Return of the Thin Man Page 14

  They both break off and go into each other’s arms.

  Abrams turns from looking out of the window and says: “Some of you boys go down and gather him up. A good enough ending for it. I guess that Doc Kammer would have had no trouble at all getting him off.”

  Lum Kee climbs over the sill. Nick and Nora turn to him together to thank him for saving her, Nora adding that it was especially wonderful of him, inasmuch as Nick had once sent his brother to the pen.

  Lum Kee says: “Sure. Mr. Charles send him over—number one detective—I no like my brother—I like his girl—thank you many times—you betcha.”

  He moves uncomfortably and looks down at his stocking feet. He is standing in a puddle. He smiles blandly and says: “I go down and get my shoes,” while Nora exclaims reproachfully, “Asta!”

  THE END

  AFTER THE THIN MAN

  Afterword

  In the opening frames of After the Thin Man, a billowing locomotive speeds through space and time with turns of night and day, and rushing American landscapes. The two and a half years that passed between the release of the original Thin Man film, in May of 1934, and its first sequel, released on Christmas Day 1936, evaporate in twenty seconds. Nick and Nora Charles, who had celebrated Christmas in New York, arrive just in time for New Year’s Eve in San Francisco.

  At its core, The Thin Man’s sequel remains faithful to both Hammett’s original story and MGM’s original film adaptation. After the Thin Man, wrote Norbert Lusk in the Los Angeles Times, “succeeds in recapturing and carrying on the charm and originality of Nick and Nora Charles, who set a fashion in characterization all their own.” As Hunt Stromberg insisted, “Nick is always the same!—he’s a—CHARACTER.” And Nora remains his inimitable wife, friend, and foil. Important, the voices of The Thin Man also stay true. The Hacketts preserved Hammett’s quirky dialogue, with its rare blend of silly and cynical, sloshed and smart. “Have you ever been thrown out of a place, Mr. Charles?” threatens Dancer. “How many places was it up to yesterday, Mrs. Charles?” asks Nick. “How many places have you been in, Mr. Charles?” replies Nora. As in the first Thin Man—and as in John Huston’s 1941 adaptation of The Maltese Falcon—sizeable blocks of Hammett’s conversations are transferred undisturbed. Hollywood’s studios hired Hammett because he knew how to write dialogue that rang true, amused, and informed. Shrewd filmmakers didn’t muddle it.

  Hunt Stromberg stressed another constant in his Thin Man ­project—the inherent tension between Nick and Nora’s personal histories. Portrayals of “his” and “her” people “should be of exactly the opposite type and tempo,” Stromberg said, so that “contrast between the two backgrounds will become more poignant.” Nick was a man of the people, with all their intemperate foibles. Nora was a product of the moneyed upper class, and while she was intrigued by Nick’s world, she was not insensible to its offenses. The surprise party at the Charles’s home, the dinner party at the Forrests’, and encounters with Nick’s criminal acquaintances amplify the contrast. Nora’s raised eyebrows and the couple’s furtive banter make good comedy. Their ability to transform social dissonance into connubial delight also reflects on the economic realities of the Depression Era, when moviegoers welcomed an imaginative world in which class barriers were permeable and wealth was not a precondition of happiness. Nick appropriated Nora’s glamorous lifestyle, but his low-life friends had a lot of fun, too.

  There are, of course, significant differences between After the Thin Man’s screen story and its final production. Fewer changes than might be expected can be attributed to the Production Code Administration’s censorship. While Joseph Breen, head of the PCA, had said that “It will be necessary to limit all unnecessary drinking to an absolute minimum,” Nick, Nora, and the rest indulge liberally throughout the film. Breen also objected to Nick handling Nora’s underwear in the opening train sequence, to Phil striking Polly, and to David’s mention of “divorce”—all in scenes that remain largely intact. Asta’s “toilet gag[s]” were more troubling. In the wake of PCA complaints, proposed leg-lifting scenes disappeared—although the Hacketts’ sequences illustrating Mrs. Asta’s infidelity remain. Canine cuckolding, it appears, was less offensive to Mr. Breen than urination.

