Shadow of
the Thin Man
(1941)
Nick and
Norah’s fourth outing, seven years after the first, and incredibly there is
little sign of a drop off in quality. If
the premise has the air of writers clutching for ideas (the murder of a jockey
at a racetrack), the mystery unfolds engagingly, with sufficient diversions and
red herrings, including a reporter pal of Nick’s accused of the crime, to more
than satisfy. Unlike last time, the murderer is fairly easy to guess through a
process of elimination, but as I’ve noted of the other sequels, and no doubt
will again, the joy of The Thin Mans
isn’t so much the crimes and their solving as the manner in which the Charles
react to them. This time Nick Jr (Richard Hall) has become a precocious child,
and not the most darling of actors, but William Powell turns nearly every scene
opposite him into a comic triumph. And there’s Asta, scared by
an ickle kitten.
Screenwriting
duo Albert Hackett and Frances Goodrich, don’t return this time. Kudos to them
for setting the tone for the series, but it has to be said the repartee between
Nick and Nora doesn’t obviously suffer under the penmanship of Harry Kurnitz
and Irving Brecher. W.S. Van Dyke is back as director, solidly unremarkable, although this would be his final instalment (he died of cancer in 1943).
Nora: He’s
getting more like his father everyday.
Louise: He sure
is. This morning he was playing with a corkscrew.
Having been
a little surprised by the absence of cutesiness in Another Thin Man, I probably shouldn’t have been fazed that Shadow also fails to succumb. And so it
is, we are introduced to Nick reading a children’s story to Nicky Jr. Except
that it turns out to be a list of racing tips (“Once upon a time there was a horse. In fact, there were hundreds of
horses. White ones, black ones, brown ones…”) Only the prospect of a drink
stirs him from gambling (“Ma’am did he
hear that or did he smell it?” asks Louis Beavers’ maid, Stella, as Nick
ups and leaves the park across the street when Myrna Loy’s Nora opens a
bottle). The beloved child is expertly used to bounce playful barbs between his
adoring parents (“Doesn’t daddy ever win
at the races?” asks Junior; “Darling,
don’t ask questions” replies Mommy). He also insists that a disgusted Nick
drinks straight milk (I half expected Nick to use it for a White Russian) and
initiates an amusing interlude in which a reluctant Daddy climbs aboard a
merry-go-round horse to jeers from the surrounding nippers (“Big man’s a ‘fraidy cat”). The
experience is complete with kaleidoscopic Nick point-of-view vision.
Nick: Mommy,
he’s a great kid, I’m much obliged.
Nora: Oh, it
was nothing. Any time.
Present and
correct too are the rascally suggestive exchanges between the two. Nick’s
Groucho-like double take when Nora suggests she’ll “give him another child” any
time is priceless, and Nora is possibly even quicker with the innuendo than he
(“Well, that’s the way we check in a the
motels” she responds when asked if she is Mrs Charles). As usual, Nick
heads off to solve the mystery leaving Nora to follow him (“Slip into an exciting negligee… and I’ll see
you at breakfast”). And if Nick’s skills of deduction are as unparalleled
as ever, Nora repeatedly shows she is his equal, either through plain
commonsense (admonishing him for driving too fast, just before he gets a
ticket), over-enthusing at the wrestling (admittedly, this scene is a little
overdone), winning at turtle racing (“Oh
barkeeper, bring Mrs Charles 140 martinis. We won’t be long”) or heroically
tackling the villain at the climax (“You’re
the bravest gal in the world”, Nick tells her). She also has a wonderfully
respectful approach to Nick’s dubious associates, addressing one as “Mr” Meatballs. Her hat may be a laughing
stock, but she delivers the best line in a movie replete with great ones; Oh, Nicky. I can’t stand it. Was it me? asks
Nora as Nick sifts through his customarily assembled murder suspects.
Nick’s on
top form as he runs rings around the dim police., solving the manner of the
jockey’s demise with the kind of piercing insight that would make Jonathan Creek
proud. Where this one really scores is with Sam Levene’s Lieutenant Abrams. He
was in the previous picture too, but is served a welter of classic lines here.
A suspect (Macy) claims in his alibi that he went out for a drive, “no law against that”. “Not if you’ve got a drivers licence”,
fires back Abrams. Another suspect keeps referring to him as captain. “Flattery will get you nowhere. I’m a
lieutenant…. I’d like to be a captain” reflects Abrams, his mind beginning
to daydream.
Even one-scene
characters are memorable, such as “Spider” Webb, and his explanation of the
sentence he served (“I was a victim of
circumstances. The DA framed me, not knowing I was guilty. Ain’t that a
coincidence?”) Another scene finds a dinner party celebrating the first
birthday of a child; the husband has been in prison five years. If suggestiveness
is defused somewhat by the news he got out “once”, there’s an implication the
line was only there because anything further would have run foul of the censors.
There are
also odd little idiosyncrasies, like the landlady whom Nick encounters when he
investigates a scene. She’s obsessed with listening to radio thrillers. We hear
snippets such as “Dr Fang, your friendly
dentist” and “my invisible cape”.
Later, there’s an extended bit involving a waiter trying to serve his guests only sea bass, such that any request for
broiled lobster is doomed to failure.
Asta is irresistible, naturally. He helps Nick locate a gun, finds some jewellery (“Asta, that’s the hottest radiator in town”)
and has his own rather peculiar moment when he descends, presumably
disorientated, from the aforementioned merry-go-round in slow motion. To
balance this out the wonder pooch later gets stuck in some revolving doors,
sped up.
Of course,
Nick is receives the lion’s share of the great lines and, with delivery like
Powell’s, he’s a gift to any writer. Promised some great wrestling, he replies,
“How’d you know? You went to rehearsal?”
When the lieutenant complains the jockey is still worrying him, Nick
contributes, “Yes, still dead, huh?” And,
in response to moll Claire Porter (the famed Stella Adler), attempting to pass
her self off as a cut above, “Don’t look
now, but your accent’s showing”. It’s a genuine surprise to see a series
remain this consistently good for this long. There are exceptions, but most
fluctuate (Rathbone’s Sherlock Holmes
for example) or tend to the middling ground (Sanders’ The Saint/The Falcon).
The next Thin Man picture would also
be Loy’s next picture, three years later and after volunteering with the Red
Cross during the War.
***1/2
