Two for Christmas

Christmas is nigh, and in recognition of the holidays I list two favorite Christmas films: We're No Angels (Michael Curtiz, 1955) and Remember the Night (Mitchell Leisen, 1940). Neither would likely come to mind first for most folks if asked their favorite holiday movie, but for me both capture the best spirit of the season beautifully well and feature great casts.

Humphrey Bogart escapes from Devils' Island in We're No Angels, accompanied by two friends and fellow cons: Peter Ustinov and Aldo Ray. It's a silly, fairly unrealistic plot to be sure. But because the cast looks like it's having so much fun, and the characters are so charming, this is an easy film to enjoy. Ustinov is particularly good, looking ridiculous in a low cut shirt with tie and white collar. He delivers his lines with great facial expressions.

Three convicts eavesdrop on the Ducotets. 

Bogart is Joseph, an embezzler; Ustinov is Jules, a master safe-cracker; and Ray is Albert, a murderer, but despite their resumes they are completely harmless. A fourth companion, a poisonous viper named Adolph is carried around by Albert in a little box. We never see the reptile but his presence plays an important part in the story.

The criminals talk a tough game, and muscular Ray looks like someone who could easily turn menacing, but they have tender hearts. Intending to rob and perhaps throttle a local vendor and his family if needed, the trio alter their plans when they discover the family is financially challenged; and thanks to a greedy uncle, may be ousted from their post.

The cast is terrific and familiar. One of the film's best aspects is that some play against type. Leo G. Carroll, often professionally adept in his roles, is the benign but inept vendor, Felix Ducotel. Seeing how he operates his business, it's no wonder he's not making a profit. Too passive with customers and a terrible bookkeeper. Bogart and Ray didn't delve into comedy too often, but here both are funny. The exchanges between the three criminals is wonderful. French writer Albert Husson's stage play served as the basis for the witty screenplay. Here's a few samples:

Joseph: We came here to rob them and that's what we're gonna do - beat their heads in, gouge their eyes out, slash their throats. Soon as we wash the dishes. 

Joseph: I'm going to buy them their Christmas turkey.
Albert: "Buy"? Do you really mean "buy"?
Joseph: Yes, buy! In the Spirit of Christmas. The hard part's going to be stealing the money to pay for it. 

Jules: [on opening the petty cash box] You'll have to forgive me, it's been a while since I've done this [closes eyes]. And I'm used to doing it in the dark.

 

Basil Rathbone as the uncle is a despicably arrogant man and Scrooge figure, even down to his nightcap. He treats everyone with contempt.

What's in that box?

Christmas comes into play as the three cons interject themselves into the lives of the Ducotels, treating them like an adoptive family. Against their own best interests, they help the family through a few crisis, while taking it upon themselves to decorate the garden for the holiday and produce a delicious turkey dinner. Off screen they steal the bird, and some flowers and a tree from the grounds of the governor's residence. There's a funny scene where Bogart comes into the room with the turkey stuffed under his shirt, feathers flying.

Joan Bennett, 45 at time of shooting, looks lovely as Amelie Ducotel, the wife. Best known for two great Fritz Lange film noirs made tens years earlier (Scarlett Street and The Woman in the Window), Bennett also has a nice singing voice. Her rendition of Sentimental Moments is a highlight. Maybe the silliest aspect of the entire film is believing Amelie ended up with such a fuddy duddy as Felix.


In Remember the Night, Barbara Stanwyck is shoplifter Lee Leander. She gets a Christmas weekend reprieve from jail thanks to the kind intercession of a by-the-book New York City prosecutor, John Sargent (Fred MacMurray). Sargent reluctantly invites her on an across-the-country trip to visit his mother over the holiday. Naturally the two eventually strike up a romance, and the film follows their respective journeys: Lee's to finding a better life and understanding she has it within herself to be a good person; and John's to discovering there are better things in life than blind dedication to one's work.

This is a sweet film, sentimental and at times quite moving. It's fun to see what a cross country car trip looked like before freeways existed. Lots of unpaved roads and podunk towns where local lawmen display rubeness as clear as a badge. A humorous encounter with a county sheriff occurs and thanks to Lee's quick thinking, they manage to elude jail. Stanwyck's stop at her unloving mother's house is sad and crushing as her parent wants nothing to do with her. Sargent steps in for support and thus begins the mutual feelings between the two travelers. Intending to pick his prisoner up on the way back, John instead takes her along to his Indiana home.

