine, but not just any vermouth can meet the Charles’
high standards. So we’re adding Carpano Bianco. It’s neither wholly dry,
nor sweet. It’s a bittersweet vermouth, a maceration of a dozen different
herbs, including thyme, coriander, and fennel, which, incidentally, are also
herbs that you’ll find in a well-balanced gin. So our gin and our vermouth
are going to complete each other. It’s a perfect marriage.
38
This would make for a fine martini on its own, but it lacks novelty.
Remember, the driving force behind Nick and Nora’s adventures is
boredom—they solve murders for fun! They’ll appreciate something new
and exciting. So let’s throw in St. Germain, the famous French elderflower
liqueur. Like our detectives, it’s lively and refreshing. There are few
cocktails it can’t improve.
We’ll round it all off with the juice of a fresh clementine—
clementines being one of the few fruits available fresh in the wintertime.
The sugar and the citric acid are the final pieces of the puzzle. Put all these
ingredients in a shaker with ice, shake it to swing time, then strain and serve
up. Garnish it with a few fresh cranberries for the big reveal, and you’ve
got a breathtaking martini as dry and acerbic as Nick and Nora’s famous
wit.
THIN ICE
2 ½ oz. Brooklyn gin
½ oz. Carpano Bianco
1 oz. St. Germain
1 oz. clementine juice
garnish, fresh cranberries
Shake, serve up.
39
Living a Thin Man Life
By Vanessa Buttino
My first thought upon finishing The Thin Man for the first time:
“Whoa! This movie is quite good.”
My second thought (occurring almost immediately after my first):
“HOLY CRAP THIS MOVIE IS UTTERLY FANTASTIC!”
I could easily end this little essay here, but for the purpose of this
book I think I’d better go ahead and explain myself. The Thin Man is the
kind of movie that grabs you from the get-go and refuses to let go until all
is resolved in its final frame. The kind of movie that throws thrills and
laughs at the audience every three minutes so that by the end of the film
you’re clutching your body in agony, praying for the pain to stop.
If you were expecting to read a “professional-sounding” essay on
these next few pages, I’m sorry to have disappointed you. In most instances,
if you’re a fan The Thin Man and have chosen to spend your leisure hours
reading this book, you already know what the movie’s about, who stars in
it, and how expansive its casualty list is – there is no need for me to get into
all that here. I simply wanted to provide a tongue-in-cheek story of how I
feel about one of the greatest classic movies I’ve ever seen.
Actually, scratch that and take out the “classic movies” bit. The Thin
Man is one of the greatest films I’ve seen period, regardless of its age. If I
remember correctly – and, at my age, it’s become harder and harder to
determine whether or not I’ve got the details right – I first watched The Thin
Man when I was in high school. I have to admit that during my first viewing
of the film, along with becoming all starry-eyed and impressed by what I
was watching unfold on the screen, I had a hard time placing each new
character and keeping up with all of their zippy introductions; everything in
The Thin Man is thrown at you as quick as a one-two punch!
Want proof of that statement? Asta comes barreling into a swanky
gin joint, pulling his worn out mistress behind him at the other end of his
lead, finally succeeding in tripping her up and sending her (and her expertly
wrapped Christmas gifts) flying. This all happens in a matter of seconds.
40
SECONDS. And that, ladies and gents, is the audience’s introduction to
Asta and Nora Charles. Bless them.
Over time, the film has gone on to earn a special place in my heart:
that of “Most Likely To Turn My Frown Upside Down.” Hear me out!
Despite its tendency to bump off characters at every five minute interval,
The Thin Man is the kind of movie I put on when I’m feeling less than stellar.
Having a particularly hard day at the office? Pop The Thin Man in. Just broke
up with your boyfriend or girlfriend? The Thin Man can help with that. Wake
up in the middle of the night with a hankering for a generous slab of
chocolate cake only to make your way to the kitchen to discover that the
cupboard is bare? Watch The Thin Man instead (you’ll be laughing in a
matter of minutes and you will have saved yourself hundreds of calories!).
The antics of Nick and Nora Charles have saved my sorry ass more
times than I care to remember. I’ve seen this film so many times that it’s
gotten to the point where whenever I’m confronted with a sticky situation
or a particularly unpleasant credit card bill, I ask myself: What would Nick
and Nora do?
Seriously! It helps. Here are some likely answers I’ve come up with:









