Classic Films in Focus: AFTER THE THIN MAN (1936)

After the Thin Man (1936) reunites director W.S. Van Dyke and stars William Powell and Myrna Loy for a sequel to the 1934 hit, The Thin Man, in which Nick and Nora Charles first cracked wise and drank heavily through a crime-solving adventure. We pick up right where we left off at the end of the first movie, with Nick, Nora, and Asta on a train to California, which makes the first two films a great double bill, even though they were released two years apart. After the Thin Man offers more of everything that made the first picture such a success, with the wealthy couple boozing their way through the new year and a series of homicides. Along for the ride are a number of familiar classic stars, including James Stewart, Joseph Calleia, and George Zucco, as well as Elissa Landi as Nora's troubled cousin, Selma.

Nick and Nora (Powell and Loy) arrive in San Francisco for New Year's Eve only to find that Nora's cousin, Selma (Elissa Landi), is in distress after the disappearance of her faithless husband, Robert (Alan Marshal). Nick has no trouble locating Robert and his mistress at a crowded hot spot, but then Robert turns up dead in front of Selma's house, and it looks like Selma might have killed him. Her longtime admirer, David (James Stewart), arrives on the scene to help, but Robert is just the first corpse of the mystery, and two more rapidly follow. With plenty of suspects on hand, including sketchy businessman Dancer (Joseph Calleia), jealous loser Phil (Paul Fix), and sinister Dr. Kammer (George Zucco), the police have their work cut out for them, even with Nick and Nora's help.

Much of the comedy of this outing lies in the contrast between Nick and Nora's social sets, whom we first see set against each other and then brought together thanks to Robert's shady habits. Nick knows every low-life, ex-con, and purse snatcher in town, and even the guys he sent to prison seem to like him. When Nora is greeted by a well-heeled couple in a passing car, she wryly tells Nick, "Oh, you wouldn't know them, darling. They're respectable." It turns out, however, that Nora's relations are not all that respectable themselves; they merely preserve the appearance of respectability while engaging in coercion, blackmail, adultery, and obstruction of justice. Selma's philandering husband is up to his neck in self-made trouble, but Selma's mother (Jessie Ralph) bullies and manipulates Selma into keeping quiet about his disappearance and his behavior. The rest of Nora's relatives are just antiquated bores; poor Nick has to make up both sides of the conversation when he's left alone with a table full of snoring, elderly gents after a family dinner party. It's little wonder that both he and Nora prefer Nick's more exciting acquaintances.

Asta's domestic woes feature as an odd running gag throughout the film, creating a canine version of the plot's themes of adultery, betrayal, and romance gone wrong. Asta returns from his Christmas travels to find that Mrs. Asta has produced a litter of puppies, but one of the bunch looks suspiciously like the Scottish Terrier who keeps sneaking onto the property. Asta chases his rival off repeatedly but never seems to get rid of him for good. Perhaps it's the stress of his romantic frustrations that makes Asta snatch and then eat part of a vital clue. Nick and Nora, who lavish attention on Asta, never seem to give the slightest thought to Mrs. Asta and her children, which might explain why the neglected pup, shut up in her backyard pen, has gone looking for affection elsewhere. At least the dogs don't resort to murder to solve their problems with each other, and on the whole they're better behaved than most of the movie's humans.

Powell and Loy continue the series with Van Dyke in Another Thin Man (1939) and Shadow of the Thin Man (1941) before moving to other directors for The Thin Man Goes Home (1944) and Song of the Thin Man (1947). For more of a very young Jimmy Stewart, see Wife vs. Secretary (1936) and Born to Dance (1936). Look for Elissa Landi in The Sign of the Cross (1932), By Candlelight (1933), and The Count of Monte Cristo (1934). Penny Singleton, billed as Dorothy McNulty, proves quite a scene stealer as nightclub singer Polly; she would go on to play the title character in more than two dozen Blondie films and provide the voice for Jane Jetson in the cartoon TV series, so be sure to appreciate her early appearance here.

