Wednesday 19 January 2011

SPECIAL: The Thin Man - Lux Radio Theater, 1936




It's been a fair few years now since I first watched The Thin Man, and I dread to think how many times I've watched it since. Twelve would probably be a very conservative estimate... Anyhow, I just got hold of the radio adaptation that aired two years after the film's release, starring most of the original cast, and seeing as I'd never listened to one of these Lux Theater adaptations before, I thought it might be fun to give it a listen. The recording can be found here, thanks to the wonderful Internet Archive.

As you probably know, back in the heyday of radio, way before the arrival of home video, it was very common for actors to reprise their roles for a condensed radio version of a popular recent picture, usually as part of series entitled 'Lux Radio Theater'. The drama would be punctuated (indeed, deflated might be the better word) by occasional plugs for Lux soap ('nine out of ten beautiful screen stars' apparently use it, though I'm somewhat doubtful the evidence for these figures could be produced). In this case, we get a message purportedly from Claudette Colbert read out by a rather dreary male announcer proclaiming her passion for Lux toilet soap. If I thought switching soaps would make me look like Claudette Colbert, I'd be banging on the doors of the warehouse... Anyway, radio may not quite be live theatre but it was certainly pretty challenging, with little time for rehearsal and no retakes (in fact, Powell makes a joke about it afterwards). Quite a few flubbed lines, some awkward pauses (weird, given that I assume they all had scripts in front of them), and some abominably wobbly delivery make this a far less polished affair than the epitome-of-slick movie, but absolutely fascinating nonetheless.

The pair looking down from the relevantly-named Telegraph Hill whilst shooting 'After The Thin Man' the same year.

So how do they all do? How do the cast cope in this different medium? William Powell is as one would expect, charming and witty, although he stumbles over some of his lines and outright flubs one or two (hearing the divine voice falter is really quite surreal). In fact, he doesn't seem quite himself when you can't see his uniquely expressive face, and he sounds almost aware of this. Myrna Loy is an utter pro, never seeming to trip over her words despite the fact that both of them are clearly speaking not only faster than natural but even faster than the mile-a-minute pace of the average 1930s movie, presumably to cram everything into an hour. The only upside of this filletting of the narrative meat is that we lose the movie's dull prologue and start right at the good stuff, ie. the introduction of Nick and Nora. Unfortunately, as mentioned further along, we also lose a lot else, including many of the elements that made the film so special in the first place. Amongst the supporting actors, Porter Hall becomes unintentionally hilarious by recreating his role as Macaulay intonation-for-intonation and emphasis-for-emphasis, leading me at first to suspect that his lines had simply been copy-pasted from the movie. The real surprise is Minna Gombell, whose portrayal of Mimi is the only performance which is as vibrant and lusty on the radio as it was on screen. Amongst a cast which seem a little unsure of themselves, she lights up the production every time she opens her mouth and for this deserves high praise.

One interesting feature of this production is the interludes by the film's director W.S Van Dyke, presumably so that the cast could have a drink and clear their throats. Even if he was the man in charge, 'Woody' Van Dyke seems a bad choice of host - he sounds deeply uncomfortable speaking and at times appears to be struggling with a stammer. His comments consist mostly of highly scripted anecdotes about various Hollywood frolics, which always seem to end by segueing neatly into Lux commercials. I swear, Lux were like soap commercial ninjas...

"Lux... when you least expect it."

To (finally) draw to an end, the most noticeable difference between the two versions is that on radio the story plays like far more of a straight mystery than the delightful comedy that made the film so likeable. Think, for instance, of that lovely facial exchange between the two when Nora walks in on Nick with his arms around Dorothy. Added to which, the severely condensed script cuts out many of the jokes and several of the best scenes (notably the Christmas party, luminous on screen but sadly absent here, as well as completely omitting Nick's being shot by Morelli), and mashes some together with unsatisfying, rushed results - now Nora accompanies Nick to Wynant's shop instead of being packed off to 'Grant's Tomb'.


Just one of the scenes you won't get to hear on tonight's Lux Radio Theater!


Stripped of most of its best elements, the radio production comes off as a down-the-line mystery (complete with crashing orchestral blasts at every mildly dramatic moment), which happens to have a few jokes thrown in as an afterthought. This change in tone doesn't do the material any favours, given that the actual plot still remains incomprehensible, it's just no longer surrounded by all the stuff that made us not care about the plot.  Still, it's great to hear Powell and Loy in this variation on the original, and to hear Powell speak as himself at the end and if nothing else, the radio play is worth a listen for the chance to shudder and thank the Lord someone caught the magic on screen.

Wednesday 12 January 2011

Holiday (1938)



Dir.: George Cukor
Plot: An adventurous young man travels to meet his fiancee's stuffy, aristocratic family but finds himself becoming increasingly drawn to her free-spirited sister.


Cary Grant was never as winning, Katharine Hepburn never as fascinating as they both are here, playing two confirmed individuals amongst a flock of wealthy sheep in New York high society. He is Johnny, a poor boy made good, an orphan who put himself through Harvard and is now on the cusp of a successful career, and she is Linda, the eccentric eldest child of a suffocatingly staid family. He arrives at their mansion engaged to her sister Julia, one of those dry, unexciting types that Cary Grant characters always seem to pick first before seeing sense. Upon getting to know her father, Johnny begins to realise that a dull future in business has already been mapped out for him and starts to wonder what he really wants. In the meantime, he strikes up a friendship with Julia's unconventional sister, whose spontaneous nature seems to offer a glimpse of a different kind of life.