Beulah Bondi (the homespun mom) and Elizabeth Patterson play elderly sisters, whose interaction is cute and affectionate. The son's annual visit is the highlight of their year. Both women are smitten by Lee, but once mother learns her background, she cautions Lee from getting involved with her upstanding son. Theirs is a delightful home, full of love and caring. The film portrays a different, more innocent time, certainly, where communities held barn dances, families gathered together to sing in parlors and small-town familiarity existed. The elderly sister lets Lee wear her wedding dress for the dance, helping fit into the corset as she reminisces about a long, lost love, and Stanwyck is touched by her kindness.

She's nearly overcome with emotion in another scene, the film's best. Sterling Holloway (the unmistakable voice of Disney's Winnie the Pooh and the snake Kaa from The Jungle Book) is handyman Willie Simms. His rendition of  A Perfect Day is sublime. Stanwyck plays the piano. She's happy for the first time in a long time and when she sees the love within this family, her empty life is all too clear.



A perfect day.

Preston Sturges wrote the screenplay, one of the last before he would move to the director's chair and find great success on his own. Like the scrips that followed, this one is funny and sweet. One year later Sturges would collaborate with Stanwyck for one of their best films: The Lady Eve.  

You have to like a cow scene, and this film has two, including a delightful milking attempt by the city-bound Stanwyck. The actress must have liked the doe-eyed animals because she shares the screen with another bovine five years later, in Christmas in Connecticut.

The film ends back in New York, Lee wanting to start anew by pleading guilty. She'll go to jail, but you know when she gets out, John will be waiting.

Merry Christmas.

Dark Passage (1947) -- Delmer Daves

Vincent Parry (Humphrey Bogart) is an innocent man accused of murdering his wife. When he escapes from San Quentin prison, he is picked up on the road by Irene Jansen (Lauren Bacall), an attractive and sympathetic woman who seems to know all about him. She offers Vince temporary shelter; and as he goes to drastic measures to hide his identity in order to uncover the real killer before the police manhunt tracks him down, they begin to develop feelings for one other. But complicating his efforts is Madge Rapf (Agnes Moorehead), the witness whose testimony sealed his conviction. Before his marriage, she and Vince were once an item.     

If that sounds like the makings of a decent noir, you're in for a disappointment. The third of four Bogart/Bacall collaborations, Dark Passage doesn't measure up to the others. Despite a great cast, the script is flat, far too reliant on coincidence, and the real killer too obvious early on. Vince and Irene fall for one another too quickly, though in Irene's case it can be explained as a father fixation. Worse is the gimmick photography used in the first hour of the film -- the action unfolds from Parry's point of view. Bogart's face doesn't appear on scene during this period, but we hear his voice and occasionally see his hands doing something at the bottom of the frame. If director Daves used the technique for a short spell it might have been effective, but as it is, the novelty wears off quickly, making it distracting and just plain weird. I want to see Bogart.

Robert Montgomery employed the same gimmick five months earlier in his film, The Lady in the Lake. That two directors used an unconventional POV in such a short period is an odder coincidence than Bacall's character coming upon Bogart's shortly after his breakout. (He sneaks out of prison in a barrel on the back of a supply truck, the most interesting scene in the entire film.)

Vince's escape. Are those really Bogie's hands?

Irene reveals that she happened to be painting in the area and heard about Vince's escape on the radio. Having followed his trial and incarceration because his circumstance mirrored her father's, she felt compelled to look for him. Naturally he's suspicious, but has no choice but to accept her offer of help. He hides under a blanket in the backseat of her car as they make their way into San Francisco. At the Golden Gate Bridge, director Daves undoubtedly hoped to stage a suspenseful stop at a police roadblock. It's not. After a harmless conversation with a patrolmen and a cursory check, Irene is waved through and she drives across the bridge and into the city. It is interesting to see the then ten-year old span so empty. There's a shot of it in another Bogart film, The Maltese Falcon (1941), but this is one of the earliest films to feature the landmark.

Irene is the second person Vince meets outside the prison. First he hitch-hikes with a small-time hood who happens by. When an account of the escape runs on the radio, Vince's identity is compromised. He knocks the man cold -- the POV makes the fight appear silly and girlish -- and switches clothes. The hood will dog Vince for most of the rest of the film and ultimately give him the clue to identify his wife's killer.



D'Andrea and Stevenson discuss Vince's face before the operation.

