William Powell

  • Double Wedding (1937)

    Double Wedding (1937)

    (On Cable TV, March 2021) By 1937, both William Powell and Myrna Loy were seasoned Hollywood veterans: they were familiar with making movies, familiar with their personas, and familiar enough with each other to play off a mixture of comfort and looking for something slightly different. So it is that, in Double Wedding, Powell plays a bohemian bon vivant living in a mobile home in order to avoid being tied down to anything or anyone. Opposite him, we have Loy as a controlling business owner. They meet and clash over their respective advice to her sister, who’s being courted by an unimpressive young man and can’t quite decide whether to marry him. Double Wedding certainly enjoys playing with classic romantic comedy tropes: there are few surprises along the way here, but it’s a delight to see the two actors delivering exactly what’s expected to them — and a climactic conclusion that ends with the promised double wedding. Behind the scenes, the film wasn’t such a happy experience — Powell’s fiancé Jean Harlow died during shooting, and his grief was shared by Loy, who was a friend of the couple. Accordingly, the mood on the set was sombre — it’s a wonder that little of it appears on-screen. Still, notwithstanding the off-screen drama, the film itself is a perfectly serviceable illustration of what magic Powell and Loy could do together — him taking his debonair persona in a bohemian direction, her carrying her self-assurance in an ice-queen kind of role. Double Wedding is good without being great, but it’s already great when it features those two leads.

  • How to Marry a Millionaire (1953)

    How to Marry a Millionaire (1953)

    (On DVD, March 2021) There are many, many reasons why How to Marry a Millionaire is a reprehensible film by today’s sensibilities (and perhaps even to the sensibilities of its time), but just as many reasons as to why it doesn’t really matter. The powerhouse cast is a good chunk of it: with Lauren Bacall, Marilyn Monroe and Betty Grable playing three women with devious schemes to snag themselves a rich husband (at a time when millionaire meant real money — roughly 10 times as much), the film is a snapshot of early-1950s sex symbols. Bacall is magnificent as the brainiest of the bunch, renting an apartment from a tax-evading millionaire and selling off the furnishings to meet her operational costs. Betty Grable may no longer have the cachet that she did at the time, but she’s also a lot of fun as the energetic Loco. Meanwhile, well — I’ve never been that big of a Monroe fan, but she’s in her best element here in a comedic role, and seeing her spend much of the film wearing cat eye glasses (leading to a very funny scene of mutual myopic flirting) is enough to make me marginally more interested. The other actor worth noting is William Powell, turning in one of his last suave performances as (what else?) a debonair multimillionaire targeted by one of the women. The gold-digging aspect would be far less amusing had it featured in a worse film. Here, however, the script is good enough and the characters are likable enough to overcome any ethical concerns we may have. Romance, in the end, triumphs —and Powell plays the character with enough disposable income to make all inconveniences go away as an amusing trifle. Shot in what would become the classic 1950s widescreen Technicolor sheen, How to Marry a Millionaire is bolstered by great vignettes of New York City, excellent individual scenes, winning performances, and a lighthearted tone that still works very well today. It remains a delight.

  • Reckless (1935)

    Reckless (1935)

    (On Cable TV, March 2021) Discussing Hollywood’s refusal to acknowledge the Depression is probably not best tackled in discussing slight drama Reckless, but watching the film in all of its rich-person melodrama leads to thinking about the lifestyle that much of Hollywood presented as normal during that decade’s movies. Offering escapism to a cash-strapped nation, Hollywood spent far much more time talking about the problems of the Manhattan upper-class than the working people, and that was somehow completely acceptable. So it is that Reckless features famous signers, oil billionaires, regrettable marriage, sudden suicide, public scorn and musical numbers — in other words, nothing like life. It definitely feels artificial, and the charm of stars Jean Harlow and William Powell (who were a real-life couple at the time) doesn’t do much to save the results — both of them were far better used in comic vehicles rather than overwrought dramas such as this one, and as a result Reckless feels like a joyless production, another studio product with very little heart to it. The star-power does make the film more interesting, but only just.

