After the Thin Man (1936)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

After the Thin Man (1936) – W. S. Van Dyke

Nick and Nora Charles (the sleuthing couple from Dashiell Hammett’s 1934 novel, The Thin Man) are back, again incarnated by dapper/sophisticated but totally soused William Powell and Myrna Loy. Of course, like many of the mystery series of the era, the plot introduces many characters (many red herrings) and brings them all together into a room at the end so Charles can accuse/catch the real killer. What elevates this series, aside from the stars’ perfect chemistry is the droll (and sometimes screwball) humour (both Powell and Loy know how to wait for the beat) and the superior actors in supporting roles. For example, this sequel features Jimmy Stewart (!) and Joseph Calleia as suspects (among others). The plot finds Nick and Nora travelling to California, arriving on New Year’s Eve but being called to her aunt’s house to investigate the disappearance (and then murder) of her cousin’s no-good husband. Perhaps viewers can’t really figure out whodunnit very easily (also an issue with some of Hammett’s short stories) but the fun is in watching the stars in action, despite the formula.   

These Three (1936)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

These Three (1936) – W. Wyler

(First) Hollywood version of Lillian Hellman’s play (The Children’s Hour) which focuses on accusations of lesbianism between teachers in a girls’ school but is here “sanitised” to heterosexual cheating (with hints of menage a trois, perhaps?).  The crux of the drama is about a girl’s lying accusations and the damage that they do to everyone involved, including the two teachers (Merle Oberon and Miriam Hopkins), their doctor friend (Joel McCrea), the girl herself (Bonita Granville), and her grandmother (Alma Kruger) who uses her social pressure to close the school.  There may be a moral in here – don’t believe kids? Or probably, don’t be quick to judge? But perhaps something has been lost when the stigma shifted from sexual orientation (still stigmatised today) to something a bit less relevant (although sure to have caused moral panic in the 1930s).  The drama itself takes its time to introduce and flesh out the characters before getting to the pivotal event.  McCrea is friendly and engaging, Oberon a bit distant, and Hopkins a bit negative but together they make a good trio and we are on their side all the way through.  The tacked on Hollywood ending (not sure if this is in the play) tries hard to undo the damage done and manages to sand off some of the film’s sharp (bitter) edges. 

The Ex-Mrs. Bradford (1936)

☆ ☆ ☆

The Ex-Mrs. Bradford (1936) – S. Roberts

William Powell was so enjoyable in the role of the suave, comical private detective that he played more than one during his career. Most famous, of course, is Nick Charles (husband of Nora, played by Myrna Loy) in the Thin Man series (which began in 1934, based on characters created by Dashiell Hammett).  Prior to that, he was Philo Vance (1929-1933) from the books by S. S. Van Dine.  So, it comes as no surprise that he turns up here as a doctor who is encouraged into sleuthing by his ex-wife, played by Jean Arthur, who is apparently a mystery writer.  The case focuses on the death of a jockey, presumably by heart attack, but later thought to be something more sinister.  There is the usual array of minor characters and red herrings who all wind up in a room at the end, so that Powell can identify the murderer (a set-up which must have been cliché even by 1936).  The chemistry between Powell and Arthur is pretty good, but no patch on the remarkable pairing of Powell and Loy. She holds her own but has more meaty roles in other films that show off her comic technique better. Eric Blore has a funny bit part as Powell’s butler.  All told, this is somewhat less than the sum of its parts but fine for fans of the period.

  

Dracula’s Daughter (1936)

☆ ☆ ½

Dracula’s Daughter (1936) – L. Hillyer

This first sequel to Universal’s Dracula (1931) starts off pretty great as Professor Van Helsing is arrested for the murder of Dracula after being caught at the scene of the crime (and Dracula with a stake in his heart and all).  There is some funny business with two daffy cops charged with looking after the body (and that of Renfield).  Of course, no one believes Van Helsing’s story about vampires, except his former protégé and now eminent psychiatrist Jeffrey Garth (played by Otto Kruger).  He wants to clear his mentor’s name but has no clues until Dracula’s body is stolen by a mysterious woman who later turns up at Garth’s office seeking psychiatric help (foreshadowing Abel Ferrara’s The Addiction, 1995, I guess). This film is famous because Dracula’s daughter (played by Gloria Holden) seems very likely to be same-sex attracted (and there is a seduction scene of sorts where she hypnotises a young homeless girl…and then apparently sucks her blood, but this isn’t shown onscreen).  Unfortunately, most of the proceedings here are not exactly riveting and there is more talk than action, taking place in undistinguished parlours rather than spooky castles or other gothic settings.  A few scenes stand out but, as far as Universal’s sequels go, the no holds barred absurdity of later entries (Son of Dracula, 1943, or House of Frankenstein, 1944) makes them more fun. 

Secret Agent (1936)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Secret Agent (1936) – A. Hitchcock

Hitchcock’s follow-up to The 39 Steps (1935) also stars Madeleine Carroll, this time as an apprentice spy during WWI, and Peter Lorre (from the Man Who Knew Too Much, 1934), as a wacky assassin working for the Brits.  John Gielgud takes the lead as the writer drafted to be a spy as Richard Asheden (from the stories by Somerset Maugham).  They are all shipped off to Switzerland to track down an enemy agent and kill him.  As Hitchcock points out, the unsavoury nature of this assignment and the clear ambivalence shown by Gielgud and Carroll undercut the excitement of the adventure story.  And when things go very wrong, this doesn’t help either.  At this stage in his career, Hitch was already ready to defy audience expectations in a big way (he blew up a child with a bomb in his next picture, Sabotage, 1936) but the honesty with which he deals with assassination doesn’t fully jell with the comedy-thriller elements dominating the rest of the picture.  There are, of course, some excellent set-pieces handled with aplomb and an unpredictable ending, if you weren’t trying to figure things out too hard.  Still, this is worth a look, even if not up there with the greatest of the Master’s British pictures.

Charlie Chan’s Secret (1936)

☆ ☆

Charlie Chan’s Secret (1936) – G. Wiles

Charlie’s on his own – no number one or number two sons – and Warner Oland seems rather shaky as a result.  The plot contains the usual elements – a murder, lots of suspects with good motives, and some supernatural hokum.  The events take place at a spooky old house and comic relief is provided (or perhaps over-done) by British character actor Herbert Mundin.  Of course, all things are relative and this is just a slightly less compelling entry in the still highly enjoyable series about the Chinese detective from Honolulu.  As comfort food, the episodes are likely to be more-or-less interchangeable.