The film's supporting characters almost save the story. Clift Young plays the hood as a somewhat weaselly man in over his head; he looks scared even when he's holding the gun. Tom D'Andrea is a talkative cabbie who leads Vince to a back-alley doc who specializes in plastic surgery. The surgeon is Houseley Stevenson. You wouldn't trust this guy to give your dog a shot, let alone allow him to carve up your face. He looks well-acquainted with a bottle.

Bogart finally makes his appearance. 
 

Vince emerges from the operation swathed in facial bandages, which he wears for a week or so, only able to communicate with pen and paper so as not to disturb the doctor's work. Give him sunglasses and he'd look like Claude Rains from The Invisible Man. Amazingly, when he takes the bandages off at Irene's there's no bruising, marks or stitches to deal with. That's one fine surgeon. In any case, we finally get Bogart's face. Perhaps Vince should have asked for a refund.

There are a couple of scenes where Bogart over-acts, once when interrogated by a suspicious cop in a diner and his hand shakes excessively and another when he staggers up a hill after the operation to Irene's place, looking more like a drunken sot than a man who is tired.

Madge, in the most amazing coincidence, happens to be friends of sort with Irene. She shows up at Irene's apartment having heard of Vince's escape and fearing he will seek revenge. Irene sends her away. Vince at this point has fallen in love with Irene and changes his plans, now more interested in leaving San Francisco than proving his innocence. The hood miraculously makes another appearance, coming out on the losing end of a confrontation with Vince, who manages to extract some information that leads him to the killer -- Madge.



Vince (Bogart) and Madge (Moorehead) have it out.

In the climatic scene Vince shows up at Madge's. With his new face she doesn't recognize him despite a voice that hasn't changed and knowing that Vince is somewhere in the city. Apparently this woman is over-sexed because she lets the stranger in. He flirts a few minutes before revealing his true identity and demanding she sign a confession. Really? She refuses, but either falls or jumps out the window to her death. (The obvious dummy drop caps the silly scene).

The "jump" scenario assumes that Madge is so obsessed with Vince that if she can't have him, she decides no-one will. Knowing Vince loves Irene, she opts for suicide to prevent his being declared innocent. Such a course is unnecessary so long as she doesn't confess, so I don't find this very plausible.                

Johnny Mercer's 1937 hit "Too Marvelous for Words" plays several times in the film, Jo Stafford  with the vocal on the phonograph in Irene's apartment, and just the melody at the end as Irene reunites with Vince in a cantina in Peru. It seems far too sophisticated for this story.

It's a stretch to call this a noir. There's no femme fatale, little characteristic shadowy images, and lacking in cynicism. More importantly, the good guy has a happy ending. Sounds like shady marketing to me.

The Bogart/Bacall Quartet:

• To Have and Have Not (1944)
• The Big Sleep (1946)
• Dark Passage (1947)
• Key Largo (1948)

The Maltese Falcon (1941) -- John Huston

An attractive woman, Ruth Wonderly, (Mary Astor), comes to the offices of Spade (Humphrey Bogart) and Archer, a private detective agency in San Francisco, with what looks like a routine case--she wants them to locate her sister. Wonderly claims the sister is involved with a man named Thursby, whom she plans to meet that night in an attempt to bribe him to abandoned the girl. Archer volunteers to track Thursby, hoping that he will lead them to the missing girl. When both Archer and Thursby are killed that night, the case takes on an ominous tone, and the next morning Spade is visited by a strange little man looking for a long-lost statue of a falcon. Is there a connection? Spade soon finds himself dealing with three unscrupulous adventurers competing for the priceless falcon as he tries to uncover the truth about the death of his partner.

Humphrey Bogart as Sam Spade

Filmed twice before, Director John Huston's version of mystery writer Dashiell Hammett's The Maltese Falcon, makes the first two efforts pale in comparison. It is simply one of the best films of its genre, and the film that solidified Bogart's stardom. Many consider it one of the first Film Noirs, but I don't classify it as such. Yes, it has a femme fatale, but you never seriously believe that Bogart as the protagonist is in real danger or in trouble. And it lacks the shadowy photography that I associate with the best noirs. Still, it set the bar high for entertaining detective films that followed for the next fifteen years or so.

It's hard to find fault with the film. Precise direction, a genre-defining script, stellar cinematography, and one of the best ensemble casts ever assembled; it's a great story of intrigue. Bogart may star, but the memorable collection of eccentric villains is what makes this so much fun to watch. Sydney Greenstreet (in his first film) plays the rotund Kasper Gutman; Lorre is the effeminate Joel Cairo; and Astor the beautiful femme fatale. A dedicated bunch--Gutman has been chasing the falcon for 17 years--they are more dangerous than they appear. Still, the group seems slightly out of their element, and we can't help but like them for it. Of course, Spade will outwit them all by the end.