Want to watch The Thin Man series? All of the films are currently available for streaming on FilmStruck.

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Classic Films in Focus: THE PIRATE (1948)

In the same year that she starred with Fred Astaire in Easter Parade (1948), Judy Garland partnered with Hollywood’s other reigning hoofer, Gene Kelly, in the Caribbean musical romance, The Pirate (1948). Garland and Kelly had already starred together in For Me and My Gal (1942), and they make a very lively pair in this odd, boisterous romp, which also benefits from Cole Porter’s songs and Vincente Minnelli’s direction. With its tropical setting and heated dance numbers, The Pirate pulses with sexual energy, but it moderates its plot about a young girl’s bedroom fantasies of kidnap and ravishment with liberal doses of comedy. Supporting appearances from Walter Slezak, Gladys Cooper, and the fabulous Nicholas Brothers also make this picture worthwhile for musical and comedy fans.

Garland stars as Manuela, whose arranged marriage to the much older Don Pedro (Walter Slezak) threatens to extinguish her hope for a life of romance and adventure. Her beauty attracts the admiration of Serafin (Gene Kelly), a traveling actor who pursues Manuela to her hometown and disrupts the wedding by claiming to be the infamous pirate, Mack the Black Macoco. Serafin’s ruse backfires, however, when the real Macoco connives to have the actor executed for the outlaw’s crimes.

The plot of the story is surprisingly lusty, with Manuela as both desired object and desiring subject. She yearns for the rough embrace of Macoco the pirate, primarily because she is bored with her conventional, sheltered upbringing and has no idea what an encounter with a real pirate would be like. Don Pedro, fat, rich, and determined to live a quiet life, represents the very opposite of everything that Manuela thinks she wants, but Serafin doesn’t live up to her ideal, either, since he’s merely a rakish entertainer. Manuela gets to live her fantasy, even if it’s just pretend, when Serafin poses as Macoco and demands that Manuela be delivered to him as a sacrifice to save the town. This is kinky stuff for 1948 and sweet-faced Judy Garland, but the movie treats the subject with such ironic humor that it gets passed off as a harmless lark. Still, it’s hard to imagine the production heaving with the same urgency without Gene Kelly in those delightfully tight pants, even if his wig looks a bit silly.

Several of the musical numbers contribute to the heady sexual atmosphere. Louis B. Mayer might have destroyed the alarmingly sexy “Voodoo” number that was meant to be in the picture, but the songs that remain give the audience plenty of heat. Kelly’s “Nina” number has him trying to make out with every girl in port, and the pirate ballet sequence shows off both his dancing ability and his naked legs. Garland waxes rhapsodically about “Mack the Black” and literally lets her hair down to fantasize about being carried off by the buccaneer. Other songs moderate the prevailing mood of the picture with comedy or more traditional romance; the best of the lot is the first performance of “Be a Clown,” which features Kelly with the incredibly talented Nicholas Brothers.

The Pirate succeeds at balancing sensuality with comedy thanks to its cast. Kelly is obviously having a ball as the waggish Serafin; he plays at being a swashbuckler like Douglas Fairbanks and hams up his theatrical bits like John Barrymore. Garland, already fragile and edging toward the end of her MGM career, still looks lovely and has the strength to hold her own against Kelly. The scene in which she throws a roomful of breakable objects at him is quite a spectacle. Gladys Cooper is both maternal and mercenary as Manuela’s Aunt Inez, while Walter Slezak has some very good scenes as the dour Don Pedro. George Zucco makes a brief but memorable appearance as the Viceroy who wants to hang Macoco, and Reginald Owen also turns up in a small supporting role.

