On December 26, Hammett wrote Hellman that he was “in the middle of the usual so-the-script-is-done battles with my own dear producer, who insists that it’s all right, but it’s not exactly like the two previous scripts. The Hacketts sit on the sidelines and tremble while Hunt and I pace the floor and yell at one another. My latest line of attack is to point out that since he doesn’t seem to know what was good and what bad in the two previous pictures they were so far as he is concerned just lucky flukes. It’s good clean fun and can’t lead to anything more serious than blows.” On January 15, 1938 he wrote Hellman that it was his “tenth month without a drink.”
By May, Hammett had a screen story and he had come to a parting of the ways with MGM. On May 12, he wrote to Hellman, “MGM and I are still at odds over the price of the new story. So I told my agent to say goodbye to Hunt for me and begin talking to Dave Selznick and maybe Sam the Good [both independent producers, at Selznick International and Samuel Goldwyn Productions, respectively]. Some little technicality about $5,000 I owe the studio on the Foundry deal a couple of years ago is holding up my check, but I dare say that will be straightened out in a day or two.” Presumably the matter was resolved the next day, the date on the typescript for his Another Thin Man screen story. Hammett was paid a total of $35,000 for the job—$5,000 for the synopsis, $10,000 for the story idea, and $20,000 for the complete story. And the day after that, Hammett fell off the wagon hard. He had been growing progressively sicker and weaker since he had been in Hollywood last, and by late spring he became reclusive. He took to his bed, fearing he was losing his sanity. The Hacketts, alarmed at his insularity, visited him at the Beverly Wilshire and called Hellman for advice. She promised to care for him. On May 23, bottle in hand, Hammett flew to New York, where he was met by Hellman, who had arranged for an ambulance to take him to Lenox Hill Hospital. He weighed 125 pounds; the diagnosis was neurosis and pituitary hypofunction. He was in the hospital for twenty-two days, after which he went to Tavern Island, a private island off the coast of Connecticut where Lillian Hellman was writing The Little Foxes, to recuperate.
The day Hammett flew to the hospital Stromberg complained that the Hacketts were at a standstill on the script “owing to lack of knowledge of that last situation with its needed motivation for the whole treatment.” When Hammett had recovered sufficiently to begin work again, MGM tried to re-sign him to a contract, but Hammett resisted. He was insulted by what he called “the tiny piece of bait on Hunt’s hook” and he planned to resume work on an unfinished novel called My Brother Felix.
After further negotiation, Hammett and MGM came to reluctant terms. On July 15, 1938, he sold MGM a one-year option on all his writings for $5,000, a deal that seems to have included canceling the $5,000 he owed for nondelivery of The Foundry. He cleared up “that last situation” in Another Thin Man and produced an eight-page story idea, hard to take seriously, for a third Thin Man sequel on December 7, 1938, but continuation of the Thin Man series seemed uncertain then. William Powell was on leave, suffering from colon cancer and mourning the death of his lover, Jean Harlow. It was unclear whether he could continue the series, and Myrna Loy was reluctant to tackle another sequel. With the future of the Thin Man series in doubt, the studio rejected Hammett’s eight-page story idea for a fourth Nick and Nora Charles movie and canceled his contract for the last time on Christmas Day. He was done with MGM, and they had had their fill of him. His “irregular habits” combined with his political opposition to the studio in his work for the Screen Writers Guild created a gulf too wide to bridge. Evidence of the studio’s annoyance with their star writer is provided in the trailer for Another Thin Man. Hammett’s name does not appear, though he was given credit for the original story in the credits for the full movie—as required by the contract SWG had forced on the studios.
Another Thin Man was released on November 17, 1939, to respectful but qualified reviews. Frank Nugent in The New York Times wrote:
Some of the bloom is off the rose. A few of the running gags are beginning to show signs of pulling up lame. All this is bound to happen when a Thin Man leads to After the Thin Man and develops Another Thin Man. The law of diminishing returns tends to put any comedy on a reducing diet and it may, unless his next script is considerably brighter, confound us with a Thin Man thinned to emaciation. It hasn’t happened yet, mark! We’re merely getting in our warning early, notifying Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer that there’s a limit to everything—including the charm of the delightful Mr. and Mrs. Charles.