The film opens with a screen card that provides the backstory:

In 1539 the Knight Templars of Malta, paid tribute to Charles V of Spain, by sending him a Golden Falcon encrusted from beak to claw with rarest jewels——but pirates seized the galley carrying this priceless token and the fate of the Maltese Falcon remains a mystery to this day——^[

The character of Joel Cairo is a long way from Lorre's infamous child molester, Hans Bekert, in Fritz Lang's 1931's M. This is one of his first American films that became well known. Impeccably dressed and smelling of gardenia, Cairo pulls a gun on Spade, intending to search the detective's office for the Falcon. Spade easily disarms the smaller man, telling him "when you're slapped, you'll take it and like it." It's through Cairo and Miss Wonderly, whom Spade has learned is really Brigid O'Shaughnessy, that we meet the "Fat Man," Kasper Gutman. It is now clear that three people are after the elusive statue, and that O'Shaughnessy's first story was a bogus one. 

Gutman employs an inept underling, Wilmer (Elisha Cook Jr.), who thinks he is a tough guy. Spade's interaction with this character is one of the joys of the film--he continually gets the upper hand of the punk. Cook is one of those frequent character actors who enhances every film he's in, seemingly without effort. His best decade is the 1940's where roles included Lawrence Tierney's sidekick in the brutal Born to Kill, and again with Bogart in The Big Sleep. But his most memorable performance is as a stubborn Southern homesteader gunned down by Jack Palance in 1953's Shane.  Here he plays Gutman's muscle, and not so subtle "boy." Wilmer does Gutman's dirty work, and is in fact a murderer, but he is no match for a professional like Spade, The detective is dismissive, calling him a gunsel, slang for homosexual.   

The mountainous Kasper Gutman

One of the best scenes in the film occurs when Spade first meets with the mountainous man. Director Huston keeps his camera low when Gutman is on screen to emphasize the man's immense size. (Greenstreet's weight topped 350 pounds). Greenstreet's performance exudes a cultured menace, with a deep guttural laugh and confidence. He and the detective verbally spar with one another, and though Spade doesn't have the whole story, he now understands that the falcon is priceless and worth considerably more than Cairo first intimated. Spade hints that he possesses the bird and storms out of the room when Gutman is evasive. In the hallway outside Spade breaks into a broad smile, pleased with his performance. At this point he also guesses that one of these suspicious characters is responsible for Archer's murder, though he doesn't know which, and because the police consider him a suspect--they know he has had an affair with Archer's wife--Spade hopes to entice the culprit to reveal himself , using the falcon as bait.   

Peter Lorre as Joel Cairo.

At a second meeting Gutman spikes Spade's drink, leaving him unconscious. When he wakes, he finds a newspaper clipping noting the arrival in town of a ship, the La Paloma.  He hurries to the dock but finds the ship ablaze. Back at his office, a dying man staggers in clutching a bundle wrapped in newspaper. It is the falcon and a search of the man's wallet reveals him to be the captain of the La Paloma. The captain is played by the director's father, Walter Huston   

A final confrontation occurs between all the players. Gutman and Cairo have joined forces. In a long tense scene Gutman offers Spade $10,000 for the falcon. Spade agrees, provided they give him a fall guy for the police--he needs someone to pin the murders on to deflect attention from himself. Gutman reluctantly offers up Wilmer. Spade instructs his secretary to bring him the falcon. Upon inspection, it's discovered to be a fake.

The direction in this scene is terrific and a highlight of the film. At nearly twenty minutes it is extraordinarily riveting. Huston lets the camera in turn capture the reaction of each adventurer as a knife reveals nothing beneath its outer coating of black paint; Gutman sputters, looking like he's about to have a stroke as Cairo berates him for letting the real bird slip through their hands. When the two leave to continue their pursuit of the statue, Spade calls the police and tells them where to pick up the pair. He then confronts Brigid, telling her he knows she killed Archer to implicate Thursby, her unwanted accomplice. Brigid, shocked that Spade would turn her over to the police, tries to work her wiles on the up-till-then plaint detective--there is a strong suggestion that the two have become lovers. But Spade follows the private eye's code, telling her "You killed Miles and you're going over for it."


The falcon isn't what it seems. 

