William Powell

  • Rendezvous (1935)

    (On Cable TV, March 2022) What’s perhaps most interesting about Rendezvous is the date at which it was produced. Consider the idea of a thriller featuring a genius-level cryptanalyst fighting on the home front against the warring Germans. It sounds like a post-WW2 movie all the way to 2014’s The Imitation Game, but rather than having Benedict Cumberbatch fighting the Nazis, here we have William Powell (a more-than-decent equivalent to Cumberbatch) fighting in Washington, DC against the Great War Huns, both abroad and working undetected in the capital. Powell is here used in the vein that would ensure his success throughout the late 1930s and 1940s—as a suave, witty, smart protagonist, this time paired up with none other than Rosalind Russell as his romantic interest. It’s quite a pair, and while the film—unfortunately—feels like not much more than the subsequent WW2 propaganda films, it’s not a bad watch. (Indeed, the film was remade in 1942 as the far less remarkable Pacific Rendezvous—somewhat surprisingly considering the top-secret nature of the cryptanalysis work performed by the allies, the bulk of which only became public information more than a generation after the war.)  The film’s production history can explain why some of the material feels disconnected—apparently, much of the ending was reshot after underwhelmed reaction from preview audiences. Now, if you’ll excuse me, as I’ve seen Powell play a Cumberbatch role, I’ll amuse myself by imagining a remake of The Thin Man featuring Cumberbatch.

  • Love Crazy (1941)

    (On Cable TV, March 2022) By the early 1940s, William Powell’s screen persona was fully defined as the suave, witty, man able to get any girl but far more effective when paired up with an equally super-powered wife. So it is that Love Crazy plays along very familiar lines, although with a few variations fit to amuse. Once again, we find ourselves in the Manhattan upper-crust, as a truly-madly-in-love couple’s anniversary celebrations are derailed by a number of events that, in time, lead the wife (Myrna Loy, naturally) to ask for divorce. Our protagonist (Powell), naturally, doesn’t take this lying down—he counteracts by feigning insanity, a manoeuvre that quickly escalates beyond control. The third act culminates with a moustache-less Powell in drag, providing Love Crazy with the distinguishing factor it needed. While it doesn’t scale the heights of other Powell/Loy comedies, Love Crazy is a solid hit: It allows both stars to play up their distinctive charms, kids around with big comic ideas, zips around the United States, gets Powell to commit to a drag bit (the disappearance of the trademark moustache being the truly shocking bit) and wraps up so efficiently that there’s a coda missing somewhere. I liked it without loving it, but then again—any Powell film at the height of his fame is well-worth watching.

  • Manhattan Melodrama (1934)

    (On Cable TV, February 2022) There’s no shame in admitting that I was primed for Manhattan Melodrama. With a cast like Clarke Gable, William Powell and Myrna Loy, how could it be otherwise? Even the rough plot summary seems interesting, as it sets up Powell and Clarke as playing childhood friends growing up on opposite sides of the law, and Loy complicating everything. But the execution of the film feels oddly lacking. Sure, Powell is up to his usual suave persona playing an umpteenth role as a lawyer. Yes, Loy is cute and Gable does what Gable became famous for. But compared to their other performances, there’s no spark in Manhattan Melodrama—although it’s worth noting that, at the time, it was a significant film for all three: It was part of Gable’s ascension to superstardom throughout the decade, solidified Powell’s increasingly heroic persona and was the first of fourteen films that Powell and Loy made together. The success of the film at the time was considerable, helped along by the public knowledge that notorious gangster John Dillinger was shot right after coming out of a screening of the film. This all helps the film be interesting, but it doesn’t necessarily make it all that good or entertaining. Manhattan Melodrama is watchable enough, all right, but modern viewers may get hung up on the truthful “melodrama” of the title, as the ending gets more and more convoluted in its moral choices.

  • The Ex-Mrs. Bradford (1936)

    (On Cable TV, February 2022) Let’s face it: William Powell had such a great presence playing suave amateur detectives that there’s no limit to the number of similar films he could have done without annoying audiences. Every Powell fan is aware of his career-best turn in The Thin Man and its sequels; nearly every fan is also aware of his two turns as Philo Vance. But The Ex-Mrs. Bradford is a bit more obscure, and that probably qualifies it as a hidden gem of sorts for anyone simply wanting more of detective Powell. The murder-mystery plot is both convoluted and strikingly ludicrous, but that’s not the point—the point is watching Powell doing what he did best (clearly beloved by the writers and directors for doing do) and interacting with Jean Arthur as she plays his ex-wife cunningly working through a plan to re-marry him. Their interplay is decent, and their characters are clearly from that tradition of 1930s mysteries fast-talking couples. Like many films of the time and genre, it packs a lot in its 82 minutes, and remains just as delightful today as it was then—no, The Ex-Mrs. Bradford is not a Thin Man film, but even a slightly-less good copy of The Thin Man is still quite a good time.

  • For the Defense (1930)

    (On Cable TV, February 2022) I do like William Powell’s screen persona a lot, but much of the interest in his early-1930s film is seeing that persona gradually being honed, from the villains and cads he played during the silent era to the droll, suave and clever leading man from the mid-1930s onward, with The Tall Man being the yardstick against which the rest of his career was measured. For the Defense sees Powell in one of his many lawyer roles, but less-typically as a slimier sort of character playing fast and loose with the law, and being willing to be the patsy for a criminal act committed by someone else. It’s both similar and not similar to his later roles, and that’s what makes it perhaps more interesting than some of the same films of the period, even if it doesn’t end up being as satisfying as his other films. Cinematographically, there’s not much to say—For the Defence fits within the aesthetics of the early-sound era, with a plot that has its moments (such as a nitro-fuelled courtroom confrontation) but degrades as it goes on to a perfunctory conclusion that won’t make anyone particularly happy… although it does make good use of the latitudes allowed in a Pre-Code film. The judicial technicalities feel ludicrous and subservient to the melodramatic requirements of the script. Kay Francis shows up in one of her earliest frequent pairings with Powell, but there’s not much to say about her character or her acting: she’s nowhere near what she’d do in later films. For the Defense is, in many ways, a typical early-Hollywood courtroom melodrama elevated (and overshadowed) by Powell’s presence and later filmography. It’s for completists.

  • 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)

    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)

    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)

    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.