For more of Garland and Kelly, see their third and final film together, Summer Stock (1950). Vincente Minnelli also directed Garland, who was his wife from 1945 to 1951, in Meet Me in St. Louis (1944) and The Clock (1945); he directed Kelly again in An American in Paris (1951) and Brigadoon (1954). For more of Walter Slezak, see Lifeboat (1944) and People Will Talk (1951). Don’t miss the Nicholas Brothers in Stormy Weather (1943), which offers a better and more extended example of their amazing technique.

Classic Films in Focus: HOUSE OF FRANKENSTEIN (1944)

Plenty of the later Universal horror movies pack in the monsters, but House of Frankenstein (1944) really outdoes the rest by jamming a whole madhouse of familiar players into its many roles, not only as the headlining creatures but also as supporting characters. The story is so convoluted and episodic that it’s certainly not the chief attraction, but classic horror fans who know their stars will find the parade of performers entertaining in its own way, and Boris Karloff gets a particularly fun role as the devious and obsessive mad doctor whose adventures string together the appearances of Dracula, the Wolf Man, and Frankenstein’s monster. Directed by Erle C. Kenton, House of Frankenstein is by no means the best of the Universal horrors, but taken scene by scene and monster by monster it does provide some unique twists on the usual situations.

Karloff plays aspiring Frankenstein successor Dr. Niemann, who escapes from prison along with his hunchbacked assistant, Daniel (J. Carrol Naish). They hitch a ride from a traveling horror show and then murder its owner, Lampini (George Zucco), so that Niemann can assume his identity. Posing as the showman, Niemann resurrects Count Dracula (John Carradine) as an accomplice in his extensive revenge plot against the men who sent him to prison, but the vampire promptly becomes distracted by attractive female prey (Anne Gwynne). Later, in the ruins of Frankenstein’s castle, Niemann finds the Wolf Man (Lon Chaney, Jr.) and Frankenstein’s creature (Glenn Strange) frozen in ice and revives both of them, but he finds werewolf Larry Talbot harder to control than the other monsters. Daniel, meanwhile, becomes enamored of a pretty gypsy girl (Elena Verdugo) and grows jealous of her attention to Talbot.

While Karloff had originally gained fame playing the lumbering monster, he shows in this film that he can just as easily assume the role of the creator, and his Niemann is a fine example of the wild-eyed devotee of transgressive science. There are references to an earlier experiment in which Niemann transplanted a human brain into a dog, so from the start we know that he might actually be crazier than the original Frankenstein or any of his ill-fated heirs. More importantly, Niemann lies to and takes advantage of the dangerous supernatural beings he encounters; this is a man mad enough to play Dracula for a dupe and plot to make a science experiment out of the Wolf Man’s body and brain. He really only cares about Frankenstein’s creature; the rest of the monsters are just convenient means to his nefarious ends. Inevitably, Niemann’s duplicity catches up with him, but it’s ironically the lowly hunchback, tired of being played for a sucker, who raises the hand of vengeance against the scheming doctor.

The rest of the cast keep things interesting in spite of the disjointed plot. John Carradine has a brief but effective run as Count Dracula; his lean physique prefigures that of Christopher Lee even as he retains the aristocratic manners of Lugosi. Lon Chaney, Jr. makes his usual contribution as doomed Larry Talbot, this time with the added interest of a tragic love affair with the spirited gypsy girl. His role as part of a romantic triangle with the girl and the hunchback puts him into the odd position of playing Captain Phoebus in their version of the Victor Hugo tale, although Larry really does seem to return the gypsy’s affection. J. Carrol Naish proves one of the most inspired additions to the collection with his pathetic, jealous Daniel, who commits most of the murders in the film and yet still commands a degree of sympathy from the audience for his unrequited love. The victims and supporting characters are played by a who’s who of favorite actors, including George Zucco, Sig Ruman, Lionel Atwill, Frank Reicher, and Glenn Strange under all the makeup taking Karloff’s place as the creature.