Have a drink (or two, or three).
Throw a dinner party and invite every corrupt, shady character you
know.
Take the dog for a walk.
Shoot all the baubles off your Christmas tree with an air pistol.
Buy a round of shots at the bar.
Buy your significant other a luxurious fur coat.
Throw a New Year’s Eve party and allow all your guests to make long
distance calls to their mothers on your land line (and, while you’re at it,
invite a few newspaper reporters over too).
Knock a few tunes out on your upright piano.
And, if all else fails, have another drink.
Now bearing in mind that I don’t drink, I don’t have a dog to take for
walkies, I don’t like entertaining people in my home, and it’s nowhere near
the holidays yet… I’m in a bit of a pickle, aren’t I?
A-HA! That’s where you’re wrong! Because just thinking about the
possible outcomes of actually performing these tasks gets me chuckling and
41
Nick throwing a dinner party the only way he knows how in The Thin Man.
snorting into my hot chocolate. Success! My old friend, that elusive smile,
has crept back onto my face and all is well with the world.
The Thin Man is exciting, it’s suspenseful, it’s endearing, it’s hilarious,
it’s tragic, it’s a virtual advertisement for cocktails, gin, and vodka, and most
importantly, it’s ENTERTAINING. It does its job well in that it sweeps its
audience away for a couple of carefree hours and pushes them into a world
in which crime runs rampant and everyone sleeps with everyone else
(endlessly relatable, I think). The movie’s plot culminates in a frighteningly
tense final scene in which any one of the cast could emerge as the film’s
villain and you’d be forgiven for biting your nails down to their cuticles
whilst watching it unfold onscreen.
The cast and crew of The Thin Man certainly knew what they were doing
and to prove this rather lucid point, five sequels were made to further satiate
the audience’s want of more Nick and Nora (and Asta) action. Not all of
the films in the Thin Man series are stellar offerings, don’t misunderstand
me, but they’re all rather enjoyable to watch and they offer a welcome
respite to our hectic and stressful lives. After the Thin Man (1936) and Another
Thin Man (1939) measure up quite well to their predecessor and are
definitely worth checking out if you haven’t seen them yet.
42
It’s rather dreary outside as I sit on the hardwood floor in my bedroom,
tapping these words out on my keyboard. The air is somewhat hazy and
sinister, the sky a milky shade of grey. Any minute now a hunched, cloaked
figure will march across the pavement with a mad glint in his eye, living and
breathing one minute and dead and buried in a mess of concrete in some
godforsaken factory basement the next. A charming and somewhat
drunken private detective will stumble upon the man’s remains and catch a
criminal like a fat cat chasing a canary. The villain will perish, the suspects
will be cleared of all charges, the dog will be taken for a walk and Vanessa
will sit on her sofa with a great big grin on her face, impervious to what had
her feeling down just a moment ago. All is right in the world once again.
43
Edward Ellis:
A Biography of the Thin Man
By Cliff Aliperti
Who played The Thin Man?
He usually enters conversation as the answer to that trivia question.
The answer is Edward Ellis, who remains best known for playing the title
character in the classic film.
But scratch that. It’s supposed to be a trick question, this “Who
played The Thin Man?” business. Edward Ellis is the answer you gleefully toss
in someone’s face after they incorrectly answer William Powell. Powell, of
course, plays Nick Charles, while Ellis is Clyde Wynant, father of the
Maureen O’Sullivan character. After Wynant goes missing, he is the subject
of the first case that drags newlywed Nick back into detecting.
But anyone with enough interest in classic films to have read even
just this far has seen Edward Ellis elsewhere as well.
Prior to his appearance in The Thin Man, Ellis had played Bomber
Wells, the old inmate who emerges as Paul Muni’s sidekick, in the 1932
classic I Am a Fugitive From a Chain Gang. Ellis isn’t billed very high in that
one but he gets as much camera time as just about anyone not named Muni.
Even if he doesn’t stand out for you as Muni’s guide during his initial bout
of imprisonment, he is unforgettable dying on the run as Muni makes his
final escape.
Another biggie you may have seen Edward Ellis in was Fritz Lang’s
Fury (1936), where he plays the Sheriff that questions and detains star
Spencer Tracy. While Ellis is not nearly as memorable as his deputy, played
by Walter Brennan, his Sheriff is one of the more interesting characters of
Fury as a decent enough man simply caught up in doing his job. Ellis puts
Tracy’s Joe Wilson behind bars and keeps him there, but he’s also the man
on the top step fighting to keep the mob from overrunning Wilson’s prison
cell. Of course, that could have worked out better than it did.
44
Edward Ellis as Clyde Wynant in The Thin Man.
Edward Ellis almost had one more defining role. Frank Capra
offered him the part of the President of the Senate in Mr. Smith Goes to
Washington (1939), but Ellis turned it down. Instead it went to former silent
and Western star Harry Carey, who charmed us in giving James Stewart’s
Jefferson Smith a fair shake while boosting his own career in the process.
Ellis, who played many a crank in his time, really could have benefited with
such a sympathetic role and would certainly be a much better remembered
name today had he had this credit to pair with his part from The Thin Man.
But while turning down one of the most memorable parts in one
of the most popular movies of all time makes Edward Ellis the answer to
yet another trivia question, the fact that he turned down this meaty but
small role is much less of a surprise if you look at where his career was in
1939. The actor who wound up with the part, Harry Carey, hadn’t appeared
in anything important in years. He had been playing sheriffs and detectives
as a “B” lead and been working in support in bigger though still mostly
unremembered films.
But Edward Ellis, then age 69, was in the midst of his greatest run
of movie stardom by 1939.
45
Edward Mayne Ellis was born in Coldwater, Michigan, November
12, 1870, the middle child of Edward C. Ellis, an actor born in Ireland, and
Michigan’s own Ruth Augusta Ellis.
The elder Ellis had served the entirety of the Civil War, finding
time to marry Ruth in 1864, and would be described in his 1914 obituary
by The New York Dramatic Mirror as a “well-known actor, producer,
playwright … for many years associated with the foremost managements
of the Middle West and South.” He eventually left the theatrical world to
work in the advertising department of the Hamlin Wizard Oil Company.
Ruth passed before him in 1905.
“My father was an actor, and it is related that at two years of age I
escaped from his dressing room, my face gummed up with striped candy
and made an entrance in a scene that called for a child,” Ellis told Della
MacLeod in a 1914 interview for the New York Press.
But the younger Ellis is typically credited as having made his stage
debut at age 7, when at Hooley’s Theater in Chicago he played in Olivia
starring Fanny Davenport. Following that he played with the juvenile
H.M.S. Pinafore company before taking on child roles with Mr. and Mrs.
McKee Rankin’s touring company. Ellis went to school when he was about
sixteen—he reports having completed the 7th Grade on a census from later
in his life.
“My schooling was rather spasmodic but I rather liked it, after the
theatre,” he told MacLeod. “Then I started out to make my living playing
baseball in Canada. I’d probably be playing yet if my arm hadn’t gone back
on me. Then I followed the line of least resistance and went back on the
stage.”
Edward Ellis was neither an only child nor the only member of the
Ellis youth to enter the acting profession. His older sister, Edith M. Ellis,
had her given profession listed as actress as early as the 1880 census, when
she was just 16. Younger sister Bessie Esmond Ellis, born 1877, was also
on the stage until she married and retired.
Edith Ellis enjoyed success authoring more than thirty plays with
her first hit, Mary Jane’s Pa, playing in 1908, by which time brother Edward
was already on Broadway in Genesee of the Hills. Edward did some writing
himself as author of the moderately successful Any Night, which played the
46
Princess Theatre in 1913, and later The Great Bradley Mystery (1917) for the
screen, which he also starred in.
Despite some acclaim in this field, Edward Ellis downplayed his
writing skills, thinking of the area as his sister’s domain: “Maybe I might
take myself seriously as a playwright if my sister, Edith Ellis, didn’t write
plays. Somehow when there is one member of a family doing a thing it
rather seems an encroachment to get on that one’s staked territory.”
Ellis had become known on the stage for playing crooks and
villains, but as with most typecast actors longed for meatier roles: “I haven’t
the feeling that I was divinely appointed to interpret such roles. My work is
character work and I long to get back to a part with whiskers.”
He played Blackie Daw in 1910’s Get-Rich-Quick Wallingford; was
Spider Hart in 1914’s The Dummy and Rupe Gurney in Crane Wilbur’s 1920
play The Ouija Board. Ellis also racked up his first several screen credits on
the East Coast as so many Broadway actors did during the decade. He
starred in Apollo Pictures productions for Art Drama, the company that
produced his script, The Great Bradley Mystery.
It was also during this period that Ellis married the screen actress
Josephine Stevens, whose film credits were few but included appearances
in three Roscoe Arbuckle shorts also featuring Buster Keaton. Upon
announcing their April 5, 1917 marriage The Moving Picture World referred to
Josephine as, “a film actress of note.”
This would be Edward Ellis’ only marriage and the two were
divorced by the time of the 1930 census, which found Josephine remarried
to John Baird and already with a 2-year-old daughter by him. Also in the
house was 12-year-old Bobbie Ellis, Josephine’s son by Edward.
Edward Ellis only appeared in that early handful of silent films but
remained active on Broadway throughout most of the 1910s and 20s. “As
a matter of fact,” columnist Wood Soanes wrote in 1939, “Ellis was
constantly busy until he accepted a nod from Hollywood in 1932. Since
then he has had only small character roles, none of which gave him the
opportunities presented by A Man to Remember.”
It was RKO’s A Man to Remember (1938) which would briefly
elevate 68-year-old Edward Ellis to movie stardom in the tradition of other
elderly stars of the decade, from Marie Dressler and May Robson to even
47
Lionel Barrymore. It was Barrymore, in fact, who had played the lead in
RKO’s earlier version of A Man to Remember, titled One Man’s Journey, in
1933.
Ellis played Dr. John Abbott in A Man to Remember, and remember
him we must because Dr. Abbott is already dead when the film begins. A
trio of Westport’s most respected citizens sit in an attorney’s office as a
strongbox overstuffed with the late Doctor’s bills and receipts is sifted
through and his life is played back in flashback.
The life and career we reflect upon is that of an old time country
physician. Doc Abbott arrives in Westport and selflessly serves the
population from his youth into old age. The contents of the strongbox
replay the Doc’s many good deeds, while also showing the more selfish side
of some of the citizens he served. The climax comes when Abbott
overcomes adversity in correctly diagnosing the breakout of a polio
epidemic in Westport.
Adapted by Dalton Trumbo from Katharine Havilland-Taylor’s
story Failure, and also the first film to be directed by Garson Kanin, A Man
to Remember was a huge popular and critical success. Frank M. Nugent of
the New York Times wrote that it “is a distinguished and unusual film, for
the qualities which distinguish it are merely such elements as simplicity,
honesty, dignity and human warmth.” Nugent added that “Mr. Ellis’s
portrayal is splendid.”
At the tail end of his career RKO elevated Ellis to stardom off the
success of A Man to Remember, but bad luck would prevent Dr. Abbott from
becoming Edward Ellis’ legacy. The film was lost until a Dutch copy was
found and restored by the
Netherlands Filmmuseum in
2000. It played on Turner
Classic Movies in 2007, the first
time it had been seen in nearly
seventy years.
The shadow of Ells-- the thin man.
48
Ellis scored again as
Andrew Jackson in support of
Richard Dix’s Sam Houston in
Republic’s Man of Conquest
(1939), and he reunited with
Anne Shirley of A Man to
Remember in RKO’s Career (1939), which saw him as a hardware store owner
pitted opposite Shirley’s screen father, Samuel S. Hinds.
Lightning didn’t strike twice when Ellis was cast in another Lionel
Barrymore remake, 1939’s Three Sons, which had been more successful with
Barrymore in 1933 as Sweepings. Ellis had one more shot at a leading role in
Main Street Lawyer for Republic, but by this time not only was the-69 yearold actor’s brief flush of stardom waning, his career was winding down due
to ill health.
Ellis was reportedly planning to retire to his desert ranch near Palm
Springs after completing Warner Brothers’ Dangerously They Live, but he
didn’t appear in that film at all. Ellis had been ill during this period and
wound up wrapping up his film career for MGM in a supporting role in
1942’s The Omaha Trail.
Edward Ellis died July 26, 1952, age 81.
His portrayal of the title character in The Thin Man remains his
legacy. The answer to Who played The Thin Man? Is Edward Ellis, of course,
not William Powell. Despite only ever appearing in the beginning portion
of the first movie, Ellis’s legacy looms over the entire Thin Man series by
virtue of title alone.
“I went through every hardship and privation possible to
imagine. I know what it is to sleep in town halls and in no halls at
all—to go hungry until one forgets what food tastes like.”
–
Edward Ellis, already looking back in 1914
49
50
After the Thin Man (1936)
From the story by Dashiell Hammett.
Written by Albert Hackett and Frances Goodrich.
Directed by W.S. Van Dyke.
Produced by Hunt Stromberg.
Starring William Powell, Myrna Loy, James Stewart, Elissa Landi, Joseph Calleia, Jessie
Ralph, Alan Marshal, Teddy Hart, Sam Levene, Penny Singleton, William Law, George
Zucco, Paul Fix, Asta, and Mrs. Asta.
Picking up immediately after the first film, Nick and Nora are
arriving in San Francisco after a rousing train ride.
Nora: “How they can expect a woman to have any mystery
left for a man after living in a place like this for three days,
I don’t know.”
Nick: “You don’t need mystery, you’ve got something
much better, something more alluring.”
Nora: “What?”
Nick: “Me.”
But after a quick embrace, they realize they’re running out of time
to finish getting ready to depart the train.
Nora: “Are you packing, dear?”
Nick: “Yes, darling, I’m just putting away this liquor.”
The two are met by a gaggle of enthusiastic reporters who ask Nick
about any more murder cases, who Nick assures that he’s out of business.
They also run into an old acquaintance of Nick’s, Fingers (Harry Tyler).
Nora notices her purse missing, which Fingers sneaks back into Nick’s
pocket while they both laugh about it.
Nora: “Dear, you do know the nicest people.”
51
Driving through the streets of San Francisco, they run into some
other friends, including an alcohol deliveryman, a gaggle of newspaper
boys, and a boxer named The Kid (Murray Alper). They also drive by a few
of Nora’s acquaintances as well, but when Nick asks who they are, she
demurs that he wouldn’t know them—they’re respectable.
Back at their mansion, Asta runs to the back of the compound to
find Mrs Asta and a fresh litter of pups. However, one coal black pup looks
nothing like him. A Scottish terrier pops out from under the fence and Asta
chases him off.
Just as Nick and Nora are celebrating their ability to get a good
night’s sleep, they walk into their house to find the place hopping. There’s
a surprise party on for Nick and Nora, only no one seems to recognize
them. Worse, they seem to be a few drinks ahead.
Only the house staff seems to recognize the two, and they also
enthusiastically greet Nick and Nora.
Maid: “What do you think of the party they’re giving you?”
Nora: “It looks like we’re giving it!”
The phone rings. It’s Nora’s cousin Selma Landis (Elissa Landi),
who begs Nora to come to her mother’s for dinner. Her mother, Katherine
(Jessie Ralph), bursts in and gets on the phone to demand the duo come to
dinner at their place. Nora acquiesces, and the two share a very heavy drink.
At Katherine’s, we see her pushing around Selma and terrifying her
waxwork relatives. Katherine turns to the relatives and drops a bombshell:
she’s invited Nick to the evening’s dinner. They’re aghast, but she insists
that she has a reason to do so. The door rings.
Nora: “Why are you muttering to yourself?”
Nick: “I’m trying to get all of the bad words out of my
system.”
Henry the butler (Tom Ricketts) greets them at the door, and takes
them to the sitting room. After Aunt Katherine welcomes him with a taut
‘Nicholas’, she reminds him that he should know everyone there.
52
Nick: “Oh yes, I seem to remember the old faces… uh…”
After dinner, the men and women split up. Aunt Katherine
demands Selma to play the piano for the group. Nora tries to find out why
Selma is so upset, but she can’t control herself. Nora fetches Nick from a
room full of snoring bachelors and brings him to Aunt Katherine. She
wants him to solve a mystery for her. Selma’s husband, Robert, has
disappeared. But it’s clear that Selma resents him since he’s an admitted
gold digger and just married her for her money. Not wanting to call the
police, Katherine asks him to find Robert despite Selma’s stated wish to kill
him.
Nick: “I’m confused. Do you want him back or don’t you?”
Selma’s friend David (James Stewart) arrives and greets everyone.
Nick and Nora decide to depart while Selma and David decide to share a
bottle of champagne. It’s obvious that David has a huge crush on Selma,
but the feelings aren’t reciprocated.
Selma sends David off, who then runs into the departing Charles’.
He tells Nick that Robert had called him a few days earlier offering to leave
Selma for $25,000. After he leaves, Nora laments that Selma picked Robert
over David.
Nick: “We can’t all be as lucky as you are, darling.”
Knowing that the last Selma heard of Robert was at a Chinese
nightclub, Nora orders them to go to the Lichee.
Polly (Penny Singleton) is the lead attraction at the Lichee. She’s in
a relationship with Robert (Alan Marshal), who wants to shake down David.
However, Polly and her boss, Dancer (Joseph Calleia), are planning on
taking Robert’s money and running. Then there’s also the matter of Phil
(Paul Fix), Polly’s jealous brother.
Nick and Nora arrive and soon find Robert, who obviously isn’t
thrilled to see them.
Robert: “Sorry I can’t ask you to sit down.”
Nick: “It’s okay, I can ask. Nora?”
53
Robert soon drives them off by insisting he’s having a good time
and that they can tell Selma where he is. Dancer takes them to their own
table.
Dancer: “Is he a friend of yours?”
Nick: “On the contrary. A relation.”
Afraid that Nick and Nora could upset their scheme, Dancer insists
that Polly force Robert to get the money tonight. Robert calls up David,
demanding the money. Nick and Nora notice things happening, though
Nick is getting too drunk to notice. When Nora hears that Polly is taking
Robert home, she’s doubtful.
Nora: “Do you think she’ll really take him home?”
Nick: “She’ll take him somewhere, I’m sure of that.”
Nora: “What do you mean?”
Nick: “I mean, did I ever tell you that you’re the most
fascinating woman this side of the Rockies?”
Nora: “Wait till you see me on the other side.”
But Polly does get Robert back to Selma’s house, with all the
members of the deal concerned now that Nick appears to be on the case.
Polly wants to ditch him there and take the money, but Selma wakes up at
the sound of him entering. They fight, and Robert leaves. Selma throws on
a coat and grabs her gun.
At the stroke of midnight, Robert is fatally shot. David arrives to
find a distraught Selma holding her gun. He insists that she goes home and
he will take the blame.
Back at the club, the streamers are coming down as part of the
New Year’s celebration. But when Nick looks at the woman he’s been
kissing, she is most definitely not Nora. He manages to find his wife and
gives her the big kiss she deserves.
54
They retreat to Dancer’s office to see if Robert had indeed returned
to Selma. Nick picks up the phone when Dancer enters.
Dancer: “Once a gumheel, always a gumheel, huh? Well,
I don’t like gumheels, but I thought you’d quit it when
you married a pot of money.”
Nora: “Did he call me a pot?”
Nick is disturbed when he hears over the phone that Robert’s been
killed. Lum Kee (William Law), Dancer’s partner, also reenters the room
and Nick hears Polly singing in the club. Clearly they’ve all run an errand,
but are back. And, somehow, Dancer already knew that Robert was shot.
At Aunt Katherine’s, Lt. Abrams (Sam Leven) from the SFPD is
grilling everyone. Katherine refuses to let Abrams see Selma, though, as
she’s currently being taken care of by her psychologist, Dr. Kammer
(George Zucco). Krammer arrives downstairs and says that he gave Selma
a sleeping drug. However, Selma is upstairs eavesdropping.
Nora arrives and sends Abrams to meet with Nick at the Lichee.
She then talks to Selma, who insists upon her innocence. Nora heads to see
David to explain what’s going on to him, but the two are being watched by
Phil. Phil darts, but before they can confront him, Nora and David are
herded to the police station.
Back at the Lichee, Abrams grills the assembled suspects. The light
goes off, as well as a few gunshots are fired. Nick slinks under the desk
during the ensuing fight and answers a phone call from headquarters.
Dancer escapes, so Abrams rounds everyone down to police headquarters.
Nick gets another call from the police, this time about Nora. He tells the
chief to put her in the fishtank until he arrives. Once there, the matron asks
who he’s looking for:
Matron: “Oh, yes. Is this the one that was doing the fan
dance?”
Nick: “Fan dance?”
Matron: “Yes.”
55
Nick: “Well, if it is, she’s been holding out on me.”
Nora is brought into a room where David is being interrogated,
but Selma soon arrives and claims innocence in the shooting. David is
upset, though—because he threw the gun she’d been carrying into the bay.
Abrams arrests Selma.
That night, Nick and Nora try and sleep.
Nora: “Nickie, have you any pictures of yourself taken as
a baby?”
Nick: [Trying to sleep] “No.”
Nora: “Aww, that’s a shame. I want to see what you
looked like.”
Nick: “I’ll have some taken in the morning.”
Nora insists Nick make her some scrambled eggs, so they head
downstairs, giving Asta a hardboiled egg to play with. Nora gets reflective
on Selma’s fate:
Nora [handling a long bread knife]: “I don’t think I’d kill
you if you ran off with another woman.”
Nick: “Well, that’s something to look forward to.”
Nora: “I might, though…”
Nick [politely taking the knife away] “Uh, do you mind?”
They’re interrupted when someone throws a rock tied to a note
through the window. Asta runs off with it. After finally tricking the dog into
giving it up, they find that the note says that Phil is actually Polly’s husband,
not her brother—but the address has been chewed off.
Asta is kicked outside for his mischief, where he finds the Scottie
again visiting Mrs. Asta and must chase her off.
56
The next evening, the Charles finally wake up and are met by
Abrams who confesses his confusion. Abrams notes that Polly has been
forging checks. Nick agrees to go with Abrams to a hotel to see if they can
track down Phil and then locks Nora in the closet so that she can’t tag
along.
They enter the room to find Phil’s dead body. In his fist is a tuft of
hair and a gun and a broken pair of glasses on the ground.
We see both Nick and Dancer head to Polly’s place. Nick gets there
first and finds it empty. Besides picking up a trinket, he notices a hole in
Polly’s ceiling. In the empty apartment above is a pair of headphones that
someone has been using to eavesdrop on Polly. Dancer notices him and
tricks him to following him to the basement. There Nick finds the body of
the building’s janitor in a trunk.
It turns out the janitor used to be one of Nora’s father’s gardeners,
Pedro Dominguez. He’d tried to contact the Charles a few days earlier, too.
Meanwhile, in the empty apartment, there’s no record of who rented it, but
there is an odd, makeshift ladder that could be used to lower oneself into
Polly’s apartment.
Baffled, Nick turns to Abrams.
Nick: “Bring ‘em all up here, everybody that’s mixed up
in the case. Let’s shake them all up and see what we get.”
Abrams: “Say, you’re on!”
Nora: “Going to take ‘em tonight?”
Nick: “Gonna try. Come on, let’s get something to eat.
I’m thirsty.”
Nora: “But how are you going to do it?”
Nick: “I haven’t the faintest idea. But I’m just going to
look and listen and pray that somebody makes a slip. Just
one slip.”
57
After the Thin Man is a pleasant follow-up that most film fans rank
on equal footing with the original. The eventual solution involves a lot of
silly dialogue and, of course, heavy drinking.
There was a good deal of location shooting done for the sequel in
San Francisco. The movie offers the only glimpse of the Charles’ mansion
in the series, with the exterior shots used to indicate the location taken from
the city’s landmark Coit Tower. There was also a bit of behind-the-scenes
wrangling as Loy demanded to be paid equally as Powell since they were a
partnership—and MGM eventually capitulated.
The film’s supporting cast included a very young Jimmy Stewart,
chewing the scenery as best he could. Dorothy McNulty, who played Polly,
would go on to star in the Blondie series of films throughout the 1940s. Then
there’s also Mrs. Asta in her first and only appearance in the series—but
more on that in a bit.
The last second reveal that Nora is pregnant (notably right after
she downed a martini) is cute, but marks the point where many people opt
to split ways with the franchise. While Nick Jr. would never be the center
of attention, his existence would point towards new avenues (and a
depressing amount of sobriety).
58
Mrs. Asta, How Could You?
A Look at the Thin Man’s
Most Mysterious Canine
Character
By E.A. Botta
MGM’s The Thin Man film series indulged in a number of mysteries
over its six-film course, but its biggest mystery may be one that slips by so
quickly, we don’t notice it: who is Mrs. Asta, and why is she there? After
appearing in only one film of the series, After the Thin Man, Madame Asta
Charles then vanishes into the celluloid mists, never to be heard of—nor
even spoken of—again.
A sad, even ignoble fate for the consort of Mr. and Mrs. Charles’
faithful canine companion, Asta, who’s as much a part of Thin Man filmic
lore as are Nora’s detecting efforts or Nick’s martinis. Yet Mrs. Asta does
have an impact on the series’ subsequent sequels. She leaves detectable paw
prints that affect the films’ trajectory in a filmmaking environment that had
changed with the onset of the Production Code and its strictures on
depicting cinematic marriage—a subject central to the Nick and Nora
mystique.
As to why Mrs. Asta herself is important: well, of course she is.
She’s important because Asta is important. We should not think of the
movies’ Nick and Nora as merely a couple. They are a trio. Even the films
quietly acknowledge this fact. In nearly every credit sequence in the series—
actually beginning with After the Thin Man—Nick and Nora (William Powell
and Myrna Loy) appear as an elongated Art Deco-style drawing, and are
accompanied by Asta (equally elongated and Art Deco-styled) on a leash.
Asta even receives his own separate credit (admit it: how many of us wait
to see “and Asta” at the start of each film?). Wherever Nick and Nora are,
there is Asta. As does the Little Lamb follow Mary, so does Asta attend the
Charleses. He joins Nick on sleuthing expeditions; he sticks close to Nora
during household crises (such as hunting for Nick in every bar on the
block). He’s even used as a plot device to delay solving mysteries (as when
he eats important clues), to heighten audience tension.
59
The mysterious Mrs. Asta as seen in After the Thin Man.
Moreover, Asta was used extra-diegetically by MGM; he was
always featured in studio publicity (trailers, photographs, posters)
advertising the films. Asta is thus an integral, essential member of the
Charles clan and should be thought of as such. Put it this way: would any
of us ever refer to The Two Stooges? Or conceive of the Ritz Brothers as
a duo? No, we would not; that would be a solecism no self-respecting
classic-film fan would ever commit. Therefore, it should be Nick and Nora
and Asta. It’s only the little fellow’s proper due.
Whatever concerns Asta, therefore, should also concern us. Which
is why we should be curious about Mrs. Asta. But After the Thin Man offers
only the skimpiest information on this mystery lady. We’re first notified of
her existence during this film’s credit sequence, when, for the only time,
Asta shares his credit with another. He’s pictured in silhouette with the
silhouette of another dog—to be exact, the silhouette of another wirehaired fox terrier like himself. Below these paired silhouettes is the
introductory line: “Asta with Mrs. Asta.” Thus we discover, in eye-catching
fashion, that Asta has a wife, and that we should sit up and take notice. But
it’s not until Nick and Nora reach their San Francisco estate (toward which
they had been traveling at the end of the first film), that we meet Mrs. Asta
in the flesh.
60
We then learn a more startling piece of information: offspring have
been produced from this union. As the camera introduces Mrs. Asta in her
canine domicile (“Mrs. Asta” prominently displayed over the doorframe, so
there’s no mistake about it), the lady enters, accompanied by several
puppies. Mrs. Asta thus gives us an enlarged perspective on our furry pal.
He’s more than the Charleses’ loyal friend and source of support. He has a
separate life, with a home, spouse, and children, he has responsibilities—
similar to what so many of us humans watching in the audience also have.
Mrs. Asta makes us see Asta in terms of the Charleses’, or even our own,
experiences. He is, in short, is one of Us.
We also learn something even more surprising about Asta. And
that is, alas!, that he is a cuckold. While Nick, Nora, and Asta were busily
investigating crime and skullduggery elsewhere, Mrs. Asta seems to have
been duggering some skulls of her own. Frolicking amidst the wire-haired
terrier puppies is a little Scottie—clearly not the product of Asta’s own loins
(Asta’s ears shoot up on glimpsing the interloper). Confronted with this
infidelitous evidence, Mrs. Asta heads for the (literal) doghouse, while her
canine Casanova, a fine specimen of Aberdeen terrier (thus establishing
paternity), pops up through a loose fence. Although Asta chases his
romantic rival off the premises, this bow-wowing beau doesn’t discourage
too easily. On visiting the missus in a later scene, Asta once more discovers
her canoodling with her poochy paramour, whom he again pursues. And
that second short scene is the last of Mrs. Asta. Aside from one line
addressed by Nick to his four-legged friend—“You got family troubles,
too?”—which indirectly acknowledges her presence (Asta understandably
howls in response), Mrs. Asta is never heard from or seen again. One line,
a credit, and two scenes are the sum total of her existence.
So why would the filmmakers introduce such a potentially
important character, only to have her disappear after such a brief time
onscreen (as brief, to paraphrase the Bard, as, apparently, Mrs. Asta’s love)?
Indeed, why even introduce her at all if she’s to be dispensed with so
quickly? And, most oddly, why, in creating this personage, make her into a
doggy Delilah, shown to be cheating on one of the series’ most beloved
characters?
While Mrs. Asta may have been added to the Charles ménage as a
waggish (no pun intended) reflection on Nick and Nora’s own relationship,
she was not the first female dog in the Thin Man saga. In Dashiell
Hammett’s best-selling 1933 novel The Thin Man, the Asta character is
female (she’s also a Schnauzer, so Asta changed not only sex but breed in
61
moving from literature to film). As Hammett portrays her, the prose Asta
has a propensity for mischief that the cinematic Mrs. A. may have inherited.
Per the novel’s Nora, after accompanying Asta on a shopping trip: “‘She’s
had a swell afternoon—knocked over a table of toys at Lord & Taylor’s
[and] scared a fat woman silly by licking her leg in Sak’s[.]’” This high-endshopping Asta, however, is not in the 1934 film. Perhaps a scenario can be
imagined, after the premiere of the novel’s adaptation, of MGM being
besieged by Hammett fans as to why Asta underwent a sex change. That’s
pure speculation, but one might wonder if MGM, in preparing the sequel,
decided to make up for this loss by giving the film’s male Asta a female
companion in the follow-up.
A case of further speculation is why, in adapting the novel, Asta’s
sex was changed to begin with. The original film Asta was portrayed by the
canine actor Skippy, who appears in the first four Thin Man films, and was
considered one of the smartest and most talented animal actors in
Hollywood (his success in the series inspired a nationwide craze for wirehaired terriers). Was it that there were no female canine actors in
Hollywood able to meet the role’s demands, so the filmmakers had to
An unknown actor, Powell and Loy banter in a promotional still for The Thin Man.
62
accommodate the talent at hand? Or was it that, in expanding Asta’s role
from novel to film, especially its comic aspects (film fans not familiar with
the novel might be surprised how small Asta’s part is in the book), the
producers thought this comedy, frequently involving loss of dignity (such
as Asta scuttling for hiding places whenever danger threatens), better
befitted a male than a female? Whatever the reason, no one’s
complaining—Skippy’s marvelous incarnation as the Charleses’ pet is
largely why Asta is so loved today.
But there’s still one another big question, and that is—why, when
Mrs. Asta is brought on, is she depicted, to put it bluntly, as a furry femme
fatale? There’s something more than a little strange in using dogs for what,
in essence, is a humorous take on adultery, but why include that in the first
place?
As mentioned earlier, After the Thin Man was made in a different
film environment from the original The Thin Man film. The first movie was
released in May 1934, sneaking in just before the July 1934 Production Code
crackdown; its lighthearted look at crime, drinking, intoxication, and sexual
shenanigans (the title character is not only divorced but keeps a mistress,
for starters) was part of its success. Central to the film’s delightfully
dissolute aura is Nick and Nora’s relationship: relaxed, insouciant, teasing,
and with more than a hint of the roving eye. Nick’s first film appearance
defines his character’s essence—he’s demonstrating the finer points of
martini-shaking when he’s approached by an attractive woman (Maureen
O’Sullivan). The gleam in Powell’s eye indicates Nick’s interest has been
emphatically stirred. Questioned by Nora as to the young lady’s identity,
Nick jokingly replies that she’s his illegitimate daughter. Nora’s own
response is to match Nick martini for martini; she’s not offended but
amused by her husband’s roguish insinuation.
This blithe suggestion of Nick’s womanizing continued
throughout the series. In just about every film is a scene of Nick running
into one of his old criminal pals, who reacts to Nora as if she’s another of
Nick’s sweeties and not his wedded spouse (much winking and nodding
goes on here). Nick’s own freewheeling behavior also contributes to such
an impression. In After the Thin Man, an obviously tipsy Nick finds himself
passionately kissing a drunken blonde at a New Year’s Eve celebration, and
seems charmed to have done so. (Nora herself is not immune from marital
speculation; much is made of her being discovered at one point in another
man’s apartment.) Still, in spite of the joking, it’s clear that Nick and Nora
are in a committed, loving, and monogamous relationship—although Nora,
63
in After the Thin Man, does contemplate in one scene what she would do if
she ever did catch Nick wandering. That she’s holding a knife as she speaks
implies she would not be entirely amused.
What would have complicated all this connubial repartee post1934 would have been the Production Code. When it came as to how
marriage and adultery were to be portrayed in movies, the Code was pretty
clear. It soberly notes that “[t]he sanctity of the institution of marriage and
the home shall be upheld,” and that “[ad]ultery, sometimes necessary plot
material, must not be explicitly treated, or justified, or presented
attractively.” Any film incorporating wedded infidelity would now be
scrutinized to make sure that Marriage with a capital ‘M’ was not being
Mocked. Yet the Astas’ conjugal discord is depicted as a comic vignette
(their accompanying soundtrack music, a Scottish highland-fling tune,
emphasizes this). The humor arises out of the dogs’ anthropomorphizing,
their reacting to their situation as if they possessed human feelings—and,
more curiously, a human sense of morality (poor Asta bows his head in
dismay at witnessing his home’s break-up). It’s almost as if the writers and
director (Frances Goodrich, Albert Hackett, and W.S. Van Dyke II) were
cocking a snoot at Production Code constraints by cheekily casting dogs in
their little matrimonial-betrayal sketch. As long as the couple is composed
of quadrupeds, they could argue, nothing serious is going on and no one is
breaking any rules.
But there also is serious marital treachery going on in After the Thin
Man. While The Thin Man’s story flippantly included sexual misbehavior—
such as the Jorgensens’ bigamous marriage, Dorothy Wynant’s attempt to
run off with a pub pick-up, and several instances of shacking up without
benefit of clergy (both Clyde Wynant and Arthur Nunheim live with
women they’re not married to)—After the Thin Man’s narrative focuses on
the suspects in the murder of Robert Landis (Alan Marshall), a cad who’s
been serially cheating on his wife, Nora’s cousin Selma (Elissa Landi).
Further, Selma’s anguish over her husband’s infidelity figures largely in the
plot (many scenes display Landi in hysterics over each new spousal
indiscretion). The film’s editing even links Asta’s domestic strife to that of
Selma’s: after Asta howls in response to Nick’s query on household troubles
the scene dissolves to one of Selma weeping because her husband hasn’t
shown up for a family New Year’s Eve party (he’s partying elsewhere with
a girlfriend). Although the film may not intentionally be equating a dog’s
life with that of a human’s, it does mean to show that infidelity causes
unhappiness, no matter where one ranks in the animal kingdom.
64
Asta covers his delicate eyes in the final moments of The Thin Man.
The purpose of a sequel like After the Thin Man, as with any sequel,
is to try to recreate the features that made the first film a hit. All the Thin
Man follow-ups are patterned on the original’s plot: Nick and Nora are
accidentally caught up in a crime investigation; bodies pile up while Nick
(and sometimes Nora) sifts clues; and all the suspects gather together at the
end for Nick to unmask the guilty party with a theatrical flourish. And the
sequels also try to preserve the humor. There are the jokes on Nick’s
drinking (“Oh, we had a lovely trip. Nick was sober in Kansas City”), on
the ex-hoods whom Nick sent to prison but who never bear a grudge, on
Nora’s attempts to horn in on detecting—and on Nick and Nora’s wildside proclivities. Early in the third series film, Another Thin Man, for
example, a slightly inebriated Nick says of a phone call, “I told her I was
bringing the wife along this time,” facetiously implying that another woman
is contacting him (“I don’t know why I always take it for granted that you’re
kidding,” says Nora tartly.) Later Nick spots Nora in a nightclub
surrounded by tuxedoed men. “Madam, how long have you been leading
this double life?”, he solemnly asks. “Just since we’ve been married,” is her
demure reply.
But the trick for these sequels would have been to maintain the
first film’s pre-Code elements in a post-Code environment, balancing
routine murder mystery plots with what made The Thin Man unique and
appealing to audiences: its sophisticated banter on love and marriage and
its distinctly tongue-in-cheek tone that neither should be taken too
seriously. Other miscreants in the films are punished, per Code
commandments, for their misdeeds, sexual as well as otherwise; but Nick
and Nora are allowed to josh and clown about their marriage à la mode in
65
each film. There’s never a question about the jokes being true, of course
(but, as Nora says, you might be excused for wondering if that should
always be taken for granted).
One way for MGM to adhere to Code boundaries in the Thin Man
sequels while preserving the Charleses’ not-quite-respectable jesting was to
domesticate them. After the Thin Man ends with Nick’s belated discovery
that he’s to become a father (“and you call yourself a detective,” Nora
chides). Having a youngster to look after would not only bind the Charleses
more tightly on the home front, but ensure sequential subject matter.
Growing up in the later films, Nick, Jr. becomes part of the plot
mechanisms: he’s a potential kidnappee in both Another Thin Man and Song
of The Thin Man, and, more pointedly, urges his father to drink a glass of
milk in the fourth film, Shadow of The Thin Man—a not-so-sly dig at Nick’s
conspicuous drinking (which is significantly lessened in the last two films;
Nick even takes to drinking cider in The Thin Man Goes Home). By its very
presence, a child induces greater sobriety. Parenthood means responsibility,
and that means less joking around. The series’ final film, Song of The Thin
Man, even has a dramatic sequence in which a madman threatens to shoot
Nora. The scene is played not for laughs; and its finish has Nora phoning
home to speak to little Nicky. “I just want to hear my son’s voice,” she
pensively notes. “For a moment there, I didn’t think I’d ever hear it again.”
But what has all this to do with Mrs. Asta and her puppy love? It’s
that, in spite of being used as a nudge-nudge joke, Mrs. Asta may have a
serious purpose. One way to read her, as noted above, is as a droll reflection
on the Charleses. Nick and Nora are married with a home, and so, too, are
Asta and his little woman. (As bizarre as it is to discuss dogs in terms of
matrimony, the film’s use of “Mrs.” With Asta’s mate does imply we are to
read their relationship in such anthropomorphized terms.) And Asta’s being
a father foreshadows Nick’s own paternity at the second film’s end. (That
Nora often likens Nick to Asta—“I was just talking to the dog,” she
explains to a caller after she hushes Nick during a phone conversation—
does, on such consideration, take on added significance.)
However, After the Thin Man seems not content in using its canine
couple to merely reflect or comment on the human domain. The script
complicates Mrs. Asta by making her unfaithful; it adds a risqué subplot,
played for laughs (admittedly, there’s probably no other way to play it). But
there just could be more than crude larks going on. The Thin Man of 1934
didn’t need to make any excuses for its racy lines and even racier
suggestiveness; its spicy innuendoes were part of the breezier, much franker
66
cinematic era it came out of. But After the Thin Man, released after the
Production Code clamp-down—after the dogs had been let out, as it
were—needed to adhere to different standards, while still fulfilling audience
expectations. No one wanted to disappoint paying customers with a Nick
and Nora straight out of Sunnybrook Farm. On the other hand, no one
wanted to be denied a Production Code seal. That could also be bad for
box office.
Maybe it’s not too much to speculate, or to suggest, that Mrs. Asta
was a way for MGM to both have its cake and eat it. Her antics can be seen
as a way to harmonize characters well known for their sexual sophistication
and dissolute wit (the Charleses are even harder drinkers and players in the
novel) with the new, more restrictive rules on portraying such characters in
film. Mrs. Asta makes adultery a gag; she takes naughty behavior and
deflects it, rendering it harmless. The sequel can still declare that adultery is
a serious business, with serious consequences; we get more than enough
assurance of that with the tiresome Selma. But Selma and her hysterics free
up Nick and Nora to behave as we want them to—with style, charm, and a
wickedly skewed attitude toward sacred cows. That the Thin Man series
managed to keep Nick and Nora, even with baby in tow, fun-loving,
worldly, and sharp through two-thirds of its run (the last two films brought
in a new producer, director, and scriptwriters, which, along with fatigue,
probably explains in large part the series’ fall-off) is what makes the Thin
Man movies so well loved. If Mrs. Asta, in her few minutes onscreen, helped
to accomplish that, then she deserves more attention, and respect, from all
us many Thin Man fans.
The only regrettable part about Mrs. Asta is that she does make it
tough on poor Asta. Perhaps that explains why he remains a bachelor for
the rest of the series. Except for a quick glance at another female wirehaired terrier in The Thin Man Goes Home (where Nick, predictably, tangles
with the latter dog’s bountifully female owner), Asta limits his emotional
involvement to Nick, Nora, and Nick, Jr. However, Asta’s fans may take
comfort in that he does get the final close-up in just about all the films (he
also gets the final word in After the Thin Man, which ends with his emitting
another howl). And he has achieved cinematic immortality. For whenever
we think of The Thin Man, we always think of it in terms of Nick and Nora—
and Asta.
67
The Lux Radio Adaptations
By Jake Woehlke
There was a time when radio wasn't just about the Top 40 songs
or the latest political news; it was, at one point in history, a place of high
adventure, romance and intrigue, drama and laughs galore. Stars were made
on radio, and stars clamored to be on radio. Celebrities of the highest
magnitude such as Cary Grant, Clark Gable, Jean Harlow, and Joan
Crawford all appeared on radio programs not just because of the pay, but
because of the chance radio gave to flex ones creative muscles.
William Powell was no exception; his distinctive voice gracing the
airwaves several times in both starring roles and guest appearances. Myrna
Loy was less active on the radio dial; her appearances mainly consisted of
supporting guest spots on wartime radio programs. However, the two did
find time to appear together in two direct adaptions of their greatest onscreen pairings: The Thin Man and After the Thin Man.
The Thin Man made its radio debut on the Lux Radio Theatre June
8th, 1936, with William Powell and Myrna Loy in the leading roles. It was
the second episode the radio series produced from its new home in
Hollywood; previous broadcasts aired from New York City and centered
on Broadway shows rather than Hollywood screen productions. It would
seem appropriate that the Thin Man broadcast would come just one week
after the show's move to Hollywood; it helped solidify the program’s new
plan to showcase blockbuster films (the first show being The Legionnaire and
The Lady, with Clark Gable and Marlene Dietrich) and begin to earn its
lasting reputation as an authority on Hollywood radio dramatics.
The show opens with director W. S. Van Dyke introducing the
production and its stars and describing the fun they had preparing the film
for a radio version. After this, the audience is whisked to a New York
nightspot and introduced to the tale of The Thin Man. Since there are several
wonderful essays and articles chronicling the storyline of The Thin Man
films, we will dispense with the synopsis and instead discuss the radio
production itself. The first interesting thing to hear on this broadcast is the
gravelly voice of director W. S. Van Dyke come on; usually the announcer
would be the recognizable Cecil B. DeMille.
68
Promotional shot from an article on movie stars appearing the radio from the January 1938 issue of
“Silver Screen” magazine.
William Powell and Myrna Loy turn in wonderful performances as
the Charles’, even considering the handicap they were dealt with by
translating their physical performances to the medium of radio. Watching
The Thin Man visually showcases the duo's chemistry; knowing looks and
small "funny business" moments enhance the bond we feel between Mr.
and Mrs. Charles. Transposing that to a radio format would prove to be
infinitely more difficult. Not completely impossible, but hard nonetheless.
Listening to this production may be hard for the die-hard film fan,
since those looks and moments are gone; the only hope to recreate the
magic would be to close ones eyes and imagine the production taking place.
It was, however, pleasant to hear two other familiar voices support Powell
and Loy in The Thin Man: Mina Gombell as the always highly-strung Mimi
and Porter Hall as Attorney MacCaulay, both reprising their film roles.
Even though it seemed at times to be a stilted production, the first Thin
Man radio production was a good one and a harbinger of things to come.
Exactly four years and nine days after the original Thin Man
broadcast, another radio production featured the team of Nick and Nora
Charles, as After the Thin Man aired on the Lux Radio Theater on June 17,
1940. Hosted by legendary director Cecil B. DeMille, the production begins
with DeMille introducing the play and its stars. He also apologized for the
fact that Myrna Loy hadn't appeared on the Lux theatre airwaves since the
original Thin Man broadcast of 1936.
69
This production is more polished; the producers by this time knew
how to create an exceptional experience by utilizing more sound effects and
extras to create an impression that you won't miss a thing by listening to
the radio production versus watching the film. This adaption holds up well
to scrutiny; the acting by the supporting players is great, even forgiving the
two main issues: Jimmy Stewart is absent from the radio play for the role
of David and there is some pretty lousy voice work from the actor
portraying Lum Kee.
Loy and Powell are still in top form, though; their witty banter and
quick quips come across in a more relaxed tone, as if they had been doing
it all their lives. The classic line where Nora states to Aunt Katherine "I'm
sorry, I was speaking to the dog" brings with it a great laugh line from the
studio audience. Despite this being only her sophomore effort, Loy knew
how to punch up her delivery for the audience perfectly.
Another great line from the production comes out of a change the
radio writers made in a pivotal scene. In the film, Nick Charles is in the
basement of the tenement house and comes across the body of Pedro
Domingas (Nora's former gardener). In the radio production he is trailed
by Nora to the tenement house, and it is she who discovers the body. As
she is in the dark, supposedly near Nick, she exclaims that he is bleeding.
"No I'm not!" Powell shouts back to Loy. Loy exclaims "Well... then...
WHO'S THIS OVER HERE??" With a squeak in her voice, the audience
loudly eats up the line. After the Thin Man is head and shoulders above its
predecessor; with a more streamlined story and better supporting acting
work to bolster its entertainment value.
Myrna Loy and William Powell appeared a total of four times
together on the Lux Radio Theatre; twice in Thin Man adaptions and twice
in other collaborations-- a September 1940 production of Manhattan
Melodrama and a 1941 version of Hired Wife. Their work stands out as
exceptional acting and a perfect pairing of two people.
But one may wonder: just how was it that Powell and Loy worked
together so well? The answer lies in W. S. Van Dyke's 1936 introduction to
the Lux Radio Theatre Thin Man broadcast: "Powell was just Powell and
Loy was just Loy." Natural chemistry has never been so masterfully
presented on celluloid or on radio as in the pairing of William Powell's
suave Nick Charles and Myrna Loy's world-wise Nora Charles, "two people
who are very much in love."
70
“One for Myself ”:
Jimmy Stewart in
After the Thin Man
By Judy Geater
[Be warned! This contains spoilers about After the Thin Man!]
When you think of the original Thin Man movie, the first image you
conjure up might be Nick and Nora sharing cocktails and one-liners or
maybe Asta in full scene-stealing mode. One thing is for certain, though.
The mystery won't be at the forefront of your mind. In that first film, the
actual detective work is fairly forgettable, thrown into the background by
the fun and glamour surrounding the central couple.
Director W.S. Van Dyke serves up the same mixture in the second
film, After the Thin Man, but there is at least one change. Although Nick and
Nora still dominate, the murder plot (again from a story by Dashiell
Hammett) makes a stronger impression – and the reason is that this time it
is a crime of passion. What's more, the killer is finally revealed in one of the
film’s most memorable moments, and it’s a thin man who might just be
even more famous than William Powell.
I have a feeling that the revelation of Jimmy Stewart's apparently
noble character as the villain is even more startling to a present-day
audience than it would have been for audiences at the time. That's because
of the way his image evolved later. Inevitably, we bring expectations from
those later roles as we watch this early one, and take it for granted that he's
on the side of the angels (or that they are on his).
However, this was an early stage in Stewart's career, and the 28year-old actor was busy taking on a variety of roles in everything from
historical dramas to musicals. He appeared in nine different films released
in 1936 alone. All this means he hadn't yet established his full screen
personality, although it was clearly building in movies like William
Wellman's Small Town Girl. In that film, while heroine Kay (Janet Gaynor)
is desperate to escape from her stifling existence in a narrow provincial
71
community, Elmer (Stewart) is the boy she leaves behind. His character
can't even begin to imagine leaving his home town.
By contrast, the role of a murderer is diametrically opposed to
Stewart's later image, yet After the Thin Man was the second time he played
one. His previous bad boy role had also been directed by Van Dyke, just
under a year earlier. In the Canadian operetta Rose-Marie, Stewart is the man
that Mountie Nelson Eddy has to get. He plays the conflicted brother of
Jeanette Macdonald, a robber who killed a police officer during an escape
from prison and is now on the run. Gary Fishgal's biography Pieces of Time
– The Life of James Stewart says that Van Dyke took a liking to Stewart while
filming his small part in Rose-Marie. So it seems likely the director bore him
in mind for when another vulnerable villain role arrived.
Although this movie is remembered as “the one where Jimmy plays
the bad guy,” for most of the running time he is just the opposite. His
character, David, is the loyal, heartbroken boyfriend who stayed in the
background while the girl he loves, Selma (Elissa Landi) married a sleazy
Mr Wrong. He is even willing to provide her with a shoulder to cry on when
her husband messes her around. All this seems right on first viewing, and
easy to accept. Think of Stewart doggedly carrying out his filibuster in Mr
Smith Goes to Washington, or spending his whole life in the wings in It's a
Wonderful Life. With roles like
those in mind, it's easy to
accept him silently watching
over his beloved. The hard
thing is to take in the later
bombshell that this is all a
pretense.
Portrait of a young Jimmy Stewart.
72
Because Stewart made
such a powerful impression on
me the first time I saw the film,
on re-watching I was surprised
to realize how little screen time
he actually has. Given how
light-hearted most of the film
is, it's probably just as well that
he doesn't get any more scenes
or he might upset the balance
with emotions that are too
strong for this urbane,
enjoyable story. His tortured relationship with Selma couldn't be much
more different from Nick and Nora's witty one-upmanship. While we're
told that they are old friends, it's hard to imagine these two couples enjoying
a night out together.
Because David has seemed so sweet and steady, it comes as a shock
when he cracks at the end and is revealed as a killer filled with vengeful
hatred for the woman who jilted him. But, after that initial impact, it feels
right, unlike some other detective stories where the most unlikely person
turns out to be the killer. That's because we have already seen the strength
of his passion for Selma, simmering just below the surface. Stewart is
excellent in this scene, screaming with rage, as he explains that he has six
bullets... “yeah, one for myself”. His romantic obsession is utterly
convincing here – a glimpse ahead to the tortured souls that he would play
much later in his career. This was only a small part for him, but Van Dyke
gave him a chance to show his versatility and give a hint of what was still
to come.
73
74
Another Thin Man (1938)
Based on a story by Dashiell Hammett.
Written by Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett with Anita Loos.
Directed by W.S. Van Dyke.
Produced by Hunt Stromberg.
Starring William Powell, Myrna Loy, Virginia Grey, Otto Kruger, C. Aubrey Smith, Ruth Hussey,
Nat Pendleton, Patric Knowles, Tom Neal, Phyllis Gordon, Sheldon Leonard, Don Costello, Harry
Bellaver, William A. Poulsen, Muriel Hutchison, Abner Biberman, Marjorie Main, and Asta.
It’s back to New York for the Charles family two years after the
events of After the Thin Man. Nick and Nora are just settling into their suite
— with a drink, naturally. Nora is busy on the phone when she sees a
message that’s been left.
Nora: “Here’s another one of those: ‘Call Long Island
Operator #15’. Don’t you think you ought to call her?
Nick: “Certainly not. She knows better than that. I told her
I was bringing the wife along this time.”
Nora: “I don’t know why I always take it for granted that
you’re kidding.”
But Nora’s friend pops back on the phone, and she gushes about
their cross country train trip.
Nora: “Nick was sober in Kansas City!”
Her call is interrupted, though, by a separate urgent call from Long
Island. It’s Colonel MacFay (C. Aubrey Smith), an old business
acquaintance of Nora’s father who manages several of his investments. He
asks, and almost practically begs, for them to visit. Nora acquiesces, much
to Nick’s consternation.
As Nora tries to wrangle the party together to get going, a shady
looking bellhop starts pawing through their belongings in the suite’s
bedroom. Nick catches him, much to the man’s surprise—and delight. The
man is Creeps (Harry Bellaver), an old crook that Nick had put away a few
years back. There are no hard feelings between the two, and Creep, meeting
75
Nicky Jr. and discovering his first birthday is on Monday, offers to throw
the child a party. And he won’t take no for an answer.
Nora [to Nick Jr.]: “Your father has such lovely friends.”
MacFay’s chauffer (Horace McMahon) arrives quickly to whisk the
family off, with Nicky Jr., Asta, and shifty eyed nursemaid Dorothy Waters
(Ruth Hussey) in tow. As they approach MacFay’s estate on Long Island,
Nick and the chauffer catch sight of a dead body in the road. But, when
Nick gets out to investigate, the chauffer sprints off and the body is gone.
Nora: “What happened to the chauffer?”
Nick: “He was scared. Now I am.”
Nora: “Scared of what? I don’t see anything.”
Nick: “There isn’t anything. That’s what I’m scared of.”
The group continues to the mansion with Nick driving, but they
find the place heavily guarded. Upon entering the house, they meet the
housekeeper, Mrs. Bellam (Phyllis Gordon), who isn’t fazed when they
mention the missing chauffer.
But that’s because he’s in the parlor describing the incident to
MacFay. MacFay, a loud, cantankerous old man, is holding court over an
assemblage of his inner circle. This includes his daughter Lois (Virginia
Grey) and business associates Freddie (Tom Neal) and Dudley (Patric
Knowles). Lois, in introducing Dudley, almost lets it slip that the two are
engaged—but a distinct glare from MacFay stops her from talking any
further.
MacFay orders everyone to the dinner table (after Nora helps Nick
break into the liquor cabinet). He then tells the story of Phil Church
(Sheldon Leonard), a former employee of his who’d spent 10 years in prison
for illegal business dealings. Church blames MacFay for his incarceration,
and promises him that he’s dreamed of MacFay’s death twice already.
MacFay: “The third time he dreams things, they come true.
Now what do you think?”
76
Nick: “Well, I wouldn’t think I’d have to hurry up my
dying on his account.”
MacFay is asking for Nick’s help to stop Vogel’s plan from
working, but dinner is interrupted by Bellam announcing that the pool is
on fire. Nick hurries out to find, in one particularly gruesome moment, that
Lois’ dog has had its throat slashed. MacFay remains adamant that he won’t
pay a nickel of the money that Church demands. During a heated argument,
Freddie lets it slip that he’s in love with Lois as well. MacFay throws a fit
and storms off.
At Nora’s suggestion, Nick takes Asta over to Church’s place down
the road. On the way there, he comes across a man crouched in the bushes,
observing Church’s house. The man flips a badge at him, and Nick dutifully
leaves, only after writing down the man’s license plate.
At Church’s house, Nick meets Church’s cronies Dum-Dum
(Abner Biberman) and Smitty (Muriel Hutchison). Church is surprised to
hear that MacFay is still alive, and tells Nick about his plans to leave for
Cuba before the end of the night. He smiles as he describes how he
imagines MacFay dying, and warns Nick that if he doesn’t play ball, Church
may start having dreams about him too.
Nick: “Why pick on me? I can introduce you to a lot of rich
people.”
But Church keeps pushing Nick, playfully hinting him that his next
set of violent dreams may involve Nora and Nick Jr. Nick responds by
punching Church in the face, and Dum-Dum throws a knife at him, barely
missing. Asta grabs the knife and returns it to Dum-Dum, eager to keep
playing.
But Church keeps his word and heads off on the 9 o’clock train to
New York. The group back at the mansion is relieved, but Nick isn’t
convinced that the trouble is over yet. Shooing everyone off, he has MacFay
tell him the truth of the matter: there were shady business dealings, but
Nora’s father wasn’t involved.
Nora: “My father was just as honest as yours!”
77
Nick: “Someday you’ll find what a hot recommendation
that is.”
Nick and Nora return to their room where Nora reveals that Nick
Jr. is sleeping in an extended drawer of the dresser. Asta, jealous, jumps into
another dresser’s drawer.
We leave the Charles’ for a few minutes and catch up with Church,
Dum-Dum, and Smitty as they enter their New York apartment. Their
gloating is interrupted by Vogel (Don Costello), a mobster who’s a friend
of Smitty’s husband. Vogel makes a couple of theats, which Smitty shrugs
off. After Vogel departs, Dum-Dum also leaves, and Smitty and Church
share a moment.
Back at the mansion, Nick Jr. can’t sleep, which means Nora can’t
sleep. She puts him on Nick’s face where he attempts to pull off his father’s
mustache and gouge his eyes which Nora encourages.
Nora: “No, it’s alright, it won’t come off. Pull it, you’ll
see…. Work hard, honey. Maybe you can get it out.”
Nick, luckily, escapes by waking up. Lois knocks at the door and
enters. They talk about the baby briefly before a gunshot rings out and the
lights blink off.
Nick rushes to the room, trailed by Freddie, Dudley, and a
nonchalant Ms. Bellam. MacFay has had his throat slit.
The police arrive swiftly, along with swaggering district attorney
Van Slack (Otto Kruger). The suspects are interrogated, though the
nursemaid, Dorothy, has disappeared.
Nora is interrogated too. She gets an earful from the police officers
about a few of Nick’s ex-lovers, including the lighthouse keeper’s daughter,
Letty Finhatten. The cops can’t get anything out of her.
Trooper: “The old lady was bats.”
Detective: “I wish my old lady was bats that way.”
78
Van Slack seems suspicious of Nick, but floats him his theory of
the murder. Despite the room being in disarray and a gun has been fired,
no one heard anything but the gunshot. The knife that committed the crime
is missing as well.
The investigation is interrupted by the discovery that Asta is
running around outside with the knife in his mouth. Nick manages to
retrieve it from the dog’s mouth but is interrupted when Lois runs up to
him, shouting. She pushes Nick out of the way just before Dudley can shoot
him. Several troopers nearby open fire and Dudley is dead.
Lois tells how Dudley had been begging her for an alibi, which she
had refused. Van Slack feels confident that the mystery is solved with
Dudley as the killer until Nick points out that Dudley trying to frame
Church for MacFay’s murder wouldn’t match up with why he’d be shooting
at Nick.
Nick: “Looks to me like you have two mysteries on your
hands instead of one. Now you know why I retired.”
The Charles’ head back to the city and take the suspects—Lois,
Freddie, and Ms. Bellam—with them. Bellam admits to Lois that she’s really
her mother, but before Lois has a chance to process it, they’re interrupted.
Nora: “I got rid of all of those reporters.”
Nick: “What did you tell them?”
Nora: “I told them we were out of scotch.”
Nick: “A gruesome thought.”
Van Slack arrives and insists that Nick join him on his
investigation. They’re interrupted by a phoned death threat from Vogel
before the two men ditch Nora and head off. The phone rings again, and
Nora listens intently.
Elsewhere in the city, Lieutenant Guild (Nat Pendleton, reprising
his role from the first film) reports seeing Smitty stay in her apartment all
night long. He becomes incensed when he realizes that Smitty was using
him as an alibi.
79
Smitty admits to it, but sticks to the story that Dum-Dum and
Church headed to Cuba. They’re interrupted, first by Vogel making vague
threats and Smitty declaring her love for Church, and then by Dum-Dum
popping in the door. Nick sees a matchbook for The West Indies Club,
steals a drink, and grabs a cab.
The maître de meets Nick at the club’s entrance.
Maître De: “You are alone?”
Nick: “The good are often alone.”
Maître De: “I will fix it so you will not be good or alone.”
Nick is joined at his table by three talkative dancers, and a stage
show commences with a pair of sultry dancers (Rene and Estelle). After
receiving a note signed by an ex-lover, Nick is pointed to a table drawing a
great deal of male attention and decides to investigate, discovering Nora at
the center of it. He wards her suitors off and tries to get to the heart of
things.
Nick: “Madam, how long have you been leading this
double life?”
Nora: “Just since we’ve been married. How did you know
I was here?”
Nick: “I saw a great group of men standing around a table.
I knew there was only one woman in the world who could
attract men like that. A woman with a lot of money.”
Nora reveals she’s at the club because an informant offered to tell
her where Dum-Dum was for $14.75. She asks Nick for the cash and places
it in a handkerchief, explaining her plan.
Nick: “But you didn’t have any money until I showed up!”
Nora: “I was doing alright. I’d have gotten it.”
80
She wanders the club looking for the informer, only to pick the
wrong man. She ends up with a lothario gigolo (Rafael Storm), stuck in
going around the dance floor with an amorous suitor.
Gigolo: “Does [your husband] ever speak to you in burning
words that make you go mad with joy and yearning?”
Nora: “Well… he’s kind of cute.”
Dum-Dum arrives at the club and denies knowing where Church
is. One chatty patron talks up Nick about a woman named Linda Mills who
was Church’s squeeze before he moved on to Smitty. Just when the patron
is about to spill the beans on where Church was the night of the murder,
Dum-Dum punches him. A brawl ensues and the lights go out, and Nick
finds a poker chip on the floor.
When lighting is restored, we see that Nicky has replaced the gigolo
dancing with Nora. The gigolo, somehow, was punched during the
blackout.
Nora: “Why Nicky. I believe you care.”
Nick, Nora and Asta head to find Linda Mills and find out how
she’s wrapped up in all of this. Nora gets indignant when Nick insists he
investigate Linda’s apartment on his own, so she tries her best to sneak in
as a prospective renter. The landlady (Marjorie Main) recognizes Nick,
though, so she lets him into her apartment. There he finds a gunpowder
mark next to her bed and a bullet hole, all identical to the way the gun went
off in MacFay’s murder.
Two thugs walk in and threaten to kill Nick before a gaggle of cops
sneak up on them, including Lieutenant Guild. When Nick declines to
return to the station with the cops because he has ‘a lady waiting’, Guild
makes things super awkward, super quickly, like when he offers to take
Nora out to a movie. The landlady also reveals that Linda hasn’t been
around for weeks. After Nick and Nora reunite, they head home to
contemplate these new facts.
The next day is Monday, and Freddie, Lois, Mrs. Bellam, and the
Charles’ are gathered around the breakfast table.
81
Nick: “Well, there’s still one or two pieces missing, but I
know this much: everything that’s happened has been part
of a plan.”
They’re interrupted by some commotion in the living room, and
they remember that it’s Creeps’ birthday party for Nicky. The room is filled
with dopey criminals and their children, including Wacky (Shemp Howard)
who apparently had to rent a kid for an hour just so that he could come.
Nora: “Let’s put them all in the pen!”
Creeps: “The pen?”
Nick: “She means the kiddie pen.”
Creeps: “… I hope that’s not a bad omen.”
While off to order some ice cream for the party, Nick manages to
entrap the snooping ex-nursemaid Dorothy in one of the rooms.
Church stalks in on Nick and Nora with his gun pointed at them.
He warns them to get out of town and leaves, with Nick refusing to pursue
since Church so obviously wants to be caught. A gunshot rings out, and
Church falls off the building’s roof to his death.
The crooks at the party panic and run off with their kids. Vogel
arrives, and down in the alley, Dum-Dum and Smitty mourn over Church’s
body before being brought upstairs by the police.
Finally having all of the suspects gathered, the group interrogation
begins. After Dum-Dum throws a punch at Vogel, all hell breaks loose.
Nora: “Nicky, Nicky, do something!”
Nick: “What? Oh, of course.” [takes a swig of his drink]
Another Thin Man is interesting for its labyrinthine mystery, offering
a more complicated (and convoluted some may say) narrative than most of
the other entries. The movie loses some momentum once it ditches the
tension of the initial mansion setting and its gruesome circumstances and
82
returns to the streets of New York, but regains it when Nick & Nora meet
up in the nightclub, one of the funniest sequences since the original film.
The one liners are still flowing fast and furiously, and the addition of Nicky
Jr is more or less an afterthought, at least until the film’s climax.
Despite the solid result, Another Thin Man (originally titled The Thin
Man Returns) was a tough production. Shooting had initially been scheduled
to begin in 1938 but had to be pushed back after William Powell was
diagnosed with colon cancer. Replacements were discussed—including
Melvyn Douglas—but Powell recovered and resumed the role. He was still
fairly weak on set, and working hours were rescheduled to accommodate
him.
Another would be the last film for the screenwriting team of Frances
Goodrich and Albert Hackett, who felt that they’d simply contributed all
they could to the series.
The movie was a box office success, with Powell’s return to the
screen after a seemingly-long absence being played up for audiences. As for
its place in history, Frank S. Nugent for the New York Times noted the
movie was, “a trifle more forced in its gayety.” He praised the film’s
comedy, but couldn’t help but warn the series’ charms were running low
and in Another he found “too many chestnuts in the dressing.” Which is not
a phrase you hear often nowadays.
Most modern critics either view this as the last ‘good’ Thin Man
entry or as merely a sign of declining quality in the series as it becomes less
about boozy quick-witted fun and more about domestic issues and Asta’s
hijinks.
83
Conventions and Comedy:
Music in the Thin Man Series
By Cameron Howard
The six Thin Man films were produced over a span of thirteen
years, with the first appearing in 1934 and the last in 1947. Although the
basic formula of the films and their charming, cocktail guzzling stars
William Powell and Myrna Loy remain consistent, the musical scores of the
six films change considerably. Hollywood’s music conventions were
shifting throughout the early 1930s and into the next decade, and these
trends can be traced through the Thin Man series.
But, despite shifting conventions and rotating composers, there are
certain elements that remain constant throughout the series. First, the
scores almost always include mickey-mousing and otherwise conspicuous
scoring to Asta, the Charles’ dog, and Nicky, their son. Second, the music
emphasizes the comedy of the films more than the mystery, a choice that
seems very fitting. After all, audiences then and now watch and love these
movies because of Powell and Loy’s chemistry, the quick, funny dialogue,
and the ubiquitous cocktails, not the convoluted murder mysteries.
Classical scoring conventions to which we are accustomed were
being developed in the late 1920s and 1930s after the conversion to sound.
Film scores from that era can seem very different because they often lack
the non-diegetic, leitmotivic, interpretive scores that would become the
norm. The term diegesis refers to the world of the film; essentially, if
something is diegetic, the characters in the film can experience it. So,
diegetic music is music that has its source in the film, such as a radio or onscreen musicians. (Diegetic music is also called source music because its
source is within the film.) Non-diegetic music cannot be accounted for in
the film-world, for example, the sound of a full orchestra surging in during
a battle sequence, or that common occurrence in musicals when a song
might start with diegetic music from an onscreen piano, but then the
performer rises and continues the performance accompanied by nondiegetic musicians. A leitmotif is a recurring musical theme or phrase that
comes to be associated with a certain character, idea, or situation. Wagner
popularized leitmotifs in his operas, and film composers borrowed the
technique.
84
The first three Thin Man films were released in the 1930s (1934,
1936, and 1939), when classical Hollywood scoring conventions were still
in development. These films feature very little music and even less nondiegetic score. This is not surprising, for although composers such as Max
Steiner and Erich Wolfgang Korngold were creating models of the classical
score in King Kong (1933) and Captain Blood (1935), respectively, such scores
were the exception rather than the rule. Steiner would refine his leitmotivic,
interpretative scores through the 1930s and 1940s, and the Romantic score
typically considered to be Korngold’s masterpiece, The Adventures of Robin
Hood, came near the end of the decade in 1938.
In her seminal 1987 work Unheard Melodies: Narrative Film Music,
Claudia Gorbman explains this era of technological and stylistic change:
In terms of film music, it was impossible to have a sustained, edited synchdialog scene with background underscoring. Not until 1930 or 1931 did
background music during a talking scene make, in Nancy Wood’s words, a
‘discreet entry’...good-quality dialogue-music mixing would not be generally
adopted until 1932, when the industry took the necessary step of recording
separate tracks for speech, music, and effects. King Kong (1933) was a
showcase for state-of-the-art sound techniques, including a lush score by Max
Steiner which brought the great special-effects ape alive.
King Kong’s glorious score was very unusual for the time; during the
early 1930s, technology and scoring conventions restricted music to the
beginning and end credits, and used diegetic, or source music, for the rest
of the film. The first three Thin Man films follow these norms.
The first Thin Man includes music during the beginning and end
credits, as per Hollywood convention. Gorbman explains, “Music normally
accompanies opening and end titles of a feature film. As background for
opening titles, it defines the genre... and it sets a general mood...”. The Thin
Man’s opening music is lively and cheerful with swooning strings; typically
composers wrote opening music “full of joy and gladness” for melodramas,
adventure films, and comedies. Although the film is a murder mystery, it
sounds more like a comedy already.
The music ends with the credit sequence fade and returns
only in ways that “justify its presence,” within the diegesis, including source
music from radios or musicians, until the end title. For example, a radio
plays a jazzy song in Julia Wolf’s apartment (signaling her sleazy character)
when Wynant accuses her of stealing the bonds. This type of diegetic
85
The first Thin Man movie only had music play during three sequences, including this title sequence.
“score” is fairly typical; Kathryn Kalinak writes in Film Music that
“Ironically, now that technology made possible economical reproduction
of first-class musical accompaniment, many films used no background
music at all or went to absurd lengths to justify its presence” in the late
1920s and early 1930s. But although the music in Wolf’s apartment is clearly
marked as issuing from the radio, it does possess an uncanny connection to
the onscreen action. The tempo slows as Wynant and Julia argue, reflecting
the more serious mood, and it rises to a crescendo as Wynant walks out the
door. So, although the film justifies the music in the interest of realism, the
song does play an active role in the action. It is certainly not a random
choice.
Besides the credit sequences, the only non-diegetically motivated
music comes during the two montage sequences in the film. Underscoring
a montage is a Hollywood convention that appeared as early as 1927
according to Bordwell, Staiger and Thompson in The Classical Hollywood
Cinema: Film Style and Mode of Production to 1960. It was when filmmakers
realized that music could help create unity even in the “discontinuity” of
montage sequences:
86
No matter how elaborate, montage introduced some discontinuity, but because
it was confined to short bursts for narrow purposes, the disjunctiveness was not
a drawback... Moreover, since any discontinuities were overridden by a unified
musical passage, the montage sequence gave the film composer a chance to write
a short but integral piece.
The two montages in The Thin Man demonstrate this utility
perfectly. As newspaper headlines flash and police comb the city,
underscoring glues the furious bursts of action and images together. The
music during the montage has a fast tempo, tremolo strings, and
arpeggiation, which express the urgency of the search. The second montage
sequence comes just ten minutes after the first, and features very similar,
but perhaps more frenzied, manhunt imagery, all accompanied by the same
music. Ringing telephones blare as images of telephone poles and wires
flash by, and police sirens are integrated into the music when police cars
appear. The music in the montage sequences is extremely attuned to the
images it scores, as the inclusion of police sirens and telephone bells
suggests.
The end credits also follow current conventions when the same
music from the opening credits surges forth on the “The End” card in a
textbook example of closing music according to Gorbman:
Ending music tends to strike up in the final scene and continues (or modulates)
behind the end credits. Musical recapitulation and closure reinforces the film’s
narrative and formal closure. Often, it consists of an orchestral swelling with
tonal resolution, sometimes involving a final statement of the score’s main
theme.
The Thin Man films were MGM’s glamorous and glossy version of
B-pictures, and in typical studio system fashion, MGM seems to have
assigned staff composers pretty much at random. Different men worked
on each one until David Snell took the helm for the last three in the series.
According to the AFI database, four composers earned credit on the first
Thin Man under the title “Orchestra:” Jack Virgil, Wayne Allen, David Snell,
and Maurice de Packh. Jack Virgil’s name appears in the credits of 17 films
from 1934-1949, under the titles “Synchronization,” “Arrangement,”
“Orchestra,” or “Music Director.” His first nine films, from 1934-1936,
were at MGM, and his final eight were at Twentieth Century-Fox, from
1946-1949. Wayne Allen worked on six films, all at MGM, for a three year
period from 1934-1937, under the consistent title “Orchestra.” Maurice de
87
Packh is credited with 94 films, among them is another Powell-Loy-Van
Dyke film, Manhattan Melodrama (1934). After working on four films at
MGM, all of which were released in 1934, de Packh moved to RKO, then
Twentieth Century Fox, Warner Bros., United States Pictures, Inc., and
smaller production companies until 1960. David Snell, who would go on
to work on four of the Thin Man films, was a career composer at MGM.
His 103 films span 1932-1948, and include several of MGM’s series,
including the Andy Hardy, Tarzan, Dr. Kildare, and Maisie films. Perhaps
his experience composing for series contributed to the continuity he brings
to the last three Thin Man films.
None of the four composers from the first film worked on its
sequel. The “Music Score” credit for After the Thin Man (1936) went to
Herbert Stothart and Edward Ward, two extremely prolific composers.
Stothart has 127 films to his name, and like Snell, all of Stothart’s work was
at MGM, from 1928 to his death in 1949. Edward Ward’s career spanned
1932-1956, but he worked for several different studios, including
Monogram, Universal, Hal Roach Studios, RKO, and Warner Bros. Ward
was at MGM from 1935-1940, which allowed him to work on the second
and third Thin Man.
Even though none of the composers from the first film worked on
the second, the movies’ music is quite similar. Just as in the first film, the
sequel includes music during the beginning and end titles, two montage
sequences, and source music. This film is different, though, in that it
contains two sequences of scoring Asta’s actions, as well as diegetic
performances.
When Nick and Nora return to their home in San Francisco, their
terrier Asta runs to the dog pen to see Mrs. Asta. Music immediately begins
to mickey-mouse, or match and imitate, his actions. A bouncy piccolo tune
with a bright, zippy melody matches Asta’s quick movements as he runs,
and the connection between the image and the music gets closer as Asta
stands outside the pen and looks at Mrs. Asta and her litter of puppies.
Violins play short, high-pitched squeaks mimicking puppy noises in a shot
of the adorable pups. Then the music becomes slower and more thoughtful,
with strings replacing the piccolo, as Asta looks at his progeny with fatherly
pride. But this sweet moment is about to get amusing with the discovery
of dog adultery. Most of the puppies look like Asta (white with spots), but
one puppy is completely black. A stinger marks the moment that Asta sees
this pup, and the music rises in pitch like a question as the camera follows
his gaze towards a black terrier on the other side of the pen. Asta gives
88
Asta in the midst of a serious discovery in After the Thin Man.
chase and the black terrier flees through a hole beneath the fence. The
music continues to coordinate with the dogs’ actions, speeding up as the
black dog escapes and Asta furiously fills in the hole as he tries to give
chase. Except for this scene, and a second Asta/black terrier chase, the film
sticks to realistically motivated music. Montage sequences are exempt from
concerns of realism, so apparently are the actions of an animal.
But the music does more than mickey-mouse; it helps to interpret
the scene. Obviously Asta cannot express his feelings through dialogue,
and his actions could be open to interpretation. But the music provides the
“correct” reading of the situation, which is one of the qualities of a
“classical” score. As Gorbman writes, a classical score “interprets the
image, pinpoints and channels the ‘correct’ meaning of the narrative events
depicted. It supplies information to complement the potentially ambiguous
diegetic images and sounds.” For example, the thoughtful, slow section as
Asta looks at the puppies implies that the puppies are Asta’s, not the
progeny of some other dog. And the stinger that marks Asta noticing the
black terrier helps to draw attention to a potentially ambiguous situation.
Asta is an extraordinary dog, but his facial expressions are limited. The
music steps in to guide the audience through the scene and the terrier love
triangle.
89
This film also includes two songs within the diegesis; “Smoke
Dreams,” music by Nacio Herb Brown and lyrics by Arthur Freed, and
“Blow That Horn,” music by Walter Donaldson and lyrics by Chet Forrest
and Bob Wright. Both songs are performed diegetically at the Lichee Club.
Their melodies are also worked into the title music, so that snatches of both
songs are heard before the narrative even begins. This isn’t so unusual;
bands and singers are always performing in films. But they are worth
examining because they follow a strategy of Hollywood song-selling that
was popular in the 1930s.
Both songs are performed at the Lichee Club, which the Charles’
visit on New Years’ Eve. The scene opens on Polly (Penny Singleton billed
as Dorothy McNulty, who would later go on to appear in the Blondie film
franchise and play the voice of Jane Jetson) performing “Blow That Horn”
to a full, raucous crowd. It introduces the character of Polly, but functions
mostly as a background number providing a strong contrast to the quiet
dullness of Aunt Katherine’s New Year’s Eve dinner party.
The second song, “Smoke Dreams,” is given more focused
attention. As Polly and Robert sit at his table making plans to run away,
the opening of “Smoke Dreams” slides in underneath their conversation.
Polly glances towards the band and says “There’s my number. I gotta go
on.” Then Phil Dancer, one of the owners of the Lichee Club, announces
from the stage “There’s time for one more song, folks, before the New
Year. Miss Polly Byrnes will sing a new number for you, ‘Smoke Dreams!’”
Thus, even before the performance, the song title has been mentioned and
identified with Polly, both in her hurried whisper to Robert about “my
number” and when Dancer mentions her name. This identification helps
the song take on a leitmotivic function for Polly in ways that the previous,
boisterous number did not.
The inclusion and narratively nonessential emphasis of “Smoke
Dreams” conforms to studios’ songwriting and publishing strategies of this
era. In Katherine Spring’s article, “Pop go the Warner Brothers., et al.:
Marketing Film Songs during the Coming of Sound,” she discusses how
studios tried to market and sell film songs in the late 1920s and early 1930s.
Several studios, MGM among them, created or designated subsidiary
companies for the purpose of publishing motion picture songs:
By owning song copyrights, the studios evaded costly soundtrack licensing fees
and profited from sales of auxiliary products, such as sheet music and
phonograph records. The studios exploited their investment by including songs
90
in an unexpected variety of nonmusical genres, including westerns, melodramas,
and comedies.
“Smoke Dreams” seems to be one example of MGM “exploiting
their investment” by slotting songs that they’d copyrighted into the
“nonmusical” After the Thin Man. The way that this musical number is
filmed and edited also reflects conventions in scoring and song-selling. The
film cuts between shots of Polly singing, shots of Nick and Nora’s table,
and shots of a telephone conversation between Robert and David. The cuts
fall in time to the rhythm of the song; for example, the camera will hold on
Polly until she completes a musical phrase, and then cut to Robert in the
brief pause before a new phrase begins. None of the shots of Polly begin
or end mid-phrase. This editing follows the rhythm of the song so that it
remains “intact” despite the shots away from Polly.
“Smoke Dreams” also follows a pattern geared towards the
marketing of a song as described by Spring. She examines Richard
Barthelmess’ performances in Weary River (1929), noting how “devices of
editing and mise en scène function to position Jerry’s performances of the
songs as discrete, self-contained moments in the diegesis.” Because his
“performances are depicted via long takes and medium close-ups they
solicit and sustain audience attention to the image of Barthelmess in
association with the song.” “Smoke Dreams” is shot very similarly and
follows Spring’s requirements for song promotion and affiliation between
the song and the performer. (Though, notably, the song is not mentioned
in reviews or advertisements for the film, and more reviews mentioned Asta
than McNulty’s performance!) When the camera is on Polly, she is shot in
fairly lengthy medium shots (from the waist up) or medium close-ups (from
the shoulders up), which last nine, sixteen, eight, and fourteen seconds.
These long takes and medium shots are very similar to what Spring says
helps sustain audience attention on Barthelmess and the song in Weary River.
“Smoke Dreams” differs a little, though; the song as a whole occurs over
one minute and fifty seconds, of which forty-eight seconds are spent on
Polly.
But unlike Spring’s example of a “discrete, self-contained”
performance, the film spends over half of the song away from Polly to
focus on Nick, Nora, Robert, and David, including the crucial phone
conversation between the two latter characters arranging the exchange of
$25,000. In Steven Cohan’s discussion of MGM musicals in Hollywood
Musicals: The Film Reader, he writes that although some numbers “serve
narrative progression... [musicals] also regularly feature star solos, specialty
91
acts, and dream ballets that can stop the story cold.” “Smoke Dreams” is
an unusual combination of both: when the song begins, it appears that
Polly’s performance will indeed “stop the story cold,” and when the camera
lingers on Polly in those long takes, the rest of the story falls away. But After
The Thin Man does not completely pause the mystery plot even for “Smoke
Dreams.” Although we do not see Polly in the moments where the plot is
being pushed forward, we hear “Smoke Dreams” in every shot except the
shots of David, who is not at the club and therefore would not be able to
hear the music. In this way, Polly’s song functions much like music during
a montage sequence by helping to unify the disparate lines of action across
cuts and spaces (Nick and Nora’s table and Robert’s conversation). After
the song ends, the audience claps wildly, as shouts of “Polly!” echo through
the club. The diegetic audience’s extremely positive reaction to “Smoke
Dreams” stands in for the film audience, who missed half of the (visual)
performance but is assured by the clapping and whistling that Polly’s
performance was indeed wonderful.
“Smoke Dreams” does not only function as a moment of
performance. It also becomes a clue within the murder mystery and a sort
Nick mucks it up with the showgirls in this lobby card for After the Thin Man.
92
of leitmotivic alibi for Polly. When Nick confronts Dancer about his and
Polly’s whereabouts during the murder, “Smoke Dreams” wafts into the
office, and Nick says, “Well, now Polly’s back.” “Smoke Dreams” is also
used during one of two montage sequences (which are very similar to those
in the first film) when a headline announces that “Detectives Question
Singer.” “Smoke Dreams” melody is woven into the tense strings and
cymbals that underscore the montage.
Except for the themes associated with Asta and Polly, After the Thin
Man follows The Thin Man in terms of score: opening and end titles, source
music, and two montage sequences, though there is no continuity in the
actual music. In this way, the movies are very typical of early to mid-1930s
scores. Scenes that in the 1940s would almost certainly include music are
left silent in the first two Thin Man movies, as when Nick goes sleuthing in
a suspect or victim’s home. For example, Nick searches Polly’s apartment
in After the Thin Man, and Dancer arrives to do some snooping of his own.
Soon the two men are playing a game of cat and mouse, which ends in a
shootout in the basement. The entire six-minute sequence is mostly silent
except for diegetic noise like keys turning in locks and gunshots. In later
films, this type of scene would almost certainly be scored to fill the silence
and heighten the suspense.
The third film, Another Thin Man (1939), is the first in the series to
be scored by only one composer. “Music Score” for the film is given to
Edward Ward, who had worked on After the Thin Man, too. The opening
music—big, brassy, and lively—is longer than in the previous films and
contains distinct themes. The brass carries the melody for most of the
opening cue, while strings slide in and out underneath the trumpets,
trombones, and horns. Bright piccolos sparkle up and down the scale and
muted trombones “wah-wah” briefly as the “And Asta” card appears
towards the end of the credits. This “Asta music” sounds very similar to
the Asta theme from the previous film.
The rest of the score follows the earlier, minimal pattern of the
first two movies. There is opening and closing music, music during two
montage sequences, mickey-mousing to Asta, and source music from radios
and onscreen musicians at nightclubs, though Another Thin Man does not
feature diegetic performances of songs.
The fourth film, Shadow of the Thin Man (1941), features Snell as the
lone “Music Director.” It was his first Thin Man since the original seven
years earlier. This film differs from the previous three in that there are no
93
montage sequences and the opening music contains more distinct themes.
The opening music begins with a grand fanfare before being overtaken by
a darker, ominous tune of held chords played by various horns, trumpets,
lower toned woodwind instruments, and deep strings. This theme, which
I will call the “mystery” theme, smoothly segues into the “comedy” theme,
a brisk, skipping song played with rapid bowing on the violins, a xylophone,
and high pitched brass. The “Nick and Nora” theme, a sweeping, rising
and falling melody that would not be out of place in a lighthearted musical
comedy surges forth before a brief, piccolo-studded tune, similar to the
music that mickey-moused Asta’s actions in the previous films,
accompanies the “And Asta” credit.
The opening music smoothly transitions into a bright, lively theme
similar to Asta’s, as Nick walks with his son and dog in a New York City.
This opening scene is the only example of non-diegetic music in the movie,
but it is extremely attuned to the onscreen action. Racing fanfare slides in
as Nick reads to his son from the racing columns, and when Nick enters
the apartment a few minutes later, jaunty plucked strings increase in tempo
and pitch as he eyes a frosty cocktail shaker. The ascending notes culminate
in a “ding!” stinger when Nick takes his first sip of the cocktail. Then the
music stops. This mix between commentary (signaling that the film is in
on the joke about the incredible volume of alcohol that Nick and Nora
consume) and mickey-mousing is the only instance in the film of such nondiegetic music.
Source music from a merry-go-round provides a burst of
(obnoxious) music during one scene, but until the closing credits, the film
has no other score.
The fifth film, The Thin Man Goes Home (1945), continues Snell’s
work, this time credited with the “Music Score.” It is in this film that the
score finally takes on more of the attributes of a classical score, with much
more music, discernible themes, and less emphasis on source music. The
opening music is nearly exactly the same as for the fourth film; it seems that
David Snell hit on a “theme song” in Shadow of the Thin Man, and he
maintains the mystery, comedy, Nick and Nora, and Asta’s themes in this
film, too. Even the order of the themes is the same in both films’ opening
credit sequences.
This film follows the Thin Man pattern. There is a very brief
montage of gossip spreading through the town, scored with rapid, high
pitched strings and brass, and Nick goes to investigate a victim/suspect’s
94
room. As mentioned in the discussion of the second film, until now these
investigation sequences have been left unscored. But this time the mystery
theme with low, growling strings and stingers whenever Nick finds a clue
accompany his search. There is even some mickey-mousing, as when Nick
pulls down a window shade and a harp scores the motion with descending,
arpeggiated notes (notes in a chord played in succession). When Crazy
Mary sneaks into the room, the music’s tempo speeds up dramatically as
she gets closer and closer to an oblivious Nick. The music helps to ratchet
up suspense until Mary hits him on the head, at which point the music ends.
The score is even more conspicuous when Nora inexpertly trails
Brogan. Nick asked Brogan to lead Nora around so that Nick can run an
errand, but unbeknownst to all of them, Mr. Draque is following Nora.
Like little ducklings, Mr. Draque follows Nora who follows Brogan. The
score for this sequence features oboe, flute, piccolo, and strings in
arpeggiated series that echo and weave in and out. The various instruments
come to be associated with the characters. At the start of the sequence, a
lone oboe plays when Brogan is the only character in sight. When Nora
appears, the flute joins in, and combines with the oboe in a sort of round.
A harsh horn stinger sounds as Mr. Draque emerges and begins following
Nora. The association between instruments and characters is strongest early
in the sequence; as the three continue their clumsy, five-minute chase
through the town, other instruments muddy the neat pattern. The oboe
and flute continue to be emphasized for Brogan and Nora, but other
sounds compete for attention. For example, a high pitched brass instrument
“laughs” when Brogan’s pace slows and Nora is forced to stop in front of
a barber shop, where the men call her “babe” and “sister” and ask if she is
in the new burlesque show. The tempo of the music picks up as the
characters’ pace gets faster before ending in a billiards club where Nora
causes a fight.
During this lengthy sequence, the mickey-mousing score
emphasizes the comedic aspects of the action rather than the danger. After
all, Nora is following a man she believes is a murderer, and the vaguely
sinister Mr. Draque is following her. The music does acknowledge the
“danger” in Mr. Draque when Nora stops and tremolo strings shudder
during a shot of Mr. Draque trying to look “natural” as he pauses, too.
Wisely, the music has sided with Nick, who knows that Brogan is not the
murderer, and instead the score suggests that Mr. Draque is a suspect. But
besides the brief tremolo strings, the music remains light and comical,
accenting Nora’s rusty tailing skills. Just as the music often provides an
95
Gloria Graham, who played Fern, poses in a still for Song of The Thin Man.
96
interpretation of Asta’s actions, so too does it funnel our understanding of
this scene, reassuring us that Nora’s predicament is humorous at its core.
Later, big band music pours out of a hotel ballroom as Nick snoops
on the second floor. When he gains a better understanding of the mystery
during his search, the band in the ballroom below plays the Nick and Nora
theme, jubilantly suggesting that they have solved the case once again. This
is the first time that the theme has played outside of the opening or closing
credits, and the first time that the theme has been heard in source music.
David Snell, again credited with the “Music Score,” provides
continuity between the previous films and the sixth and final film in the
series, Song of the Thin Man (1947). This movie contains more music than
any of the previous entries in the series, due mostly to its plot which
concerns an alcoholic clarinetist, a sultry singer, their murdered bandleader,
and a passionate band booker, thus prompting Nick and Nora to spend a
great deal of time with musicians. Like the second film in the series, this
movie also contains a song that is repeated and comes to figure in the
mystery plot. “You’re Not So Easy to Forget,” written by Herb Magidson
and Ben Oakland, can be heard several times within the diegesis and is also
woven into the score. By contrast, another song, “You Got to Have a Beat”
by Harry Nemo, receives much less attention and is not named within the
film. Although the music is emphasized within the diegesis, the score is
also much more developed and contains more music than the other films.
The opening music is the same as in the last two films, though
“You’re Not so Easy to Forget” is woven into the score, just as “Smoke
Dreams” was quoted in the opening music of the second film. The first
scenes take place on a gambling ship with two different bands and a
revolving stage. The first band’s singer, Fran, sings the melancholy “You’re
Not So Easy to Forget,” thereby introducing the song even before the film
reveals Nick and Nora. After Fran finishes a verse, the bandleader
announces “And now Ladies and Gentlemen, Buddy Hollis and his famous
clarinet!” in an echo of Dancer’s introducing Polly to the Lichee Club
audience. The setting paves the way for nearly constant underscoring by
the onscreen bands, but the film also relies on non-diegetic scoring. Both
types of music lean heavily on the clarinet, which is not surprising as one
of the suspects is a clarinetist.
“You’re Not So Easy to Forget” is identified as Buddy Hollis’ own
composition, and he is almost always playing it. The song is also
associatedwith Fran, who constantly sings it, even remarking that she owes
97
it to Buddy to keep promoting it in clubs. In a macabre touch, a recording
of Fran singing the song is playing when Nick and Nora discover Fran’s
dead body, and the haunting clarinet melody can be heard drifting out of
the “rest home” where Buddy is confined. The doctor in the rest home
explains that Buddy’s “mind has been completely shattered by alcohol. He
just sits in his room and plays the same melody over and over without
variation.”
The score throughout the film focuses on the comedy rather than
the mystery, although the mystery theme does accompany Nick’s snooping
on the boat and elsewhere. For example, although rolling timpani and brass
accompany the shocking headlines of “MURDER!” the morning after the
Charles’ evening on the boat, the music switches to a perky melody of
piccolo and violins as the maid picks up the paper and sighs “Rain again,”
ignoring the huge headline. The dark, foreboding cue switches in a moment
to a light, cheerful tune—this is the film score in microcosm. Although
stingers and suspenseful music do accompany some scenes, for the most
Lobby card from Song of The Thin Man.
98
part this score, as in the other films in the series, emphasizes the comedy in
the musical cues.
Song of The Thin Man also features frequent mickey-mousing to
Nicky and Asta’s actions, as when flute and strings play short, bright notes
as Nicky and Asta tiptoe out of their house when Nicky is supposed to be
practicing piano. A similar cue plays as Nick readies to spank Nicky: Nick
thinks of special moments with his child, and his excursions into memory
appear in elliptical vignettes that look as though they are projected on
Nicky’s denim clad bottom. There are also aural signals of venturing into
memory: strings slide steeply down the scale as though Nick is sliding down
the rabbit hole into his memory. He seems unable to hit his child until he
remembers how he fell when demonstrating how to ride a bike, and Nicky
laughed at him. The “laughing” brass that appeared in the fifth movie
mickey mouses Nicky’s guffaws.
As Nick and Nora become more involved with the case, they spend
time with Buddy’s bandmates, particularly the “hot lick piccolo player”
Clinker (Keenan Wynn), who acts as a guide for the Charles’ through the
strange world of jam sessions. As the contemporary New York Times
review noted, “With a missing, and mentally unstable, clarinetist [sic] as an
important suspect, the trail leads into noisy establishments where
bandsmen enjoy their after hours jam sessions and we enjoy the complete
bewilderment of the Charles’ as they attempt to comprehend the colorful
lingo of the musicians.” Indeed, the jazzy jam sessions are more memorable
for their humorous use of slang than for the music itself. A review in the
Los Angeles Times noted that Wynn’s Clinker is “a musician who talks
more jive than he plays,” for example, and Clinker’s dialogue is almost
incomprehensible. For example, Clinker describes jam joints to Nick as
“Where the boys go after closing and really ride. Just for cats and
intellectuals. Rooty-toots and bobby soxers verboten.” But by the end of
Nick and Nora’s search for Buddy, Nora can exchange “jive talk” with the
best of them. (Not surprisingly, though, there are no black musicians at
these jam sessions.)
Thirteen years separate the first Thin Man film from the last. The
scores in each film demonstrate the musical conventions of the time,
beginning with a trend towards less music and an emphasis on source
music, to mickey-mousing, leitmotifs, and finally nearly constant
underscoring that interprets, comments on, and expresses emotion with the
image. Although music functions somewhat differently in each film, and a
“theme” for the series does not emerge until the fourth film, there are two
99
constants throughout the series. The first is that Asta’s actions, and then
Nicky’s once he is “born,” are accompanied by a mickey-mousing score.
The second is that the music is allied more strongly to the comedy of the
film than the mystery. Mickey-mousing to Asta as he deals with a dog love
triangle, accompanying Nora’s night-time wanderings with light, cheerful
music, and marking Nick’s first sip of a cocktail with a stinger emphasize
the humorous elements of the films more than the crime plots. The Los
Angeles Times’ review of the second Thin Man noted that “Nobody is
absorbed in the mystery phase of a ‘Thin Man’ story, to the exclusion of
the comedy attributes, which are the principal source of delectation.” The
musical scores are one reason that “nobody is absorbed in the mystery.”
100
101
102
Shadow of the Thin Man
(1941)
Based on the characters created by Dashiell Hammett.
Story by Harry Kurnitz.
Screenplay by Irving Brecher and Harry Kurnitz.
Directed by W.S. Van Dyke.
Produced by Hunt Stromberg.
Starring William Powell, Myrna Loy, Barry Nelson, Donna Reed, Sam Levene, Alan
Baxter, Henry O’Neill, Richard Hall, Stella Adler, Loring Smith, Joseph Anthony, Lou
Lubin, Louise Beavers, and Asta.
It’s been another two years, and the entire Charles clan is enjoying
a stay in a swanky San Francisco hotel. We catch up with Nick as he’s
walking Nick Jr. and Asta in the park. Nick offers to read Nicky from a
book entitled Fairy Tales. However, what he really does is pull out the day’s
horse racing and begin to rejigger that into something palatable for his
young son.
Nick: “Once upon a time there was a horse. In fact, there
were hundreds of horses: white ones, black ones, brown
ones… beautiful horses. And how they could run!”
Meanwhile, Nora and the Charles’ new housemaid, Stella (Louise
Beavers), are waiting for the two to return from their walk. Fetching a pair
of binoculars, they observe the boys down in the park below.
Nora: “They’re such great pals. He’s getting to be more like
