When it comes to definitive comedies, one would struggle to find a film more iconic from the 1930s than The Thin Man, which has somehow managed to remain as fresh and compelling today as it did ninety years ago, which is not an achievement that many films can proudly attest to having, let alone finding it becoming one of its most defining features. Written by husband-and-wife duo Albert Hackett and Frances Goodrich, who work closely with the source material by Dashiell Hammett (who was at the peak of his own creativity, and arguably one of the most beloved writers of crime fiction at the time), and helmed by journeyman filmmaker W.S. Van Dyke, whose entire career was defined by his tendency towards versatility and the ability to adhere to studio demands while still being a profoundly creative filmmaker, this film proves to be the first in a series that spawned six sequels is a wildly entertaining and deeply captivating comedy that introduces us to Nick Charles, a world-renowned private detective relishing in his retirement after his marriage to Nora, an heiress who brings with her an abundance of wealth and the opportunity for Nick to get out of the gritty world of criminal investigations and instead find a more secure and consistent stream of income that didn’t pose a threat to his life – but after one of his former clients goes missing under mysterious circumstances, Nick is thrust back into his old career, and his wife soon decides that she wants to witness his mastery first-hand, even if it means potentially putting them both in the path of danger. Blisteringly funny and always genuinely quite compelling, even at its most predictable, there is a reason why The Thin Man is often considered the gold standard for crime comedies, with its fascinating sense of humour and willingness to take several risks not going unnoticed, and setting the foundation for an entire genre that may not have been perfected here, but certainly did lay the groundwork for many future films.

We often find that the best satires are made by those who initially helped pioneer exactly what was being lampooned since they bring a genuine understanding of a particular set of concepts and are usually willing to use this knowledge to develop several ideas. The Thin Man is not a parody, but it is still a wickedly funny comedy that is designed to be a more lighthearted version of the hardboiled detective fiction genre, and considering Hammett himself was one of the most significant writers of this kind of story, it only made sense that he would ultimately be at the heart of a more comedic take on these narratives. The Thin Man almost feels as if Hammett decided to write a story in which the protagonist was not a world-weary, scruffy private detective who sits on the edge of both sanity and economic strife, but rather a well-to-do married couple that doesn’t need to be involved in this kind of investigation, and almost seem to treat it as a hobby, which is where a lot of the charm in these stories emerge. Bringing these ideas to the screen was certainly not an easy task, because there were additional elements required to make the material work, and therefore a lot of effort was put into capturing a very specific kind of narrative without losing the spark of the original novel. The Thin Man is an early example of film noir, despite the genre still being in its infancy, so it is even more impressive how forward-thinking this film was, considering it was still going to be quite a while until the genre truly found its footing – and it layers elements of romantic comedy and screwball onto the proceedings, which adds quite a bit of complexity to a genre that was often seen as being predictable, and while we can anticipate certain elements, for the most part, The Thin Man is a much more concise and thoroughly engaging film that knows exactly how to hold our attention, even at its most straightforward.

Nick and Nora Charles are two wonderfully compelling characters, and while Hammett’s original novels are wonderful in their own right, they only became culturally significant when they were brought to the screen. Despite being beyond iconic in the roles (some may argue it is the definitive performances by both actors), neither William Powell nor Myrna Loy were considered good fits when casting the film – the former was seen as too told to feasibly play the role of a debonair private investigator, while the latter was not seen as having either the comedic or dramatic skills necessary to take on the part of his pernickety wife. Mercifully, we can look back at their performances nearly a century later and splendour in yet another example of misguided studio concerns, since not only are both Powell and Loy incredible in the roles individually, but they have more chemistry than any of the future attempts to revive this kind of story, which takes familiar genre tropes and filters them through the lens of a romantic comedy. The pairing of these two actors was an exceptional decision, especially since it becomes very clear that every element of what makes the film work can be drawn back to their performances. Their quick wit and chemistry easily allow us to suspend disbelief and to be persuaded into seeing them as this married couple, whose witty repartee is the foundation for a genuinely very funny narrative. Seeing them bring these characters to life is an extraordinary experience, and Van Dyke knew the potential this pairing had since there are many moments where he defers to them and gives the actors the reins to develop the characters, which makes them engaging and very entertaining, and far more complex than simply two actors appearing across from one another – there is a genuine spark that exists between Powell and Loy, whose pairing was nothing short of kismet.

Van Dyke understands that the key to a memorable comedy is iconic based on a few images, since if a film can capture our attention with just a few stills, then we are going to immediately be drawn into the story. Some of this can be considered cheap, especially since there are elements of The Thin Man placed to ensure that the film stands out – for example, the use of Asta (the couple’s mischievous and adorable wire fox terrier) doesn’t have much narrative significance, but is often considered one of the defining features of the entire series. Mercifully, it is never hackneyed or overly predictable, especially since Hammett’s writing itself is filled with details that would allow even the most lacklustre of filmmakers to produce something at least partially competent, which is a credit to his extraordinary storytelling skills, as well as the screenplay, which captures the sense of mischief and darkly humorous satire that could have been considered controversial had the director not done extremely well in concealing many of its more provocative elements, so that only a select group of viewers would have even taken notice in the first place. Produced right at the tail-end of the Pre-Code era, the encroaching threat of draconian censorship can be felt even in this film, almost as if they knew what was on the horizon, or could at least sense that they needed to be more careful, especially since they were already envisioning a return to these characters in the future. Van Dyke is a very good filmmaker, and his ability to strike a particular tone is masterful – it is truly a marvel to see how this film deftly navigates humour and suspense with such incredible precision, which is not easily achievable, especially not for a story that has many layers as this one. It does help that Hammett’s writing itself was sharp, which meant that Goodrich and Hackett only needed to find a way to make his sparkling dialogue and sense of intrigue more cinematic, which did not seem like too laborious of a task.

As the decades progress and we patiently wait to see a return of this kind of filmmaking, it has become increasingly clear that they simply don’t make films like The Thin Man anymore, which is not a nostalgia-infused criticism, but rather an objective fact-based on the idea that it represents an era that has departed entirely, and outside of a few homages and a couple of pastiches (as well as an attempt to revive the series, which is currently in the works), we aren’t ever going to find another adventure like the one that introduces us to Nick and Nora, two of the most iconic characters in the history of American cinema, and attempts to revive them on stage and screen have proven futile. The simple fact is that stories like this, which are less about the solution and more about the journey that takes us there, are difficult to find in an era of instant gratification and where we expect every mystery to have a neat resolution. The Thin Man goes against conventions in subtle ways, and while it does feel like many of the witty, compelling comedies of the era, it has a complexity that we don’t initially notice until we are right in the midst of the narrative, and we realize that there is a lot more to this film than initially meets the eye, which is perhaps the best kind of surprise when it comes to a classic era comedy, which were usually formed from very common frameworks. A film driven primarily by the witty storytelling and propelled by the undeniable chemistry of its leads, The Thin Man is one of the many genuinely enthralling comedies produced at the time, and despite being made nearly a century ago, it is as refreshing and captivating as ever, which is already quite an astonishing achievement in itself. There is a genuine sense of intrigue that envelopes this film, and we find ourselves being genuinely moved by some of its details, which only goes to show how worthwhile it is to revisit the classics since even those canonical masterpieces are labelled as such for a particular reason.