  • Jewel Robbery (1932)

    Jewel Robbery (1932)

    (On Cable TV, March 2021) The reason why William Powell still has legions of fans even today is that his specific skills as an actor could be magic provided the right material — and Jewel Robbery is very close to being an ideal Powell vehicle. Playing that most cherished of old-school characters, the gentleman thief, Powell goes for his best suave persona: impossibly refined, smooth, irresistible to the ladies and very good at his chosen trade, he easily shines whenever he’s on-screen, although he gets a run for his money from frequent co-star Kay Francis. The theatrical origins of the film can best be seen in impeccable dialogue that takes advantage of the freedoms of its Pre-Code production — most notably in its “funny cigarettes” (ever wanted to see 1930s stoner comedy?), its adulterous heroine, but also having a criminal as a protagonist, and making sure he gets a happy ending. There’s a strong kinship between Jewel Robbery and contemporary Trouble in Paradise, but also with later generations of charming criminals equally successful in larceny and in love. It’s a shining example of the kinds of great movies that the Production Code took away for thirty years, and yet another showcase of Powell’s charm. This being said, Jewel Robbery stands up quite well on its own: it’s a slyly sexy, frequently funny, completely likable crime comedy romance, and it’ll make Powell fans of anyone who doesn’t already know him.

  • The Key (1934)

    The Key (1934)

    (On Cable TV, March 2021) Not every film featuring a favourite actor is a success, and while I have a problem being overly critical of The Key given that it stars William Powell, the result is just a bit too ordinary to be worth much more than a few scattered notes. Here, Powell sheds a bit of his screen persona in service of a more serious melodrama, as he plays a British officer sent to Dublin in the 1920s. Never mind the action potential in this situation, because The Key is more interested in raising the stakes by putting the protagonist in contact with an old flame, now married to another British officer. As the complications pile up, they force the protagonist to confront his old lover and (predictably) fall on his sword for her happiness. Powell is not bad as a stiff upper-lipped Brit (surely I wasn’t the only one who laboured under the misapprehension that he was originally from the United Kingdom?) but The Key is not a film that takes advantage of his talent for comedy or dry wit — it feels like the kind of role many other actors would have played, and in the middle of an unremarkable film that would be forgotten today if it wasn’t for Powell in the lead role.

  • Evelyn Prentice (1934)

    Evelyn Prentice (1934)

    (On Cable TV, March 2021) The pairing of William Powell and Myrna Loy would be glorious in The Thin Man, but you get another glimpse at their chemistry in Evelyn Prentice, a substantially darker melodrama dealing with contemplated affairs, attempted blackmail and definite murder. Powell is impeccable as a high-powered lawyer who neglects his wife by working too much. Loy’s character, exasperated by loneliness and motivated by an overly affectionate client of her husband, starts looking around for company and ends up manipulated by a seductive poet. When he is found murdered shortly after visiting him for a final time, it’s her husband who ends up involved in a middle act filled with dramatic ironies. By the time he realizes that she may be involved, the film ends on high-powered courtroom drama as he manages to forgive his wife, find the truth and resolve the situation to everyone’s benefit. Evelyn Prentice is short and punchy, not quite going for comedy but not without its share of amusingly ironic moments. Powell and Loy are great even at lower intensity, and the film has the well-polished rhythm of mid-1930s studio pictures, with scarcely an element out of place. Modern audiences will notice that there’s definitely a double standard at play in how adultery affects wife and husband differently, but that’s almost a given for movies of that time. Still, it doesn’t affect the film’s impact as much as you’d think: Powell and Loy are good enough as to make even humdrum material feel much better, and indeed the film is seldom any more enjoyable than when Powell goes on a legalistic rampage, or when Loy wrestles with conflicting emotions. Evelyn Prentice isn’t a great film and it definitely pales in comparison to the duo’s work in the contemporary Thin Man series, but it’s an entertaining time nonetheless.