his father every day!”
Stella: “He sure is. This morning he was playing with a
corkscrew.”
Back down in the park, Nick continues to tell the story of the
horses and their desperate quest to come in first when Nick Jr. breaks out
into a smile.
Nick Jr.: “Why don’t you just put down the book and read
the racing form?”
103
Nick: “Nicholas, you know, you’re getting more like your
mother every day.”
Nick perks up, though, and decides to take the clan back to the
hotel room. There, Nora is fixing up a cocktail. Stella is puzzled and unable
to understand how Nick sensed it being made.
Nora: “That’s Mr. Charles, isn’t it? This is a cocktail, isn’t
it? They’ll get together.”
Nick, Nick Jr., and Asta reenter the hotel room, and Nick enjoys
his prepared cocktail that is waiting for him by the door. When Nora asks
Nick Jr. what fairytale he was read, Nick Jr. explains that the son-of-a-gun
is 40-1. This doesn’t impress Nora much.
Nick wants to head to the track as soon as possible, so Nora starts
to get ready.
Nora: “I’ll be with you in two shakes of a cocktail.”
Nick: “Cocktail? Cocktail? I think I’ve tried one of those
things.”
Soon the two are heading across the Golden Gate Bridge with Nick
singing… and speeding. They’re pulled over by a motorcycle cop who gives
them a ticket and recognizes Nick from reading about his previous cases in
the newspapers.
Traffic Cop: “Say, isn’t this a great day to get out the city?
Especially in an open car? When you go 80 miles an hour
in this job, I bet you don’t even feel it.
Nora: “He’s feeling it now. Aren’t you, Nicky?”
The officer offers to escort the two to the racetrack, though,
noticeably, he drives much slower than the other drivers. When a mess of
police cars and ambulances surround the couple, soon they arrive at the
track—and on it. The cops gather around Nick to try and catch up, but Lt.
Abrams (Sam Levene, reprising his role from After the Thin Man) shoos
104
them off. He quickly explains to Nick that a jockey has been found dead,
and it’s assumed that a shady gambling syndicate may be behind it.
The jockey is found dead in the shower, and the reporters are in a
frenzy trying to guess the gory details. This includes Paul Clarke (Barry
Nelson), who tries to figure the angle.
Nick appears in the locker room to plead with Abrams to let him
get his car out from the assembled police caravan, but the scene is too
chaotic. One jockey, who’s been drinking, begins to rave about the bookies
having it in for the dead jockey. Clarke snaps a picture of the meltdown and
Whitey Barrow (Alan Baxter) tries to get him to give it up, with Clarke
implying that Whitey’s motivations aren’t exactly journalistic.
Abrams asks Nick for his advice on the murder, but Nick can’t take
it seriously.
Later that day, back at the Charles’ suite, the whole family is sitting
down to dinner. After Nora explains to Nick Jr. that his father didn’t win
anything at the track, they prepare to eat. Nick pours himself a cocktail.
Nick Jr.: “Daddy, drink!”
Nick: “Oh, thanks pal! Mommy, he’s a great kid, I’m much
obliged.”
Nora: “Oh, it was nothing. Any time.”
Nick does a quick double take on that one. But he’s soon horrified
when Nick Jr. clarifies that Nick shouldn’t be drinking his cocktail—he’s
insisting his father follow his lead and drink milk.
Nick: “But I can’t drink milk. I’m a big boy now! I wear
long pants, I go out with girls…”
Nick Jr. continues to insist. Stella brings out the glass of milk.
Nick: “It’s awfully white, isn’t it?”
105
With no other choice, Nick downs the entire glass while Nora tries
not to bust up laughing.
Dinner is interrupted by Clarke and Major Sculley (Henry O’Neill).
They ask Nick to help them in investigating the gambling syndicate that
they suspect than murdering the jockey.
Nora: “Nick can do anything if he’ll get to work!”
Nick keeps begging off their requests for help which Nora uses to
force him into agreeing to take her to a wrestling match that evening.
The guy at the gate is Fred Macy (Joseph Anthony), one of the
leaders of the gambling syndicate that Nick’s been hearing about all day.
Nick also runs into Link Stephens (Loring Smith), the other half of the
gambling syndicate, and the two exchange some quick banter.
Stephens: “You’re going to see some great wrestling
tonight!”
Nick: “How would you know? Were you at the rehearsal?”
Nick and Nora take their seats, while we get to watch Barrow shake
down Link’s beautiful blonde girlfriend Claire Porter (Stella Adler) for some
dough.
As the match gets underway, Nick runs into several of his old
underworld acquaintances like ‘Meatballs’ Murphy (John Kelly) and ‘Spider’
Webb (John Berkes). Nora seems to be fitting in and having a good time—
except for his mammoth hat, which is winning her no fans. When the match
gets brutal, Nora starts getting really into it. So much so that Nora puts
Nick in a headlock until he snaps her out of it.
Upstairs in the syndicate’s gambling offices, ‘Rainbow’ Benny (Lou
Lubin) arrives, his nerves teetering on the edge. Stephens’ secretary, Molly
(Donna Reed), buzzes Rainbow into the main office where he turns over
some numbers the gang. Barrow shows up and hits on Molly, and then
shakes down the syndicate for $10,000. They beg him off momentarily, but,
after he leaves, Rainbow points out that Barrow owes him $8,000 himself.
Why is Barrow so desperate for money?
106
Molly meets up with Clarke downstairs in a bar, where it’s revealed
that the two are engaged. But Clarke is adamant about breaking into the
syndicate’s offices and finding the necessary info to indict them.
He sneaks up there, but we soon see a shadow following behind.
Clarke discovers a black book in the desk that seems valuable. Just as he’s
about to escape, Barrow corners him with a pistol. The two get into a
fistfight and Clarke is knocked out.
As Barrow grabs the black book in order to make his escape, he’s
hit on the head and then shot repeatedly. Nearby, Rainbow Benny scurries
away.
Back on the floor, Nick and Nora pass by the wrestling ring as they
prepare to leave. Nora turns to one wrestler who’s been pinned by Jack the
Ripper (Tor Johnson).
Nora: “I hope you get out of it alright!”
Wrestler: “Thanks lady. Good night!”
Nora: “Good night!”
As Nick and Nora approach the exit, however, they’re again
greeted by a mob of police officers. Lt. Abrams shoos them off again and
then turns to the Charles’.
Abrams: “Well, folks, here we are again, and here’s
another murder! Say, did The Irish Thrush win? He’s my
cousin.”
Nora: “Either I’m dreaming or I’ve lived through this
before.”
Abrams: “Funny how I meet you at all my homicides!”
Upstairs, Abrams is convinced that Clarke knocked off Barrow.
Molly tries to defend him, but it’s looking bad for Clarke. Nick and Abrams
step into the office to talk to the coroner.
107
Abrams: “Well, doc?”
Doc: “Shot.”
Abrams: “No kiddin’, I thought maybe he’d drowned.”
Nick is convinced that there was a third party involved with the
murder, but Abrams figures this one is an open and shut case. Stephens and
Macy arrive, and it appears that Macy’s alibi is sketchy to say the least. Nora,
meanwhile, begins to dig through Barrow’s possessions.
Nora: “It’s a woman’s laundry list.”
Nick: “Maybe he had a wife.”
Nora: “25 kimonos? That’s a harem.”
The laundry list seems to actually be a listing of odds that the
syndicate uses to pass around and place various bets. After some heated
arguing, Abrams shuffles everyone out of the office and arrests Clarke.
Nick is adamant that there’s only one murderer and sets out to
prove it by investigating the jockey’s murder at the racetrack. Nora insists
on coming along, but he asks her to go home and get some sleep.
Nora: “Oh, Nicky, you know you click better when I’m
around.”
Nick: “Not in a men’s shower.”
Nick and Asta head to the race track to investigate the jockey’s
death, where Asta is nearly scared off by a mewling kitten. But Asta helps
Nick break the case when he finds the murder weapon in the shower’s drain
pipe. After a crash from the locker room, Nick investigates to find Nora
there.
Nora: “I was just trying to show that you can’t neglect me.”
Nick: “I may have shot you.”
108
Nora: “Even that’s better than staying home alone.”
Abrams is shaking down Rainbow Benny at the police station when
Nick enters to explain how the jockey died—an accidental, self-inflicted
gunshot wound. However, when the members of the press arrive, Nick lies
to them and pretends that the murder investigation is still open. Abrams is
puzzled until Nick explains his gambit.
Nick: “Don’t you see? You’ll be the first policeman in
history to use a fake murder to solve a real one!”
Across town, Nora greets Mr. Maguire (Will Wright), one of the
men who works the ticket counter at the arena. He insists on talking to
Nick, but Nora fakes a phone call so that he’ll spill the dirt to her instead.
Elsewhere Nick is taking Nick Jr. on a merry-go-round, which is
making him more than a little dizzy. When a seat opens up, Nick is called a
‘fraidy cat’ for not hoping on one of the open seats. Nick manages to climb
on the dragon, against the odds, much to Nick Jr.’s joy.
The ride finally stops and Nora tells Nick about two things Maguire
revealed—that Macy was lying about his alibi and the Barrow had been
shaking down Miss Porter the night of the murder. Nick decides to
investigate the Porter angle and heads to her apartment.
Porter is flirtatious at first until Nick catches her in a lie. She grows
incensed and kicks him out. Sensing that she’s hiding something about her
and Barrow’s relationship, he heads to Barrow’s apartment. He’s greeted at
the door by his landlady who is listening to a murder mystery radio
program.
Nick finds a handkerchief with Porter’s perfume on it. Asta uses
that to help him find a hidden compartment where Barrow stored a bracelet
that he’d taken from Porter. Their investigation is interrupted when Porter
enters into the apartment to try and find the bracelet. Charles reveals that
he has the bracelet, and she explains that she and Barrow had had a thing—
and that he was in deep in gambling debts. She then tries to grab the bracelet
and makes a break for it, but Nick had wisely taken it out of its case.
109
Later that day, Nick and Nora head to a nice seafood restaurant
that has dirt floors. Asta habitually begins to dig and kicks up dirt
everywhere.
Nora: “If you hit oil, don’t forget your old pals.”
Nick and Nora are meeting Clarke and Molly for dinner. After a
failed attempt to order dinner, Asta finds Rainbow Benny at the bar. After
a few pointed questions, Benny makes a break for it, but with Asta in hot
pursuit, causing the restaurant to devolve into a giant brawl.
Nora: “With the $2 dinner, you get machine guns.”
Nick, Nora, Clarke and Molly take refuge at the bar where they
race baby turtles. Nora is up 240 martinis when Abrams arrives with news.
Claire Porter is really Clara Peters and has a rap sheet. Major Sculley arrives
and reveals that Rainbow Benny had been placing the bets—and had the
most reason to murder Barrow.
They head to Benny’s apartment with Sculley leading the way, but
when they open the door they find the shadow of Benny’s hung body
against the window. They bring his body down and find the remains of the
gambling book in the fireplace. Nick is certain that Benny was strangled
before he was hung and points out that Benny is no longer wearing the
bulletproof vest that he’d had on at the restaurant.
Nick: “Our murderer didn’t want us to know that Benny
was in fear of his life.”
With these final clues and Benny’s death, Nick is certain he can
ferret out the murderer and gathers them all at the police station the next
day.
Nick: “Well, mommy, if any trouble starts, you dive right
under the table. Major Sculley and I will join you there.”
Sculley: “What kind of trouble, Nick?”
Nick: “I don’t know. But I’m going to do my best to dig it
up.”
110
Song of the Thin Man was released two weeks before the attack on
Pearl Harbor in 1941. Loy, who’d been an outspoken anti-Nazi leading up
to the war, dropped out of Hollywood life and went to New York to help
the Red Cross. She wouldn’t make another picture until 1945’s The Thin
Man Goes Home.
Powell had married his third wife, Diana Lewis, in 1940, but he was
hit by a pair of shocks when his two ex-wives passed within a year of each
other. Carole Lombard died in a plane crash and Eileen Wilson died
unexpectedly in 1942.
This would be W.S. Van Dyke’s last Thin Man movie, and he only
ended up making four more films after this. He committed suicide in 1943.
Shadow was a modest hit for MGM. One theater promoter named
David Murphy of Altoona, Pennsylvania, won a prize for his promotion of
the picture when he had a man dressed up as a convict carry a sign in front
of the theater reading, “I busted out of jail to see ‘Shadow of the Thin
Man’.” He also put a fake fire hydrant in front of the theater with a sign in
front noting, “Reserved for Asta.” Another theater owner, Franky Murphy
of Syracuse, had a patrons partake in a game of ‘Pin the tail on the Asta’,
with winners earning free tickets to the show.
Shadow may be one of the series that suffers the most from being
watched close to the other entries. It’s a charming picture on its own, but
the formula is so tried and true at this point, that even the cute bits with
Nicky Jr. merely feel like filler. The movie contains nothing that hasn’t been
done better in other entries, and the central mystery is egregiously
uninteresting, with the villain’s ‘tell’ being particularly dull. Good work
from Henry O’Neill as Abrams is pretty much the highlight of the film.
111
“Darling, you have such lovely
friends”: Nick & Nora
Across Class Lines
By Tars Tarkas
The mysteries are just the setting of the Thin Man movies; the real
attraction was always the chemistry between Myrna Loy and William
Powell. The series is just 6 of the 14 films the pair made together, and they
were always a charming couple. Their on-screen chemistry was so stellar
together that some in the public thought they were married in real life. Nick
Charles is a former detective who spent his years dealing with criminals and
cops, while Nora is a wealthy Nob Hill heiress. Together, they trade witty
banter that reveals a healthy and loving relationship underneath while
maneuvering through both upper and lower class social circles in search of
the murderers that unite them.
The Charles are free to run off and do detecting work because
Nora's wealth allows them the freedom to do just that. Crossing the country
back when it took days and plenty of money on a train is no big deal to the
couple. They ride in style, drinking all the way. The upper class flexibility of
the duo allows the film to take on a lighter tone, while only delving into the
dark and seedy world of crime when needed. Nick and Nora don't need to
take cases or get involved in schemes with creeps because they don't have
to do anything they don't feel like doing. But even when Nick says he isn't
interested in cases, you can see the wheels working in his head. No matter
how high on the ladder Nick Charles climbs, he can’t stop himself from
getting involved when times are tough.
Despite being “new” rich, Nick Charles spends much of his time
hanging out with the working and lower class people he spent all his life
with. Not only are the lower class folks and criminals happy for him and
his new life, they treat him far better than the upper class relatives of Nora
do. Those relatives believe his son of an immigrant status and job history
as a detective makes him unfit for high society. (In Hammett's book, Nick's
father changes the family name to Charles from Charalambides to fit on a
photograph).
112
One of the better running gags in the series were the catalogue of
colorful characters Nick would run into, most possessed with nicknames
like Creeps, Meatballs, and Spider Webb. Almost all of them Nick had
busted long ago, and, humorously, all of them were happy to have been
defeated by “THE” Nick Charles. Each inevitably remarks on how Nick
treated then square and gave them second chances despite their criminal
pasts. Usually this would elicit the wry comment from Nora, "You know
such lovely people!"
Nick’s background as a blue-collar detective was often treated with
derision as he makes his way through Nora’s well-heeled social circles. In
After the Thin Man, Nora's Aunt Katherine over-pronounces Nick's name as
"Nick-o-laus", speaks ill of everyone who isn't in the room, and gets upset
whenever things aren’t 100% proper to her liking. Aunt Katherine is willing
to force her own daughter to suffer in an unhappy marriage to a charlatan
and con artist just to keep the family name out of the papers. Later in the
film there is a shot of her attacking photographers, which is visually similar
to a photo of publicity-shy tycoon J. P. Morgan attacking photographer
George Grantham Bain with his cane.
After demonstrates that the rich friends of Nora’s aren't all that
different from the criminal element that is found in the lower class
characters. Nora's cousin's con artist husband (and eventual murder victim)
was just after her money, and blackmails a large bribe just to go away.
But perhaps the most telling thing about After is at the very start of
the movie. The Charles arrive home from New York as heroes, and, upon
reaching home, they find it filled with people who are having a surprise
party for them. It is a regular “who's who” event, with all the top social
circles of San Francisco. The problem is no one at the party even knows
who Nick and Nora are, and the only people who recognize them are the
servants. From how easy going Nick and Nora are, you can sense they are
just as comfortable hanging with their hired help as with the high society
folks in the next room, and that contributes a lot to their appeal.
The Thin Man series is replete with disapproving upper class
parental figures. Aunt Katharine disapproves of everyone, including Nick.
In Another Thin Man, Colonel MacFay disapproves of the lower class half
of his daughter's love triangle. In The Thin Man Goes Home, Nick Charles'
father disapproves of his former career as a detective. A rich father in Song
of the Thin Man disapproves of gambling ship owner Phil Brant marrying his
daughter Janet Thayer. The old, moneyed generation is always causing
113
Loy, Charles, Lloyd Corrigan, and Anne Revere in a scene from The Thin Man Goes Home.
problems for people, often setting the film’s plots into action as the less
fortunate squirmed under these pressures.
But back to Another Thin Man, which features Nora's father's old
business partner, Colonel Burr MacFay. He is involved with all sorts of
shady deals, including one that left his old employee Phil Church
imprisoned in Cuba for years. Burr hired Church to do dirty work to make
sure business deals got done, using Church as a fall guy so nothing would
114
get back to him. Burr has no regrets for his illegal actions nor Church's
imprisonment. It is important that the film makes sure to spell out that
Nora's father wasn't involved in any of these deals, freeing the Charles' from
guilt, solidifying that all their efforts are done out of pure moral conviction.
The eventual killer slips up in Another because he never paid
enough notice to the hired help of his circle of friends to remember what
they looked like just a few years earlier. Another clue is his attempt to write
a note as an illiterate person, where he spells easy words wrong but difficult
words correctly. The lower class characters present demonstrate actual
illiteracy, to the point that lounge singer/con artist Polly Byrnes declares
that she's not illiterate: her parents were married!
The killer’s confession at the end of Another is a brilliant portrayal
of a man who let hate and jealously drive him over the edge and then
beyond. Like Aunt Katharine, he doesn't like being embarrassed, and seeing
the woman he loved marry a complete lothario sent him down a dark path.
But unlike Katherine’s jabs, the bourgeoisie villain turns deadly and seeks
vengeance, presuming that his money will keep him safe. The conclusion
allows Nick to deliver the inversion to Nora’s teasing, "Darling, you have
the nicest relatives and friends!"
But, despite her usual tone, it’s important to note that Nora
eschews the rest of her family’s blue blood attitude throughout the series.
Upon going to see a wresting match in Shadow of the Thin Man, Nora's choice
of hat is mocked by the working class crowd, but she's eager to see the
match and is physically excited by the action (much to Nick's suffering!).
Nora isn't one to stick to plays and ballet, she'll go where the fun is.
By the last two films, things had changed. America was involved
with and then finished with the Second World War, director W.S. Van Dyke
had passed on, Dashiell Hammett was no longer providing stories, and the
regular writing team of Albert Hackett and Frances Goodrich were no
longer involved. The new creative teams lacked the experience to give the
characters the extra push into greatness, and the mysteries seem more like
dumping familiar characters into wacky situations instead of evolving
naturally. The Charles family is patriotic, making sacrifices during the war
like the rest of America. In 1945's The Thin Man Goes Home, Nick Charles
observes wartime alcohol rationing by drinking cider. To add insult to
injury, he also must turn down further drinks as the movie proceeds to
avoid upsetting his parents.
115
The immigrant background for Nick Charles is summarily ditched
in the fifth movie, where suddenly Nick's father is a small town doctor who
objected to Nick leaving medical school to become a detective. This
weakens the story of Nick Charles, making him less of a self-made man and
more of someone who had advantages and used them to do whatever he
wanted. His class mobility is removed, and Nick Charles is forcibly stuffed
into the upper crust from birth. It's a shame this happened in 1945 as the
Second World War was ending, with millions of GIs about to return home
and utilize the GI Bill to begin the biggest increase in the middle class ever
seen. The last two films feel as if the characters are just inserted into
standard comedy mystery plots that could be easily retooled for any
detective as opposed to murder mysteries that cross societal boundaries
specifically designed for the Charles characters.
To further highlight the class differences, sequences on trains are
also completely different in The Thin Man Goes Home from the prior films.
Nick and Nora usually had private room and plenty of space, but now the
train is packed to the gills, and the Charles' sit on the edges of seats. The
train is so stuffed that just walking through it is an almost impossible task.
They get no special treatment for Asta, and have to take him to the baggage
car with the farm animals. They end up hanging out there for the rest of
the ride. The Asta in the baggage car joke is repeated in Song of the Thin
Man, with Nick and Nora even playing cards with the . While the last two
films got a lot wrong, they at least remembered that the Charles' would
eagerly hang out with anyone who piqued their interest.
And that was definitely part of the appeal of a series that often
crossed class lines to both lampoon and celebrate the differences in
American society. Nick and Nora Charles just seemed so fun that you'd
want to hang out with them, and they would hang out with you. No matter
where you came from, they were down for a good time.
116
Keeping that Old Spark Alive:
Nick and Nora as the Ideal
(Screen) Couple
By B.G. Voita
A crinkled nose. A raised eyebrow. A quick wink. A playful tap. All
little love gestures that had the American public convinced that William
Powell and Myrna Loy were—like their on screen personas—a happily
married couple. The chemistry they portrayed was real but it wasn’t of the
romantic variety. Rather, Powell and Loy were only good friends who liked
to crack jokes and tease one another. The on-set gaiety shines through in
the films. Together as Nick and Nora Charles, they painted a new picture
of marriage—one that could be loving and fun beyond the honeymoon. It
is no wonder Loy received multitudes of letters from fans who wanted to
know how to emulate her and Powell’s movie marriage.
So how were Nick and Nora able to keep that old spark alive through
six Thin Man movies which spanned over a decade? Here are some lessons
Nick and Nora have taught us about keeping romance alive:
1. Take life with a martini in hand and
lots of laughs.
No matter what life throws at them, Nick and Nora are prepared
with a quick wit and a drink. In their first scene together, Nora joins Nick
for a drink in The Thin Man and orders six martinis so she can catch up
with him. This becomes an on-going gag throughout the series with
numerous references being made to Nick’s love of the almighty martini.
For example, when Nora needs him to come home, she summons him with
the sound of a martini shaker in Shadow of the Thin Man. You know what
they say; everything looks better with martini-goggles on. Of course, whom
are we kidding? With a gal like Nora, does Nick really need them?
When they aren’t drinking, Nick and Nora are playfully razzing
each other. While a visitor is on the phone, Nick pokes Nora in the belly,
she knocks him over the head, he pretends like he is going to hit her but
117
then wraps his arm around her waist and tickles her. The laughs continue
through situations that would make the average person lose their temper.
Not Nick and Nora though. They smile and laugh it off whether it’s a
jammed truck, meeting with the in-laws, or a speeding ticket. At one point
during The Thin Man, when they leave a room to investigate, they do so with
a silly march. “Come on, Dr. Watson,” Nick affectionately tells Nora, “Let’s
go places.” This is not the typical portrayal of marriage to which we’ve been
accustomed.
2. Ensure your bank account is healthy.
Lack of money is reportedly the biggest cause of matrimonial friction.
With Nora’s inheritance, the Charles will never have to worry about
finances interfering with their wedded bliss. In fact, Nick and Nora seem
to be amused by the atypical arrangement—usually it’s the man who has
the money and the woman the looks. Nick scored both with Nora. The two
never miss a beat to make light of the situation. For example, in After the
Thin Man, Nick jests that he has retired from detective work and is “just
going to take care of my wife’s money so I’ll have something in my old
age.” Following a blackmail threat in Another Thin Man, Nick teases, “I’d
hate to wake up some morning and find the fortune I married you for was
gone.” When he suggests that he would be able to support himself as a
detective, but she and the baby would have to fend for themselves, Nora
playfully kicks him. To Nick and Nora, money is a subject about which to
joke, not bicker.
3. Work as a team.
Nora’s money shifts the balance of power a bit, which allows her
to partake in more of the investigative hijinks. (She is footing the bill, after
all.) Nonetheless, Nick often tries to keep the little woman at home, locking
her in a closet, sending her to Grant’s Tomb via a taxi or leading her on a
wild goose chase with the help of one of his old pals. But when the chuckle
plays out and the scene dissolves, teamwork is a key component in their
relationship. Nick couldn’t solve his cases without her. As Nora explains to
him in Shadow of the Thin Man, “You click better when I’m around.” He goes
through the motions of admonishing her not to come, but he isn’t a bit
surprised when she shows up at the scene he is investigating. “I like the way
you sneaked up on me,” he tells her in Shadow. More times than not, Nora
delivers. Nick lovingly refers to her as “bloodhound” when she finds the
118
women’s laundry list lead in Shadow. She is also the first to figure out the
painting is key to the investigation in The Thin Man Goes Home. And although
she would rather get some shut-eye than search for a missing clarinet player
in Song of the Thin Man, Nora contends, “We’re in this together. I’m going
with you.”
Nick and Nora’s teamwork goes beyond investigating. Never one
to follow society’s strict mores, Nora ensures Nick shares in the parenting
as well. When Nicky, Jr. wakes up in middle of the night, she lays the baby
on a sleeping Nick, encouraging her baby son to play with daddy. As the
baby reaches for Nick’s moustache, she tells him, “No, it’s all right. It won’t
come off. Pull it—you’ll see.” This inevitably wakes up daddy, and Nora is
no longer on baby duty alone. In Shadow, a hilarious sequence shows Nick
on the merry-go-round with his son. He wobbles back and forth trying to
mount one of the horses. Where is Nora during all of this? Doing the family
sleuthing, of course.
4. Spend time together.
Given the era in which these movies were made, one might think Nora
would slow down after having a baby, leaving Nick to his own devices.
Nothing could be further from the truth. Instead of losing her sense of self
in hopeless devotion to junior, she expresses her desire to go to a nightclub
within the first five minutes of Another Thin Man. Then in Shadow, Nora
makes the radical statement, “Being shot would be better than staying
home” when Nick discovers her snooping. Staying home is not a problem.
The pair seems to be continually out on the town, which is confirmed when
Nick lists the many places they frequent: “Dances, prizefights, nightclubs,
wrestling bouts.” This is not to mention the fun they have while
investigating together. All of this is made possible by having someone
available to watch little Nicky whenever needed. While most of us do not
have the luxury of a live-in nanny, we can take note from Nick and Nora
on the importance of spending quality time with our spouses.
5. Stay attractive.
Nick and Nora may know how to let loose, but their waist size is one
area that doesn’t. Nick, a former womanizer, still catches the ladies’ eyes.
Three girls swarm around him in Another Thin Man when he goes
investigating solo at a nightclub. Not to be outdone, Nora, who is also
sleuthing solo at the club, is surrounded by dozens of men vying for her
119
Nora and Nick spend time together for Christmas in The Thin Man.
attention. Throughout the series, she is also repeatedly whistled at by Nick’s
old acquaintances unaware that she is his wife. Each time, a spark of pride
twinkles in Nick’s and Nora’s eyes as their mate is still coveted by the
opposite sex.
6. Ignore (or at least have a sense of
humor about) your husband’s roving
eye.
The problem with being married to a former ladies’ man is that
there is always the possibility that he might be up to his old tricks again. A
couple of cops in Another Thin Man warn Nora that it is not likely that “a
man that’s had that many numbers could settle down to one.” They theorize
that Nick is having an affair with one of the female suspects. Nothing would
kill the spark faster than a jealous, nagging wife. Our heroine does not fall
into this trap. She agrees, “I’m sure you’re right,” and quickly changes the
subject back to one of his past paramours. Does she really agree, or is she
just moving the cops’ questioning along?
120
Whenever she catches Nick looking at another woman, she
responds with humor. “That’s right,” she tells him in Shadow of a Thin Man,
“Study the case from all angles.” In Song of a Thin Man, Nora reminds Nick,
“Earrings are higher up” when his eyes are clearly looking elsewhere. Why
does she react so nonchalantly? Maybe her reaction is indicative of a
healthy, trusting relationship. Or perhaps she knows when it’s all said and
done, he’s going home with her. But there is also an underlying message
telling women of the ‘30s and ‘40s that they too could be the perfect wife
if they simply looked the other way. “You don’t scold. You don’t nag. And
you look far too pretty in the mornings,” Nick adoringly tells his wife.
7. Compliment each other.
Nick and Nora rarely missed an opportunity to express pride in one
another. Sometimes they do so with words; other times facial expressions
suffice. Nora thrills in Nick’s ability to solve tough cases and wiggle free
from the villains. When Nick clobbers a guy over the head with a phone,
Nora looks to the camera and proudly declares, “See.” Similarly, Nora
impresses Nick when she picks Colonel MacFay’s pocket in Another Thin
Man and jumps in front of what she thinks is a loaded gun for his protection
in Shadow of a Thin Man. Nick also beams each time his wife is mistaken for
his mistress, which occurs in every movie of the series. The implication is
she is too beautiful to be a wife. Nick and Nora show us that complimenting
our spouses is a sure way to keep the spark alive.
8. Accept your spouse’s friends, family,
and acquaintances.
It’s no secret that Nick and Nora come from different worlds. Nick
is from the underworld of criminals, cops, and detectives while Nora is
from high-class society. Despite their different backgrounds, Nick and
Nora manage to get along and make the most of their time with the other
side of the tracks. Nora jokes in Thin Man, “Nicky, I love you because you
know such lovely people.” She is game, though, and participates in the
festivities—even if it means her son has a birthday party with a bunch of
ex-cons’ babies, or she must match Nick’s old pals’ order of scotch with
champagne chaser (by After the Thin Man, we know she can handle it).
In the same vein, Nick endures Nora’s relatives. He makes the
most of an after dinner “conversation” with the guys, old men who are
121
snoozing in their chairs. Nick speaks on their behalf, pretending their
snores are responses. And when it comes to solving a mystery for Nora’s
family, he steps up, even though as Nora explains, it will “get you in right
with Aunt Katharine,” to which he retorted, “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
You can choose with whom you fall in love, but you can’t choose their
friends or family. Nick and Nora show us how to survive the situation
without losing the love.
9. Enjoy growing old together.
There is no midlife crisis for Nick and Nora. They gracefully grow old
together. In Song of the Thin Man, a case brings them in contact with the
younger crowd. When they don’t understand the young jive talk, they make
a joke of it and give each other inquisitive looks as they listen to the lingo.
At a jam session, they can’t quite get “with it”—even the drinks disappear
faster than Nick’s draw. Nora catches on before Nick, which provides some
humor to the situation. “The fuller?” Nicks asks. “The brush,” Nora
explains. Later, Nora tells a man they pass in the hallway, “Get lost you
offbeat rinky-dink. You’re nowhere.” They may be getting older, but they
will face the changing world together. There is something comforting about
clinging to the one you love as the world passes you by.
10. Always find time to be affectionate.
Nick and Nora may not have been allowed a single bed, but they
still found ways to be physically affectionate. The magic of their marriage
comes from the little gestures sprinkled throughout each day: making faces
at each other, giving a quick kiss, rubbing noses like Eskimos. It is in Nick’s
pet names for Nora: “Sugar,” “Baby,” “Mommy,” and Nora’s warning to
another character that kissing Nick is “a hard habit to get out of.” The flame
continues to burn in their later movies. In The Thin Man Goes Home, Nora
pushes Nick out of a hammock, and they cuddle on the grass. In their last
film, Nick touches the side of Nora’s lip and tells her, “I like that corner
especially.” Nick and Nora prove that romance can exist within the
confines of a marriage as long as you remember to fuel the passion with a
loving word or touch.
122
123
124
The Thin Man
Goes Home (1945)
Based on the characters created by Dashiell Hammett.
Story by Harry Kurnitz and Robert Riskin.
Screenplay by Robert Riskin and Dwight Taylor.
Directed by Richard Thorpe.
Produced by Everett Riskin.
Starring William Powell, Myrna Loy, Lucile Watson, Gloria DeHaven, Anne Revere, Helen
Vinson, Harry Davenport, Leon Ames, Donald Meek, Edward Brophy, Lloyd Corrigan,
Anita Sharp-Bolster, Ralph Brooke, Donald MacBride, Morris Ankrum, Nora Cecil, Minor
Watson, Irving Bacon, Virginia Sale, and Asta.
We catch up with Nick, Nora, and Asta in Grand Central Station.
While Asta chases after a female schnauzer (what would Mrs. Asta say?),
Nick trips over a few bags and falls on his face. An old police friend stops
him and checks to be sure he’s okay. He isn’t too sure after Nick reveals
he’s started to just drink cider to appease his parents who they’re on their
way to visit.
On the train, Nora attempts to keep Asta hidden under her coat
while she and Nick share a flask of cider. Nora seems skeptical of Nick’s
new leaf, though.
Nora: “Nicky, do you really like cider?”
Nick: “Like it? I love it. Just the pure, natural juice of the
apple. What could be better, for instance?”
Nora: “A dry martini for instance.”
Nick: “Mmm. That horrible stuff? Almost took the lining
off my stomach.”
Nora: “Well, if you cared, it didn’t show.”
After one of the ticket takers catches Asta, and tells Nick and Nora
to take him to the baggage car. On the way there, they run into Brogan
(Edward Brophy, who’d played Joe Morelli in the original Thin Man).
125
Brogan takes Nick aside and it’s revealed that Brogan is following Nick for
an undetermined reason on his trip.
In the baggage car, Asta is finding it difficult to settle in with the
goats. One duck manages to pinch his tail.
Nick: “That’s strategy, Asta. You forgot to protect your
rear flank.”
Nick and Nora talk about the reason for their trip, with Nora
thinking that Nick will be hailed as a hero. Nick is a bit more skeptical and
dodges her questions about his relationship with his father.
Nick: “Look! Right there was the little old schoolhouse.
Once on Halloween I burned it down… slightly.”
Nora: “That must have handed your father a big laugh.”
Nick: “Yes, he just roared. All the way to the woodshed
with me.”
Nick subsequently reveals that his father often disagreed with his
lifestyle—and especially his choice to become a detective. She insists that if
he ever got a pat on the back from his father, Nick’s vest buttons would
pop off in pride. Nick scoffs.
Arriving at the train station, Nick points out ‘Crazy’ Mary (Anne
Revere), whom he dubs “the town character.” No one is there to meet them
at the station, so they catch a ride home and decide to sneak in and scare
his parents. He mostly succeeds at spooking their maid, Hilda (Anita
Bolster).
After an affectionate reunion with his mother Marta (Lucile
Watons), Nick offers to fix an old table that keeps falling down. Just when
he thinks he’s succeeded, it smacks him on the head, putting him on the
floor next to his flask just when his father, Dr. Bertram Charles (Harry
Davenport), walks in. It takes Nick a bit of work to convince his dad that
the flask is filled with cider.
126
After dinner, Nora does her best to impress Nick’s father with how
some of Nick’s detective adventures had turned out to no avail.
Bertram: “If Nick thinks it’s important to be a policeman,
that’s all that matters. I suppose.”
Nora grows frustrated and begins to intensely describe “The Stinky
Davis Case” in hopes of showing Bertram just how clever his son is.
Nora: “Just imagine, four murders, all strangulations, no
fingerprints, no clues. The police were baffled. All they had
were four bodies. So what do they do? They dump the
whole thing in Nick’s lap.”
Bertram: “I see.”
Nora: “Nobody suspected Stinky, because he’s been a
cripple ever since some nitro went off while he was
cracking a canister in Salt Lake. Everybody thought it was
Rainbow Benny, but Nick knew that Rainbow was an
expert with the shiv. Strangling was out of his line! Oh,
smart Nick! Then they turned the heat on Slasher Martin
who ran a dice joint down in Chinatown. But Slasher had
an alibi with Squinty Burke and Studsy Green, so that took
care of him. But all the time Nick was certain that Stinky
Davis was the killer. Why? Because he had him pegged
right away for a two timing, double crossing rat! Did the
police listen to Nick? No! They told him it was a hophead
theory, wild as loco buttons, because Stinky was a cripple
and couldn’t navigate. So Nick got the brushoff from the
police. They cold-shouldered him right out. But did that
stop him? No sir! He knew the case was hot and he was all
set to start cooking on the front burner. He said: “Stinky,
you’re the two timing double crossing rat who strangled
Knobs McClure and Greasy Joe and Horseface Dan and
Denver Mike and then he turned his back on him. And the
trick worked! Because Stinky got out of his chair and tried
to strangle Nick with a piece of wire he had hidden in his
127
mouth. But just in time, Nick turned around and gave him
the old one-two and knocked Stinky colder than an ice
flounder. Stinky wasn’t a cripple at all! He was just using
it to cover up his crimes. Now, what do you think of that?”
Bertram: “Well, if Nick suspected Stinky wasn’t a cripple,
why didn’t he have him examined by a doctor? The whole
thing’s so silly!”
Nora: “Doctor Charles. You’re impossible!”
(Side note: an earlier part of Nora’s monologue references a few of
the cases from previous movies, but the Stinky Davis case wasn’t one of
the ones featured in any film. Weirdly, this fight involves a character named
Rainbow Benny who clearly can’t be the same character from Shadow of the
Thin Man, which makes you wonder how many people named Rainbow
Benny were running around in the 1940s!)
The next day, Nick is in the hammock in the front yard and
snoozing in his old high school gear with a comic book of detective stories
on top of his face. Nora and Marta have a conversation in the kitchen about
the unspoken animosity between Bertram and Nick, with Marta explaining
that Bertram had initially pushed the idea of building a hospital in town
because he’d wanted Nick to work there, too, before he got a mind of his
own and went off. Nora gets the sense that Nick isn’t going to confront
Bertram about the issue at all during their stay.
Nora: “You know Nicky. We were married three years
before he told me he loved me.”
She then decides the best thing to do is to shake a few closets to
see if any skeletons come out in hopes of providing Nick with a mystery to
solve that will make his father proud of him.
She joins Nick out in the yard and works on unsuccessfully putting
up a lawn chair. While they’re distracted, Asta steals the last of Nick’s cider.
A chubby man walks into the yard and enthusiastically reintroduces
himself. Dr. Bruce Clayworth (Lloyd Corrigan) is a childhood friend of
Nick’s who stayed in town and became a doctor. Also dropping by is Mrs.
128
Peavy (Nora Cecil), Nick’s former teacher, and Willoughby (Morris
Ankrum), the foreman at the local plant. There’s also Laura Belle Ronson
(Gloria DeHaven), daughter of one of the most important men in town,
and dramatic actress. Then there’s Tom Clayworth (Irving Bacon), Bruce’s
brother and a former soldier who is overly jealous of Laura Belle’s
affections.
Laura Belle gossips around town about Nick being on some
mysterious ‘case’ that soon has people freaking out. It even makes the front
page of the paper after Nora is interviewed about it, and she smiles to the
reporter and explains:
Nora: “Mr. Charles is in town. Mr. Charles is a detective.
And you can draw your own conclusions.”
The next day, Nora is browsing the art shop of Willie Crump
(Donald Meek). She decides to buy a painting of a windmill that Nick had
been sentimentally recalling on their trip into town. Unfortunately, the
painting is deeply desired by Edgar (Leon Ames) and Helena Draque
(Helen Vinsion), who seem up to no good.
That evening Nick returns home to find the paper with the
headline saying that he’s in town to solve a mystery. He simmers for a bit
at Nora’s deception, and then places her over his knee and begins to spank
her with the newspaper. In front of his parents.
Nick: “This will teach you the power of the press!”
It’s odd.
The doorbell rings and a young man appears. He says only a few
words before collapsing, dead from a gunshot wound. But there was no
one nearby and the gun made no noise.
Nick goes out to investigate and finds Brogan in the bushes. But
he didn’t see anything. He calls up Bruce Clayworth to perform an autopsy.
They identify him as Peter Berton (Ralph Brooke), and Police Chief
MacGregor (Donald MacBride) tries to ascertain what’s going on and why
Berton was killed.
129
Nick sneaks off to investigate Berton’s hotel room at the local auto
court, where he learns that the kid had recently been in a fight with someone
else and that Laura Belle Ronson may have had something to do with it.
Upon further snooping in the room, he discovers a cigar wrapper and hints
that Berton was from Boston. However, Nick is clubbed on the head and
knocked out by ‘Crazy’ Mary before he can complete his investigation.
The next day, Nora tries to give Nick the painting, but is
disappointed when Nick recalls how much he hated being at the windmill.
Marta decides to donate the painting to charity instead.
Later, Nick goes to talk to Laura Belle and finds that Laura’s father,
Sam Ronson (Minor Watson), uses the same cigars as the wrapper he found
in Berton’s room. Nick also interviews Crump, where we learn that Berton
is the one who painted the windmill painting that had caught Nora’s interest
the day before. Elsewhere, a man named Tatum (Charles Halton) threatens
Bertram with cutting his hospital funding if Nick doesn’t stop poking his
nose in where it doesn’t belong.
Nick’s birthday celebration that day is interrupted when Hilda
screams that she found a man in Nick and Nora’s room. Nick rushes to
investigate but finds nothing. He rushes outside and just finds Brogan out
in the bushes again. Brogan saw nothing, but has the scoop on Berton’s
activities back in Boston, including the curious fact that he was raised as an
orphan.
Nora is convinced that Brogan is the man that Nick should be
chasing, so she decides to follow him. Unknown to her, however, Edgar
Draque is following her. This leads to a rather long scene where Brogan
knows he’s being followed and does several things just to mess with Nora
while Edgar tries his best to keep up.
Nick, meanwhile, goes out to Mary’s place with Clayworth, the
only person in town that Mary allows in her shack. Nick reveals that he
knows that Mary was secretly Berton’s mother, and that’s she’d put him up
for adoption years ago hoping he’d have a better life after his father
unexpectedly died. Police Chief MacGregor also tries to interview Mary,
but is met with a pan upside the head.
Nora’s chase continues and she runs into the recently
injured chief.
130
Nora: “There’s a man here and I want you to arrest him.”
MacGregor: “What for?”
Nora: “Does it have to be for something?”
MacGregor: “Oh, no, no. You just pick out anybody at all
and I’ll put them in jail for life.”
Nora finally corners Brogan in a men’s lounge and ponies up to
the bar while she waits for him to come out. Edgar comes up and explains
that he’s been following her, hoping to get that windmill painting. He offers
Nora $500 for it. Sensing that he may have been the man who broke into
the house, Nora starts a bar brawl that sees both Draque and Brogan put
into jail.
Nora catches up with Nick and explains that they have to go to the
dance in order to figure out the mystery behind the painting.
Nick: “You did all this on cider?”
Arriving at the hotel just in time for the charity dance, Nick is
approached by Laura Belle with reconciliation on her mind. She offers to
dance with him.
Laura Belle: “Do you jitterbug?”
Nick: “No. Put me down for a slow polka.”
The detective duo find Crump’s stand, but the painting was already
sold to Helena. It also sounds like Sam Ronson had come by and tried to
purchase it, too. Nick tricks Nora into getting stuck swing dancing with a
sailor while Nick heads upstairs. On the way, he runs into Tatum and
Willoughby.
Nick: “By the way, Tatum, when the hospital’s built, you
must come in and have my father treat your nose.”
Tatum: “There’s nothing wrong with my nose.”
131
Nick: “There will be.”
Nick arrives at Helena’s room to find her unconscious and the
painting removed. Putting the clues together, he takes Nora and Clayworth
out to Mary’s place, only to find her dead. But the painting is there, behind
the door.
Nick takes the painting home and stays up the night pondering
over it. Nora comes out and the two embrace on the hammock.
Nora: “You’ll get it. You may not be any great shakes as a
detective, but you’re lucky. You’ll solve it. Your father will
be proud. He’d better be, unless he wants to hear that
Stinky Davis story again.”
The next day and all of the suspects are gathered in Bertram’s
laboratory. Nora shows up to succinctly explain to an annoyed Bertram and
the other guests exactly what’s going on.
Ronson: “I’d like to know why it’s necessary to herd us all
into a room like this.”
Nora: “For a very simple reason, Mr. Ronson, this is the
way he always works. And this time he has a very special
reason. Whatever, no matter how idiotic it may seem,
nobody ever outguesses him. [She turns to Bertram] Just
wait, you’re going to be mighty proud of him. I’ve seen
him work on situations like this that seem completely
hopeless. When suddenly the guilty party cracks up and
tries shooting his way out.
Bertram: “But he’s not going to turn this place into a
shooting gallery!”
Nora: “That’s the way these things usually wind up! It’s
called the payoff. I usually duck under the sofa when it
starts.”
132
The Thin Man Goes Home (originally titled the Thin Man’s Rival) is a
pretty startling transition from previous entries in the franchise. While the
Thin Man series is well known for being urbane and sophisticated, Nick and
Nora’s journey to Sycamore Springs puts things in a far more lackadaisical
version of ‘Small Town America, USA’.
Someone clearly wanted to shake up the formula, and the best way
was to make the film feel like it fell off of MGM’s highly successful Andy
Hardy bandwagon. The murder mystery is almost perfunctory. Most of the
cutting remarks and wordplay has been replaced by slapstick. Nick is shown
to be a lot more mischievous, eschewing his usual friendly relationship with
the police for more of a competitive one. Even the film’s lighting seems
brightened up once out of the city, with hardly a shadow in sight.
The film’s handling of Nora, too, is quite different. Here she seems
less like a charming socialite but more of an agitator and wild fan of her
husband. She becomes the postmodern commentator in a way, forcing the
film’s action and commenting on it. During the final ‘payoff’ scene, Nora
explains the entire process, going so far as to complaining when Nick orders
everyone searched for guns, sensing it’ll ruin the tension.
That doesn’t necessarily make it bad, though. Shadow had certainly
demonstrated that the old formula was starting to creak, especially with
Nick and Nora as parents. The Thin Man Goes Home feels like a necessary
maturation of the characters, even if it is disappointing that it involves being
sober and hoping that daddy finally approves.
While all of the Thin Man movies have reflected the time they’re
made, The Thin Man Goes Home, while not overtly referencing it, is definitely
portraying the domestic life of World War II. From the Charles’ lack of
liquor due to wartime rationing, to the crowded train they take to Sycamore
Springs (again, wartime scarcity), it’s hard not to see the changed world the
Charles’ now inhabit.
Speaking of the Second World War, Myrna Loy was heavily
involved in the war effort and had to be torn away from her work in New
York and her new marriage to John Hertz, Jr. to make this sequel. MGM
had floated the idea of replacing Loy with Irene Dunne, which, thankfully,
didn’t come to fruition.
There are some weird loose ends in this one. Laura Belle hints that
she may have had an attraction to Berton—who would have technically
133
been her first cousin, according to the film’s finale. There’s also the
character of Brogan, who follows Nick around and obeys his orders.
There’s a reason for it, sure, but the audience is never given it.
134
Exteriors: Nick & Nora
Out of Doors
By Andrew Wickliffe
Through six films, thirteen years, three directors, and four editors,
The Thin Man film series has a number of observable, comparable features.
Some are intentional, some are unintentional, and some are likely simply
the result of the series being produced by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer at that
time. One such feature of this, the editing between locations, reveals quite
a bit about the films’ differences and their similarities. Approximately
eighty-five percent of the cuts between scenes in the films go from one
interior to another. In fact, nearly all of the series’ memorable scenes take
place inside. So instead of talking about the series’ many interiors, this essay
will discuss its few relatively exterior shots, film by film.
Although the principal crew changed over the years, famous MGM
art director Cedric Gibbons worked on all six films. Edwin B. Willis started
out on the first Thin Man in 1934 as an associate art director and, after
leaving the series for a while, returned for the final entries as set decorator.
While the consistent art crew might seem to lend itself to a similarly
consistent visual tone throughout the series, every entry is remarkably
different, whether due to metropolitan setting, narrative necessities, or to
the director’s interest in elaborate exterior set pieces.
The Thin Man, directed by W.S. Van Dyke, only spends five percent
of its runtime outside, split between various New York street sets. The most
detailed exterior takes place outside the Hotel Normandie (in reality, a
famous hotel once located on the southeast corner of Broadway and ThirtyEighth Street). Nick, Nora, Asta, and Lieutenant Guild (Nat Pendleton)
walk from the hotel entrance, passing shops and other scenery, before Nick
sends Nora off to see “Grant’s Tomb.”
The New York setting of The Thin Man is singularly handled; the
film presumes its audience will immediately comprehend the setting.
Screenwriters Albert Hackett and Frances Goodrich establish Nick has
been in California for four years in his first scene, but New York is not
specifically mentioned until over thirty minutes into the film. The interior
sets help establish the unspoken New York setting, with glimpses of the
skyline through windows
135
The two most frequent exterior street sets, Wynant’s shop and Julia
Wolf’s apartment building are simply done. The interiors get far more
attention in this entry, with Nick and Nora’s hotel suite full of distinct
rooms as much of the film plays out there. The single exception is the
opening sequence. The film opens on the Wynant shop and its exterior
scene is rather memorable, between a horse-drawn carriage, the signage, the
cab, and the snow.
The final exterior shot of The Thin Man is of a train taking Nick and
Nora away from New York and murder mysteries. Van Dyke starts the Thin
Man series without exteriors, using the elaborate, meticulously decorated
interiors and the actors interacting with those settings to imply the world
outside. That decision, whether artistic, practical, or budget-driven, invites
the audience to imagine the characters moving around the metropolis. The
“Grant’s Tomb” comment makes it seem at least partially a conscious
decision.
The second film, After the Thin Man, with Van Dyke again directing,
catches up with them as that train brings them home to San Francisco.
Even though the first film’s train scene only lasts a couple minutes, Nick
and Nora traveling by train becomes one of the series’ standards in the
second film.
After roughly two memorable minutes of Nick and Nora packing
up their compartment, the film moves into its elaborate San Francisco
arrival sequence. It accounts for half of the exterior shots in After the Thin
Man, with Van Dyke moving the action from the train terminal to Nick and
Nora’s loquacious car ride home to their hilltop mansion. The sequence is
substantially more complicated than anything in the first entry; for each of
Van Dyke’s subsequent entries, he stages increasingly more complex
sequences.
After the Thin Man then moves along into its next setting theme–
the second of three. This second one is foggy San Francisco on New Year’s
Eve. Half the film takes place the day Nick and Nora arrive home, with the
entire initial murder mystery playing out on the foggy streets. There are a
few memorable locations in that fog–the Li Chi club, Aunt Katherine’s, and
an unidentified small bridge—but the fog is the primary visual compeller.
The final setting is Polly Byrnes’s apartment building, where the
solution to the mystery plays out over the last half hour of the film. The
building exterior shots are not ornate, but Van Dyke keeps establishing
136
Nick and Nora arrive at their mansion in After the Thin Man.
them as characters arrive and depart. This sequence, where the interior
shots do more to establish location than the exterior ones, is the sequence
most identical to the first film.
Once again, the film ends with Nick and Nora on a train, along
with a surprise and promise to the audience for a different type of outing
next time. The third film, Another Thin Man, brings Nick and Nora back to
New York City for a visit. Returning again in the director’s chair is Van
Dyke; he opens the film with the Charles family’s luggage and its trip from
the train station to their hotel (the Hotel Northampton– apparently not a
real place). After introducing some of the supporting cast and setting up
the Charles’s accommodations, the action moves to Long Island and Van
Dyke’s even more elaborate exterior scenes.
Almost seventy percent of the film’s exterior scenes take place
during the Long Island section of the story. Asta’s two adventures in this
entry–one with a skunk and another with a murder weapon–both take place
outside. Nick goes for multiple countryside strolls. Van Dyke also stages a
huge arson set piece outside. Another Thin Man is the first film in the series
to use the exterior settings as tools for set pieces.
137
Later exteriors in the film, New York city street sets with
apartment buildings and this entry’s night club, are extremely detailed. The
shops and repeated signage are memorable and distinct. Van Dyke uses
them to set mood and tone of the resulting interior scenes, an almost
complete reversal of his approach on the first film and the latter half of the
second. Oddly, the one location without any personality is the Hotel
Northampton. It never gets an exterior shot of its entrance. Its alley has a
scene and there is one shot of its rooftop but otherwise, it is all interiors.
The opening luggage sequence implies an establishing shot but Van Dyke
gets away with not having one.
Coincidentally, the fourth film– Shadow of the Thin Man– has Van
Dyke opening with a very definite establishing of the Charles’s hotel. Nick,
Nora, Asta, and Nick Jr. are back in San Francisco. Apparently having sold
their lovely home (from After the Thin Man), they are staying at the St. Cloud
Hotel. However, they do not seem to be staying at the real St. Cloud Hotel,
which was a rooming house on Sixth Street.
Instead, their St. Cloud Hotel has a somewhat complicated balcony
set and a park across the street. Van Dyke sends Nick, Nick Jr., and Asta
for a walk there and a rather intricately paced comic opening sequence to
introduce the audience to the now speaking age Nick Jr.
Not satisfied with that already singular park scene, Van Dyke turns
Nick and Nora’s drive to the racetrack into his most elaborate exterior set
piece in his four entries. Nick is speeding and a police officer pulls them
over–on the Golden Gate Bridge, complete with on location second unit
shots of (presumably) stand-ins in a car. After getting the ticket, Van Dyke
goes even further and gets Nick and Nora involved in a high speed driving
sequence with the police. The sequence has complicated rear screen
projection cutting the action together and is easily one of the series’ more
intense scenes.
When Nick and Nora finally do arrive at the racetrack–with some
location shooting footage cut into the sequence–they have a further scene
outside the clubhouse. The clubhouse, and some location footage of a
racetrack, return later during the investigation scenes but once that first
sequence ends, Van Dyke never tries as hard with the exteriors. There are
detailed sets for the Mario’s Grotto restaurant, where Asta gets his
adventure for the film, and some of the apartment buildings–Nick has to
go to at least three in his investigations.
138
Shadow of the Thin Man also has the one big visual snafu in the series.
Nick and Nora go to a wrestling match at the Midtown Arena, located on
West 48th Street. The two arena exterior sets definitely imply a New York
City street and the mismatch is such an obvious mistake, one has to wonder
the story behind it. After taking great care with the San Francisco for the
driving sequence, it seems unlikely the filmmakers would make such a
glaring mistake.
The film ends at police headquarters, which gets a few exterior
shots. Although all six films eventually involve the police, Shadow of the Thin
Man is the only one where a police headquarters plays a substantial role.
In his Thin Man films, Van Dyke is reluctant to give up that control
of how the audience sees the characters get from place to place. Unless it’s
under his direct control– Nick and Nora going home in After, the Long
Island scenes in Another, or the driving sequence in Shadow–Van Dyke relies
on the set designers to create fantastic exteriors without ever interacting
with them. And the set designers succeed, with the actors and script making
the scenes notable. The one time Van Dyke does interact with the set– the
burning pool house in Another– he almost immediately cuts away from it.
The next film, The Thin Man Goes Home, this time directed by
Richard Thorpe, is in many ways the entry least like the others. Nick and
Nora head out of the city again–the film opens with a complicated comic
sequence set in Grand Central Station, with Thorpe defining his vision
straight away. He puts Powell through his only slapstick sequence in the
series while turning Nick’s drinking into a punchline for the first time in the
series too.
Their trip is to Sycamore Springs, (the imaginary) birthplace of the
famous detective, Nicholas Charles. The film never identifies if Sycamore
Springs is still in New York state or if Nick and Nora cross state lines on
their train ride. Clocking in at seven minutes, their train ride has its own
comic setpieces. Thorpe and co-screenwriter Robert Riskin incorporate
locations and set pieces immediately, a marked change from the first four
entries.
Nick and Nora get off the train–after riding in the baggage car
thanks to Asta–at the Sycamore Springs station. The action quickly moves
to the Charles house; quite a bit of the house’s exterior (and some of the
interior) is a continuous set. Thorpe showcases the size of the set in an eight
minute exterior scene, easily the longest in the series, where Nick relaxes,
139
Powell, Gloria DeHaven, Lucile Watson, and Loy enjoy the (fake) outdoors in
The Thin Man Goes Home.
Nora fights with a chair, they meet almost every eventual suspect, they fool
around, they get caught by Nick’s mother, and then they manage to meet
even more suspects.
Thorpe only uses exteriors to establish tone in the film, something
no other Thin Man entry does. Thorpe is far more comfortable with an
expansive setting–other parts of Sycamore Springs get their own scenes and
personality. There’s an art shop, which figures into the story, an auto court,
also part of the story, as well as the streets.
On those streets is Nora’s own investigating sequence– her first in
the series completely solo from Nick– as she trails a suspect through
Sycamore Springs. They go through residential and commercial areas,
finally ending up in a pool hall. Thorpe breaks up the sequence with little
comic bits. The sequence is one of the more memorable in the series, in no
small part thanks to the detailed exterior sets.
Thorpe frequently shows off those sets. Over twenty percent of
the film takes place outside, much of that time at the Charles house and
140
yard. But other locations also need details – Thorpe does recap scenes with
Nick talking to someone out front of the house (or shack). Since the
dialogue is somewhat superfluous, the setting, in glorious Karl Freund
lighting, is the distinct element.
The series’ final entry, Song of the Thin Man returns Nick and Nora
to New York City– living at the Park Towers, which would not be the real
one built in Hell’s Kitchen in 1965. Edward Buzzell directs the film, which
takes the action to sea for a good third of the runtime.
Nora drags Nick to a charity function on a gambling boat, the S.S.
Fortune, where they meet a bunch of suspicious characters and, not
surprisingly, there is a murder. Investigating the crime requires Nick to go
to the docks, which is a fantastic set piece, and then back onto the boat at
night, another good set piece. Buzzell and editor Gene Ruggiero have a
distinct style with the editing. Competent, matter-of-fact, workman-like,
but slightly excessive. What the editing lacks in finesse just makes for a
distinctive Thin Man entry.
We also get the series’ only “follow that cab” sequence in Song, with
Nick and Nora pursuing a New York socialite as she stops at various
locations. The exterior sets are nice, but starkly dressed and indistinct due
to Charles Rosher’s murky lighting. However, Rosher does well shooting
the Park Towers exterior, which gets a detailed set.
Buzzell uses exterior establishing shots to create tension for the
following interior scenes. It makes the scenes memorable, especially a
harrowing train sequence with Nick and Nora rushing back to the city. That
scene additionally gives actors Powell and Loy a lovely subtle way to show
how their characters have grown over the films.
Another distinguishing feature is the detail put into the city skylines
through windows and from the deck of the ship. Song of the Thin Man has
the second least amount of exterior shots (though more than double the
first film’s exteriors) and the skylines help fill in the imagination.
While the final two entries in the Thin Man series do not enjoy the
critical reputation of the first four (or especially first two), the films’ distinct
qualities often make them memorable. Thorpe’s handling of the large
exterior set in The Thin Man Goes Home is an impressive achievement. The
skylines in Song of the Thin Man are a lesser one, but still excellent work.
141
The Van Dyke helmed entries use the interior sequences to define
the mood and tone of the scenes and the films. Thorpe and The Thin Man
Goes Home are the complete opposite; Buzzell and Song of the Thin Man are
roughly half and half. The exceptions in Van Dyke’s entries, when he does
change the film’s style and temporarily focus on exterior scenes, are all
vivid, deliberate sequences.
The shots of Nick, Nora and Asta arriving home in After is, while
not his most ambitious, the only time in the series where Powell and Loy
are in a location shoot. The fleeting shot of the San Francisco skyline is one
of the series’ most memorable. Van Dyke and the screenwriters turn this
opening sequence, culminating in that location shoot, into an ex post facto
to the first film’s lack of exteriors.
Part of the Thin Man series’ charm and perpetual popularity is how
familiar audiences feel with Powell and Loy in the characters of Nick and
Nora Charles. None of the duo’s eight other pairings is anywhere near as
well-remembered or popular. To achieve that familiarity and perpetual
popularity, the viewer needs to be able to either recognize or imagine
recognizing—in the case of the street sets, San Francisco, or Sycamore
Springs—the world of Nick and Nora and, of course, Asta too.
142
143
Song of the Thin Man (1947)
Based on the characters created by Dashiell Hammett.
Story by Stanley Roberts. Screenplay by Steve Fisher and Nat Perrin.
Additional dialogue by James O’Hanlon and Harry Crane.
Directed by Edward Buzzell.
Produced by Nat Perrin.
Starring William Powell, Myrna Loy, Kennan Wynn, Dean Stockwell, Phillip Reed, Patricia
Morison, Leon Ames, Gloria Grahame, Jayne meadows, Ralph Morgan, Bess Flowers,
Don Taylor, Warner Anderson, Bruce Cowling, Connie Gilchrist, Henry Nemo, William
Bishop, Marie Windsor, and Asta.
Aboard the gambling ship S.S. Fortune, things are hopping for a
charity function. Beautiful blonde singer Fran Page (Gloria Grahame) has
taken center stage and is belting out a beautiful number. Two of the boat’s
hired muscle are wandering around and scoping out the fashionable
women. When they stop to ogle one, Nick corrects them on their technique.
Nick: “Boys, boys. In polite society, we don’t say
‘yoohoo’. We say ‘you-whom’.”
Nick and Nora know these two gents and give their salutations.
However, when it’s revealed that the two taught Nicky Jr. how to break into
a safe, Nora gets catty and the two walk off. Nick chides her, but she
interjects:
Nora: “I didn’t mean to hurt them, I love them! They’re
perfect gentlemen, right down to their fingerprints.”
On stage, Buddy Hollis (Don Taylor), a famous clarinetist, takes
center stage, but hits several sour notes. One clarinetist, Clarence ‘Clinker’
Krause (Keenan Wynn), tries to defend him, but to no avail.
The band’s leader, Tommy Drake (Phillip Reed), notices that Fran
has gone offstage to gaze at the ocean, and he follows her. Fran had been
Hollis’ old girlfriend before she left him for Tommy, which he rubs in. She’s
also caught him messing around with other girls, and the two call it splits.
The boat’s owner, Phil Brant (Bruce Cowling) interrupts them to tell
Tommy to get back to work. He turns to Fran after he leaves.
144
Brant: “He brings sunshine into everyone’s life, doesn’t
he?”
Fran: “Stay out in that sunshine too long and you’ll get a
third degree burn.”
Back on stage and Hollis, obviously distraught and drunk, tries to
get off stage, but Tommy takes a swing at him. The band is pulled offstage
and Tommy and Brant have it out. Tommy’s gotten the band an exclusive
touring contract and will be walking out on Brant at the end of the night.
Brant: “That awful smell around here must be your
gratitude.”
Tommy: “Gratitude? Remind me to look that word up. I’ll
be in the office later for my dough.”
Brant: “Dough? Remind me to look that word up.”
Tommy freaks out because he’s in deep to a mobster named Al
Amboy (William Bishop). Tommy’s only hope is Mitch Talbin (Leon Ames)
and his wife Phyllis (Patricia Morison), the promoter who signed him up
for the tour. Tommy begs for the $12,000 he needs to keep his neck past
midnight.
Phyllis drops her necklace and Nick retrieves it for her. Nick and
Nora then bump into the Thayers—literally. David Thayer is a blue blood
of the old school, and has just donated a million dollars’ worth of antiques
to the museum. But, more important to Nick, David seems to be carrying
a gun.
Nick: “If this rampage of respectability continues, we’ll
have to get you a bulletproof girdle.”
At the Thayer’s table, David is ragging on Brant for being a
swindler. His wife Jessica (Bess Flowers) and daughter Janet (Jayne
Meadows) disagree, and Brant himself interjects, insisting that his only
overhead cost for the night comes from one single dance with Janet. David
is clearly upset that his daughter and Brant are flirting, so it’s a good thing
he misses the next scene on the deck where the two decide to elope.
145
Brant heads downstairs to grab a few things from his cabin.
Tommy is spying on him, though, and sneaks in after Tommy leaves. Just
as Tommy has broken into the safe, he’s shot from behind from an unseen
assailant.
The next morning and the front page pronounces that the police
are searching for Brant as the killer. The Charles clan is having breakfast
while Nick Jr. devours the comics’ page. He points out that one character
in a strip is revealed to have been a man disguised as a woman to commit a
murder.
Nick Jr: “Sure, it’s a dead giveaway. A dame would never
pass a mirror like that without check to see if her slip is
showing.”
Nora: “Dame?!”
Nick Jr.: “That’s what daddy always says.”
Nick: “I never say dame. I say doll. Or dish.”
Nick Jr. excuses himself as he plans to go play baseball, but Nora
insists he go practice the piano. When Nick and Nora catch him trying to
sneak out the front door, Nora insists that Nick spank the young boy to
teach him a lesson. Nick has trouble doing it, as he remembers all of the
fond memories he has of Nick Jr. growing up. At least, until he hits upon a
memory of Nick Jr. laughing at him. That makes things simpler.
Janet and Brant show up, and there’s a bit of confusion when Nick
and Nora don’t know that Brant is wanted for murder. They clear it up, and
Nick tells them their best bet is to turn himself in. As they’re about to leave,
though, a gunshot shatters the bottle of Scotch that Nick had arranged as a
wedding present. Unable to find the shooter, Nick turns Brant over to the
police, much to their chagrin.
After they’re gone, Nick explains that Brant is probably safer in the
police’s hands than on the outside, and that they’ll soon find that Brant
wasn’t behind the killing.
Nora: “Nicky, the police do make mistakes.”
146
Nick: “That’s a cheerful thought. Just what I was
thinking…”
Nora: “Of course, if you were on the case—“
Nick & Nora: [in unison] “—there would be no mistakes.”
Nick: “You know, it’s positively sadistic the way you drive
me to work.”
Nick heads down to the docks so he can board the Fortune.
Unfortunately, it’s under police guard, so Nick spies a drifting rowboat that
he plans to borrow. He’s caught by the boat’s owner just as he’s boarded,
though:
Boat owner: “Get outta my boat.”
Nick: “How would you like to make yourself a quick five
dollars?”
Boat owner: “Get in da boat.”
Nick: “I just want you to row me out to that gambling ship.”
Boat owner: “Get outta the boat.”
Nick: “Twenty-five dollars.”
Boat owner: “Get in da boat. For $25, I’d give ya da boat!”
On the boat, Nick finds a razor and a note that Tommy’s gambling
debt has been paid off on the back of one of Hollis’ musical numbers. He
also runs into a knife-throwing thug, but is saved when Asta runs off with
the note. Nick also finds that Tommy’s band is aboard retrieving their
instruments, and that Clinker has a razor just like the one in Brant’s office.
But that’s because all wind players have one for cutting their reeds.
147
Asta accidentally drops the note into Clinker’s clarinet case. Nick
manages to get Clinker to agree to meet up with him and help him find
Hollis, who’s disappeared since the murder.
So Nick and Nora, trying to pick up some of Clinker’s slang, follow
along to several jam sessions. They run into Amboy, who wants the note,
which Clinker accidentally destroys. The duo also bumps into the Talbins,
who also seem to be trying to track Hollis down—and Mitch confesses that
he isn’t the one who paid off Tommy’s gambling debt. Just about the only
one who seems to know where he is Fran, and she’s not talking.
The gun used in the robbery can’t be identified by the cops, so
Nick hits upon the idea that it may have been one owned by David Thayer.
Confronting David and Janet, David admits that it was his antique gun used
in the killing—but that he’d given it to Brant earlier in the evening. Janet
gets angry, but then darts off after a sudden phone call. Nick and Nora
decide to pursue in a cab.
Cab driver: “Follow that car?”
Nora: “Movie fan.”
Janet stops by the jail first to see Brant, but then Nick and Nora
lose her momentarily. They end up beating her to the address she’d been
looking for, and find Fran’s body with a knife stuck in her back. Janet
arrives and says that Fran was shaking her down for info that could prove
Brant’s innocence, but it looks suspicious.
Investigating Fran’s recent activity takes them to Poughkeepsie,
specifically to a place called Valley Rest Home, a mental health facility.
Hollis was so destroyed by drinking that he thinks that he committed the
murder, and even has the gun to prove it. He tries to take a shot at Nora
after he thinks that she’s lied to him, but misses by quite a bit.
Later, at the train station, Nick is skeptical, though, since Hollis
was nowhere near enough in his right mind to be able to get away with the
crime. That, and since he couldn’t have killed Fran, who would have and
why? Nora calls home as they wait for the train to arrive, which Nick thinks
is silly since they’re so close.
148
Nora: “I just want to hear my son’s voice. For a moment
there, I thought I’d never hear it again.”
Riding in the baggage car back to New York with Asta and Clinker,
Nora pulls out a handkerchief that she picked up in Fran’s apartment after
her murder. Nick realizes that it was Janet’s—and during the phone call
Nora had just made, Janet was home alone with Nick Jr.
It’s a long train ride.
When they arrive home, the police manage to track down Janet and
Nick Jr. Janet swears that a pair of men from Amboy’s gang had shown up
and threatened them, so she’d left. She also tells a story where she had
arrived at Fran’s first, dropped her handkerchief in fright, and tried to run
away but saw Nick and Nora arrive so she returned. Buy that?
With little other choice, Nick decides it’s time for a showdown with
the suspects. He spreads a false report that Hollis has recovered completely
and will name the killer. The suspects are gathered around the stage on the
S.S. Fortune. Who will break first?
Nick: “If the party gets rough, duck.”
Nora: “I'm practically under the table now, but not the way
I like to be.”
Song of The Thin Man usually sits near the bottom of most people’s
appreciation for the series, and that’s unsurprising for a number of reasons.
The once hip and sophisticated Charles’ are fish out of water in the PostWar world. Where in previous films they solved mysteries out of boredom,
one can’t help but feel a sense of malaise from the duo even when they’re
on the case. The only thing they do seem to passionately care about is Nick
Jr.— making Song one last chance for Nick and Nora to find a spark in their
old relationship.
But that’s part of the beauty of the series aging in time with the
characters. (Funnily, Dead Stockwell, who plays Nick Jr., was born the same
year that After the Thin Man came out, matching him and Nick Jr’s ages
perfectly.) The Charles have simply gotten old. They’ve become parents
who spend most of their nights at home, and while they still trade a few
jabs, they’re more out of habit than anything.
149
It hurts that Song also underwhelms itself by under delivering on
the payoffs. There’s a lot of setup for a sequence where it looks like Nick
Jr. has been kidnapped which only pays off in another red herring. The
film’s final conclusion is pretty uninteresting—Nick and Nora have become
so good that they sort out the killer with complete efficiency.
But the film does have its bright spots. Dean Stockwell as Nick Jr.
is lively and funny. It’s almost a downer that he doesn’t get a chance to
sovle the case with his dad like he insists on. There is also gorgeous Gloria
Grahame in a supporting role. She’d go on to star in The Big Heat, one of
the most famous film noirs produced. Another noir icon, Marie Windsor,
also gets a small bit part as Amboy’s wife. And Keenan Winn, who still had
a very long career ahead of him, is a lot of fun as the jive-talking Clinker.
The biggest issue in the movie, though, is the complete lack of
reflection. No mention of older cases or time passing. The police no longer
seem to recognize Nick, and only his friends remember his old adventures.
Though the film’s title would seem to come from its setting in the PostWar nightclubs, it also serves to indicate that this is the ‘Swan’ Song of the
Thin Man. But if so, where are the stakes? It’s just too bland, even if the
film’s darkness has been cranked down appropriately in a post-Double
Indemnity world.
So there you have it: the most egregious thing about Song of the Thin
Man is that it’s a missed opportunity.
Nick: “And now Nick Charles is going to retire.”
Nora: “You’re through with crime?!”
Nick: “No, I’m going to bed!”
150
Blueprint for Neurosis:
The Nicky Jr. Saga
By Andrew Hathaway
The Thin Man films pride themselves on their witty dialogue,
convoluted tales of violence, and enough alcohol consumption for the
audience to get a secondhand buzz at the end of each film. They're
lighthearted enough so that the darker material may go over the heads of
younger viewers, but it's not the kind of universe where a child can romp
around and have a barrel of laughs. So when Nora ends After the Thin Man
declaring her pregnancy via a Wilder-esque closing zinger, "And you call
yourself a detective," to the bewildered Nick, it signals a moment that would
eventually be termed "jumping the shark." It's a great final line, but a sign
that the series should be taking a new direction with Mr. and Mrs. Charles,
now in a family way.
Only that's not what happens. The booze and violence of the Thin
Man universe continues on with barely a regard to little Nicky Charles Jr.,
and with that casual disregard comes an ever-growing fear that little Nicky
is going to eventually end up as one of the bodies that his parents discover
time and again. Instead of using Nicky Jr. as a springboard into new
storylines and discovering new facets to Mr. and Mrs. Charles, he's little
more than a prop for a few scenes of banter, and then slowly pushed offscreen so that Mr. and Mrs. Charles can continue uncovering the latest and
greatest crime spree.
With one key exception, the many performers of Nicky Jr. go on
to as much, or as little as the case may be, notoriety off-screen as on.
Consider the case of William A. Poulsen, the first actor to take the mantle
of Nicky Jr. in Another Thin Man in 1939. The screenwriting team of Frances
Goodrich and Albert Hackett, who had penned the first two entries in the
Thin Man series, were still on-board and the little bundle needed to be dealt
with in some way. This problem of writing for infants persists in television
today with directors needing to figure out either creative blocking to hide
pregnancies or skipping ahead a few years to ditch the child’s infancy period
altogether.
I have to applaud Goodrich and Hackett for dealing with Nicky
Jr.'s existence in the same way an annoyed pet owner would - by locking
151
the poor child up. Almost as soon as little Nicky Jr. is introduced, he's
unceremoniously dropped into the drawer of a dresser where he remains
for most of the film. He only reemerges when he's required for some late
suspense when he's taken hostage by the big bad of the picture. It's one of
the many moments throughout the series that I can easily imagine a grown
up Nicky Jr. recounting to a therapist, describing his life as little more than
a prop for mom and dad's witty repartee and carefully timed heroic deeds.
In a bit of synergy, William Poulsen's existence as Nicky Jr. is the first and
last time he was ever in a motion picture and, much like how Nicky Jr. is
barely mentioned when he's off-screen, William similarly seems to
disappear from the earth until his death in 1973.
As one might expect from parents like Mr. and Mrs. Charles, this
cycle of neglect and incidental abuse continues in the next appearances of
Nicky Jr. In the fourth film, Shadow of the Thin Man, Nicky Jr. is presented
as a toy for his parents to clothe and use as a way to glance barbs at one
another. The new screenwriters, Harry Kurnitz and Irving Brecher, don't
give the now toddler much else to do except be turned into whatever
weapon Nick or Nora decide they need him to be, but the result is superb.
In one of Shadow's funniest scenes, Nick is shamed into drinking milk
instead of his morning cocktail when Nora sees the opportunity to point
Nicky Jr.'s nagging at papa's direction. It's one of two times in the films that
we get a good sense of the family dynamic that Nicky Jr. is growing up into,
and it's pretty fitting that he would just be another pawn in Nick and Nora's
loving battle.
As Nicky Jr. went from being a baby to a toddler between films
and Poulsen withdrew from the world of cinema, this had given long-time
Thin Man director W.S. Van Dyke the opportunity to recast the role. The
new Nicky Jr. for Shadow was Richard Hall, listed as Dickie in the credits.
Keeping up with the proportion of future success to involvement in the
film though, Richard's career after Shadow was in various shorts where he is
sometimes credited for work and sometimes not. Like William before him,
Richard disappears from Hollywood by 1945 and as far as we know is still
alive in the United States -- probably because of all the milk he drank as a
child.
This brings the Charles' to the curious case of The Thin Man Goes
Home, fifth in the series and first without director Van Dyke, who passed
away in 1943. True to the title, Nick and Nora take a vacation to Nick's
childhood town to pay a visit to his father. Considering the family theme
built right into the plot of the film, it's a bit surprising that Nick Jr. isn't in
152
the film. Even more surprising is the fact that, aside from one line where
Crazy Mary asks Nick if he has a kid, Nick and Nora don't behave as though
they have a child at all. Were it not for the familiar personalities at the helm,
you could be forgiven for thinking that either something disastrous
happened to their child between Another and Goes Home or this entry was
taking place in an altogether different Thin Man universe.
Powell, Loy, and Dickie Hall in a promotional still for Shadow of The Thin Man.
153
Nick Jr.'s absence is especially noticeable since Goes Home’s plot is
the one most about family issues and the difficulties in communicating
between the generations. Nick doesn't connect well with his father, Nora
tries desperately to get Nick's parents to understand what he does, and all
this while the younger members in town form attachments to Nick and
Nora. Even the central mystery has to do with questions of the unresolved
issues in every family’s past.
While Nick Jr. is absent, The Thin Man Goes Home carries a
subconscious lesson into the sixth and final film as it serves as a featurelength guide to what kind of parents Nick and Nora should want to be. So
when we are finally reintroduced to Nick Jr. in Song of the Thin Man, the tone
is more domesticated with notably less harmful situations involving Nick
Jr.
For Song of the Thin Man, a true child actor was finally put in the role
of Nicky Jr. In a fortuitous bit of casting, an 11-year old Dean Stockwell
landed the role of Nicky Jr. He had played an infant and a toddler in
previous films and at that age simple obedience and luck matters more than
performing ability. Now, Song director Edward Buzzell had found someone
who could at least hold their own against William Powell and Myrna Loy,
if not necessarily go toe-to-toe with them.
This time around Nicky Jr. is not the unwanted prop or tool of
spite he was used as in Another and Shadow. Song’s take on the humdrum of
daily life is interesting as a historical artifact of sorts as it was a sign that the
drunken fun of the Thin Man films was finally settling down just in time
for the "father knows best" media that would start to wind up for the
Eisenhower '50s. Stockwell, to his credit, does a fine job with the role and
doesn't give into the kind of "aw shucks" overacting that many performers
his age would exhibit over the next decade, saving us from a “Leave It To
Nick Jr.” spate of shenanigans.
Stockwell’s ability to read the scene and react appropriately also
yielded one of the funnier moments of Song. Nora nags Nick after Nicky Jr.
has misbehaved and is in need of a punishment. As he prepares to spank
the misbehaving boy, in a curious moment of direction by Edward, little
Nicky's backside becomes a screen that projects fond memories of Nick
Jr.'s upbringing to the audience and the elder Nick Charles. What sells the
moment is when the camera pulls back to observe Powell's face frozen with
hesitation at the idea of spanking his child, and Stockwell's delightful
deadpan stare of incredulity that it's taking his father this long to get the
154
Nick projects a not-so-fond memory on Nick Jr.'s rear in Song of The Thin Man.
punishment over with. As a final comment on the lackluster parenting
abilities of Mr. and Mrs. Charles, Nick is only spurred to action when he
remembers the time he taught Nick Jr. how to ride a bike. Nick Jr. laughed
at Nick Sr.’s clumsiness, just as any sardonic member of the Charles family
would, and Nick uses the memory of this humiliation to spank the boy. As
with his parents, no slight against a member of the Charles family, especially
from another Charles, goes unpunished.
Once again, success in proportion to screen time and involvement
reflected Stockwell's career. The deadpan wit and charm of Powell stuck
with Stockwell throughout his decades of steady acting work in films and
on television. Bits of charisma that Powell imparted can be seen in some of
Stockwell's performances. Both his role as Al on “Quantum Leap” and his
dark turn as Brother John Cavil in “Battlestar Galactica” show Stockwell
underplaying the humor in his character, dark or no, in a way that would
have made Powell proud.
So what are we to make of Nicky Jr.? On the one hand, he is every
bit the harbinger of declining quality that the introduction of a precocious
child character is for television sitcoms and dramas today. With each one
of his appearances the laughs grow farther apart and Nick and Nora's charm
155
begins to slowly decline. But it would be unfair to lay the blame solely on
Nicky Jr. or the many actors who portrayed him as they had no control over
the immense turnover of talent that was going on behind the scenes starting
with Shadow onto Song.
Instead, it's better to use Nicky as a barometer of the relationship
America held with its entertainment. As Nicky aged, servicemen returned
home to their families and were instructed to begin lives of happy
domesticity. There wasn't room for any of the pre-war shenanigans and
casual child abuse we saw in Another, Nick and Nora had to become
responsible parents to do their part in growing post-war America, as they
realized in Goes Home. That meant moving Nicky out from the dresser, to
the park, and then finally letting the kid go out and play some baseball.
Even with Nick and Nora's parenting skills steadily improving
between films, I can't help but wonder about the mess of neuroses that
Nicky Jr. has the potential to turn into. He was the child of two unrepentant
alcoholics, constantly discarded as his parents went sleuthing, and then used
as an outlet for dealing with personal humiliation as he grew into an
adolescent. But then again, it was the '50s, so maybe forcing the kid to live
with a lifetime of closeted anxiety was the best way for him to fit in to the
post-war world.
156
“You give such
charming parties”:
Drinking to The Thin Man
By Clint Worthington
“Say listen, is he working on a case?”
“Yes, he is.”
“What case?”
“A case of scotch. Pitch in and help him.”
- A reporter and Nora Charles, The Thin Man
The Thin Man series’ free-wheeling, post-Prohibition/pre-World
War II sensibility is most visible in the Charles’ love of cocktails and the
frequent sloppy booze parties that seem to organically assemble in his
homes. Even though the film pokes fun at the shouty schticks of the
Charles’ various party guests, the film still clearly loves these adorable
mooks – if the Charles’ lovingly prickly relationship is the heart of the film,
these bacchanalias are a close second.
As someone who regularly invents drinking games for movies, I
naturally gravitate toward that joyful, communal spirit of drinking; to that
end, I’ve thrown together some of my patented drinking games for each
entry in the Thin Man series. A good drinking game has enough rules to
make it fun, while not having too many to keep track of (especially as the
night goes on and you get a little tipsy).To that end, each game has three
rules and a "Finish Your Drink" line. While one of the rules is always a
variant of “Drink for drinking” in one of the films - it’s a constant, to be
sure - each new adventure of these charmingly high-functioning detectives
carries their own distinct quirks worthy of focus.
That being said, there are also quite a few trappings common
throughout the series you can drink to if you're marathoning them, even if
they don't show up enough to warrant their own rule. Thin Man
movies invariably lead Nick and Nora Charles to an exotic club with an
extended musical number or act that kills a few minutes (like the Lychee
157
Nick enjoys his first of many cocktails throughout the series in The Thin Man.
Club in After the Thin Man, or the flamenco dancers at the West Indies Club
in Another Thin Man). You could also drink for the "EXTRA! EXTRA!"
newspaper-headline montages that often pop up after a major development
in the mystery. The sky's the limit, so experiment and find the rules that
work for you!
(NOTE: Please drink responsibly. If you’re having Jared’s custom cocktail or
one of your own, feel free to pace yourself and sip.)
The Thin Man
Starting out with the Charles’ inaugural mystery, the rules for The
Thin Man are fairly straightforward. Charles is in fine form as host here,
especially in his first scene (as he shows the bartenders at the Christmas
party the proper way to shake a martini). To that end, your first rule is to
drink whenever he or any other character follows in his tradition of offering
or ordering drinks. Silhouettes are an important motif in The Thin Man as
well, showcasing the eerie mystery and ominous nature of Mr. Wynant
himself; you’ll drink whenever you see those. Finally, the use of wipes in
transition helps sell the film’s speedy pace. The discovery of Julia Wolf’s
158
body (and other similar plot progressions) are shown procedurally through
quick scenes of activity punctuated by these rapid screen wipes. They’re an
effective vehicle to give the film its refreshing momentum, and you’ll drink
whenever you see them.
Rules:
1) Drink every time a drink is offered, served or ordered
2) Drink whenever you see silhouettes.
3) Drink for each wipe transition
Finish Your Drink When:
The detective, undercover as a waiter at Nick and Nora’s dinner party,
shouts at his guests to “HAVE A COCKTAIL!”
After the Thin Man
“That’s my darling!” says Nick Charles in an early scene of the first
Thin Man sequel, after Nora soundly rejects the possibility of taking any
future cases. To our delight, this declaration proves untrue, even as the
Charleses get wrapped up in a family affair involving the murder of a nogood member-in-law of Nora's aristocratic family. This sequel keeps the
detective format pretty well untouched, even ending this film in a similar
Poirot-esque gather-up-the-suspects-in-one-room climax, but there are a
few innovations that keep the series fresh. The addition of series staple Lt.
Abrams - the Lestrade to the Charleses' Sherlock and Watson - gives them
a unique no-nonsense foil to ground them after their Thin Man fame.
Perhaps the most adorable change is the increased presence of Asta given
the dog's popularity in the first film, even giving him a little dog-wife to
parallel the Charles' loving marriage. The little guy can do everything now,
from running off an amorous intruder looking to horn in on his wife, to
leading the Charleses on a merry chase throughout the house with a crucial
clue. He can even mow the lawn! Since Asta is given more of a showcase,
we're giving him his own rule, along with a note for salutations in names,
which crops up pretty frequently given the increased presence of Nora's
aristocratic family.
Rules:
1) Drink along with every sip Nick or Nora have.
159
2) Drink every time someone uses a salutation when naming someone (Mr.,
Mrs., Ms.), BUT not a rank. (Lt. Abrams doesn't count, unless he's being
mistakenly called Mr.!)
3) Drink any time Asta gets into some sort of trouble or mischief, whether
with humans or his dog family.
Finish Your Drink When:
Nora Charles, Nick having caught her knitting baby boots, says, "And you
call yourself a detective."
Another Thin Man
With the addition of Nicky Jr. to the Charles family, the Golden
Age's favorite detective couple has another set of responsibilities on their
hands, but it doesn't stop them from jumping right back into the game to
solve the murder of an old friend. All the same, some of the best moments
of Another Thin Man involve the free-wheeling couple settling down for
family life, with Nick picking up the baby more than the bottle this time
around - the house party the Charleses usually throw is replaced by a mass
birthday party/shower complete with "root beer and Coca-Cola." This
installment in particular has a lot more gunplay, given the wisecracking
gangsters that are the film's primary suspects, so we've got a rule for that as
well.
Rules:
1) Drink whenever a drink is sipped, ordered or offered
2) Drink anytime a gun is brandished or shot
3) Drink every time Nicky Jr. appears or is mentioned by name
Finish Your Drink When:
Nick says to Nora, "Let's sit down. Just to get a little rest after our quiet
weekend in the country."
Shadow of the Thin Man
For Nick and Nora Charles, as soon as their boy's old enough to
walk and talk, it's time to hit the bottle again. Not only has the drinking
160
picked back up, the Charleses talk about it more openly, so we've got a
whole rule just for that. This film sends the Charleses to the races for their
next investigation, and there's a lot of numbers rattled off - between the
odds, amounts of money, and a scene meticulously examining a list of items,
you'll have plenty to drink to if you focus on those numbers. While Asta is
still a part of the Charleses' adventures, they film him in a weird way in
Shadow, showing him in fast-motion during some of his goofier gags
(running around the revolving door) and an eerie, macabre slow-motion in
the film's darker investigation scenes; drink whenever you notice this
strange shift in the film's look.
Rules:
1) Drink whenever Nick or Nora say the word "cocktail" or "martini".
2) Drink any time someone says a number (e.g. odds, inventory, speeds).
3) Drink any time Asta is shown in slow- or fast-motion.
Finish Your Drink When:
Nick says, "And now, we have our murderer...." and pauses for an
incredibly long time as the film cuts to each of the suspects' faces. (Try to
get your drink guzzled before the silence is broken.)
The Thin Man Goes Home
After seeing the Charleses pry into other peoples’ business in their
investigations, the series takes a few chances with this refreshing installment
in which Nick and Nora head down to the down-home town of Sycamore
Springs. I’m personally really fond of this one, as it gives a surprising depth
of character to his shallow dapperdom - seeing our refined, urbane
gumshoe come from such humble beginnings is a blast to watch, especially
seeing him try to fit in with his old haunts and his overbearing doctor dad.
This is a perfect time for Nick to look back on his life, too, as he tries to
give up drinking, replacing the whiskey in his flask with cider (much to
everyone’s surprise), so you’ll drink whenever the film reminds you of that.
While Nick leaves his drinking behind, his reputation comes along for the
ride, so you’ll drink every time someone expects Nick to be working on a
case. The Thin Man Goes Home is also one of the more overtly comedic
installments of the series, relying a little less on Nick and Nora’s mile-aminute wordplay and more on physical humor and pratfalls; you’ll drink for
those as well.
161
Nick "enjoys" apple cider in The Thin Man Goes Home.
Rules:
1) Drink whenever Nick's teetotaling comes up in conversation, or he sips
a non-alcoholic beverage.
2) Drink any time someone asks whether or not Nick is working on a case.
3) Drink for characters bumping and crashing, pratfalls
Finish Your Drink When:
Nora engages in her "dice joint in Chinatown" patter monologue to impress
Dr. Charles. It's a great bit of comedic business from Myrna Loy, and her
breathless timing is a fun challenge to see if you can finish your drink by
the time she's done.
Song of the Thin Man
All good things must come to an end, but Nick and Nora Charles
get one last encore before hanging up their hats and closing their tabs for
good. After the shake-up in formula of Thin Man Goes Home, the series tries
one last traditional murder-in-the-city with Song of the Thin Man. The song
“It’s Not So Easy to Forget” opens the film, and the film’s musical setting
162
(and title) lends itself well to a song-centric drinking rule. Keenan Wynn’s
clarinetist Clarence is often fond of the obtuse turn of phrase typical of the
jazz cats of the era, so drink every time you hear a new bit of hep lingo.
Furthermore, we get Nicky Jr. as grown-up as he’ll ever be, played by a
young Dean Stockwell and as sassy as his father. Most of his screentime is
dedicated to cuddling with Asta in bed, however (not a bad fate!), with a
recurring gag in which Asta can’t help but sidle up under the covers with
the little tyke that you’ll drink for. The series ends on this final iteration of
the gag, and so does your drinking spree.
Rules:
1) Drink whenever you hear a new song.
2) Drink every time Clarence uses jazz lingo.
3) Drink any time Asta climbs in or out of a bed.
Finish Your Drink When:
Nick, in the series’ final scene, says, “Now Nick Charles is going to retire.”
While the regimented nature of a drinking game was never quite in
the Charles’ laidback, casual style, drinking games carry with them a similar
sense of communal fun that easily translates to the breeziness of the Thin
Man series. More than that, the making of a good drinking game feels not
unlike a Nick-and-Nora investigation itself. Scouring over clues, finding
patterns, and figuring out just what makes a character or event tick is just
as instrumental to making a good movie drinking game as it is when solving
a Hollywood murder. Feel free to take these rules as a baseline from which
to add your own touches – even Nick and Nora needed Asta to fill in a vital
piece of the puzzle from time to time. Whether you can hold your liquor
like Nick and Nora Charles, or you end up like one of the shambling Foster
Brookses who populate their dinner parties, The Thin Man series always goes
well with a nice cocktail and a reason to drink it.
(Not that you need one.)
163
The Other Films of
Myrna Loy and William Powell
By Danny Reid
It’s been mentioned in this book several times-- at least I hope it
has, I probably zoned out at some point-- that Myrna Loy and William
Powell’s screen career didn’t begin nor end with the Thin Man series. In fact,
they made 8 other films together outside of the series, with their
collaboration stretching the same length of time as the Thin Man films—
1934 to 1947. Here are a few brief synopsis and reviews of their other
movies together, just in case, heaven forbid, you run out of Thin Man
movies at some point.
Manhattan Melodrama (1934)
The first movie pairing Powell and Loy together, but neither are
the star. That spot would have to belong to Clark Gable as the charismatic
Blackie Gallagher, a criminal who sacrifices his life to spare his adopted
brother Jim’s (Powell) governorship. Loy is Eleanor, the woman both men
love.
Powell and Loy both met on the set of Manhattan Melodrama.
Apparently, because shooting was so hectic, Loy hadn’t had a chance to
meet Powell before filming began, and only got a chance after entered a
scene with him in the back of a cab. After the shot was completed, he
turned to her and said, “Miss Loy, I presume?” And, thus, a friendship was
born.
Manhattan Melodrama wears its emotions right on the sleeve, and is
a fun little jaunt. As directed by Van Dyke, all three headliners are good,
though there’s little of the verbal wit that would distinguish Dyke, Powell
and Loy’s next film, The Thin Man.
Evelyn Prentice (1934)
If your memory ever faults you in just how fast the Hollywood
164
studio system could churn out movies, keep in mind that this is the third
collaboration between Powell and Loy in one year. And then remember
that Loy had six movies released in 1934, while Powell had ‘only’ five.
Evelyn Prentice is certainly a movie, though its machinations make
Manhattan Melodrama seem bold and daring. Loy plays Evelyn, a neglected
housewife to John (Powell). When she suspects him of cheating on her, she
decides to play the field as well, but ends up with more than she bargained
for when she gets a blackmailer for a beau. Evelyn Prentice is a pretty straight
drama, containing no likeable characters and no plausible situations.
Probably best for people with a sadistic streak.
Libeled Lady (1936)
Though many thought Powell and Loy were a couple off the screen
as well as on, Libeled Lady actually showcases one of the pair’s real life
romances. It teams up Powell with Jean Harlow in one of their two films
together. They’d fallen for each other in 1934, though their engagement
would end with Harlow’s sudden death in 1937.
Powell and Loy in Libeled Lady.
165
Libeled Lady is certainly the better of their collaborations, as Powell,
Loy, and Harlow are joined by Spencer Tracy in the story of a newspaper
threatened with a libel suit by an heiress (Loy). Determined to outwit her,
the paper hires a dapper conman (Powell) who will seduce the woman and
cause the libel story to come true, thus saving the newspaper from a lawsuit.
Often counted as one of the greatest screwball comedies ever
made, Libeled Lady was nominated for Best Picture, and still ranks high as
one of the best of the Powell/Loy comedies.
The Great Ziegfeld (1936)
The Great Ziegfeld is a Best Picture winner and one of the most
acclaimed films of the Golden Age of Hollywood. At least, it was when it
came out. Nowadays it’s viewed with less praise. The nearly three-hour film
takes the life of Florenz Ziegfeld and spends a lot of time on his rise and
his first marriage, and not enough, really, on his second marriage to Billie
Burke.
Burke, who was under contract at MGM at the time, supervised
the production of the film, keeping out much of the more sordid details of
Ziegfeld’s life. Powell is excellent as Ziegfeld, but there’s not much meat to
the story. Maybe worth checking out once, though anyone who isn’t a fan
of pure biopic hokum should probably skip it.
Double Wedding (1937)
Using its plot to play Loy and Powell against one another, Double
Wedding is the story of a film director (Powell) who wants to woo and
promote a young actress until her older sister (Loy) intervenes. He then
switches to the older sister, and things grow crazier from there. It’s a lot of
loud noisy slapstick that doesn’t really go anywhere or do anything, with
Powell playing perhaps the least probably bohemian film director of all
time.
I Love You Again (1940)
I Love You Again is the complicated story of a rich businessman
who gets hit on the head with an oar and suddenly remembers he’s a
166
Loy and Powell in I Love You Again.
conman who’d suffered from a bout of amnesia years before. He heads
back to the city to rip off his former friends and reconnect with his ex-wife
(Loy). It’s a ludicrous screwball premise, but it definitely has its fans. I am
not one of them.
Love Crazy (1941)
One of the better of the Powell/Loy collaborations is Love Crazy.
Loy suspects Powell of infidelity, so he pretends to be mentally unbalanced
to waylay a divorce. Unfortunately, he ends up in an institution and must
escape to find his wife and prove he still loves her, even if the police think
he’s actually a homicidal maniac on the loose. The jokes are witty and the
167
quick pace helps. It’s also notable for being the only film you get to see
Powell without his trademark mustache—mostly because he’s in drag for a
few priceless minutes.
The Senator Was Indiscreet (1947)
Released the same year as Song of the Thin Man, The Senator Was
Indiscreet has Powell with powdery white hair playing a lecherous senator
whose scandalous diary threatens to become public knowledge. Of course,
it’s the Senator who threatens to make it public to keep his party from
squashing his non-campaign for the presidency.
Director/writer George S. Kaufman, the famed playwright, does
something almost radical in transforming Powell from a dapper leading
man to a dangerously smart buffoon. He also layers on the satire, poking
fun at the two-faced necessity of politicians, and it works quite well,
maintaining its relevance nearly 70 years later.
Don’t go into the movie expecting a lot of interaction between Loy
and Powell—Loy’s appearance is a punchline cameo.