It wasn’t Hammett’s story that concerned Nugent but rather the formula imposed by Stromberg and the Hacketts that was growing stale.
Another Thin Man marks a clear break in the development of the series. Without Hammett and without the Hacketts, who had grown tired of the Thin Man formula, too, Stromberg was severely handicapped. He produced three more Thin Man movies—Shadow of the Thin Man (1941), The Thin Man Goes Home (1944), and Song of the Thin Man (1947)—but the screenplays written by new writers lacked the Hammett spark and attracted less and less favorable attention. Production on The Thin Man Goes Home was delayed when Myrna Loy refused to play Nora, instead doing Red Cross work at the beginning of World War II. She ultimately changed her mind, but regretted her decision. Song of the Thin Man was Myrna Loy’s last movie for MGM. She said she hated the movie; it was a “lackluster finish to a great series.”
Hammett never looked back. There is no record of his having even viewed the late Thin Man movies. He had more compelling interests by the end of 1938.
R. L.
AFTER THE THIN MAN
Headnote
Hammett submitted his initial screen story for The Thin Man’s first sequel on January 8, 1935, and straight away left Hollywood for New York. The thirty-four-page tale he entrusted to producer Hunt Stromberg and screenwriters Albert Hackett and his wife Frances Goodrich was markedly different from his ultimate story, which he completed nine months later. In the first version, Nora sneaked out to play sleuth and was knocked cold, drugged, and kidnapped by Chinese hoodlums. Pedro the ex-gardener was not present to be shot to death on the Charleses’ doorstep. David was not Selma’s jilted suitor, but her younger brother. And Nick discovered that Polly’s husband, Phil, was the murderer. There are enough similarities in scenes and characters to tie together the two proposed stories, but the plots differ dramatically.
During the spring of 1935, with Hammett absent from Hollywood and the Thin Man sequel’s story conferences, MGM’s development team foundered. Stromberg and the Hacketts toyed with alternative and additional plot points—narcotics and forgery rings, Oriental gangs, even a machine-gun massacre. In March, Stromberg boasted that the team was “purposefully complicating things” and he speculated on the possibility of running two or three plots, “tracks on this highway of crime,” which would converge on Nick, who would solve them in “a single frame of story development and construction.” By April the group knew that motives were a key problem, especially since, as Stromberg said, “the motive for the killing was FAR DIFFERENT than any motive previously credited to the case by anyone, including myself.” Shortly after, director W. S. Van Dyke added more confusion to the mix with his own screenplay attempt, most notable for Nick’s lackluster dialogue.
Amid and despite the maelstrom, the Hacketts produced a seventy-two-page temporary screenplay, dated April 29, 1935. But they still needed help. MGM rehired Hammett in June and by mid-July he crafted a new partial draft, twenty-nine pages that mark the beginnings of his final screen story for After the Thin Man. Hammett brought Nick and Nora back into focus and eliminated Stromberg’s more fanciful digressions. He salvaged both the Hacketts’ and his own best elements, then recombined and leavened them with new scenes and conflicts.
Hammett began his final screen story for After the Thin Man, dated September 17, 1935, on page 1, at scene 30, by stipulating a doorbell in place of what had been a telephone bell. The film’s opening seq
uence is absent. The action picks up in midstream with the bell’s ring and the sound of gunfire. There, and in five additional passages over the next twenty-two pages, Hammett calls for cuts or dissolves to particular scenes, with returns to his text afterward. He was operating, of course, without modern cut-and-paste conveniences. Hammett clearly intended his screen story to integrate specific passages from the Hacketts’ April 29 screenplay. Their work was both appropriate to the revised narrative and in keeping with Hammett’s own vision of Nick, Nora, and their supporting cast. Dashiell Hammett’s screen story for After the Thin Man is presented here as he intended it, with the Hacketts’ work incorporated according to his own instructions.