Director Huston penned the sharp screenplay. He gives each villain ample screen time to develop their character, and.has paced the film with wonderful dialog. Here's a sample:

Spade: We didn't exactly believe your story, Miss O'Shaughnessy. We believed your $200. I mean, you paid us more than if you had been telling us the truth, and enough more to make it all right.

Wilmer: Keep on riding me and they're gonna be picking iron out of your liver. 
Spade: The cheaper the crook, the gaudier the patter.

Gutman: You're a close-mouthed man?
Spade: Nah, I like to talk.
Gutman: Better and better. I distrust a close-mouthed man. He generally picks the wrong time to talk and says the wrong things. Talking's something you can't do judiciously, unless you keep in practice.

Spade: I hope they don't hang you, precious, by that sweet neck. Yes, angel, I'm gonna send you over. The chances are you'll get off with life. That means if you're a good girl, you'll be out in 20 years. I'll be waiting for you. If they hang you, I'll always remember you.

 

The stuff that dreams are made of.

The film was among the first named to the Library of Congress' National Registry in 1989. Oscar nominations included for Best Picture (it lost to John Ford's How Green Was My Valley), Best Script, and Best Supporting Actor (Greenstreet). As a testament to its popular longevity, it is likely the most famous role of several of its performers: Greenstreet, Lorre, and Astor. As for Bogart, his signature role came just one year later, as Rick in Casablanca, the first film in which he received an Oscar nomination.

Author Hammett says of his character:

Spade has no original. He is a dream man in the sense that he is what most of the private detectives I worked with would like to have been and in their cockier moments thought they approached. For your private detective does not — or did not ten years ago when he was my colleague — want to be an erudite solver of riddles in the Sherlock Holmes manner; he wants to be a hard and shifty fellow, able to take care of himself in any situation, able to get the best of anybody he comes in contact with, whether criminal, innocent by-stander or client.

The Roaring Twenties (1939) - Raoul Walsh

Eddie Bartlett (James Cagney), comes home to New York City after serving in France in WWI. Jobs are scarce. He tries his hand at driving a cab with his good friend, Danny (Frank McHugh). Prohibition is soon enacted and Eddie gets arrested doing a passenger a favor--delivering illegal liquor to Panama Smith (Gladys George), owner of a speakeasy. Although innocent, Bartlett takes the fall. When Smith pays Eddie's fine and he is released, she introduces him to bootlegging. Eddie has a good head for business and his operation grows, as does his criminal nature. He forms a partnership with an old army acquaintance, George (Humphrey Bogart), a ruthless racketeer, who soon takes issue with Eddie's dominate role in the gang.

The film covers the rise and fall of a man who gets involved in a life of crime during America's failed grand social experiment--Prohibition. You understand why men like Eddie were attracted to this type of life. Director Raoul Walsh gives context to the story and achieves authenticity with voice overs, period songs and documentary-like footage. This approach, and the fine cast that avoids the over-the-top performances that characterized earlier gangster films like Scarface, and to a lesser extent Little Caesar, make The Roaring Twenties the best of Warner's 1930's gangster films. Its realism is also attributable to the source novel, written by Mark Hellinger, a Chicago reporter during the heyday of Al Capone. 

The best part of the film is its star, James Cagney. Few actors held the screen like Cagney, who might best be described as a ball of pugnacious energy. His personality and magnetism compensated for his slight statue, a remarkable achievement when you think about it because he did it consistently throughout his career.  Here he delivers a finely controlled and dynamic performance. On the surface, Eddie might be just another tough hood, albeit a likable one. In Prohibition, he's sees an opportunity to live a comfortable life. He grabs it, not letting anyone stand in his way. He forces his cheap liquor on nightclub owners and highjacks competitors' supply. Yet, he's loyal to friends and enables the girl he loves (Priscilla Lane as Jean Sherman) to have a successful singing career, putting a human face on the character. Despite his tough-guy behaviour, he's a sensitive man with a heart.

Cagney and Bogart embody the roaring Twenties as bootleggers

Cagney commands nearly every scene of the film, compelling the viewer to focus on him as the action unfolds. It's a delight watching his expressions and posture. His characteristic sardonic smile and shoulder role are here, as well as his confidence. Here's a character who won't take anything from anyone--even Bogart. It's quite believable that this man could rise from nothing, using just his guile and determination to head a crime operation. Unlike the reckless Tom Powers he played eight years earlier in The Public Enemy, Eddie Bartlett is able to check his emotions--even when things go south.  When Jean rejects him for another man, Eddie is crushed, feeling betrayed. He goes to confront the man but stops himself, saying he's sorry after the first punch.  Later, when he suspects that Bogart has set him up for a hit, he doesn't retaliate.     