  • One Way Passage (1932)

    One Way Passage (1932)

    (On Cable TV, March 2021) I’m a twenty-first century modernist, so it’s strange to realize that in watching older movies, I sometimes feel a nostalgic pang for things that don’t really exist any more: twice-daily newspapers, overnight train travel, automats, Hollywood studios or cruise liners. It’s aboard such a transpacific cruise that most of Pre-Code romantic tragedy One Way Passage takes place, as a criminal on the run and a terminally ill woman meet, seduce each other but never ride off into the sunset as a couple. Deepest the “comedy” moniker and comic incidents throughout, it’s glum, wistful and somewhat grown-up compared to other Hollywood films made during the later Code period. It’s a good showcase for a young and more dramatic William Powell, as well as his frequent screen partner Kay Francis — this was their sixth and final pairing in three years! The subplots and episodic incidents don’t hold a candle to the doomed love story at the heart of the film, nor to the usual charm of Powell and Francis. This is certainly not the funniest Powell film ever made—him as a murderer on the run is not exactly what his persona became—but then again, if comedy is what draws people into One Way Passage, tragedy is what people remember about it.

  • Fashions of 1934 (1934)

    Fashions of 1934 (1934)

    (On Cable TV, November 2020) This may sound a bit sad to those who don’t like movies (although what’s the point in caring what these people say?) but one of the greatest things about having an encyclopedic knowledge of film and favourite actors is that you can sit down to watch a film without any idea of who’s in it, and be pleasantly surprised at who appears on screen, almost as if they were friends or something. (Look up Dunbar’s number and wonder at how many of those 150 spots are taken up by actors’ personas.) So it is that I sat down to watch Fashions of 1934 without any expectations other than this was going to be one of those solid 1930s musicals. But then William Powell and Bette Davis both walk on-screen, and you know you’re going to have a better time than expected. Now, let’s not go overboard: Fashions of 1934 is, at best, a representative film of its genre and era. It’s decently funny at times, does showcase contemporary fashions, moves briskly at 78 minutes and throws in a few kaleidoscopic dance numbers from Busby Berkeley. The musical numbers are spectacular (with a special mention to the bit in which dancers with feather fans transform themselves into a gigantic flower and then seamlessly changing into a maiden emerging from a foamy sea), the dialogue can be quite amusing and Powell is up to his usual standards. The Pre-Code nature of the film is best seen in the saucy jokes and the scantily clad dancers (oh, and mention of pornographic pictures for sale on the streets of Paris)—those would disappear months later with the imposition of the Hays Code. When you throw in all of those elements, the one thing that strikes out is Davis herself—Fashions of 1934 was so early in her career that it features a misguided attempt to make her a blonde-haired sexpot: her vivaciousness shines through what little dialogue she has, but even the film seems to forget about her for minutes at a time. The script is a bit scattershot, and it’s clear that it’s far too focused on its musical numbers—especially in its last third—to allow Powell or Davis to develop their screen persona. Still, it’s an enjoyable watch: not an essential example of its era, but a look at what Warnes Studios could do in the musical genre as a matter of everyday business. Powell and Davis are just icing on the cake even if they’re not used to their fullest extent.

  • High Pressure (1932)

    High Pressure (1932)

    (On Cable TV, August 2020) It’s amusing that the two kinds of roles in which William Powell did best were either amateur sleuths or fast-talking hucksters. High Pressure is one of the best of the second type: Powell plays a loquacious promoter who has specialized in giving legitimacy to high-risk investment schemes, not quite resorting to fraud but not quite doing things the most orthodox way. (Or what we’d call today a serial start-up entrepreneur.) The latest venture is about synthetic rubber and it seems to work well until the protagonist meets the “inventor” of the product and concludes that he’s made a terrible mistake in trusting a crackpot. But plotting his overseas exit isn’t so simple when romance with his long-suffering girlfriend is involved. High Pressure isn’t that good, but it does sport rather wonderful art deco sets, a very charismatic Powell spitting one convincing pitch after another, and moves forward rather amusingly thanks to director Mervyn LeRoy. The satirical look at the exaggerations required for success in business remains evergreen. (Why bother having a hiring process for a president when you can just hire someone who looks the part?) Since the same theatrical play was adapted four years later as Hot Money, it’s easy to see both films and appreciate just how much Powell brings to the result. Powell fans will love High Pressure, and those who don’t know Powell just may become fans.