  The most salient difference between the screen story and its film adaptation is Pedro Dominges’s death scene. In a late addition to the story that was not well received by Stromberg or the Hacketts, Hammett has Pedro shot at the Charleses’ front door during the New Year’s Eve surprise party sequence. “We must not forget that your script was written really without any preparations for the Hammett injection of the Pedro incident,” Stromberg complained to the Hacketts on August 31, 1936. “And that we felt Saturday that the script was detached and irrelevant as Pedro seemed to be just dragged in and not really dramatized in scenes and premises.” Stromberg suggested a reconstruction that might have mitigated the problem, but Hackett and Goodrich settled on a more drastic revision. They cut the initial shooting scene entirely. Instead, Pedro’s character is introduced late in the film, found dead in Polly’s apartment house. While his white mustache still provides the key to identifying David as the murderer, Pedro is demoted to janitor, rather than the building owner and former bootlegger made good. Had Hammett continued to develop his story alongside Stromberg and the Hacketts, he might have worked through their objections and found a more graceful solution. But Hammett had moved on.

  Although their treatment of the Pedro situation is less than ideal, Albert Hackett and Frances Goodrich deserve kudos for the final adaptation of Hammett’s screen story to film. When they began work on the original Thin Man film, director W. S. Van Dyke had asked them to focus on fleshing out the Charleses’ relationship, rather than articulating the murder mystery. In After the Thin Man, they take on the same task—drafting train-car, domestic, and nightclub scenes that brighten the film. With Hammett’s departure from Hollywood, however, the Hacketts were left to transform a complicated mystery story into a filmable screenplay. They reshuffled the clues and key sequences that Hammett left behind. They compressed his secondary points into simple shots. And they trimmed extraneous or impractical material. Director Van Dyke must have been relieved by their revised version of the final confrontation, which plays out inside Polly’s apartment with a pistol and a tossed hat, rather than on both sides of an open window, by way of a makeshift pipe ladder, a dodgy gunshot, and a gruesome fatal plunge.

  The Hacketts can also be credited with After the Thin Man’s closing scene, in which Nora knits what Nick suddenly realizes is a baby’s sock. For movie fans, Nora’s pregnancy was a charming turn of events, but the Hacketts had other intentions. They wanted to put an end to the Charleses’ adventures and, most important, to the possibility that they might be compelled to write another sequel. Hackett and Goodrich were bored with the Charleses’ endless wit and tired of struggling with Hammett’s complicated situations. When Stromberg refused to allow them to kill off Nick and Nora, they resorted to parenthood, which they hoped would be enough of an encumbrance to extinguish the Thin Man film franchise. Like Hammett, they’d had their fill of Nick and Nora’s fabulous fable. Nonetheless, by the fall of 1937, all three would be back at work on the Thin Man’s next installment.

  J. M. R.

  ANOTHER THIN MAN

  Headnote

  Dashiell Hammett was never shy about mining his own material. In The Maltese Falcon he reworks elements from no fewer than seven earlier stories, often derived from his own experiences as a working detective. In Another Thin Man Hammett draws heavily on one source—his penultimate Continental Op story, “The Farewell Murder,” published in Black Mask magazine in January 1930, one month before The Maltese Falcon was released in hardcover by Knopf.

  “The Farewell Murder” and Another Thin Man share wily plot devices, a partial cast of characters, and Hammett’s trademark dialogue. Both tales turn on the disappearance of a knifed body fr
om a dark road, escalate with the death of a pet, and conclude with crooks intent on outsmarting the legal system. Both feature a querulous patriarch, a daughter with unscrupulous associates, and the staff of a country manor. But it’s clear that Hammett modified the story to suit the medium. Filmmakers in 1938 labored under notably different demands than did pulp-magazine writers in 1930. The Continental Op was a true hard-boiled character—physically and emotionally toughened. To keep order in his dark and violent world, the Op had to be cagier and in some ways more callous than the crooks. Regular readers of the pulps would barely have blinked when the Op, in “The Farewell Murder,” coolly assesses the grisly killing of a young dog and fabricates damning testimony on the body of a dying man. MGM’s filmmakers and the Thin Man’s fans would have been appalled by such calculated insensitivity in the Thin Man’s debonair leading man. Nick Charles had hard-boiled roots but an uptown sensibility, a family, and an affection for the good life. Hammett dialed back his earlier tale’s grittier aspects.