Eddie shows off his operation to Priscilla

Considering the subject matter, some viewers might think there's surprisingly little action. But there's enough to convey the violence of the era. Tommy guns mow down a few gangsters, there's a good fight on a ship between warring factions of bootleggers, a cop is murdered, and one gang tosses grenades at another's speakeasy. 

Gladys George gives the strongest supporting performance as Panama. She loves Eddie but he only has eyes for Jean, who loves another. Panama looks out for Eddie, even though she knows her love will be unrequited. When the stock market wipes Eddie out, he turns to drink. Panama's the only shoulder he can lean on. By the end of the film, you understand that he knows of Panama's affections. You might recognize her as Dana Andrews' mother in The Best Years of Our Lives and the widow of Bogart's partner in The Maltese Falcon.

Gladys George and Humphrey Bogart

As with all films of the era, crime does not go unpunished. Even though we are rooting for Eddie, and understand that the choices he made reflected his environment, he is a killer and thief. Still, he goes out a hero of sorts, dispatching the conniving George before being tracked down by a police officer and gunned down on the steps of a church. It is a fine death. Panama Smith rushes to cradle his head in her lap as the cop approaches. 

    

Panama: He's dead.

Cop: Well, who is this guy?

Panama: This is Eddie Bartlett.
Cop: Well, how're you hooked up with him?
Panama: I could never figure it out.
Cop: What was his business?
Panama: He used to be a big shot.

Bogart's death seems slightly out of character. He cowers like a frightened punk, his face contorted in fear and his hands shaking. It's a bit too much. Thankfully, within two years he'd have Roy Earle of High Sierra under his belt and forever after knew how to die like a man. 

Walsh would work with both Cagney (White Heat) and Bogart (They Drive by Night and High Sierra) again, drawing out some of their best performances. 

The Best of James Cagney:

• The Public Enemy (1931)
• Angles with Dirty Faces (1938)
• The Roaring Twenties (1939)
• The Fighting 69th (1940)
• Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942)
• White Heat (1949)
• Mr. Roberts (1955)
• The Man of a Thousand Faces (1957)
• One, Two, Three (1961)

Key Largo (1948) - John Huston

Frank McCloud (Humphrey Bogart), a World War II vet, comes to Key Largo to visit the family of one of the men he commanded who was killed in action during the invasion of Italy. The dead soldier's wheelchair-bound father, James Temple (Lionel Barrymore), runs a hotel, assisted by his daughter-in-law Nora (Lauren Bacall). It is the height of summer heat and humidity. The hotel is closed, the only guests a shady group of characters claiming to be from Chicago on a fishing trip. McCloud suspects otherwise and soon learns they are gangsters, led by the notorious Rocco (Edward G. Robinson), a deportee who has snuck back into the country from Cuba with a suitcase full of counterfeit money that he plans to sell to some old crime partners. McCloud must contend with two threats, a fast-approaching hurricane and the increasingly nervous mobsters.

Edward G. Robinson as Johnny Rocco. 

The final of four parings for Bogart and Bacall (the others being: To Have and Have Not, The Big Sleep and Dark Passage), this may be the least satisfying as far as their characters' interaction. Bacall has little to do. The focus here is on the give and take between Bogart and Robinson, which is terrifically charged and exciting. But Key Largo is really Robinson's film, and his portrayal of Johnny Rocco, a mean hood whose tough guy behavior compensates for self-doubt, is great. Reminiscent of his breakthrough role as Rico in Little Caesar 17 years earlier, one can imagine that had Rico lived, he might have turned out as Rocco, his blood lust tempered by experience, but his thirst for being a player never satisfied.

When first introduced he is sitting in a bath, trying to keep cool in front of a vacillating fan. He holds a drink in one hand, a newspaper in the other. A fat cigar hangs from his mouth. Right away you know this ugly little man is dangerous.

Rocco's temperament is all over the place as the story unfolds. Initially he is loud and outwardly confident, a typical bully, humiliating his old girlfriend and threatening the Temples. Later, when the hurricane approaches with all its terrifying force, he cowers in fear, wondering if the roof is about to be torn off. Temple fuels his concern with tales of devastation and death from prior storms. By the end of the film, Rocco shows his true colors in a confrontation with McCloud where his tough guy facade cracks to reveal a coward.