Of the eight non-Thin Man collaborations, between William Powell
and Myrna Loy, only a few come close to reaching the sublime fun of The
Thin Man movies, with Manhattan Melodrama, Libeled Lady, and Love Crazy at
the top of the heap. All of these titles are available on DVD and to
download, save for The Senator Was Indiscreet—you’ll have to hunt that one
down on your own.
168
169
Part III
Other Investigations
170
171
“By the way…
my name is Nick Charles.”
The “Thin Man” TV Series
By Ivan G. Shreve Jr.
In 1955, when Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer finally accepted that
television was no longer a fad, “the Tiffany’s of movie studios” got into the
small screen business by launching Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Television.
MGM’s first boob tube effort was “MGM Parade”, a documentary program
that lasted just one season (1955-56) but was designed to heavily promote
the studio’s current releases while reflecting on its past triumphs with
generous clips of classic films (along with interviews with stars, condensed
versions of movies and selected short subjects).
MGM Television was also able to draw on the studio’s previous
cinematic efforts by turning hit films into television series. These included
efforts like “Northwest Passage” (1958-59), “National Velvet” (1960-62),
“The Asphalt Jungle” (1961-62) and “Father of the Bride” (1961-62). The
studio also looked to their popular “movie series” for inspiration in creating
small screen fodder. Though a 1960 pilot based on their Maisie franchise
may not have gotten anywhere, MGM Television transformed Dr. Kildare
into a successful boob tube offering (starring Richard Chamberlain and
Raymond Massey) that aired from 1961 to 1966.
MGM’s most successful movie franchise, the Thin Man series, was
also brought to television. The Thin Man premiered over NBC on September
20, 1957 and lasted two seasons (totaling 72 episodes) before its
cancellation on June 26, 1959—and for a time after that, as reruns showed
up on the network’s daytime lineup from September 1959 to February
1960. Cast in the roles originated by William Powell and Myrna Loy were
Peter Lawford and Phyllis Kirk. Lawford was a familiar face around MetroGoldwyn-Mayer, having been a contract player there shortly before World
War II and appearing in such musicals as Good News (1947), Easter Parade
(1948) and Royal Wedding (1951). His co-star Kirk also had a film career
(though not quite as prolific as Pete’s); the actress was best known for
playing the woman in peril in the 1953 horror classic House of Wax.
172
For the most part, the TV
“Thin Man” adhered to the successful
formula established by the popular
films, though the introduction of Nick,
Jr. in 1939’s Another Thin Man never
made it to the small screen). The couple
also cut back on their trademark
cocktail imbibing for television’s sake,
though it could be argued that this was
toned down as the movie series
progressed as well. This might explain
why the show wasn’t more successful
than it should have been; Nick and
Nora without alcohol pretty much
makes them Jerry and Pam North.
Peter Lawford as Nick
possessed the sophistication of William
Powell’s detective, but one never got the
impression that Lawford-as-Charles ever made a living peering through
keyholes as the character was originally conceived by author Dashiell
Hammett. (Lawford’s upper crust accent probably threw some people off
as well). This mattered not one whit to the show’s audience, who took a
shine to the couple and believed that Peter and Phyllis had a particularly
engaging chemistry. It didn’t hurt that the producers made certain the series
often featured the Charles’ indescribably cute dog, Asta.
Syndication advertisement for
"The Thin Man".
The program’s debut episode set the pattern for installments to
follow. “The Dollar Doodle” (09/20/57) centers on an old Vassar
classmate of Nora’s (Natalie Norwick) who has taken to kleptomania like a
duck to water. Nick, as might be guessed, is asked to investigate the reasons
behind the woman’s “five-finger discount.”
“Doodle” may not have been one of the strongest episodes in the
show’s oeuvre but the follow-up, “Duke of Sing Sing” (09/20/57), is an
engaging little outing in which a recently paroled felon (Robert J. Wilke)
decides he needs to settle a score with Nick, who was responsible for
putting him in the joint in the first place. It’s a deft blend of comedy and
mystery, particularly in a sub-plot where Nick decides he needs to take steps
to get in shape; a scene where he pulls up in front of the Charles’ apartment
in a taxi (with faithful dog Asta in tow) wearing nothing but “judo pajamas”
produces some hearty chuckles.
173
A favorite “Thin Man” episode of this author is “The Departed
Doctor” (04/04/58), which takes the sleuthing couple out of their familiar
New York element to a vacation in Arizona and on the hunt for the
vanished medico of the episode’s title. Kirk displays some impressive
comedic chops as she attempts to blend in with the locals; introducing
herself to the proprietress of a saloon, Nora drawls: “Howdy… folks call
me Montana!”
One of the more fondly remembered episodes is “Robot Client,”
which features Robert Cornthwaite (The Thing from Another World) and
Robby the Robot from the studio’s science-fiction offering Forbidden Planet
(1956). This episode was featured as an extra on the DVD release of
Forbidden Planet’s fiftieth anniversary in 2006; the only other Thin Man
episode to see DVD action is “I Loathe You, Darling”—featured as an
extra on the Alias Nick and Nora disc in The Complete Thin Man Collection.
At the start of the show’s two-year run, the Charles’ contact on the
police force was alternately played by Stafford Repp (as Lt. Ralph Raines)
and Tol Avery (Lt. Steve King) until finally settling down with Jack
Albertson (in one of his earliest television showcases) as Lt. Harry Evans-although he was introduced in a first season episode as “Edwards”. By
season two, the show featured two of the Charles’ neighbors, Hazel
(Patricia Donahue) and Mrs. Dukem (Blanche Sweet), as well as a beautiful
con artist named Beatrice Dane (also known as “Blondie Collins,” and
played by Nita Talbot) whose presence often raised Nora’s hackles.
Despite the series’ brief run, The Thin Man remained a cult favorite
among classic television aficionados. As of this writing, Warner Archive is
said to be working on releasing the entire show on DVD, but is delayed
because of clearance issues; hopefully these will be resolved sooner rather
than later. The real mystery that apparently can’t be solved by Nick and
Nora Charles is why Turner Classic Movies hasn’t capitalized on the
presence of the show in their program library the way it has with MGM
Parade; with the tie-in to the successful film franchise, the small screen
version of The Thin Man would seem to be a natural fit for the channel
whenever it’s necessary to fill in a half-hour or so. Until such a day arrives,
fans of the program will simply have to rely on what’s been released on
DVD, and their memories of when the most famous couple in sleuthdom
shared their misadventures with audiences in the privacy of their own
homes.
174
The Thin Man Radio Show
By Shane Bliss
The film series and TV show may be the most recognizable Thin
Man adaptations, but the vast majority of Nick and Nora content came
from somewhere else. Hundreds of other stories came from the extremely
popular and long running Thin Man radio series.
In total, The Adventures of the Thin Man radio series lasted nine years,
from 1941-1950 with over 300 episodes. The history of The Thin Man on
radio goes back even further, though. The first foray the series had in radio
included William Powell and Myrna Loy as both reprised their roles for
productions of the Lux Radio Theater, first in 1936 (The Thin Man) and
again in 1940 (After the Thin Man).
The man behind the full episodic series that debuted the year
following the adaptations was Himan Brown. Brown's specialty was the
crime radio drama. In addition to Adventures of the Thin Man, he also
produced Bulldog Drummond, CBS Radio Mystery Theater, Dick Tracy and Inner
Sanctum Mysteries, among others. Through the next nine years, he remained
one of only two mainstays on the show. The other mainstay was Claudia
Morgan.
Claudia Morgan, veteran of Broadway and other radio shows,
played Nora Charles for the entire length of the series. Morgan most
notably performed in the original Broadway production of Ten Little Indians.
Morgan was a regular partner in Brown's radio programs. She starred in
three of his other shows over a period of thirty years.
Starring alongside Morgan was a practical revolving door of actors.
Four different men portrayed Nick Charles, with some leaving and then
returning. Les Damon, a regular soap opera actor from both Guiding Light
and As the World Turns, played the part initially up until 1944. Damon also
regularly appeared in radio programs, including playing Morgan's husband
in a later radio show, The Adventures of the Abbotts. It followed a similar
format, a mystery series played for light comedy.
David Gothard briefly took over in 1944, before Les Tremayne,
one of the most notable names in radio, took over that same year. It is
175
believed that Tremayne may have
appeared in as many as 45 radio
shows during the 1930s. His
other starring roles included in
The First Nighter and The Falcon. At
one point, he even hosted a talk
show alongside his wife. When
Tremayne left in 1946, Damon
returned, only to later be replaced
by Tremayne again in 1948.
Joseph Curtin portrayed Nick in
the final year.
Asta appeared on the
shows as well through dog
barking sound effects. Articles
from around the time of the
premier in 1941 attempted to
push the idea that Asta was
actually
there
in
studio,
proclaiming that engineers
“built a special, miniature Claudia Morgan and Les Damon appear in an article
for "The Adventures of The Thin Man" in an issue
microphone for him. It was lowof “Radio Mirror” from 1943.
slung, just the right size and it
intrigued Asta very much.”
Almost all of the shows are no longer available. No more than
eleven complete episodes have surfaced, but through a combination of
those recordings, scripts and reviews, the general tone of the show can be
gleamed. For most of the show's run, the content was similar to the lighthearted mysteries seen on film. 1942's Strange Case of Professor Wainger, for
instance, opens with Nick receiving a funeral wreath bearing his name, at
which point he is forced into an argument over whether or not he is dead.
The show often pushed the boundaries of censorship in showing the playful
nature of Nick and Nora. The distinct sounds of kissing were often heard,
and on some occasions Nick even purred at Nora.
As the series continued, lots of changes began to occur. Guest stars
became more common, including one 1944 episode where Shirley Booth
played herself to team up with Nick instead of Nora. The biggest changes
came in the season that debuted in the summer of 1948. A studio audience
was added, which Billboard lambasted in a review, saying that “the assembled
176
multitude sat firmly on its hands and only let out a careless snicker two or
three times, which only accentuated the sad situation.”
The “sad situation” referred to was the even bigger change in 1948:
there were no more mysteries. In this season, Nora pressured Nick to give
up detective work and get a normal business job. That changed the entire
show into just a situation comedy, with the first episode dealing with Nick
lying about his age. Billboard harshly stated that “the first outing of the show
fell flatter than the MacArthur boom.”
Overall, 1948 marked the downfall of the program. After the
format switch, the show was relegated to a bad 10:30PM timeslot by the
season. One more season ran in the winter of 1948/1949, followed by the
final one in 1950. By the time the show concluded, it appeared at one point
on each major network: NBC (twice), CBS, Mutual and ABC.
Most of the eleven episodes can be listened to online for free, with
the complete collection available cheaply. Of the eleven, only two come
from the non-mystery 1948 seasons. Of the available episodes, the best are
the aforementioned Strange Case of Professor Wainger and Nora's Night Out, the
latter a tale involving Nora becoming romantically involved with someone
else after a night of drinking.
177
Further and Further
Adventures
By Danny Reid
The legacy of Nick and Nora and Asta, of course, outlasted Powell,
Loy, and Skippy. Besides the television and radio shows mentioned and the
many detective couples the duo inspired, there were several attempts to
revive the couple on stage, screen, and even in books.
Nick and Nora (1975)
Television movies were all the rage in the mid-70s, and mystery
movies starring the likes of Columbo, MacMillan and his wife, and more
were winning big in the ratings. Since reviving old detectives seemed to be
as safe of a bet as creating new ones, ABC’s Wide World of Mystery
commissioned a pilot for “Nick and Nora”. It starred Craig Stevens and Jo
Ann Pflug as the titular couple as they solved a murder in a contemporary
hotel. It premiered on March 4th, 1975, but was not picked up as a regular
series.
Murder by Death (1976)
Penned by well-remembered
playwright Neil Simon, Murder by Death is an
affectionate (if empty) spoof on the famous
detectives of the 30s and 40s given a
modernized twist. 10 people are beckoned
to a remote castle with the promise of
$1,000,000 to whomever can discover the
murderer of a crime yet committed. Among
the invitees are Sam Diamond (Peter Falk,
in a play on Sam Spade), Miss Marbles (Elsa
Lanchester, in a play on Ms. Marple), Milo
Perrier (James Coco, in a play on Poirot)
and Sidney Wang (Peter Sellers, in a play on
Charlie Chan).
178
There are also, of course, Dick and Dora Charleston (David Niven
and Maggie Smith) and their dog Myron. We first see them when their car
breaks down on the way to the mansion. Dick is, of course, sipping a
martini.
Dora: “What a godforsaken spot to get lost!”
Dick: “I'm sure I saw a much better spot a few miles back.”
Simon does his best to take the piss out of every detective. He turns
Spade is a closeted homosexual, Marbles is a bit batty, Poirot becomes a
petulant baby, and Wang is a child abuser. Dick and Dora don’t get off
much better, with it implied that Dick cheats on his wife frequently and has
blown all of her money on extravagances. Dora is treated as a second rate
detective by the rest of the other sleuths, even if she’s clearly as clever as
Dick. And, poor Myron, their dog spends the entire movie locked up in
their room.
Still, the movie has its fair share of witty repartee, such as this
confrontation between the dapper Dick and the grubby Sam Diamond:
Dick: “Another diversion. He gives us meaningless clues
to confuse us, dangles red herrings before our eyes,
bedazzles us with bizarre banalities, while all the time
precious seconds are ticking away towards a truly terrible
murder still to come.”
Diamond: “You're good, Charleston. You're not my kind
of cop, but you're smart and you smell good. You're not a
pansy, I know that, but what the hell are ya?”
Dick: “Classy, I suppose.”
The movie has its moments, but the problem with a spoof along
these lines is that it never really takes the mystery very seriously, so the
movie heads off the rails. What point is it trying to make about old detective
movies and shows? That some were poorly written? Sure. But I’m not sure
Simon in this movie gives himself much room to talk.
179
Nick & Nora (1991)
Nick: “We’ve been solving the wrong damn murder!”
“Nick & Nora” is an infamous
Broadway flop based on the Thin Man
series that only ran for nine
performances. With a book by Arthur
Laurents (“West Side Story”, Rope),
music by Charles Strouse (“Bye Bye
Birdie”, “Annie”), and lyrics by Richard
Maltby, Jr. (“Miss Saigon”), it must
have seemed like “Nick & Nora” was a
fairly safe bet. Add to the mix Joanna
Gleason, coming off a Tony-winning
performances for “Into the Woods”,
and Barry Bostwick, who’d won a Tony for “The Robber Bridegroom”
(and, you know, starred in The Rocky Horror Picture Show), and it’s almost
stunning how poorly received the production turned out to be.
Unfortunately, the production seemed to be troubled from the get
go. Constant complaining in the press from anonymous sources seemed to
indicate numerous problems. Among these included rumors that Gleason
and co-star Chris Sarandon were having an affair, a late recasting of Asta,
and a brief period in which Bostwick contracted malaria. The cast was
acrimonious, and the show underwent a 9 weeks of previews in front of
New York audiences. The constant retooling of the show left a bitter taste
in theater goers’ mouths, and the show didn’t even last a week of regular
shows.
Set in Hollywood in 1937, the plot involves a former classmate of
Nora’s who is insistent that Nick help her unravel the murder of a
bookkeeper that has seen a famous Hollywood director incarcerated for the
crime. Nick begs it off, and Nora decides to take the case on her own. The
story takes them across tinsel town and includes pastiches of Katherine
Hepburn as well as Rose and Jack Kennedy.
One of the major problems is that the show seems to start with
two fairly awful numbers. “Is There Anything Better Than Dancing?”,
meant to introduce the audience to Nick & Nora, seems to miss the point
of the characters entirely. The second song, “Everybody Wants to Do a
180
Musical”, is so painfully self-referential that even co-star Christine
Baranski’s great voice can do nothing for it. The show also has the
unfortunate effect of underlining the artifice to the point of breaking it
completely.
Luckily, a few of the numbers do improve the score’s lot
dramatically. “Swell”, which tells the story of Nick and Nora shaking down
suspects for clues separately, is appropriately playful and sexy. “As Long As
You’re Happy” serves as an even better introduction to the detectives,
allowing them to playfully exchange barbs and flirtations in a fun upbeat
tune. The play’s climax, “A Busy Night at Lorraine’s” is the highlight
though, as it uses several different layers to recreate the two detectives
puzzling it out.
But another problem with “Nick & Nora” may be that a lot of the
numbers are supporting cast heavy. Characters take turns revealing their
motivations in similar sounding numbers like “People Get Hurt”, “Men”
and “Class”, and the numbers get drippier and less playful as the show goes
on. Also of note: the play’s three hour run time while containing less than
sixty minutes of music.
But one of the most controversial aspects of the show was that the
relationship between Nick & Nora was far less sacrosanct than anything
portrayed in previous series. In fact, the two lead characters have a falling
out before the end of Act I as Nora feels constantly underestimated and
Nick can’t reconcile his desire to do his detecting on his own. It’s a pretty
flimsy plot in and of itself, and this postmodern examination of the two’s
relationship was probably futile since there is no solid conclusion besides
Nick growing up a little.
The New York Times surmised that the show’s production history
would probably make a better screwball stage production than what actually
ended up on the stage. Theater critic Pat Collins of station CUNY just listed
off one potshot after another, explaining “If anything would drive an
audience to drink, it would be this film’s cliché plot and dull score.” In some
reviews, even Riley, the dog playing Asta, got panned.
The show did earn a Tony nomination for Best Original Score, and
its original cast recording was released on CD. (However, do note that the
cast recording is altered from how it appeared on the stage to include more
plot points.) Unfortunately, no script for the show has seemed to surface
for public consumption. Considering the play’s pedigree and how many of
181
the shows problems came from casting, it wouldn’t be surprising if the
show were revived successfully at some point in the future. Granted, if they
got a good dog to play Asta.
The William Powell and Myrna Loy
Murder Case (1994)
The tenth in writer George Baxt’s
celebrity murder mystery book series that
features sleuthing stars alongside his own
cast of original characters is a notably
painful read. Set in 1936, the plot concerns
a Hollywood madam who believes she’s
dying of cancer. Needing money to cover
her polio-stricken son’s bills, she threatens
to expose her memoirs, sending the town
into a frenzy.
For anyone who’d desperately wanted to
read Kenneth Anger’s Hollywood Babylon
with a murder mystery shoved messily up
its rectum, The William Powell and Myrna Loy
Murder Case delivers. Awash in celebrity
gossip and heavy doses of alcohol, the book uses the real-life murder of
Jean Harlow’s second husband, Paul Bern, as a setup for the ensuing killing
spree.
The first eleven chapters of the book follow the same pattern: three
characters discuss the blackmail, reveal one more meager clue in the
extensive backstory, and several mentions of just how interesting or
beautiful Baxt’s original characters are. It gets so bad that by chapter nine,
several characters start to complain that a murder hasn’t happened yet! The
second half of the book picks up as several violent deaths occur, notably
taking the number of suspects down to a manageable (and convenient) one.
Conjuring Powell and Loy as essentially Nick and Nora without
the marriage to bind them, Baxt does nail the carefree interplay the two
perfected in The Thin Man movies. However, because the book can’t do
much with them—they certainly can’t have an inner character life outside
of Loy’s turbulent marriage to Arthur Hornblow and Powell’s engagement
182
to Jean Harlow—the duo comes across as callous gossipmongers, seeing
murder as sport and a way to escape their unhappy lives.
The writing is fairly plodding, with most of Baxt’s original
characters reading like bad Torchy Blane fanfiction. He has a tendency to
throw out French phrases at least once a chapter on top of the clunky
dialogue clichés. Unless you’re desperately itching for a tabloid tale with an
inane murder mystery clumsily grafted on, skip it.
Nick and Norah’s Infinite
Playlist (2008)
The film’s title is a reference to the Thin Man
series and that’s about the only reason for its
inclusion here. The movie includes a scene where a
drunk girl is trying to fish her bubblegum out of a
crap and vomit-filled public toilet, and that
accurately reflects the experience of trying to find
nice things to say about this movie. Skip it.
Return of the Thin Man (2012)
This short book is a compilation of two
of Dashiell Hammett’s story treatments for the
sequels After the Thin Man, Another Thin Man, and
a third story idea, Return of the Thin Man is a nice,
pleasant read. Included is a brief rundown of
Hammett’s participation in making the series as
well as a list of differences between Hammett’s
original treatments and the final filmed versions,
which includes changes in who is killed and why.
There are several amusing anecdotes
contained within. On selling the rights of Nick
and Nora to MGM in perpetuity, Hammett says,
“Maybe there are better writers in the world but nobody ever invented a
more insufferably smug pair of characters. They can’t take that away from
me, even for $40,000.”
183
The book’s treatments are just a trumped up script, with very little
detail spent on anything other than the planned dialogue for the characters.
Hammett clearly had an excellent grip on Nick and Nora’s interplay, as well
as knowing what MGM wanted from the sequels, but his enthusiasm for
the characters wore thin quickly. The book also charts the fortunes of
Producer Hunt Stromberg in his attempts to guide the franchise and how
writers Albert and Francis Goodrich grew as weary of the characters as
Hammett does. Overall, fans of the film series will find this book a nice
companion piece.

