Star of Midnight: Mostly Just William Powell Being Great

Is this worth your time?

If you want a gritty, logical noir, look elsewhere. You’ll probably hate it if you need the plot to have internal consistency. But if you want to watch William Powell deliver lines with that specific, dry smirk while Ginger Rogers tries to keep up, it’s a total blast. It’s perfect for a rainy Sunday when your brain is already tired.

The whole thing kicks off with a missing dancer. Naturally, the police are useless, so the former lover turns to a lawyer. Because that makes total sense, right? Sure.

William Powell is basically playing the same effortless charm he perfected elsewhere, but it never gets old. He’s got this way of leaning against a doorway that makes you forget the mystery is completely falling apart in the background. Ginger Rogers is there too, and she’s sharp enough to cut glass, though the script doesn't always give her enough to do.

There is a scene in a theater that goes on for a bit, and I found myself looking at the background extras more than the main actors. One guy in the back row looks like he’s trying to suppress a sneeze for a solid minute. It’s distracting, but in a way that I kind of liked.

The pacing is all over the place. Sometimes it moves at a breakneck speed, and other times it just parks itself in a room for ten minutes to let people talk about nothing in particular. It’s not a tight film. It’s more of a loose, floppy affair that just happens to be funny.

It definitely lacks the sharp, polished edges you find in something like Holiday, which feels much more intentional. This feels like it was written on the back of a cocktail napkin, which might be why it feels so human.

Small observations from the notebook:

• The lighting in the nightclub scenes is weirdly aggressive. Everyone looks like they’re being interrogated by a desk lamp.
• The dialogue feels like a constant tennis match where nobody is actually trying to win.
• I’m still not entirely sure who killed who, or why. Maybe it doesn't matter?

At one point, Powell walks through a crowd, and the camera just stays on his back for way too long. It’s an oddly quiet moment that feels like a mistake, but it gives the movie this weird, lonely texture. I’m into it.

It isn't a masterpiece. It isn't even a particularly good mystery. But it’s got a heartbeat, and that counts for a lot more than most of the stuff they pump out these days. 🍸