Along the way, a revealing exchange between McCloud and Rocco captures the essence of the gangster's character. He has no great motive to act as he does; he's just mean because he wants to be.

Rocco: There's only one Johnny Rocco.
Temple: How do you account for it?
McCloud: He knows what he wants. Don't you, Rocco?
Rocco: Sure.
Temple: What's that?
McCloud: Tell him, Rocco.
Rocco: Well, I want uh ...
McCloud: He wants more, don't you, Rocco?
Rocco: Yeah. That's it. More. That's right! I want more!
Temple: Will you ever get enough?
McCloud:Will you, Rocco?
Rocco: Well, I never have. No, I guess I won't. You, do you know what you want?
McCloud: Yes, I had hopes once, but I gave them up.
Rocco: Hopes for what?
McCloud: world in which there's no place for Johnny Rocco.

Rocco wants to recapture the glory days, before his deportation. He acts as if he can still rise to the top of the mob. He and his henchman constantly talk bout Prohibition, and what went wrong. It'll come back, they believe, and this time they say, the mob families won't fight. It's a pipe dream, and shows that the man can't change with the times.

The film's best scene has Rocco forcing Gaye Dawn (Claire Trevor), to sing for a drink. Once lovers, alcoholism has taken its toll on the moll since Rocco fled the country. She now disgusts him and he ignores her for the most part. When she begs for a drink he tells her she must first sing. Trevor's sad rendition of "Moanin' Low" is a big reason she won that year's Oscar for Best Supporting Actress. A cappella and pathetic, Rocco winces as he listens, wondering how he ever found her attractive. He reneges on his promise of a drink saying, "you were rotten."

By 1948 Trevor was well-established as a femme fetale. The previous year she had starred in Born to Kill as a conniving figure about as amoral as Johnny Rocco. And before that, she tried to manipulate Dick Powell in Murder My Sweet. Here, she does a 180, helping the hero by slipping him a gun, but still, you wonder if she'll find happiness afterwards. Hers is a much meatier role than Bacall's and she performs brilliantly.

Claire Trevor as Gaye Dawn

In another characteristic scene, Rocco whispers lechery into Nora's ear. You don't hear what he says but it's obviously offensive and suggestive. Nora scratches and spits in his face, the only action involving Bacall in the whole film.

Bogart plays a reluctant hero. McCloud only rises to the occasion when forced to; he'd just as soon see Rocco complete his mission and leave. Still, he can only take so much and knows scum when he sees it. After witnessing Rocco's crude behaviour, he risks needling the gangster: "You don't like it, do you Rocco, the storm? Show it your gun, why don't you? If it doesn't stop, shoot it." When Rocco's boat captain disappears under cover of the storm, Rocco calls on the veteran to steer them back to Cuba.

Bogart as McCloud starts to get under Rocco's skin.

If the film has a failing, it's the end. The final resolution seems less satisfying than one might hope. You assume throughout that Rocco will get his comeuppance, but there is little danger in the last ten minutes. It's too easy for Bogart.

Director John Huston had worked with Bogart three times before, most recently in a film that same year which over-shadowed this one, The Treasure of Sierra Madre. Nominated for Best Film and Best Director, Treasure is more acclaimed, and rightfully so. Still, Key Largo is a fine followup.

For the era, Huston does a good enough job with special effects to mimic a hurricane. Windows shatter, trees are uprooted, and stock footage of real storms show the surge of seawater up the shore.

It's fitting that like fellow actor and gangster alum James Cagney, Robinson would score big later in his career with a return to the genre that started it all, recapturing the menace he first exhibited in Little Caesar in 1931. Depression audiences lapped up the diversionary gangster films, for that same year saw Cagney's first attention-getting role in The Public Enemy. If both men had since mainly moved onto other types of roles, they knew a good role when they saw one; Robinson beating his friend to the punch as Cagney's return to crime came one year later in a tour de force performance in White Heat.

Inexplicably, Robinson never received an Oscar nomination. His performance here seems particularly slighted. A shame, since it turned out to be his last real chance for such recognition.