While all of these adaptations, corollaries, and references bely the
direct mark of Dashiell Hammett’s characters, his creation lived on in
dozens of other ways, too. A spate of romantic couples solving murders
took hold on the movie screen, from The Ex-Mrs. Bradford to new, comical
outings for mystery film heroes like Philo Vance and Perry Manson.
Television, too, would utilize The Thin Man’s template for fare like
“MacMillan & Wife” and “Hart to Hart”, among many others. And while
we may never get another Nick and Nora— or, perhaps just as importantly,
another Powell and Loy— it’s impossible to imagine a universe of fiction
untouched by their electric chemistry.
184
Becoming a Movie Fan
By Way of Wax:
The Thin Man Display at
Movieland Wax Museum
By Christina Rice
It was a cold, wet day in Buena Park as I sat under a giant tent in
the parking lot of Movieland Wax Museum clutching my auction paddle.
The museum had closed its doors for the last time on October 31, 2005
and now, five months later, a large group of us sat anxious and shivering,
hoping to claim some of the spoils of this once significant attraction. It had
enjoyed a momentous 43-year run which had been kicked off with a
dedication by Mary Pickford in 1962, and now the auction gavel was issuing
its death knoll.
The price of admission to the auction was a hefty $350 refundable
deposit which I had gladly forked over. Movieland had quite possibly been
my single favorite place on the planet and I was determined to own some
piece of it – assuming it was a piece that was auctioned off within my $350
budget.
The antique table from the Buster Keaton display, which was my
first choice, went well into four figures before I even had a chance to raise
my paddle. Choice number two, the copper cat heads from the Elizabeth
Taylor Cleopatra set quickly reached some obnoxiously high amount which
I helped drive up by bidding over my $350 ceiling.
One lot after another went for sky-high closing bids and panic set
in as I found myself agreeing to pay $800 for the white-on-white Jean
Harlow set. Not the wax figure, mind you, but just the backdrop. “What
the hell are you going to do with that?” asked my friend Darin who was
along for the ride. “Uh, stick it in my apartment and pretend I'm Jean
Harlow?” I responded, instantly gaining an appreciation for why Kramer
would have salvaged the Merv Griffin set on an episode of Seinfeld.
Mercifully, I was outbid on the giant set that would have never fit into my
tiny apartment.
185
After losing out on a pallet of postcards (“Those would make great
Christimas cards for years,”) I was filled with despair. Just when I was about
to give up all hope, Myrna Loy appeared. Not the real Myrna Loy, of course,
but a wax figure that had been part of the museum’s Thin Man set. If
memory serves me, William Powell was sold first and went for a pretty
penny. Yet, when this representation of Nora Charles came on the block,
the bidding was low and slow. I was astounded that no one was jumping
on the opportunity to own a life-size replica of Loy, and I lifted my paddle.
Game on.

