The Thin Man.

Review #1887: The Thin Man.

Cast: 

William Powell (Nick Charles), Myrna Loy (Nora Charles), Maureen O'Sullivan (Dorothy Wynant), Nat Pendleton (Lt. John Guild), Minna Gombell (Mimi Wynant Jorgenson), Porter Hall (Herbert MacCaulay), Henry Wadsworth (Tommy), William Henry (Gilbert Wynant), Harold Huber (Arthur Nunheim), Cesar Romero (Chris Jorgenson), Natalie Moorhead (Julia Wolf), Edward Brophy (Joe Morelli), Edward Ellis (Clyde Wynant), and Skippy (Asta) Directed by W. S. Van Dyke (#231 - San Francisco)

Review: 

Admittedly, a movie with a director known as "One Take Woody" sounds like a recipe for an interesting time. W. S. Van Dyke entered film in 1915 after a wide variety of time spent in business school and numerous part-time jobs and theater company tours. He went from assistant director with D. W. Griffith to director in the span of two years. When it came to sound, he was adept in his craft that made him a solid company man for Metro Goldwyn Mayer that served him well until his death in 1943. Of course, this is something worthwhile to mention because of the fact that he was one of the key parts behind what ended up becoming a film series. The Thin Man saw five further features: After the Thin Man (1936), Another Thin Man (1939), Shadow of the Thin Man (1941), The Thin Man Goes Home (1945), and Song of the Thin Man (1947). Van Dyke would direct three of the sequels while its main stars in Powell and Loy starred in each of the movies (one would notice that the "Thin Man" actually originally refers to a missing man played by Ellis, but people referred to Powell as "Thin Man" pretty early on). The movie, if you didn't know, is an adaptation of the 1934 novel of the same name by Dashiell Hammett. Hammett was a member of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency (both private law enforcers and aggressors against organized labor) before he was a writer, which led him to write numerous stories and novels with characters such as Sam Spade (as it turned out, this was the last novel written by Hammett, who dealt with tough health and other struggles before his death in 1961). Husband-and-wife duo Albert Hackett and Frances Goodrich wrote the feature, with instruction by Van Dyke to loosely adapt the novel while having concentration on providing witty banter for its lead actors, with Van Dyke often shooting the first take due to his belief that actors lose spontaneity with every passing take.

Go figure that a movie shot in less than three weeks ended up being a complete success for all involved.  The chemistry between Powell and Loy in banter is one that other filmmakers would be jealous enough to wish they could steal for themselves. Van Dyke knew he had magic with these folks, so he made a movie with resourceful pacing and spontaneity that makes for a capable mystery with chuckles to go around. Powell may have been considered a bit too old for the part (42) when compared to Loy (29), associated with exotic roles at the time. But they are so dazzling here, zinging off each other without serving as distraction for tired plotting. Powell knows exactly what to lend to the material in his timing and mannerisms, sophisticated in deduction without coming off as a Sherlock pastiche. He glides through 91 minutes as if the plot wasn't particularly important to having fun. It wasn't his first crack at playing a detective (he had played the character Philo Vance in four films from 1929 to 1933), but it was his first crack at having a film that wanted to show him with sophistication and charm. Powell and Loy would star in fourteen total movies together. Loy makes a quality partner in her own wiry charm that pushes things along with easygoing flair that matches wit (and alcohol) with Powell all the same in pure escapism. O'Sullivan and the others have to play a bit of catch-up in maintaining the plot to some sort of believable level (i.e. things that you've probably heard from a detective story but not completely cliche), in order to not be completely overshadowed by the duo, much less the dog and his paw movement. The dinner sequence where all are seated in order to gradually explain the whodunit is particularly effective in execution in closing the romp. This is the kind of movie where a guy can sock someone from behind before getting into a scuffle or have lines like "didn't come anywhere near my tabloids", you should have a real good time with this movie. Regardless how the follow-up films went, Dyke cultivated in record time a work of useful entertainment that saw one of the best pairings in film history (Powell and Loy) come together for one of the most interesting films of its era that practically walks on air with its sophistication that all would be proud to be part of.

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.

The Best Years of Our Lives.

Review #1368: The Best Years of Our Lives.