Like most of the Universal monster pictures, House of Frankenstein kills off all of the creatures by the final scene, but House of Dracula (1945) brings them back to life for another round. For a different sort of horror from director Erle C. Kenton, try Island of Lost Souls (1932). Look for the many faces of Boris Karloff in The Mummy (1932), the Mr. Wong series, and Bedlam (1946). Lon Chaney, Jr. plays the Wolf Man in several Universal films, beginning with The Wolf Man (1941). Versatile character actor J. Carrol Naish turns up in more than 200 film and television roles, but he earned Oscar nominations for Best Supporting Actor in Sahara (1943) and A Medal for Benny (1945). He’s hard to recognize under the makeup and feathers, but you’ll also find him playing Chief Sitting Bull in Annie Get Your Gun (1950).

Classic Films in Focus: SARATOGA (1937)

Although the story itself is a romantic comedy, Saratoga (1937) wears a shroud of sadness peculiar to those films unknowingly made by doomed stars. Jean Harlow, only 26 years old and already a huge Hollywood success, died just before shooting of the picture could be completed, and the studio finished the production and released the movie largely because of her fans’ fervent desire to see her final screen appearance. The loss of its leading lady undermines the movie’s ending, but until then Saratoga is a solid comic outing, featuring a classier role for Harlow and a cast of familiar players that includes Clark Gable, Lionel Barrymore, Walter Pidgeon, Una Merkel, and even Hattie McDaniel.

Harlow stars as Carol Clayton, a child of the horse track crowd who is moving up in the world thanks to her engagement to wealthy Hartley Madison (Walter Pidgeon). When her father dies and leaves the deed to the stud farm as a marker with his bookie, Duke (Clark Gable), Carol insists on buying Duke out before she gets married. Duke sees Carol’s fiancé as a rich target, but his better nature also inclines him to help the Clayton farm and Carol’s crusty old grandfather (Lionel Barrymore).

The early parts of the film are the best, with Harlow looking fabulously put together in a series of fashionable little hats. She and Gable have a sharp, snappy chemistry that marks all of their pictures together, but in Saratoga they clash constantly, and Harlow’s character has a prickly, contrary personality that is markedly different from the brassy, boisterous girls she often played. The problems in the third act caused by Harlow’s death are nobody’s fault, but one can’t help watching the film with a morbid eye for signs of Harlow’s illness or absence. Later scenes do seem to suggest her collapsing health, and the stand-in shots that were necessary to complete the film are glaringly obvious, with "Carol" seen only from the back and her face obscured by hats and other tricks.

Gable flashes his usual charming, roguish grins as the rival for Carol’s affections, and it’s clear from the start that his Duke is a lot more fun than Walter Pidgeon’s rich but rather wooden business tycoon. Gable also has some very good scenes with Lionel Barrymore and Gone with the Wind (1939) costar Hattie McDaniel, who makes the most of yet another domestic role. A crowd of other character actors also helps to keep the story rolling, with Una Merkel enjoying a fine part as Duke’s friend, Fritzi, and Frank Morgan mangling his lines amusingly as Fritzi’s jealous husband, Mr. Kiffmeyer. Look for Margaret Hamilton and her unmistakable nose in one scene with Frank Morgan that will entertain fans of their later film, The Wizard of Oz (1939). Keep an eye out, too, for George Zucco as the patronizing doctor who tries to calm a tightly wound Carol.

For earlier pictures with Harlow and Gable, try Red Dust (1932), China Seas (1935), and Wife Vs. Secretary (1936). Jack Conway, who directed Saratoga, also directed Harlow in Red-Headed Woman (1932), The Girl from Missouri (1934), and Libeled Lady (1936). See more of Walter Pidgeon in How Green Was My Valley (1941), Mrs. Miniver (1942), and Forbidden Planet (1956). Look for Una Merkel in several other Harlow films as well as 42nd Street (1933) and Destry Rides Again (1939). Prolific character actors Lionel Barrymore and Frank Morgan also turn up in additional Harlow pictures, but with more than 200 screen appearances for Barrymore and nearly 100 for Morgan, you’ll find both of them in plenty of classic films, often playing fatherly or grandfatherly roles to a variety of leading ladies, including Shirley Temple.

