The Fat Man

Economy was obviously a concern for Universal and Mark Hellinger. The clip of the man falling to his death is taken right from 'The Spider Woman' (1944) one of Universal's classic Rathbone/Bruce Sherlock Holmes movies.

The second economy was the dress design for Julie London's character (starts at about 26:15). Film noir lovers will instantly recognize it as Kitty's famous evening gown (worn to perfection by Ava Gardner) in Universal's 1947 classic 'The Killers'.

Economies notwithstanding, the solid story and reliable performances (Jerome Cowan (long time Warner Bros. Contract player), Jayne Meadows, and a young Rock Hudson) make this oldie a goodie.

I recently caught this film, and inspire of its ...slightly above middle-range rating, I decided to watch it.

After all, it's an early Rock Hudson film,but, for me, the real clincher was it had a rare film appearance by the incomparable Ms Julie London.

I'm too young to have experienced the age of radio (but, I did grow up listening, nightly, to CBS Radio Myster Theater to understand just how great it could be), and an eclectic group of actors, as well as directed by Mr William Castle made this too intriguing to not give a chance.

I'm very happy I did.

The story's a classic, 'whodunnit', and it's got all the 'bells and whistles' of a really good noir film (aside from inky-black scenes shot in various locations), including a couple of character actors who should be familiar to most - if not by name, nor appearances, but, by their singular voices, and mannerisms (Messers William Castle,and Marvin Kaplan, as the 'fat man's' assistant, bill, and as 'pinkie', an uncredited role as a delivery truck assistant/brother-in-law).

I never knew Mr Castle had made any noir films, a d after enjoying this one, I really wish he had, because, he knows how to use his abilities in this genre, and have them work to their fullest.

This is a real hidden gem!

The Fat Man opens with the murder of a dentist. We spend a good chunk of the next hour wondering not so much who did it, as why. It's a fairly straightforward plot, but one with many threads and characters, including a clown, some dental records, a just-released convict who comes into some money and then disappears, and a police detective who—unusually for private eye movies—is open, cooperative, and even intelligent!

J. Scott Smart looks comfortable in the role of Brad Runyan, aka the Fat Man. Familiar faces fill the rest of the cast, including Jayne Meadows in a good serious role as the dentist's nurse; Jerome Cowan as the helpful if bemused policeman; Clinton Sundberg as a kind of goofball assistant; and an eager-looking young Rock Hudson as the con and Julie London as his sometime girlfriend.

The Fat Man was apparently a radio detective making a jump to movies that didn't take; not having any familiarity with the radio program, I can only say that this portly detective is considerably more physically active than the obvious comparison: whereas Nero Wolfe rarely emerges from his brownstone on 35th Street, Brad Runyan thinks nothing of hopping a flight to California, risking life and limb in a shootout, or even dancing in a nightclub. (He does, however, share Wolfe's passion for fine food.) To put it another way—Smart as Runyan is easily closer akin to William Conrad as Cannon than Conrad as Wolfe.

The film as a whole offers bits of humor, some action, and a pretty fair mystery with quite a well done climactic scene. If they had indeed turned this into a series, I would seek out the other entries; however, I'm afraid 1951 was not the right time to start a detective series—at least, not one for the big screen.

When I was growing up, pre-television, we used to listen to many radio shows. One of these was The Fat Man, starring J. Scott Smart. This, as with some other radio shows, was made into a movie. The casting of Smart in the title role was good, since he looked the part and the sound was identical to the radio program.

In virtually every radio show, Bradford Runyan is hired to solve a crime; the film carries on the tradition. However, the radio program lasted for only a half hour, and even though there was a "time compression" effect, there was time to do significantly more in the film. As an example, Runyan asks a lady to dance, and when she accepts, he acquits himself well. That could never have worked on the radio program, to be sure.

For those of us who remember the program, there's a lot of nostalgia in the film. For those who never heard the show (such as my wife), it's still okay, but probably not as valued.

So this is the film version of the radio series by Dashiell Hammett called The Fat Man - obviously a whimsical referencing of his more famous novel, film and TV series The Thin Man. But this is more than just a gimmick. The corpulent gentleman in question is the masterly J. Scott Smart, whose excess poundage adds much to his screen presence as an unusually charismatic private investigator (with gourmet tastes and a mighty appetite), to whom the rest of the cast really don't measure up. Except for the quite unknown Rock Hudson, in his first major role as Roy, an ex-convict whose teeth play a significant part in the story (and not just because of his famous sunny smile). He speaks his lines convincingly, and we can already see what the production teams meant when they said "the camera loved him". Photogenic wasn't the word.

Otherwise the film is showing both its age and its B-film budget. The dialogue is generally weak, and the continuity not too sharp. We can't always keep up with who's who in the zoo. The dental assistant gives her scream of alarm long before she could possibly have worked out that her boss has been defenestrated. And the over-long sequence of the payroll robbery leaves us unsure whether this was before or after Roy's jail sentence. (You can overdo flashbacks). Also the puritan lobby will wince at Smart's habit of calling every woman 'sweetheart', as well as one brief glimpse of blackface theatre-comedy. Still the ending, which we can't reveal, reminds us of the myriad sub-plots that can emerge when a circus comes to town.