I had been instantly enchanted by Movieland Wax Museum when
I first visited this magical place in 1979. I was five, and my older brother
and I had begged our step-mom to take us after seeing either billboards or
commercials (did Movieland really run commercials?) advertising their new
mammoth display with a likeness of Christopher Reeve inside Superman's
Fortress of Solitude.
I am willing to bet many a kid (or adult) ran away screaming from
Movieland’s odd charms over the years, but I found the place utterly
awesome. To me, the towering sign on Beach Boulevard and the gigantic
letters on the roof of the building spelling M-O-V-I-E-L-A-N-D W-A-X
M-U-S-E-U-M screamed glamour and merely hinted at the treasures to be
found inside. When first entering the museum, the sound of the Laurel &
Hardy theme song permeated the dimly lit space, guiding visitors toward
the dynamic duo's display which was decorated with original lobby cards.
In order to get to the pair, one would walk by Pickford & Fairbanks, the
Barrymores, and a host of early film heavies carefully sculpted in wax and
occasionally wearing the actual costumes from the films being portrayed.
As the tour moved on, the displays got bigger and better, and the
bustling concession area in the middle of the museum featuring a candy
room with overflowing barrels of salt water taffy was icing on the cake.
Unlike the current Hollywood Wax Museum, which tends to display shoddy
craftsmanship and jams a bunch of unrelated personalities into a space,
Movieland's sets were meticulous works of art. As much care was put into
the set design as the figures themselves, and in the case of cast ensembles
like Star Trek, Ben Hur, or Dr. Zhivago, the displays encompassed an entire
room. I always took a bit of personal pride in knowing that materials for
the extraordinary Poseidon Adventure set were purchased from my Dad who
was then working in the lumber department at K*Mart.
186
That first trip to Movieland was life altering for me in a positive
way, but was also very frustrating. Sure, I was able to pick out the likenesses
of Shirley Temple, the Wizard of Oz cast, Mary Poppins, and a handful of
others, but I longed to know who everyone was in that building. I credit
Movieland Wax Museum with at least partially sparking my lifelong love of
classic film. After that initial visit, the first long term goal of my life became
to know who every last figure at the museum was.
During that first visit I was especially taken with the display
showing a sophisticated couple with a dog, who were all smiles despite the
presence of a dead body. What struck me about this particular exhibit is
that the figures were not exaggerated or cartoony like the Marx Brothers,
W.C. Fields, or Mae West, nor were they in elaborate period costumes like
those found in the Gone With the Wind or Hello Dolly sets. Instead, the man
who was holding a diamond bracelet up for his companion to view wore a
suit that, to my young eyes, could have been from any time period. The
same could be said for the woman's simple yet lovely white dress. The other
displays in the museum belonged to the time they were portraying, but this
one struck me as contemporary and befitting of many different eras.
The wax man and woman did not have faces I would have
recognized in the old cartoon caricatures, or actors I had encountered on
Tom Hatten's weekly Family Film Festival on TV. I don't recall if I even
Postcard from the Movieland Wax Museum showcasing their Thin Man exhibit.
187
learned that day that the couple acting so nonchalant over a dead body were
Myrna Loy and William Powell. The reference to these two seemed so
mysterious to me that what I do remember is thinking that to be aware of
the pair was to be a true film fan. Any fool walking down the street would
be able to pick out Dorothy Gale, Scarlett O'Hara, or the Little Tramp. But
Nick and Nora Charles? Now that was knowledge reserved for the serious
cinefile.
I was a teenager the next time I visited Movieland. While I still had
much to learn about classic films, I was filled with pride as I easily spotted
many of the figures in the museum; Pickford and Fairbanks in The Taming
of the Shrew, Garbo and Gilbert in Queen Christina, Bogey and Kate in The
African Queen. Then I arrived at the set with the smiling couple with a dog,
standing over a corpse and proudly pointed out to my companions that we
were viewing Nick and Nora with Asta. In my mind, this signified that I
had arrived. I was truly an honest to goodness classic film fan.
As the years wore on, I visited Movieland with greater frequency.
At one point, I worked a few miles away from it and would rush down there
on my lunch break, getting escorted to the interior gift shop. I always got a
kick out of the shortcuts the employees would take to bring me there which
provided a brief behind-the-scenes look at my favorite place. Whenever I
considered someone to be a true friend, I would pay their $12 admission
and give them my own personal tour of the place. Over the years, the
crowds diminished and the sets starting showing their age. In an attempt to
draw a younger crowd, heresy was sometimes committed, such as moving
the Barrymore's Rasputin set from the start of the tour to the middle, in
order to make way for Jack and Rose in Titanic, or putting Gloria Swanson
in mothballs and replacing her with Julia Roberts in front of the vintage
Rolls Royce. Through it all, I remained loyal and returned often. I always
got that cheap thrill at pointing out Myrna Loy, William Powell, and Asta
to whatever guest I had dragged along that day, a testimony to my love of
Hollywood.