J. M. R.
AFTER THE THIN MAN
Dashiell Hammett
September 17, 1935
A train whistle sounds as the Chief arrives slowly in the Santa Fe Station in San Francisco. A stateroom on the train is stacked high with hatboxes, and suitcases, books, flowers, magazines, half-empty baskets of fruit. Although it is afternoon the stateroom is not yet made up. The top berth is down, piled high with bed-covers and sheets. On the lower berth is an array of White Rock bottles, glasses, bowls of ice, and a glass cocktail shaker propped against a pillow, almost full. There is also a half-packed bag open. Nick Charles standing before a mirror in the lavatory trying to shave. He is dressed except for his collar and coat. He has an old-fashioned open razor in his hand. He is swaying with the motion of the car, trying to balance himself on his widespread feet. Suddenly the car lurches, and he is thrown forward against the mirror, just missing by a fraction cutting off an ear. He looks reproachfully at the mirror, and then decides to go out into the stateroom to shave. Precariously he makes his way to the mirror behind the outer door, leading to the corridor. As he has the razor poised at his throat, the door is thrown open from the outside, pushing him back behind it, out of sight. Nora Charles, his wife, bursts in. She is in a negligee and slippers, fresh from her shower, with her toilet things in her hand. She is excited. She looks for Nick in the stateroom as she comes in.
Nora: “Nickie! Nickie! Where are you?”
She shuts the door after her and sees Nick behind the door, jammed up against the wall, his razor still at his throat, his eyes fixed in a glassy stare.
Nick, with the sickly sweet grin of a man who has just escaped death: “Hello, darling.”
Nora, amazed at his position: “What are you trying to do?”
Nick: “Just having a little fun, darling.”
Nora goes quickly to the lower berth, putting her toilet things in an open bag.
Nora: “You’d better hurry. We’re getting into San Francisco in five minutes.”
She takes a dress down from a hook. There is another hanging underneath it. Then she opens up a big hatbox, starting to pull a hat from it. She looks down, amazed and indignant.
Nora: “Asta!”
He is comfortably curled up in the hatbox on a large hat. He looks up and wiggles with delight.
Nora: “My best Sunday-go-to-meeting hat.”
Asta jumps quickly out of the hatbox. Nora pulls out the hat and puts it on her head, making a very ridiculous appearance with her negligee, talking to Nick as she does so. Nick is leaning under the berth, pouring a drink from the cocktail shaker.
Nora: “I thought you were going to pack.”
Nick: “I am. I’ve been putting away this likker.”
As he throws his head back to drink the cocktail his skull cracks against the upper berth.
Nora: “You know, if you break that, they can sue you.”
She goes quickly into the lavatory.
Nick: “I’m going to miss this little room of ours. It’s left some lasting impressions on me.”
He feels his head ruefully, then pours himself another drink.
Nora: “Pack these, will you, Nickie?”
Her filmy nightgown and negligee come flying at him from the bathroom. He extricates himself from them.
Nick: “Delighted.”
He rolls them casually into a ball and stuffs them into the open bag. He picks up the cocktail shaker, still three-quarters full, and looks at it lovingly.
Nick: “I hate to leave this.”
Nora, anxiously, from the lavatory: “Oh, don’t leave anything.”
Nick puts the top of the cocktail shaker on, and looks around for something to wrap it in. He catches sight of Nora’s dress hanging on the wall. He puts his hand out toward it.
Nick: “Going to wear this dress?”
Nora’s voice: “No. You can put that in.”
Nick: “Fine.”
He takes down the dress, wraps the cocktail shaker lovingly in it, and stuffs it into the bag, enthusiastically viewing the result.
The photographers and reporters are standing on the station platform looking into the distance, watching for the train. One of the men, looking off-scene, calls:
“Here she comes!”
In a body they all start to run toward the train.
