• The Thin Man, 8/12/22 (Fri)
• After the Thin Man, 8/13/22 (Sat)

W.S. Van Dyke’s hit 1934 comedy/mystery The Thin Man was made only a few years into the sound era, but I don’t think dialogue at this level, written by husband/wife team Albert Hackett and Frances Goodrich, was ever better. And it helps that the endlessly quotable script is delivered to perfection by William Powell and Myrna Loy as the iconic Nick and Nora, one of the best screen couples ever. Based on a Dashiell Hammett novel released the same year (which I now plan to read), it’s worlds away from Sam Spade in a genre all its own, an American restoration comedy.

Nick, a former detective, has retired from the business after marrying the wealthy socialite Nora. They pay a visit to New York from SFO for Christmas only to learn that an old friend has disappeared. When the friend’s secretary/girlfriend is found murdered, the friend becomes the prime suspect – until his corpse is discovered buried under the floor. Nick is inevitably drawn into the proceedings with the urging of his wife, who finds this all rather fun. A tangle of complications links numerous characters with potential motivations to that murder as well as others along the way. Nick ends up bringing all the suspects together at a fancy dinner party where, between drinks and the main course, he unmasks the criminal (“The murderer is right in this room. Sitting at this table. You may serve the fish”).

I’m not sure I completely followed the convoluted plot, but it hardly matters. The insouciant Nick and Nora always seem to have a drink in hand and quip on the tongue. The usual pattern, as with His Girl Friday, is for the two leads to fall in love along the way; this movie takes a different path in that the couple are married from the start and very much in love. They react to each other’s idiosyncrasies with a roll of the eyes and unflappable sophistication, which is as unrealistic as it is irresistible. He, after sending his wife on a wild goose chase: “How’d you like Grant’s tomb?” She: “It’s lovely. I’m having a copy made for you.” He, resisting her urges for him to come out of retirement for this one case: “I’m much too busy seeing that you don’t lose any of the money I married you for.” She, after a night out: “What hit me?” He: “The last martini.” She: “I read where you were shot five times in the tabloids.” He: “It’s not true. He didn’t come anywhere near my tabloids.” She, at the final dinner party: “Waiter, will you serve the nuts?. . . I mean, will you serve the guests the nuts?” (She was right the first time.) And much more. That doesn’t even cover the many sight gags that liven things up along the way. Those, of course, are also courtesy of the writers, who reportedly were not happy with their work here – they’re wrong.

Powell and Loy have ideal chemistry, and Powell in particular has a spectacular sense of timing, always underplaying even the wildest moments. The movie wouldn’t have been the same without them. Other than the fabulous couple, who are in a world of their own, the acting is generally of its day, but the writers offer a collection of wonderfully screwy characters that keep things bouncing. (Incidentally, the “thin man” refers to the man who disappears; his corpse is initially identified as the “fat man” because of clothes that had been planted on him – it’s complicated. The title stuck for all subsequent remakes despite the disposal of the character in the first film.) The couple’s photogenic dog Asta, who has some nice sights gags of his own, is played by Skippy, the talented mutt in the later The Awful Truth. The movie actually starts off a bit slow as the plot gets into gear, but picks up immediately when Nick and Nora enter the scene and never slows thereafter. A classic.

I was wary of the 1936 sequel (there are four others after that) given the usual fate of films trying to equal an earlier success. Happily it turned to be every bit as good as the original, including a more straightforward mystery that was easier to follow. Again a man is murdered, a number of suspects emerge, a series of further murders cloud the picture, and the suspects gather in one room as Nick identifies the guilty party before our eyes – and this time it’s a real shocker.

Again the mystery is less the point than the comedy. He: “Who was that?” She: “Oh, you wouldn’t know them, darling. They’re respectable.” He: “Did I ever tell you that you’re the most fascinating woman this side of the Rockies?” She: “Wait till you see me on the other side.”  He: “Let’s get something to eat. I’m thirsty.” Also, a dancer: “What do you mean ‘illiterate’? My father and mother were married right here in the city hall!”

And so on. This is the kind of filmmaking I love. The film has the added pleasure of a young Jimmy Stewart as the boy hopelessly in love with the girl being accused of the murder. There were hilarious turns by Jessie Ralph as Nora’s imperious aunt, Dorothy McNulty (later known as Penny Singleton) as a tough-as-nails nightclub singer, and Tom Ricketts as a riotously shaky old butler (shades of One Man Two Guvnors). Two big thumbs up.