As my paddle went up to bid on Myrna Loy, Darin shot me a look
of amazement.
“What are you doing??”
“But I love the Myra Loy figure, it's my favorite!”
188
$400 bid.
sure.”
“If you have that thing in your apartment, you'll stay single for
$600 bid.
At that point, Darin wrestled the paddle out of my hand and the
opportunity to own Myra Loy slipped through my fingers. I guess I should
thank him because there is a good chance that my future husband would
not have made it past the courting phase had Myra had been watching over
us during the early part of our relationship. The auction wasn't a total bust;
I walked away with a lot consisting of large lamps and a bag of chandler
parts which I scored for sixty bucks. But, still, I will admit that I sometimes
regret not taking home that esoteric piece of film history that once privately
proved my worth as a fan of classic film.
189
190
191
Contributors
Cliff Aliperti
Cliff Aliperti is a Long Island, New York based writer, blogger, and
entrepreneur. He blogs regularly about old movies and stars at his
website, Immortal Ephemera (immortalephemera.com), established
2002. He has recently published his first book, a collection of essays
about movies of Hollywood’s pre-Code era, now available on the Kindle
platform. You can also find him on twitter at @Iephemera.

Shane Bliss
Shane Bliss is a freelance journalist based out of Pittsburgh, PA, USA.
He runs Classic Film Haven (classicfilmhaven.wordpress.com) and is a
contributor to Film Inquiry. Outside of film, his writing has appeared in
the Pittsburgh City Paper and Pittsburgh Magazine.

