The Fat Man

Of course, this film has nothing to do with the Thin Man series over at MGM, but it does give us a detective with a similar moniker - "The Fat Man" AKA Brad Runyan who is doing plenty of gourmet cooking and eating when he isn't solving mysteries.

Things start with a bang as a man enters the hotel room of a dentist attending a convention, knocks him unconscious, throws his body out of his high rise room to make it look like an accident, and steals a dental plate the dentist was planning to show at the convention. So the dentist's assistant (Jayne Meadows) goes to Runyan and tells him she feels like she is being watched, plus the dentist had made an appointment with Runyan for reasons unknown. When someone tries to attack the assistant, Runyan decides to stick with this case, whatever it is.

He starts with the man whose x-ray plate was stolen - Roy Clark (Rock Hudson). The assistant talks about how when he first showed up he was poorly dressed, didn't even have enough money to make a complete payment on his dental work. When he reappeared at his follow-up dental appointment, he was dressed to the nines and gave the dentist a generous tip for doing the original work on credit. He drove off in a nice car as opposed to being on foot before.

And from that sketchy information, the Fat Man solves the mystery. This is far from a top drawer noir, and in fact it has a 50s TV show feel about it. The Fat Man was a popular radio show, and maybe this feature film was a way to transfer it from radio to television, but it never really took off.

J. Scott Smart is good and convincing in his role as "The Fat Man", and he should be since he played that part on radio. He even shows himself light on his feet on the dance floor! Rock Hudson, even in this early and rather small role really stands out as far as screen presence.

The film does have a rather interesting and unexpected ending, and is worthwhile if you are interested in the noir cycle of American film in the 40s and 50s. With an original story penned by Dashiell Hammett and direction by that master of the macabre, William Castle. Also with Clinton Sundberg as Runyan's right hand man, mainly on the culinary front.

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.

William Castle is today mostly remembered for his clever exploitative gimmicks, which made horror films like "Macabre," "House on Haunted Hill," "The Tingler," etc., both terrifying and fun.

But he started out making movies in another tradition—noir. Without gimmicks.

In 1951's low-budget "The Fat Man," made for Universal, Castle borrows from another medium, taking a popular radio mystery program and transforming a broadcast melodrama into an exciting yet droll movie thriller, with unexpected pleasures.

His lead, the basso profundo J. Scott Smart, is exceptionally good in his role as Brad Runyon, alias The Fat Man, a private detective who is not your average PI. Brad is a well-spoken, well-read, pleasure- loving, sweet-tempered, middle-aged, 270-lb mountain of a man wearing a quirky moustache right out of a Nineteenth-Century daguerreotype.

However, The Fat Man is neither a hog nor a dunce. J Scott Smart's full and fine performance turns an unconventional private eye into a charming and intelligent investigator who is much cleverer than anyone else around him. (He's also tough when need be, packing a snub-nosed .32, and even graceful when the occasion calls for it, wowing with his agile and bouncy, if pachydermic dance steps.)

After her employer is found dead, dental nurse Jayne Meadows (in real life, married to pioneering late night TV host Steve Allen) seeks out the food-loving Fat Man, who, in an entertaining intro, is showing a collection – a mélange, if you will -- of a great many chefs how to not spoil the broth.

Certain dental records are missing, and the nurse believes this may have something to do with the dentist's death. (Meadows plays the dental nurse with sympathy and with more than a little sadness.)

The unusual details of the dentist's death and his nurse's obvious distress hit a nerve, and The Fat Man takes on the case for nothing! (Always interested in filling himself, he just can't brush off such a toothy puzzle.)

The trail of the missing dental X-Rays leads Private Eye Runyon from New York City to California -- and to an ex-con, nicely played by a young Rock Hudson.

A sensible professional, Runyon works closely with the police, who cooperate courteously, if warily. Detective Lt. Stark, well-acted by Jerome Cowan, who himself a decade earlier had played Sam Spade's doomed partner in "The Maltese Falcon," treats him as a colleague, a refreshing change from the usual movie thriller adversarial relationship of PI vs. police.

