Cunard! Cunard! He’s our shill! If he won’t lend it, no one will!
The Thin Man was a bit of a surprise for me. Made in 1934, the film came only a few years after talkies picked up steam, so it was fun watching director W.S. Van Dyke play with new methods. It was also interesting to watch actors who clearly came from different schools (and diction coaches) come together for a movie that was exactly what it needed to be.
Our story is a basic murder mystery. Clyde Wynant, inventor, jerk, and father, disappears from a months-long trip after his girlfriend/secretary (acting the hell out of the scene at left) is killed, and there are fingers pointing everywhere. Who killed her? Where is Wynant? What does his family, including money-grubbing ex-wife Mimi know about it? Why is Wynant’s son Gilbert (below right, with sister Dorothy) always carrying around a big prop book? Does he think it makes him look smarter? And if so, how stupid is he, really?
Enter Nick Charles, master alcoholic and former detective for Mr. Wynant, and his wife Nora Charles. Even though he keeps saying he isn’t on the case, Nick keeps getting dragged in until he starts working with the police to solve an ever-increasing number of murders.
About ¾ of the way into The Thin Man, I realized why it seemed so familiar. I’ve seen the structure of the story before in TV shows like Murder She Wrote, Matlock, and to a lesser extent, Law and Order. It helps to remember that the place of theater in culture was different in 1934 than it is today. In the midst of the Great Depression, theater became a momentary distraction before televisions came to the home.
In fact, The Thin Man is perfect escapism. In the days when nobody had money, the main characters are all filthy rich, they have beautiful apartments, liquor flows freely from the taps, and they have wonderful clothes. Yet their lives are unhappy for one reason or another. It’s exactly what the doctor ordered when you can’t afford flour or new underwear.
Co-stars William Powell and Myrna Loy (left) made this film work on another level, though. There’s a comedic bent that Powell and Loy deliver impeccably. I was surprised at the relaxed style of the duo, especially Powell. In a film where everyone else speaks with a distinct theater accent and has a somewhat static delivery, Powell’s and Loy’s ease in front of the camera brought the film an air of realism that surely pulled it above competitors.
I don’t think I’m spoiling anything when I say that the murderer is found out, and they all lived (well, most of them) happily ever after. Apparently, so did writer Dashiell Hammett and the cast and crew of The Thin Man, because several sequels were made. I’m looking forward to watching them.
