1934’s The Thin Man also deals with a grisly holiday season murder but is oddly charming and congenial. Much of this is down to the phenomenal chemistry between William Powell as amateur sleuth Nick Charles and Myrna Loy as his feisty, adoring wife Nora. The Charles’ are a “leisure-class” couple who spend much of the film boozing, flirting and treating this whole murder mystery as a bit of a lark. The film, directed by W. S. Van Dyke and adapted from the novel by Dashiell Hammett, was the first in a series of six films following Nick and Nora and it’s easy to see why audiences kept coming back. I can’t think of many other films where a married couple are allowed to have this much depth and humour, gently taking the piss out of each other most of the time, though their absolute smittenness is obvious. They remind me of my wife and I at times and it’s an altogether lovely thing to see.
Nick is a far cry from your traditional ‘hard boiled’ detective of and you get the sense he’s in it for the thrill when he’s asked to look into the strange disappearance of the titular ‘thin man’, a wealthy inventor who was an old client of his. He seems secretly thrilled when things escalate and it becomes a murder case, a real chance to show off his detective skills again.
To be honest, I don’t feel that invested in the actual investigation but stick around for Nora and Nick’s boozy banter and playful shenanigans. Though they’re good at solving mysteries, their true talent lies in throwing awesome parties as they do in their swanky hotel pad on Christmas Eve, because why not? Following the end of prohibition in America the previous year, the sense here is of a country still having a grand old time and celebrating with a drink or twelve.
It’s pleasantly Christmassy too, with all the main players launching into a booze-soaked rendition of ‘Oh Christmas Tree.’ More than anything, watching this makes me really miss parties, having not been to anything closely resembling one for about a year and a half. Damn you, Covid!
I’m watching The Thin Man the morning after discovering the planned sale of our house has completely fallen through. We’re aghast to discover that the person who put in a very generous offer doesn’t actually have any money and was totally wasting our time. It feels like one of the mightiest gut punches I’ve ever experienced. We’d already started packing and making plans and now we’re back to square one. Part of me considers just packing in the festive films altogether, but I manage to persuade myself to watch this one and it does raise my spirits a tiny bit. I’m reminded that it’s not the end of the world and that starting again from scratch doesn’t mean there won’t be a happy outcome - we’ll just need to wait a little longer and should keep trying to enjoy life until then. I’m finding this strange quest is giving me purpose and momentum during a weird time when it would be very easy to feel rudderless.
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