However, another movie tradition, the great sleuth's assistant who is dumber than a pound of wet liver, is still upheld. In a nicely comic turn, Clinton Sundberg handles the chores this chowderhead is saddled with a sweet enthusiasm, submitting to all sorts of indignities with a cheerful grace. Take note that nowhere in this movie does he get a salary check or even a tip.

But The Fat Man has more to worry about than meeting a payroll. He has to sift through a couple more murders, outsmart a den of thieves, figure out the answers to an unsolved half-million-dollar armored car heist involving a posse of rent-a-cops, and face a mysterious, rather scary pratfall of clowns. (In much more than the usual gratuitous guest-star appearance, famous clown Emmett Kelly pops up here in a fully-realized three-dimensional portrayal. He even speaks – and well, at that!)

The plump private eye is put on the trail of a night-club entertainer played by the sultry Julie London, who possesses a valuable secret. Vulnerable under her veneer of hardness, the sensual beauty, who, in real life, was married to TV cop Jack Webb, sends Runyon in the right direction, leading eventually to an exciting show-down which is both scary and surrealistic.

Cameraman Irving Glassberg (celebrated for being one of the discoverers of Clint Eastwood) allocates his limited budget prudently, nourishing the film's noirishness with skill and finesse. His intelligent camera moves restlessly across patterned floors, picking up random gleams from the polished glass and metal of an elegant hotel lobby late at night, the few humans abroad seen as ominous shadows.

A circus subtheme effectively adds still another dimension to the film. At one point, for instance, the Fat Man rents a British two- seat sports car -- an MG or a Morgan -- that looks like it may be too tiny for a five-year-old, let alone a behemoth like himself. As he shoehorns himself into the tiny car, which isn't much more than a roller skate with a motor, you can practically hear it groan. The camera mercifully looks away, before we learn how he manages to squeeze out of it.

In another telling, even unsettling scene, what looks to be a whole platoon of bank guards in black SS-like uniforms tumble out of an armored truck, like one of those teeny-weeny circus clown cars that can hold an entire sideshow of grease-painted circus clowns plus their painted poodles and made-up monkeys plus a lifetime supply of inflated balloons .

Filmed only a few years after the Second World War, in crisp black and white, "The Fat Man," though an unpretentious B movie that sort of got lost in the crowd, is a rich chowder of admirable acting and appealing directorial details. Without gimmicks.

This Movie, Fashioned from a Long-Running (341 Episodes) Radio-Mystery.

The Show Featured the Detective of the Title and J. Scott Smart Transformed the Role to this Film.

Fans could Now put a Face to the Suave, Cultured, Rotund Crime-Solver.

This Dashiell Hammett's Character can Claim to be the Opposite of His "Mega-Star, the "The Thin Man".

But Didn't Click On-Screen and the Film Failed to Become a Series.

No-Doubt Television Took On the Source of Many B-Movies.

Detective-Series Radio Now Detective-Series TV.

This Movie had the Foundations of a Very Smart and Fun Film-Series.

William Castle Directed with His Seasoned B-Movie Credentials.

J. Scott Smart Successfully Cultivated the Character on Radio and seems Natural On-Screen.

Bringing a Sense of Humor, Type, and a Certain Confidence Despite His Over-Size.

However, one of the Film's Shortcomings is the Over-Reliance on Comedy Relief.

Rock Hudson in His First Real Performance is Fine as an Actor, and as was Said at the Time...

"The Camera Loves Him"

Also of Note, the Cast Includes...

Jayne Meadows (the Honeymooners Wife of Ralph Kramden, Alice.

Julie London, Exotic, Sultry Recording Star.

John Russell went on to have a Successful Career as an Adventurer on TV and Movies.

Last but Not Least, Emmett Kelly.

Famous Hobo Circus Clown, and in this Movie...He Speaks.

With All these Things Surrounding this Good Effort, it is Certainly...

Worth a Watch.

Very gripping opening sequence, for sure, but nothing in the rest of the movie to match it. It plays mostly just as a regular sub-"The Big Sleep" noir, notable only for early pre-stardom supporting roles for Rock Hudson and a husky-voiced Julie London. ** out of 4.