Porters are hurrying out. Baggage men stand waiting. The train pulls in. The reporters and photographers who ran to meet it are now running back beside the train, trying to catch up with the Pullmans. The train comes to a stop, and a porter jumps off. The reporters rush up to him.
One of the reporters: “Nick Charles on this car?”
Porter: “Two cars back.” The reporters and cameramen start to run back.
The porter puts down his little stepping block as Nick and Nora appear at the top of the steps. The reporters and photographers come running up. Asta is straining on the leash in Nick’s hand.
1st Photographer: “Hold it there, Mr. Charles.”
He snaps his picture and prepares to take another. Meanwhile the reporters are all talking at once, and the other photographers are taking pictures.
Reporters: “Hello, Nick.” “How does it feel to be home?”
“How are you, Mrs. Charles? I’m from the Chronicle.”
“Going to stay with us for a while?”
“Got a story for the Examiner, Nick?”
Nick, as Asta pulls him in a frenzy of excitement: “Gangway, boys! Gangway!”
Asta pulls Nick down the stairs. Nora follows, clinging to her purse and a little jewel case.
1st Reporter: “Going to keep on with the detective work, Nick?”
Nick: “No. I’ve retired. Just going to take care of my wife’s money so I’ll have something in my old age.”
2nd Reporter: “You took that Wynant case in New York.”
Nick: “I just did that for my wife. She wanted some excitement.”
1st Reporter, turning to Nora: “I guess you had some excitement all right.”
Nora: “It was wonderful. Two men tried to kill him.”
Nick gives Nora a look. A big ex-prizefighter pushes his way through the crowd. He is Harold, the Charleses’ chauffeur. He is very correctly dressed in uniform, and chewing gum as fast as his jaws will let him.
Nora: “Oh, Harold!”
Harold, grinning: “How are you, Mrs. Charles?”
Then with a change to a tone of utter familiarity: “Hi’yer, Nick.”
He grasps Nick’s hand and almost crushes it. Nick pulls it away, shaking it to get the circulation going.
Nick: “A little out of condition.”
Harold starts to collect the bags belonging to Nick and Nora. The reporters are still hanging around, hoping for a story.
1st Reporter: “Come on, Nick. Give us a break. What are your plans?”
Nick: “My immediate plans?”
1st Reporter, eagerly: “Yes.”
Nick: “Just a hot bath.”
He looks at Asta, and speaks reproachfully: “Asta!”
The reporter loo
ks down, and shakes his trouser leg.
Nick: “You’ll have to forgive us. We’ve been cooped up for four days.”
As Harold is picking up the bag that we saw Nick pack, Nora is horrified to see a stream of liquid pouring out.
Nora: “Oh, Nick, look! Something’s leaked.”
Nick sniffs at it, apprehensive, and then turns with relief.
Nick: “Thank Heaven. I thought it was the cocktails!”
Nora: “Cocktails! Oh, Nick!”
1st Photographer: “Just one more picture, Mr. Charles. Would you mind getting up on the steps again?”
Nick, pleasantly: “Certainly not.”
He takes Nora’s arm as they go up on the steps again.
2nd Photographer: “I’d like that, too.”
All of the photographers look down into their cameras, ready to snap Nick and Nora. Then look up puzzled.
Nick and Nora are just disappearing out of sight, down the steps on the other side of the train. As they come through the crowd at the station, followed by porters and Harold, a little inconspicuous man bumps against Nora, who is trying to manage Asta on his leash. Nora stops, and pleasantly acknowledges the man’s mumbled words of apology. The man is about to go on, when Nick sees him and recognizes him.
Nick, cordially: “Hello, Fingers.”
Fingers turns, startled at the sound of Nick’s voice. Then he sees who it is. He doesn’t realize that Nick is with Nora.
Fingers: “Well, Nick! How are you?”
Nick: “How’s business?”
Fingers: “Oh, I quit that racket.”
Suddenly Nora, standing at one side, looks down and sees that her purse is gone . . . she is grasping only the strap of it in her hand. She turns excitedly to Nick.