  Hammett’s May 13, 1938, screen story also includes an eighteen-page sequence from a darker partial draft. In that passage, ignored in Another Thin Man’s later development, Assistant District Attorney VanSlack attempts to use violence to coerce Nick into admitting complicity in a pair of murders. After reporters arrive and defuse the situation, the section winds to a dead end. The incident is better suited to an Op story than to film works in the late 1930s, especially given the constraints of the Production Code Administration. The PCA frowned on drinking, sexuality, and violence (presenting plenty of opportunity for criticism of the Thin Man films), as well as derogatory depictions of figures of authority. Hammett skewered law enforcement officials routinely in his fiction. In film, however, VanSlack’s ignoble behavior was guaranteed to rile the censors. The story that follows here adheres to Hammett’s more durable story line—which fueled the Hacketts’ screenplay and, ultimately, the second of the Thin Man sequels.

  J. M. R.

  ANOTHER THIN MAN

  Dashiell Hammett

  May 13, 1938

  AN ELABORATE SUITE IN A NEW YORK HOTEL

  It is late afternoon in September. Hotel maids, valets, etc., pass through, unpacking, bringing flowers, etc. Nora in negligee is at telephone with an open address book before her.

  Nora into phone: “No we can’t, dear—we’ve got to go on down to Colonel MacFay’s for the weekend as soon as we get unpacked. Colonel MacFay—you remember—used to be my father’s partner. . . . No, I ­really can’t, darling. If it were anything else I could persuade Nick to get out of it, but this is something about our financial affairs and you know how mercenary he is. . . . Yes, we had a lovely trip; Nick was sober in Kansas City. I’ll give you a ring Monday as soon as we get back, darling. I’m dying to have you see the baby. . . . We kind of like him.” She puts the phone down and makes a face at it.

  Nick, bringing Nora a drink, says: “You’re a bitter woman, Mom.”

  The phone rings again and Nora answers it, speaking to another friend.

  A bellboy, a youngish man with a small, cheerful, wizened face, comes in carrying an enormous bunch of flowers. When he turns from putting them on the table, he and Nick recognize each other.

  Nick frowns disapprovingly at the boy’s uniform and says: “God help honest folk in a hotel like this. How are you, Face?”

  Face grabs Nick’s hand saying: “Gee, I’m glad to see you, Nick, even if it does spoil one of the prettiest jobs I ever lined up for myself.” He unbuttons his coat, sighs, and says: “Oh well, if I could have thought of this, I’ll think up something else.”

  Nora hangs up the phone again and turns toward them.

  Nick says: “You remember Face Peppler? He came to a party of ours the last time we were in New York.”

  Nora says: “Of course.” She holds out her hand.

  Face: “Gee, I’m glad to see you, Mrs. Charles.”

  Nora looks at his unbuttoned uniform coat.

  Face: “I was hopping bells here until a minute ago when Nick seen me.”

  Nora says to Nick: “But, Nick, if he’s trying to go straight now, I don’t think you ought to—”

  Face interrupts her by laughing heartily: “Aw, Mrs. Charles, it was nothing like that. Give me two days more and I’d have had a million dollars. Well, anyway, I’d have had a pretty bank roll.”

  An assistant manager comes in, bowing primly to Nick and Nora, asking: “Is everything satisfactory? Is there anything we could do to make you more comfortable?” He sees Face and says sharply: “Thirtle!”

  Face takes off his coat and hands it to the assistant manager. “I’ve quit. I’m visiting here.” He starts to unbutton his pants. “These are my friends.”

  Nora says sweetly: “Oh yes, Mr. Peppler—Thirtle is an old friend of ours.”

  Nick puts his arm on Peppler’s back and says: “You must have a drink, old chap. I have some incredible Scotch.”

  The assistant manager bows himself out in a daze.

  Face shakes hands warmly with Nick and Nora, saying: “You people are okay for my money.”

  A nervous man in chauffeur’s livery comes in and says: “Mr. Charles?”

  Nick says: “Yes?”

  Chauffeur: “Colonel MacFay’s car, sir.”

  Nick says: “Thanks. Be down in a little while.”