E.A. Botta
E.A. Botta writes about golden-age Hollywood cinema at Grand Old
Movies (grandoldmovies.wordpress.com). She lives with two feline
companions in the Bronx, where she indulges her interests in cats, classic
film, classical dance, P.G. Wodehouse, and ghost stories.

192
Vanessa Buttino
Vanessa Buttino grew up in Toronto, Ontario, Canada and began
watching classic movies at the tender age of seven. She is an office
administrator by day and a freelance writer by night. At any given
moment you will find her either reading a good book, watching British
television, planning her next trip to London, England, or playing around
with makeup. She is online on Twitter (@callmeveebee) and on her
classic film blog, Stardust (bwallover.blogspot.com).

Judy Geater
Judy Geater lives in Suffolk in the UK. She has a passion for 1930s
movies in general and pre-Codes in particular, and runs a blog called
Movie Classics (movieclassics.wordpress.com). In her day job, she is a
local newspaper sub-editor.

Karen Burroughs Hannsberry
Karen Burroughs Hannsberry is the author of Shadows and Satin
(shadowsandsatin.wordpress.com), a blog that celebrates her two
cinematic passions, film noir and pre-Code. Karen is also the author of
two books on film noir, Femme Noir: The Bad Girls of Film and Bad Boys:
The Actors of Film Noir, and edits a bi-monthly newsletter devoted to film
noir (available in both hard copy and electronic formats) called The Dark
Pages. She can be found at @thedarkpages on Twitter and The Dark
Pages Newsletter on Facebook.

193
Andrew Hathaway
Andrew Hathaway (b. July 31, 1984) runs and writes for the film review
site Can't Stop the Movies (cantstopthemovies.com) since its inception
in 2010. His current passions include post-Recession American thrillers,
dance movies, and the shifting economics of film creation and
distribution. When he's not writing about or watching movies he enjoys
spending time with his fiancée Amanda and their three cats.

Cameron Howard
Cameron Howard studied film at Duke University and the University
of Wisconsin-Madison. She writes about classic Hollywood at The
Blonde at the Film (theblondeatthefilm.com) and tweets
@BlondeAtTheFilm. She lives in Durham, North Carolina.

Jared Latore
Jared Latore is sixty percent water, with the rest being carbon and other
trace elements. In our controlled studies, he has demonstrated a learning
ability, but remains notoriously difficult to train. Although he can no
longer be found in the wild, a simulation of his natural habitat is
available at Alcohollywood (alcohollywood.com).

194
Letícia Magalhães Pereira
Letícia Magalhães Pereira is a Brazilian student and classic film
enthusiast. A history major now studying the communications field, she
always makes time to write in her film blog Crítica Retrô
(criticaretro.blogspot.com.br) and on four more websites as well as on
Twitter (@startspreading). She is also the author of two self-published
books, Notes of a Young Cinephile and Writings of a Girl – Tales, Poems and
Chronicles, from 7 to 17. She is also an enthusiastic advocate of online
education.

Christina Rice
Christina Rice is the author of Ann Dvorak: Hollywood’s Forgotten
Rebel (University Press of Kentucky, 2013) and multiple issues of
the “My Little Pony” comic book series (IDW Publishing). A librarian
and archivist by profession, she lives in Los Angeles with her husband,
writer Joshua Hale Fialkov, their daughter, two dogs, and a disgruntled
cat.

Ryan Rinchiuso
When Ryan Rinchiuso is not at his day job teaching high schoolers about
digital marketing and forcing them to watch black and white movies, he
is at home with his wife and two girls. He has a minor in film studies
and is thankful for projects like this that gives him an outlet for his
useless film knowledge.

195
Danny Reid
Danny Reid lives outside Tokyo, Japan, with his lovely wife and two
yappy dogs. He blogs bi-weekly at pre-code.com, a website dedicated
to Hollywood films from 1930 to 1934. He can also be found on Twitter
@PreCodeDotCom.

Michael James Roberson
Michael James Roberson lives in Somerville, Massachusetts and has
been a fan of Dashiell Hammett since first reading Red Harvest at age
eighteen. His writings on film can be found at his blog, Arm Flailing
Techniques (armflailingtechniques.wordpress.com).

Tars Tarkas
For over a decade, the writer known as Tars Tarkas has explored
delightful and obscure cinema from around the globe. His work can be
found at TarsTarkas.NET (tarstarkas.net).

196
Ivan G. Shreve, Jr.
Ivan G. Shreve, Jr. (@igsjr) is a freelance writer who, since 2006, has
contributed liner notes to many CD collections from Radio Spirits—the
leading publisher and marketer of broadcast programs from Radio’s
Golden Age; he also maintains the company’s weblog. He’s written
essays for such current and past publications/websites as The
Cinementals and The Dark Pages, and right now enjoys his byline at
ClassicFlix as the reviewer for the rental site’s “Where’s That Been?”
column—which highlights overlooked or underappreciated films from
the classic film era. Ivan is currently in his tenth year at Thrilling Days
of Yesteryear (thrillingdaysofyesteryear.blogspot.com), a blog
dedicated to classic movies, vintage television and old-time radio.

B.G. Voita
B.G. Voita is a wife, mother, teacher, and writer with a BA in Psychology
and MA in English. She currently writes a blog at Classic Reel Girl
(classicreelgirl.blogspot.com) devoted to analyzing the messages in
classic films. Her work has been published in "Hayden's Ferry Review."

Andrew Wickliffe
Andrew Wickliffe has been blogging about film and comic books for
almost ten years at The Stop Button (thestopbutton.com). He has been
a fan of The Thin Man series since childhood and remembers his
frequently watched Thin Man Collection VHS set with fondness.

197
Jake Woehlke
Jake Woehlke is a 25-year old chef-in-training and self-professed lover
of all things classic film. His prized additions to his film collection are
complete Marx Brothers and Laurel & Hardy filmographies; however,
they make up only a small portion of his total library. When he's not
working, he blogs at Sharp Knives (sharpwithknives.wordpress.com)
and is working on a book about his culinary experiences."

Clint Worthington
Clint Worthington is the co-host/editor of Alcohollywood
(alcohollywood.com), a weekly film review/mixology podcast and
website that has operated since 2011. In addition to film, Clint is also an
actor/director in the Chicago theatre community, currently serving as
Ensemble Member for both the Right Brain Project and the Mercy Street
Theatre Company. More of Clint's writing can be found in the book
Alcohollywood - Our Year in Movies 2013, which is available on Amazon,
Lulu and Barnes & Noble.
198
199
Appendixes
200
Appendix A: References
This section lists all sources mentioned as cited by the writers of
their individual articles.
Dashiell Hammett: “I'll have to have a
drink before I do any talking”
The Thin Man, 1934, Dashiell Hammett
The Thin Man (film), 1934, dir. W.S. Van Dyke
The Simple Art of Murder, 1944, Raymond Chandler
The Thin Man (1934)
Drees, Richard. The Thin Man: Murder, Mirth and Marriage At The Movies. Film
Buff Online. Retrieved from
http://www.filmbuffonline.com/Features/ThinMan/ThinManP
art1.1.htm
Edward Ellis: Biography of a Thin Man
Articles
Coons, Robbin. “Hollywood Sights and Sounds.” 2 Oct 1942: 4.
GoogleNews. Web. 11 Nov 2012.
”Edward Ellis and Josephine Stevens.” Moving Picture World 32 (1917):
600. Media History Digital Libray. Web. 11 Nov 2012.
Edward C. Ellis. New York Dramatic Mirror 8 Jul 1914: 15. Old Fulton
NY Postcards. Web. 11 Nov 2012.
MacLeod, Della. “Edward Ellis Says the Ability to Play Crook Parts, Like
201
Beauty, Is Only Skin Deep.” New York Press 12 Jul 1914: 5.Old
Fulton NY Postcards. Web. 11 Nov 2012.
Nugent, Frank S. "A Man to Remember." New York Times 7 Nov 1938:
23.
Soanes, Wood. ”Movie Called ‘Hit and Run’ To Be Built Around Career
of Famous Connie Mack.” Oakland Tribune 31 Jan 1939: 10.
NewspaperArchive. Web. 11 Nov 2012.
”This Means War!” Oakland Tribune 2 Nov 1941: 139.
NewspaperArchive. Web. 11 Nov 2012.
Archives
"Illinois, Cook County Deaths, 1878-1922," index and images,
FamilySearch (https://familysearch.org/pal:/MM9.1.1/N7XKC4H : accessed 13 Nov 2012), Ruth A. Ellis, 27 Jan 1905.
"Michigan, Births, 1867-1902," index and images, FamilySearch
(https://familysearch.org/pal:/MM9.1.1/NQCS-TSQ : accessed
12 Nov 2012), Edward C. Ellis, 12 Nov 1870.
"United States Census, 1880," index and images, FamilySearch
(https://familysearch.org/pal:/MM9.1.1/MXNY-RWV :
accessed 12 Nov 2012), Edith M. Ellis in household of Edward
C. Ellis, Chicago, Cook, Illinois, United States; citing sheet 459C,
family 2, NARA microfilm publication T9-0194.
"United States Census, 1900," index and images, FamilySearch
(https://familysearch.org/pal:/MM9.1.1/MS7H-4M7 : accessed
13 Nov 2012), Ruth A Ellis in household of Edward M Wilder,
ED 1084 Precinct 11 Hyde Park Township Chicago city Ward
34, Cook, Illinois, United States; citing sheet 10B, family 227,
NARA microfilm publication T623, FHL microfilm 1240289.
"United States Census, 1930," index and images, FamilySearch
(https://familysearch.org/pal:/MM9.1.1/X4PB-4L9 : accessed
202
12 Nov 2012), Bobbie Ellis in household of John Baird, Queens
(Districts 0751-1000), Queens, New York; citing enumeration
district (ED) 0876, sheet 3B, family 27, NARA microfilm
publication T626, roll 1593.
"United States Census, 1940," index and images, FamilySearch
(https://familysearch.org/pal:/MM9.1.1/K97H-4F5 : accessed
12 Nov 2012), Edward Ellis, Tract 382, Beverly Hills, Beverly
Hills Judicial Township, Los Angeles, California, United States;
citing enumeration district (ED) 19-43, sheet 5B, family 151,
NARA digital publication T627, roll 221.
Mrs. Asta, How Could You?
Hammett, Dashiell, The Thin Man. New York: Vintage Crime/Black
Lizard Vintage Books, a division of Random House, Inc., 1992.
“The Motion Picture Production Code of 1930 (Hays Code),” at
ArtsReformation.Com.
http://www.artsreformation.com/a001/hays-code.html
(accessed August 30, 2014).
Conventions and Comedy: Music in the
Thin Man Series
For a fully annotated version of this article, please contact the book’s editor at
[email protected].
Bordwell, David, Janet Staiger, and Kristin Thompson. The Classical
Hollywood Cinema: Film Style and Mode of Production to
1960. New York: Columbia University Press, 1985.
203
Cohan, Steven. “Introduction.” Hollywood Musicals: The Film Reader.
Ed. Steven Cohan. New York: Routledge, 2002.1-16.
Gorbman, Claudia. Unheard Melodies: Narrative Film Music.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1987.
Kalinak, Kathryn. Film Music: A Very Short Introduction. New York:
Oxford University Press, 2010.
Lusk, Norbert. “Films Lure Crowds to Box Offices.” Los Angeles Times.
2 Jan. 1937. A10. ProQuest Historical Newspapers. 30 Nov.
2011.
“Myrna Loy and William Powell Exhibit Same Old Zest in the New Nick
Charles Thriller at Capitol, ‘Song of Thin Man.’” The New York
Times. 29 Aug. 1947. 14. ProQuest Historical Newspapers. 30
Nov. 2011.)
“News from Hollywood.” The New York Times. 4 Dec. 1936. 30.
ProQuest Historical Newspapers. 30 Nov. 2011.
Nugent, Frank S. “The Capitol’s ‘After the Thin Man’ Is an Amusing
Sequel.” The New York Times. 25 Dec. 1936. 19. ProQuest
Historical Newspapers. 30 Nov. 2011.
Schallert, Edwin. “Sequel to ‘Thin Man’ First-Rate Entertainment.” Los
Angeles Times. 31 Dec. 1936. 10. ProQuest Historical
Newspapers. 30 Nov. 2011.
Spring, Katherine. “Pop go the Warner Brothers., et al.: Marketing Film
Songs during the Coming of Sound.” Cinema Journal. Fall 2008.
48.1. International Index to Performing
Arts Full Text. 68-89.
1 Dec. 2011.
Keeping that Old Spark Alive: Nick and
Nora, the Ideal (Screen) Couple
Leider, Emily W. Myrna Loy: The Only Good Girl in Hollywood. Berkeley:
204
University of California Press, 2011. Print.
Further and Further Adventures
“If It Only Even Runs a Minute – Nick & Nora.” (October 14, 2010).
YouTube. Retrieved from:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w9dHeYttwTw
Laurents, A., Strouse, C., & Maltby Jr., R. (1997). “Nick & Nora: A New
Musical.” Recorded 1992.
Rich, F. (December 9, 1991). “Bostwick and Gleason in ‘Nick and
Nora’”. The New York Times.
205
Appendix B:
Full Cast and Crew Listings
The Thin Man movies were all released by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer
between 1934 and 1947. These movies are all currently available on DVD
from Warner Home Video.
The Thin Man (1934)
Based on a novel by Dashiell Hammett. Written by Albert Hackett and
Frances Goodrich. Directed by W.S. Van Dyke. Produced by Hunt
Stromberg. Starring William Powell, Myrna Loy, Maureen O’Sullivan, Nat
Pendleton, Minna Gombell, Porter Hall, Henry Wadsworth, William
Henry, Harold Huber, Cesar Romero, Natalie Moorhead, Edward Brophy,
Edward Ellis, Cyril Thornton, and Asta.
After the Thin Man (1936)
From the story by Dashiell Hammett. Written by Albert Hackett and
Frances Goodrich. Directed by W.S. Van Dyke. Produced by Hunt
Stromberg. Starring William Powell, Myrna Loy, James Stewart, Elissa
Landi, Joseph Calleia, Jessie Ralph, Alan Marshal, Teddy Hart, Sam Levene,
Penny Singleton, William Law, George Zucco, Paul Fix, Asta, and Mrs.
Asta.
Another Thin Man (1939)
Based on a story by Dashiell Hammett. Written by Frances Goodrich and
Albert Hackett with Anita Loos. Directed by W.S. Van Dyke. Produced by
Hunt Stromberg. Starring William Powell, Myrna Loy, Virginia Grey, Otto
Kruger, C. Aubrey Smith, Ruth Hussey, Nat Pendleton, Patric Knowles,
Tom Neal, Phyllis Gordon, Sheldon Leonard, Don Costello, Harry
Bellaver, William A. Poulsen, Muriel Hutchison, Abner Biberman, Marjorie
Main, and Asta.
206
Shadow of the Thin Man (1941)
Based on the characters created by Dashiell Hammett. Story by Harry
Kurnitz. Screenplay by Irving Brecher and Harry Kurnitz. Directed by W.S.
Van Dyke. Produced by Hunt Stromberg. Starring William Powell, Myrna
Loy, Barry Nelson, Donna Reed, Sam Levene, Alan Baxter, Henry O’Neill,
Richard Hall, Stella Adler, Loring Smith, Joseph Anthony, Lou Lubin,
Louise Beavers, and Asta.
The Thin Man Goes Home (1945)
Based on the characters created by Dashiell Hammett. Story by Harry
Kurnitz and Robert Riskin. Screenplay by Robert Riskin and Dwight
Taylor. Directed by Richard Thorpe. Produced by Everett Riskin. Starring
William Powell, Myrna Loy, Lucile Watson, Gloria DeHaven, Anne Revere,
Helen Vinson, Harry Davenport, Leon Ames, Donald Meek, Edward
Brophy, Lloyd Corrigan, Anita Sharp-Bolster, Ralph Brooke, Donald
MacBride, Morris Ankrum, Nora Cecil, Minor Watson, Irving Bacon,
Virginia Sale, and Asta.
Song of the Thin Man (1947)
Based on the characters created by Dashiell Hammett. Story by Stanley
Roberts. Screenplay by Steve Fisher and Nat Perrin. Additional dialogue by
James O’Hanlon and Harry Crane. Directed by Edward Buzzell. Produced
by Nat Perrin. Starring William Powell, Myrna Loy, Kennan Wynn, Dean
Stockwell, Phillip Reed, Patricia Morison, Leon Ames, Gloria Grahame,
Jayne meadows, Ralph Morgan, Bess Flowers, Don Taylor, Warner
Anderson, Bruce Cowling, Connie Gilchrist, Henry Nemo, William Bishop,
Marie Windsor, and Asta.
207
208
209
210