There is, perhaps, a degree of puffery here. These pieces are less novellas than some hybrid of scripted dialogue, stage direction and short fiction. Co-editor Julie M. Rivett (Hammett’s granddaughter) notes that Hammett’s own words appear alongside passages written by screenwriters Albert Hackett and Frances Goodrich — so that these works aren’t even word-for-word his alone.
Still, both of the main stories are pleasures to read — Rivett rightly calls Hammett’s dialogue “a rare blend of silly and cynical, sloshed and smart” — and the film scripts ultimately hewed pretty closely to these texts. In “After the Thin Man,” Nora’s cousin Selma misplaces her husband, and Nick’s reluctant investigation reveals love triangles, extortion, murder and more. “Another Thin Man” centers on Col. Burr MacFay, an old business partner of Nora’s father, who is being terrorized by a former employee claiming that he dreamed about MacFay’s death — and then those dreams come true. Along the way, there’s plenty of drinking and flirtation, a few clashes of culture, and not just one of the best-loved pooches in fiction and film, Asta, but also one of the drollest kids, little Nick Jr.
Just as fans get worked up while studying changes to a favorite novel adapted to screen, it’s exciting to discover in reverse which of Hammett’s cleverest choices were left behind by the filmmakers: the corpse that never fell at the Charleses’ door in the opening party scene of “After the Thin Man,” the acrobatic sequence that didn’t end that film — a Chinese man hanging by stockinged toes from a fire escape to snatch Nora from a killer’s grasp. And wouldn’t it have been fun if, as Hammett had envisioned for “Another Thin Man,” Nick Jr. had cried “Drunk” at everything he didn’t like and “Gimme” at everything he did?
But the movies’ many fans may find these stories a bit lifeless without Powell and Loy, one of filmdom’s great couples, fully embodying these characters — and that’s only part of the problem with reading the new collection. Something more central disappoints, too, and Rivett inadvertently provides the key in noting how Hammett drew on “The Farewell Murder,” one of his Black Mask tales, for the plot of “Another Thin Man.” Rivett rightly emphasizes Hammett’s dexterity at leavening a hard-boiled story with screwball elements for a fresh concoction. But “The Farewell Murder,” though hardly a masterpiece, also boasts craftsmanship in each line, precise pacing and an unerring sense of style — a substantially different approach than what’s found in these looser, intermittently unfinished screen stories. Good writing is more than clever plotting sprinkled with witty dialogue, and there’s a difference between drafting a tale for other hands to finish and honing your own work as close to perfection as you can get it. “Red Harvest,” “The Maltese Falcon,” a handful of Hammett’s Black Mask tales — those works aim for that perfection. These screen stories, meanwhile, were penned not for posterity, but for a studio paycheck. “The Return of the Thin Man” is a fine curiosity, but hardly a fresh capstone to Hammett’s distinguished career.
Taylor frequently reviews mysteries and thrillers for The Post.