When Private Detective
Novels Went From The Parlors To Hard-Boiled-The Transition-The Film Adaptation
(Once Removed) Of Dashiell Hammett-Inspired “After The Thin Man”(1936)- A Film
Review, Of Sorts
DVD Review
By Sam Lowell
After The Thin Man, starring
Myra Loy, William Powell, James Stewart, a sequel from Dashiell Hammett’s The
Thin Man, 1936
I admit up front I am a
hard-boiled private detective guy (the public coppers, police procedurals if
you like don’t even rate a mention today although I have reviewed a million of
them in my forty plus years as a film critic, editor, reviewer) in the eternal
battle to find some reason to pay hard-earned money to either sit down and read
a crime novel or view a film noir. I have spent my career defining my take on
film noir detectives and the like. Have written what almost all film critics
have called the “bible” a tome about the film noir of the 1930s and 1940s, the
golden age. I have also gone to bat for the creators of this hard-boiled genre,
the guys who took private detection out of the parlor, usually the high-end
parlor, out of the hands of amateur, actually almost accidental private
detectives slumming while clipping their stock coupons or something. Above all
I have paid homage to Raymond Chandler’s Phillip Marlowe series where private
detection is for real including fists and slugs and Dashiell Hammett’s Sam
Spade ditto on fists and slugs.
Here is the funny part, the
seemingly contradictory part. Hammett also made a great private detective
(public copper turned private by the way which should not be held against him)
in Nick Charles, played by William Powell, and his wife companion Nora, played
by Myra Loy, in his The Thin Man. Problem for a guy like me is that Nick and Nora, due
to Nora’s money, are slumming on the high side, on the parlor side taking on
cases where the rich have something at stake. Which brings us to my idea of the
transition-the little sliver from parlor to hard-boiled taking a slight detour.
Gentile surroundings but with enough fists and slugs to go around. This pacing which
started with the film adaptation of The Thin
Man continues in the first sequel After
The Thin Man done in the aftermath of the success of the original film
adaptation.
Most of the actions takes
place in high-end digs, maybe Russian or Nob Hill in San Francisco, and gin
mills after Nick and Nora come back from vacation (maybe after having solved that
original with the missing inventor, the thin man, caper although that was in
New York City). Why? The errant husband, Robert, of a young Mayfair swell
matron, West Coast division, Selma, has gone missing and the family, through
its wicked witch of the West matriarch and arbiter of social norms is looking to
discreetly look into the matter. Enter hated Nick (who had been brought up on
the wrong side of the tracks AND was a public copper) who is egged on by Nora to
take the case and maybe make some family peace-fat chance with the swells once
they tag you with the low rent district whammy.
Turns out the errant hubby,
still adored unconditionally by that naïve young Mayfair swell, has been
hitting the gin mills and playing footsie with a torch singer, Polly, at a
swank Chinese-themed nightclub run by a gangster, Nolo, and fronted by a Chinese
businessman. This grifter, this errant husband, let’s say his name again to separate
him from the other grifters making plans of their own, Robert, is nothing but a
gold-digger, male division, whose only play is to try to get enough dough to
split with Polly, the torch singer without
a heart of gold. Here’s where things get weird although you never know what
a grifter will think up to get dough. Seems that a Mayfair swell eligible bachelor,
David, played by young James Stewart, who made a portion of his career playing second
fiddle to sexier errant males like Cary Grant, loved that young jilted Selma, had
wanted to marry her before Robert fogged the night. Robert’s play was to touch
David up for a big number (those days’ big number laughable today) pay-off and
he would clear out (and do whatever he planned to do with that tramp Polly). Of
course down in the mud, down in the gin mills and low life lanes where Polly
and her boss Nolo resided the play was to grab the dough Robert got from David
and play their own version of house. Nice crowd, right.
All this action got stopped
in its tracks though when dear Robert took a few slugs and fell down, fell down
forever if you want to know. Guess who the prime suspect was though who was
right there gun in hand. Selma, who had motive, means and opportunity after
what this cad Robert had done to her. Despite all the circumstantial evidence against
her it just can’t be holy goof Selma, not Nora’s relative. Nick is off and running
to find the real murderer, actually multiple murderer because the real killer
was seen by other parties. Nick, in the classic Nick way, piled up the evidence,
figured out the half dozen possible real suspects and brought them all together
under one roof with the public coppers present ready to escort the villain to
the clink once he, or she, screamed “uncle” under Nick’s relentless interrogation.
Guess what, you know the saying beware a woman scorned. Guys can work under that
assumption as well. Turns out psycho holy goof David was the mad monk murderer who
got unhinged after Selma gave him the air. Go figure.
[This Nick-Nora combo may
be a transitional private detective, plus wife, plus dog but give me a guy like
Sam Spade who was ready to turn over a femme just to save his own neck and didn’t
think twice about it or Phil Marlowe going round and round with a couple of
kinky sisters who liked to walk the wild side and lived to tell about it. S.L.]