Classic Films in Focus: THE MUMMY'S HAND (1940)

Universal produced a steady stream of horror movies during the 1930s and 40s, and not all of them reached the artistic heights of Dracula (1931) and Frankenstein (1931). Among the lesser pictures of the era we have entries like The Mummy’s Hand (1940), director Christy Cabanne’s contribution to a series of follow-ups to the 1932 classic, The Mummy. More pedestrian than Universal’s original mummy movie, The Mummy’s Hand falls short of greatness but still offers classic horror fans a reasonably good time, thanks in large part to the presence of talented supporting players like George Zucco and Cecil Kellaway.

Dick Foran stars as Steve Banning, an American archeologist down on his luck in Egypt until he stumbles upon clues to the secret location of the Princess Ananka’s tomb. With backing from the magician Solvani (Cecil Kellaway), Steve and his sidekick Babe (Wallace Ford) set out to find the tomb, but the high priest Andoheb (George Zucco) opposes them at every turn. Determined to protect the princess’ resting place, Andoheb unleashes her mummified guardian, Kharis, on the intruders.

The story repeats many elements from the 1932 film, including the history of Kharis’ love for the princess and his gruesome punishment for trying to resurrect her. Gone, however, is the connection between the dead princess and the modern heroine, Marta Solvani (Peggy Moran), which makes the mummy’s kidnapping of her seem like an odd course of action. The mummy himself, played by Western actor Tom Tyler, lumbers about in an unconvincing suit of bandages, his face devoid of the detail and expression that make Karloff’s visage so memorable. The addition of Wallace Ford’s Babe as a comic sidekick does nothing to help the film, either, since he’s an obnoxious lout whose wisecracks inevitably fall flat.

The main attractions here are George Zucco as the fanatical Andoheb and Cecil Kellaway as the charming magician, Solvani. Zucco, an expert heavy, is much scarier than the shuffling mummy, even though we feel some sympathy for him, too, as Andoheb strives to defend his people’s sacred tomb from the greedy Western infidels. His predecessor, played with perfect intensity by Eduardo Ciannelli, also appears as an early highlight of the film. Cecil Kellaway makes an excellent foil to the serious mystics as a paternal stage illusionist, a genial fellow who can fill drinks with a finger and pull bowls of goldfish out of his hat. It’s the kind of role for which Kellaway is perfectly suited, and he provides the effective comic relief that Wallace Ford fails to deliver.

The mummy character Kharis returns for The Mummy’s Tomb (1942), The Mummy’s Ghost (1944), and The Mummy’s Curse (1944), although in each of the later films he is played by Lon Chaney, Jr. Christopher Lee plays Kharis in the 1959 remake, The Mummy. See more of George Zucco in The Cat and the Canary (1939), The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1939), and Dr. Renault’s Secret (1942). Cecil Kellaway also stars in I Married a Witch (1942), The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946), and Hush… Hush, Sweet Charlotte (1964). There are plenty of other classic mummy movies to keep you busy, but I’m especially fond of the 2002 horror comedy, Bubba Ho-Tep, which features cult favorite Bruce Campbell as a geriatric Elvis battling an Ancient Egyptian threat.

Classic Films in Focus: THE BLACK SWAN (1942)

 Of course Tyrone Power had to play a pirate at some point in his career. Like Errol Flynn, he exuded the kind of masculine charisma that lent itself to the swashbuckler, and in director Henry King's The Black Swan (1942) we get to see that quality exhibited in spades, along with a pretty good portion of Power's attractive torso. Although there are some rather thorny issues to deal with when it comes to the picture's representation of romance, The Black Swan works very well as an old school adventure film, with exciting performances from Power and the rest of the cast.