  • The Kennel Murder Case (1933)

    The Kennel Murder Case (1933)

    (On Cable TV, August 2020) Come for William Powell as a sleuth; stay for a locked-room mystery so convoluted that it becomes a performance piece in The Kennel Murder Case. This was the fourth time Powell played then-popular literary detective Philo Vance (in the fifth film adaptation of the character). The actor, of course, was suited to portraying an upper-class gentleman investigator, but Vance isn’t quite the same as his later Nick Charles interpretation: Vance is single, serious and not quite as much of an alcoholic. Still, Powell’s charm and unflappability serve him well even when the script can’t quite serve up the quips. It helps that then-journeyman director Michael Curtiz does well in giving energy to the talky thriller through stylish decisions. The 1930s were a strong decade for murder mysteries, and The Kennel Murder Case does rather well in its elevated company: it’s intricate, presented smoothly (especially for a film of the early sound era) and engrossing – and doesn’t last more than 73 minutes! Narratively, it’s not quite perfect: Powell without a sparring partner feels like a missed opportunity, and the very last bit of the ending is slightly disappointing after the high-flying summation of all evidence. But generations of moviegoers have demonstrated an unquenchable thirst for good murder mysteries, and The Kennel Murder Case will satisfy even today.

  • I Love You Again (1940)

    I Love You Again (1940)

    (On Cable TV, August 2020) You can’t really go wrong with the William Powell / Myrna Loy duo in romantic comedies, and their ninth outing I Love You Again is a good example of that: the premise is ridiculous but the zest with which both Powell and Loy dive into the material is what elevates it to another level. Taking the good old amnesia trope out for a spin, the film begins when a straight-laced model citizen (Powell) suffers a head blow and discovers that he has reverted to a state prior to another blow to the head, ten years earlier when he was a conman. Finding himself in a position to use his good community standing, he launches a few schemes… but also discovers that his fuddy-duddy personality was so dull that his wife (Loy) is planning to divorce him. Deftly navigating between romance, scheming, comedy, preposterous bits of plotting and quite a bit of crackling dialogue, I Love You Again first works as a script, and then becomes even better in the hands of Powell and Loy, both of whom are able to get back into Thin Man-esque repartee without the accumulated weight of the series’ later instalments. While Powell gets the biggest roles in terms of comic shenanigans, Loy’s dialogue is funnier and better delivered. On the other hand, Powell in a boy-scout monitor’s uniform is one for the clip book. Funny, witty and rather cute too, I Love You Again is a demonstration of pure star power: director W.S. Van Dyke lets Powell and Loy do what they’re best at, and doesn’t interrupt of call attention to himself.

  • The Big Parade of Comedy (1964)

    The Big Parade of Comedy (1964)

    (On Cable TV, August 2020) Anticipating That’s Entertainment! by a decade, The Big Parade of Comedy is director-anthologist Robert Youngson’s idea of a comedy clip show, digging in MGM’s archives to present a few choice bits. The clips limit themselves to the 1920s-40s and take a star-centric structure to present its material. Youngson favours lengthier excerpts rather than montages, which makes sense whenever the clips have gags that build upon the previous ones. Les Tremayne narrates the film in the characteristic fashion of the times. I was surprised to see no less than three fairly long excerpts from the somewhat lesser-known Hollywood Party, one of them (with Abott and Costello, as well as Lupe Velez), I actually appreciated more upon a second viewing due to the nodding between Abbott and Costello. Obviously, your taste for comedy will dictate what segments are funniest – I can watch the Marx Brothers and William Powell as Nick Charles all day long, but the Three Stooges and Laurel & Hardy are a harder sell. Still, comedy is comedy, and watching The Big Parade of Comedy is almost more fun as a reminder of great comedies I’ve seen lately, whether it’s Two-Faced Woman, The Cameraman or The Philadelphia Story. It won’t replace the original films, but it’s decently entertaining.

