Classic Movie Review:
Song of the Thin Man
By Josh Spiegel
June 7, 2010
BoxOfficeProphets.com
So when I tell you that this week’s classic movie, 1947’s Song of the Thin Man, which is mostly known for being the last film in the Thin Man series, isn’t as good as The Thin Man, I doubt you’ll be too surprised. It’s in the Thin Man series, though, where we see how charisma can elevate just about anything. For some reason, the movie series I kept coming back to while watching Song of the Thin Man was the Pirates of the Caribbean series. I know, the films are wildly similar, right? Seriously, though, anyone who is willing to admit that they enjoy all three films of that series (and yes, I am one of those people), would admit that a large part of the enjoyment comes from watching charming actors just be charming. Whatever problems Song of the Thin Man has, they’re mostly washed away by William Powell.
William Powell is one of the great Hollywood stars of the 1930s and 1940s who unfortunately falls into the category of actors who never won an Oscar but really should have. Of course, he’s most well known for playing Nick Charles in the Thin Man series, but he was also the star of the great 1930s screwball comedy My Man Godfrey, and appeared in such films as The Great Ziegfeld, Mister Roberts, and Manhattan Melodrama (in the history books, that last film is remembered as the movie John Dillinger watched just before he got murdered). Powell manages, in the Thin Man series, to not only make his alcoholic nature charming, but a lifestyle we should all aspire to (but in reality, of course, we really shouldn’t). Nick is the active player here, but he’s not nearly as charming without his wife, Nora.
Myrna Loy returned to the big screen in the late 1940s after being shunned for years in America. Why was she shunned, you ask? Oh, just for speaking out against Adolf Hitler. Yes, back when the country was content in staying out of other countries’ atrocities, Loy was outspoken against the Nazi regime and ended up dedicating her time to raising awareness of the Nazi Party, not being a movie star. Still, after World War II ended, she came back to the silver screen in films such as Song of the Thin Man and The Best Years of Our Lives. That said, if you’re like me, and have only seen The Thin Man and Song of the Thin Man, the 13-year jump wasn’t as kind as I would’ve liked it to be for Loy, who’s cute, charming, and adorable in the original film. She’s plenty charming here, but not as adorable as she once was.
All this talk of the actors makes you think you’re reading an essay, and there’s a simple reason for that: I’m trying to do as much talking as I can without talking about Song of the Thin Man. The movie’s not terrible, by any means (though not having the usual director of the series, W.S. Van Dyke, at the helm is noticeable), but it’s also not a great argument for the series to have ever extended. Anyone who’s watched The Thin Man knows that the film’s charm doesn’t come from the mystery, but the excuse we’re given to watch a couple of alkies solve a mystery. Nick and Nora’s banter is the reason for the film’s iconic status, not cracking a case. The plot of Song of the Thin Man isn’t incredibly fascinated with the mystery - a jazz bandleader is murdered, and Nick and Nora are called upon to figure out whodunit - but, by throwing Nick and Nora into a world that is decidedly unfamiliar, we’re thrown off our game, too.
You see, Song of the Thin Man is all about jazz, man. You hip to that? I hope so; unfortunately, I was not. Last time I did a classic movie review, I railed against Rebel Without A Cause for being too dated, and sadly, I’ll be busting out that broken record once again. Frankly, this movie is so dated that the kids in Rebel Without A Cause would think this movie is too square to be believed. What’s frustrating about Song of the Thin Man isn’t just that Nick and Nora are so hopelessly lost in the world of jazz. They’re shepherded around by a musician nicknamed the Clinker - and no, I can’t, for the life of me, remember why that is - whose main purpose in the film appears to be to talk in jazz-speak and then roll his eyes when Nick and Nora politely look like they want to wring his neck.
Also, one of the subplots in the film is…a bit odd, to be honest with you, and completely unfulfilled. Nick and Nora, after all these years of sleuthing, have had themselves a son, Nicky Junior. Too bad for them that Nicky Junior is being influenced negatively by all the crime his parents surround themselves with. In teaching him a lesson, or trying to, all Nick can do is wonder if he should actually spank his kid, reminiscing about all the good times they’ve had together. Did I mention that all of these reminiscences occur while Nicky is on Nick’s lap, waiting for the punishment? Did I mention that they appear on Nicky’s butt (by which I mean the images seem to pop up just as Nick’s about to spank the kid)? Yeah.
For me, the clincher is that Nicky Junior is played by Dean Stockwell. You may know that name, and you probably know that face. If you’re a Battlestar Galactica fan, you’ll remember him as the evil Brother Cavil. If you’re a fan of Blue Velvet, you’ll remember him as the Kabuki-styled Ben. If you’re a fan of Quantum Leap, you’ll have fond memories of him. And if you know him from all of those, especially Blue Velvet, there’s nothing but weirdness during this scene in Song of the Thin Man. (By the way, watch what you say on Twitter, because I found out that there are lots of freaky spam accounts that target words like spanking. Oh boy.) Stockwell’s not bad here, but his character is pointless, forgotten after the spanking scene until the very end, and even there, it’s just to see him sleeping with the Charles’s dog, Asta.
But the real problem with the film is the jazz storyline, if only because the dialogue makes no sense now, and I honestly don’t know how it made sense in 1947. I can imagine that, when writing the film or even pitching it, the idea that Nick and Nora would have to solve a mystery involving a culture that they were completely unfamiliar with was awesome. Unfortunately, an idea being written down on paper and the idea being visualized sometimes don’t work out the way we want it to. Powell and Loy are, as ever, incredibly fascinating to watch, but even in Song of the Thin Man, it doesn’t feel like they’re given enough time to hang out, aside from the very beginning and the very end. Powell gets the lion’s share of the work - not that it’s a bad thing, as he’s awfully charismatic by himself - but you wish he’d get more time with Loy.
Song of the Thin Man is the end of the Thin Man series, as mentioned previously. Powell and Loy wouldn’t ever have such highs in their careers, you could argue, as they did when they were Nick and Nora. But most actors would envy those highs, as Nick and Nora are not just some of the best characters ever put on film, but they are among the most influential, even going as far as influencing TV shows. Moonlighting and Bones are two of the most notable programs that are arguably touched by the gift of Nick and Nora’s banter. Even in this last film, watching Powell and Loy go toe-to-toe reminds you of one of the great pleasures in life. Even here, when just watching Nick and Nora at home, you have to wonder why life couldn’t be that much fun for all of us. Song of the Thin Man may not be great, but giving us that pleasure is present enough.