Power takes the lead as English pirate Jamie Waring, who finds his activities at sea and on land complicated by the appointment of his old friend, Henry Morgan (Laird Cregar), to the governorship of Jamaica. Henry expects Jamie's assistance in hunting down former comrades, particularly the rebellious Captain Leech (George Sanders), but Jamie finds himself distracted by the previous governor's beautiful daughter, Lady Margaret (Maureen O'Hara). Sparks fly between the sparring couple even as Jamie comes to realize that Margaret's father (George Zucco) and suitor (Edward Ashley) have resorted to some seriously underhanded measures in order to oust Henry Morgan from his new office.

Laird Cregar as Henry Morgan

The presence of real pirate Henry Morgan makes for an interesting spin on the usual swashbuckler tale of the era, but the film's interest in politics is mainly focused on the idea that piracy and politics are really the same thing once you get past the semantics. Henry is pirate first and politician second, while his adversaries present the reverse order, but Henry and his comrades come off as appealing because their piratical nature is transparent, while the scheming Lord Denby and Roger Ingram are despicable because they hide their black colors under hypocritical righteousness. Like Morgan, Jamie Waring is, therefore, a lovable rogue, despite his boorish and even felonious behavior, because we know he's a pirate and so does he. The casting of the "good" pirates highlights their demand for our sympathy. Laird Cregar creates an immensely interesting character out of Morgan as an old sea dog trying to learn a new trick; you have to feel sorry for him squirming in his respectable clothes, clearly trying to bluff his way out of every situation and ready to eat his wig as the whole mess gets more and more out of control. Brilliant character actor Thomas Mitchell gets to cut loose as Jamie's first mate, Tommie Blue, and he looks like he's having a wonderful time. Contrast these charming scoundrels with the "bad" pirates played by George Sanders and Anthony Quinn, both of them looking quite wild, and it's clear which ones we're supposed to like.

The romantic plot of the film plays less well for a modern audience. It's hard for us today to defend or even grasp the idea of romance predicated on violence, even though it was a common trope for certain kinds of classic films. The first time we meet Margaret Denby, Jamie assaults her, hits her, tries to kidnap her, and then drops her on the floor once his attention is directed elsewhere. No wonder she doesn't seem to like him! The only justification for this love as war theme is the fact that Margaret gives as good as she gets; these two firebrands both like it rough, and that's why they're attracted to each other. The casting of Maureen O'Hara as Margaret makes this squaring off of the sexes more palatable; she makes a very credible hellcat, and of course that's why she appears in so many similar roles opposite John Wayne in movies like The Quiet Man (1952) and McLintock! (1963). Still, the idea of "saying no, saying yes" makes serious trouble for the astute modern viewer, and it might be wise to have a thoughtful conversation about this element of the film with any youngsters watching the picture. There's a certain forced quality to the end of the movie, akin to that of The Taming of the Shrew, that defends the idea that a battle of the sexes ends well when a woman chooses to "win" by losing.

Younger viewers who enjoyed the Pirates of the Caribbean movies should certainly find plenty to like in The Black Swan, while older fans of the swashbuckler will enjoy the lively performances from the first rate cast. Don't miss Tyrone Power in The Mark of Zorro (1940) for an even better example of Power's talent and charisma. You can see more of the beautiful Maureen O’Hara in Dance, Girl, Dance (1940), How Green Was My Valley (1941), and Miracle on 34^th Street (1947). Catch the fantastic Laird Cregar in This Gun for Hire (1942), Heaven Can Wait (1943), and The Lodger (1944). Henry King also directed Jesse James (1939), The Song of Bernadette (1943), and The Gunfighter (1950). If the battle of sexes really revs your motor, go directly to the musicals Annie Get Your Gun (1950), Kiss Me Kate (1953), and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (1954). Given the similarities, I'm almost surprised in retrospect that Power and O'Hara don't burst into song! 

An earlier version of this review originally appeared on Examiner.com. The author retains all rights to this content.