  • The Heavenly Body (1944)

    The Heavenly Body (1944)

    (On Cable TV, August 2020) Star vehicles have been a feature of Hollywood forever, and for all of the flak they can get, they’re often a direct delivery vehicle to see likable actors doing what they do best. Taking this into account, there are two reasons to watch The Heavenly Body, and they’re Hedy Lamarr and William Powell. They play a disaffected couple – he, an astronomer, spends far too much time at the observatory, making her feel neglected. When an astrologer portends that she will find happiness with someone else, she loudly declares her intention to leave the marriage, leaving him frantic to resolve matters. Things are complicated by the arrival of a handsome air-raid warden, hastening his efforts just as the culmination of his professional career is coming fast. Powell is in a class of his own as the protagonist, his obvious gift for sophisticated comedy outstripping the somewhat loose script. There’s some fun in exploring astronomy as a plot driver — there’s even a nice special effect shot featuring a comet crashing into the moon. The rest of The Heavenly Body is a bit of a paint-by-number production, although it does harken to the late-1930s comedies of remarriage in pulling apart a couple only to have them reunite at the end. Not a great movie by any means, but a good show for Powell and Lamarr fans.

  • Life with Father (1947)

    Life with Father (1947)

    (On Cable TV, July 2020) When the point of an old film’s popularity is that it’s old-fashioned, I suppose it’s natural to react with very mixed feelings to the result. Life with Father is a film of the past in many ways—a 1947 adaptation of a long-running 1939 Broadway play looking nostalgically upon life in 1880s Manhattan, it’s triple-piled-up nostalgia even before we begin digging into it. As the patriarchal title suggests, it’s an examination of a family with a strong-willed father at the helm, a role that would have been unbearable without the considerable charm of William Powell, completely in his element here. He’s hard-headed, unwilling to listen and impervious to the damage he causes, but the saving grace of the film is how it shows the rest of the family subtly manipulating him into serving their own objectives, taking advantage of his own bluster in order to get what they want. Still, much of Life with Father is subservient to the 1880s and 1940s, all the way to a baptism subplot that seems inconsequential today, but somewhat harms the free-thinking nature of the protagonist. (Significantly enough, film historians tell us that the film’s final line, “I’m going to get baptized,” is a bowdlerization of the Broadway play’s punchline, “I’m going to get baptized, damn it.”) If you’re willing to let slide those things slide, the film does have its charms. In addition to Powell’s performance, we have smaller roles for silent film veteran ZaSu Pitts, a charming turn by a very young Elizabeth Taylor, great matrimonial dialogue between Powell and Irene Dunne, and a few comic set-pieces that still work well. There are times where a film’s appreciation hinges on how much you can surrender to an earlier era’s idea of feel-good movies, and Life with Father is definitely one of those.

  • Double Harness (1933)

    Double Harness (1933)

    (On Cable TV, April 2020) Wait, wait, wait—you’re telling me that a Pre-Code William Powell film was considered lost for decades until it was brought back from obscurity by TCM? Strange but true—Loaned to RKO by Warners, Powell played in Double Harness and that film (along with five others) ended up excluded from RKO’s film library when its rights were sold back to the producer in 1946, who then did nothing with them. TCM managed to get those films back in circulation in 2007 and the result is yet another treat for Powell fans. The actor doesn’t step away from his persona too much in Double Harness—he plays a playboy manipulated into marriage, and then courted-for-real by his own wife. It’s a sophisticated romance well in-line with other Powell films, and having Ann Harding as his romantic sparring partner is a welcome change of pace. At 69 minutes, Double Harness is short but steadily amusing, and clearly Pre-Code in its faux-cynical consideration of the relationship between love and marriage. It would have been cruel to deprive the world of this Powell film—admittedly minor, but still a Powell film.