Cast:
Myrna Loy (Milly Stephenson), Fredric March (Platoon Sergeant Al Stephenson), Dana Andrews (Captain Fred Derry), Teresa Wright (Peggy Stephenson), Virginia Mayo (Marie Derry), Cathy O'Donnell (Wilma Cameron), Hoagy Carmichael (Uncle Butch Engle), Harold Russell (Petty Officer 2nd Class Homer Parrish), Gladys George (Hortense Derry), Roman Bohnen (Pat Derry), Ray Collins (Mr. Milton), Minna Gombell (Mrs. Parrish), and Walter Baldwin (Mr. Parrish) Directed by William Wyler (#509 - Roman Holiday, #1022 - Jezebel, and #1360 - Mrs. Miniver)

Review:
The most enduring films can be the ones that strike us in their poignancy. Emotional honesty can be the best policy, particularly when it comes to a film basked in real life, about soldiers coming home from war. One prominent person returning from the war was director William Wyler. The year that he had directed Mrs. Miniver (1942) to roaring success (although he subsequently called it an "incomplete" film that only scratched the surface about war), he had volunteered to serve in the US Army Air Forces; he shot footage that was turned into two war documentaries, and there were risks to filming footage over actual bombing missions, with Wyler losing a significant part of his hearing due to exposure to loud noise. It should prove no surprise that Wyler was the director to be for a film about veterans arriving home from war, with numerous touches done by the director to make an authentic piece of grand naturalness, such as having the actors buy their own clothing and having sets constructed at life-size level (as opposed to camera-friendly larger sets). To go alongside Wyler was a producer with the capable hands in Samuel Goldwyn. He had gone from bustling garments to salesman to being in a film company partnership in 1913 with Jesse L. Lasky and others to turn plays into feature-length films. They would later merge with Paramount (alongside Adolph Zukor's Famous Players Film Company), although Goldwyn would later resign in 1916 over disagreements, so he went on to partner with the Selwyn brothers to make the enterprise known as Goldwyn Pictures (with that leading to him changing his name to Goldwyn after being known as Goldfish that he had changed from Gelbfisz). It ran for eight years before being acquired by Marcus Loew to merge with Metro and Mayer to form Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, although Goldwyn moved on to his own production company, and the company produced films for 36 years that would distributed through various studios such as United Artists and RKO. This was written by Robert E. Sherwood (four-time Pulitzer Prize winner and head of the Office of War Information from 1943 until the end of the war) as an adaptation of the novella Glory for Me (1945) by MacKinlay Kantor, which had been inspired by an article in Time Magazine.

One finds themselves wrapped right in with a film like this from the very first minutes, and it should prove no surprise that this film manages to accomplish this through capable storytelling, having a consistent and engaging focus for each of its veteran plots that weaves magnificently for 172 minutes, where one is absorbed in where the path may go next. March commands the film with great presence, a weary and dogged man that we can go along at any point, which matches Loy and her capable patience that makes for great established chemistry. Andrews pulls off a tremendous performance as well an evolving performance built on humility, with him and March both expressing trauma in their own respective ways (which is especially striking now as it was then). Wright proves fairly charming in a film wrapped in honest realism, where naivety and sentiment are behind for most if the film, while Mayo pulls off a conniving turn in her moments on screen, with the best highlight probably being the scene between the two when they are on a double date and talking to themselves privately. an Army instructor who had lost his hands due to a defective fuse when handling TNT) had been noticed by Wyler due to an Army film named Diary of a Sergeant, which was about rehabilitating veterans. He appeared in three total films, with Wyler having told him to finish his interrupted studies at Boston University. He pulls off his story with tremendous courage in a natural manner, where one is focused on him and his trouble like we would with others with more acting experience while not thinking about his hooks. Rounding out the cast is capable edge filling from singer-turned occasional actor Carmichael and an understanding O'Donnell performance. There is plenty that one can see when it comes to following natural pursuits in this film, one that eventually finds hope in the murkiness that could accompany such a hard readjusting that war can be. It isn't overly-sentimental or cynical to the point of irritation, finding an honest middle ground that lets these characters breathe for themselves. From the deep focus shots from Gregg Toland to highlights like the aircraft boneyard sequence, one will have an interesting time to spend with people that still seem relevant now.

One may not be surprised to know that this was a hit for its year with audiences and critics. It won seven Academy Awards, with Wyler, Sherwood, March, and Russell winning in respective categories of directing, screenplay, and acting while also winning for editing and original score. The night belonged to Goldwyn and Russell, with the former being awarded both an Irving G. Thalberg Memorial Award along with Best Picture (his one win in eight nominations as producer for Best Picture) for this film while the latter became the first and only actor to receive two Academy Awards for the same performance, having been awarded an Honorary Academy Award (since the Academy apparently believed his Oscar hopes were slim). In any case, it is easy to see why this endures as one of the best films of its era, where one will find themselves satisfied with going through the time to see something like this and not finding their patience tested at any real point.

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.