William Powell

  • Man of the World (1931)

    Man of the World (1931)

    (On Cable TV, December 2021) As a fan of William Powell’s screen persona as perfected in the Thin Man series, I’m almost always interested in the earlier entries in his filmography. Powell started work in the silent era, but usually played villains and cads: it took a while for his specific talents for sophisticated comedy to be recognized. Man of the World is perhaps a better fit for comparison than most films of the early sound era, given how it paired him for the first time with future wife and frequent on-screen partner Carole Lombard. Here, he plays an American expatriate in Paris, a former newspaperman specializing in saucy revelations, blackmail and a little bit of conning. His meticulously planned racket falls apart once our heroine makes her entrance — she’s a woman worth giving up crime for. For Powell, the role is halfway-there in terms of screen persona: he plays a semi-likable rogue with some witty sophistication, but his character is not likable enough to warrant the happiest romantic ending (although he doesn’t end off all that badly). As for Man of the World, it does have a few moments and bon mots, but you’d hardly call it essential, other than for marking the first on-screen Lombard/Powell pairing.

  • Another Thin Man (1939)

    (On DVD, November 2021) Nick and Norah Charles are at it again in Another Thin Man, tracking down devious murderers with wit and class. This time, they’re joined not only by Asta the Dog, but baby Nick Jr. — a junior detective who doesn’t track down the culprit, but he definitely has a role to play. As usual, William Powell and Myrna Loy are terrific as the sarcastic married lead couple, even as the threat they face gets more overly violent than in previous films. (As Nick remarks, “during this quiet little weekend in the country, my family’s been threatened, I’ve had a knife thrown at me, I’ve been shot at, and I’ve been suspected of murder. From now on, this is your case. You can handle it. I’m going back to New York!”… and that’s before Nick Jr. gets kidnapped.)  As usual, three films into the series, the criminal whodunnit mechanics aren’t nearly as interesting as Nick and Norah’s dialogue as they multiply bon mots, quips and sarcastic put-down the likes of which only the most loving couples can appreciate. It’s quite a bit of fun (the baby party scene is one of the highlights) and works its way to an ingenious (if impossible) bit of jury-rigged engineering to explain the method of the murder, although the motive and perpetrator remain a case of Nick running down the usual suspects in a single-room climax. Even three films in, Powell and Loy are compelling and Another Thin Man manages to be a treat even when the plot machinations get more intense.

  • The Girl Who Had Everything (1953)

    The Girl Who Had Everything (1953)

    (On Cable TV, November 2021) One of the advantages of knowing more and more about Classic Hollywood is that from time to time, you discover a lesser-known film that draws you in just by virtue of casting. William Powell and Elizabeth Taylor belong to different generations of film history, but The Girl Who Had Everything has the distinction of pairing them off as father and daughter, in one of Powell’s last roles and one of Taylor’s ascending ones. (She was 21 at the time of the film’s release, and transitioning from ingenue to sex-symbol roles.)  The plot, borrowed from a play, has Powell as a lawyer, a doting widowed father very much concerned about his daughter when she starts going out with a career criminal — a client of his, to complicate things. Taylor is in her element as an ingenue pushing back against a famous actor in a fatherly role (such as in Father of the Bride and Father’s Little Dividend, with Spencer Tracy), but Powell is not quite at ease in a role decidedly less comic than his usual persona. Still, he’s as compelling as always, and he helps the film go over a few rough patches on its way to a very predictable father-knows-best ending. With those two stars, The Girl Who Had Everything is not a bad film nor a bad time… but there’s a reason why the film seldom springs to mind as an essential.

  • After the Thin Man (1936)

    (On DVD, November 2021) Nick and Norah Charles are back for more married-couple high society sleuthing in After the Thin Man, this time going to their hometown of San Francisco for witty repartee and dead bodies. Their triumphant return home is marked by a welcome party they haven’t asked for and, in fact, flee whenever they have the chance. Murder soon follows. As was the case in the first film, the chemistry between William Powell and Myrna Loy (as the very charming married couple trading quips and tracking down killers) is far more interesting than the nuts and bolts of the investigation. Whenever the plot gets going, viewers will wonder when the comedy will get back on track. Still, there are a few noteworthy things about the non-funny scenes: James Stewart is the biggest of them, as his turn as a young romantic premier becomes something quite atypical in his filmography—enough so to make some of his fans very uneasy. Still, it’s Powell and Loy who are the stars here, and the final sequence, in which the usual suspects are brought together, works more on Powell’s pure charm than his deductive talents. Twenty-first century viewers may be particularly interested in the character played by William Law, a rare Asian actor in a cast of Caucasians — and while his role is clearly racist, it eventually ends up portrayed in a somewhat interesting light. As a follow-up to the first The Thin Man, it clearly hits upon the same notes (albeit tempered by the then-recent introduction of the Hays Code) and provides most of the same thrills — namely the comic romance rather than the crime mystery.

  • The Hoodlum Saint (1946)

    The Hoodlum Saint (1946)

    (On Cable TV, September 2021) Contemporary reviews of The Hoodlum Saint greeted the film with some suspicion — after all, both headliners William Powell and Esther Williams here play characters that noticeably part from their usual screen persona, in a story that’s not fun and games. Williams never sets foot in water — she plays a rather conventional love interest as a foil for Powell’s character — who’s an amoral conman who occasionally sees the light of doing good. Again, it’s not one of his usual roles: he’s a bit too cold, too hard, too criminal for it to qualify as a role fit for Powell’s persona. (Meanwhile, more contemporary viewers may be surprised by Angela Lansbury playing a nightclub singer who turns evil in the last act.) The story itself spans more than a decade as our two leads meet, fall for each other, see their paths diverse and then converge again. It takes us from the aftermath of The Great War all the way to the early 1930s, with an interesting portrayal of exuberant financial speculation in the lead-up to the Great Crash of 1929. Some of the plotting gets arbitrary and melodramatic, but the finale puts all of the pieces back in place. The Hoodlum Saint is not a terrible film: there’s usually something interesting going on, and Powell as a conman without his usual suaveness makes for a darkly compelling variation. Even in a conventional role, Williams proves herself to be more than an aqua-musical bathing beauty, while Lansbury gets a few good moments. But you can see the limits of the film and why it dangerously toys with expectations along the way. It probably plays better today than it did then, but it’s still not quite as good as it could have been.

  • Lawyer Man (1932)

    (On Cable TV, August 2021) Anyone interested in William Powell’s career should have a look at Lawyer Man: an early-career effort, it first presents him at odds with his usual screen persona, only to gradually have it snap in focus by the end of the film. We first encounter Powell as a modest but ambitious lawyer who hits the big time with a landmark case, and gets hooked up with high society elements both good and bad. When his integrity leads him to rebuff offers from semi-criminal bosses, his fall is rapid. But wait, because there’s an entire third act to follow, and that’s when we get our typical Powell: Confident, eloquent, righteous and always in control. That’s the Powell that audiences were expecting! Calling Lawyer Man an origin story for Powell’s screen persona is ignoring many previous films making good use of his talents — it’s best to see this as a modest departure from his persona only to reaffirm it by the end of the film. It all works out rather well despite the technical clunkiness of this early-sound era film. At 68 minutes, it doesn’t have a lot of time to spend on non-essentials (although the horseshoe on the wall is a nice touch), so expect the narrative pacing to be at a breakneck speed. I liked it, although it’s hard to say whether I liked the film, or I just like Powell in general — suffice to say that Layer Man is still watchable without effort, and it does have a good satisfying character arc for the lead.

  • 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.