  The chauffeur fidgets with his cap, then says: “Excuse me for saying so, but it’s getting a little late.”

  Nick: “I’ll try to hurry.”

  Chauffeur: “Thank you, sir.” He goes out.

  From the rear of the suite comes Asta’s voice raised in deafening complaint.

  Nora says: “Nicky’s doing something.” She hurries toward the noise, Nick and Face following her.

  In the kitchen Nick Jr. is sitting on the floor calmly chewing on a bone that he has taken from Asta. Asta is not trying to snatch the bone back, but is walking around and around the baby complaining noisily.

  Nick Jr. is a fat, year-old boy who is interested in very little besides eating and sleeping. He eats anything that comes to hand and can sleep anywhere. His vocabulary is limited, consisting chiefly of two words— “Drunk” for things he does not like and “Gimme” for things he does. He seldom laughs and never cries and does not think his parents are amusing. He ordinarily regards them with the same sort of mild curiosity or tolerant boredom with which he regards the rest of the world. He is calmly chewing his bone, playing no attention to Asta.

  Nora picks him up, takes the bone out of his hand, and gives it to Asta, who runs off with it. The baby watches Asta out of sight without any particular expression on his face.

  Face says: “Gee, a baby! Yours?”

  Nick and Nora say: “Yes,” trying not to look proud of themselves.

  Face wiggles a finger in front of the baby’s nose, saying: “Googoo, googoo!”

  The baby looks at him blankly.

  Nick and Nora try to stir the baby into some semblance of liveliness, but with no success. After watching their antics for a moment, the baby says, “Drunk,” and turns to Face again.

  Face, a little abashed by the baby’s patient stare, asks: “A boy?”

  Nora says: “Certainly!”

  Face: “That’s great. How old is he?”

  Nora says: “Be a year next Tuesday.”

  Face: “Tuesday? Swell. Say, we’ll give him a party . . . Tuesday afternoon! I’ll get my brother to let me bring his kids over. He’s got two of the cutest little monkeys—leave it all to me. Tuesday afternoon—that’s a date.”

  Nora says confusedly: “Well, I don’t—”

  Face pats her on the back: “You leave it all to Facie, Mrs. Charles. I’ll give you a baby party you never seen the like of.”

  He goes out, picking up Nora’s address book from beside the telephone as he
passes without their seeing him.

  Nora looks at Nick in consternation.

  Nick says: “We can stay down at MacFay’s until Tuesday night.”

  Nick, Nora, the nurse, Nick Jr., and Asta go down to the street, where the nervous chauffeur is standing beside a car into which a bellboy and the doorman have just finished putting their bags.

  The chauffeur, looking at the two women and the baby, asks Nick in a somewhat surprised tone: “Are you going to take them?”

  Nick says: “I don’t know how to get rid of them. Maybe we can ditch them somewhere on the road.”

  The chauffeur says: “I’m sorry, Mr. Charles, I didn’t mean to—” and breaks off to look at his watch and then at the sky. It is now early twilight, although the streetlights have not yet been turned on.

  They get into the car. The nurse sits in front with the chauffeur; Nick, Nora, the child, and dog sit in the rear.

  Nora, looking at the chauffeur, asks: “What’s the matter with him?”

  Nick replies: “We had a couple of girls lined up.”

  DISSOLVE THROUGH THE NEW YORK STREETS, OVER THE TRIBOROUGH BRIDGE, ALONG LONG ISLAND ROADS

  As darkness closes down, the chauffeur drives faster and faster until, by the time they have turned off the highway into a dark, tree-lined side road, Nick, Nora, the baby, and Asta are bouncing around on the backseat. The baby bounces peacefully without opening its eyes.

  Nick calls to the chauffeur: “You’re working too hard. If we don’t get there in three minutes, it’ll still be all right.”

  The chauffeur pays no attention to him. Nick leans forward, touches the chauffeur’s shoulder. The chauffeur jumps, jerks his head around, and almost sends the car off the road. His face and the back of his neck are covered with sweat.

  Nick says: “Not so fast, son, the baby has a hangover.”

  The chauffeur mumbles: “Yes, sir—I’m sorry,” then almost immediately begins to step up the speed again.