The Best of Edward G. Robinson:

• Little Caesar (1931)
• The Amazing Dr. Clitterhouse (1938)
• The Sea Wolf (1941)
• Double Indemnity (1944)
• The Woman in the Window (1944)
• Scarlet Street (1945)
• The Stranger (1946)
• Key Largo (1948)
• The Cincinnati Kid (1965)
• Soylent Green (1973)

Favorite Films of the 1940s

It's silly to try to pick a top ten favorites from the 1940s, as more top quality films were produced that decade than any other. You certainly cannot pick a definitive list, as it is more than likely to change depending on your mood. One could easily name five each from just Hitchcock and John Ford and you'd have an outstanding selection. Or five each from Humphrey Bogart and Edgar G. Robinson. Or ten film noirs, a genre that came into its own during the decade. In any case, no-one can deny that for classic film lovers, it is a phenomenal period. Here are ten of mine, listed in chronological order. A few actors have multiple appearances: Claude Rains, Dana Andrews, Ingrid Bergman, Teresa Wright, and Joseph Cotten. And noirs do comprise five or six of my favorites, depending on how you define the term.

1. Casablanca - 1942

Michael Curtiz's masterpiece has one of the most quotable scripts and outstanding casts of all time. Bogart plays the cynical Rick, still in love with Ilsa, played by a beautiful Ingrid Bergman. She and husband, an important Czech freedom fighter, are in the North African city looking to escape the Nazi's. Claude Rains, Sidney Greenstreet, Peter Lorre - what could be better. "Round up the usual suspects."

2. Shadow of a Doubt - 1943

Joseph Cotten best career performance as Teresa Wright's uncle Charlie, the Merry Widow Murderer. He's on the run from police and looking for cover. He gives a chilling speech at dinner about "silly, useless wives," that waste money and are "horrible, faded, fat, greedy women." One of Hitchcock's best, it shows that evil can raise its ugly head anywhere, even in quaint, quiet towns like Santa Rosa.

3. Double Indemnity - 1944

Insurance agent Fred MacMurray is ensnared by Barbara Stanwyck, whose Phyllis Dietrichson is sexy and conniving and spots a sap when she sees one. She wants her husband dead and Walter Neff's just the man to do it. A clever script based on a Raymond Chandler novel, the film deserved its 7 Oscar nominations. Neff provides the voice-over. "Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money - and a woman - and I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it?" One of Billy Wilder's best.

4. Laura - 1946

Someone killed Laura Hunt and police detective Dana Andrews heads the investigation in one of director Otto Preminger's best. Along the way he falls in love with the dead woman's portrait. Clifton Webb plays a newspaper columnist and the girl's acerbic mentor, Waldo Lydecker. He received a well-deserved Oscar nomination for supporting actor. One of his best lines: "I don't use a pen. I write with a goose quill dipped in venom."

5. Notorious - 1946

Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman team up as U.S. agents in Buenos Aires to spy on a group Nazis. The plot involves uranium, but that's not important in this Hitchcock story of intrigue. One of Cary Grant's first serious roles, his performance is outstanding as a man who ignore his heart for his duty. In love with Ingrid, he nevertheless sends her into harms way. Claude Rains plays a seemingly respectable businessman, caught unawares by the woman he too, loves. It relies less on action than on the emotional and mental anguish the stars undergo. A brilliant film.     

6. Great Expectations - 1946

Pip, a poor orphan, has a mysterious benefactor who enables him to journey to London to become a gentleman. David Lean is known for directing some of the world's most successful epics: Bridge on the River Kwai, Lawrence of Arabia, Doctor Zhivago, etc. But it is his smaller, more intimate films from the 1940s that are my favorites. This film is the finest film adaptation of a Dickens' novel. Lean and his actors bring to life the book's memorable characters: the convict Magwich, the attorney Mr. Jaggers, and an old woman stuck in the past, Miss Havisham.

7. The Best Years of Our Lives - 1946

Belongs among the handful of greatest American films ever produced. William Wyler's masterpiece, it is as near a perfect film as you can get. Superior script, acting, and direction. No other "coming home" comes close to its realism and ability to affect the viewer as we follow three likable men home from WWII.  Several scenes stick with you: the emotional meeting between Dana Andrews and Best Actor winner, Fredric March, in Butch's Bar as March tells Andrews to leave his daughter alone (Teresa Wright); Andrews' father reading his son's medal citation; March coming home to surprise his wife (Myrna Loy); Andrews in the cockpit of an abandoned bomber. Wyler's other best of the decade were The Heiress and The Letter.

8. Black Narcissus - 1947

A group of nuns arrive at a convent high in the Himalayas, where the rarefied air does something to westerners. Deborah Kerr stars and her performance as Sister Clodah is terrific. She has her hands full with her own crisis of faith, and the odd behavior of her nuns, especially Sister Ruth, played chillingly by Kathleen Byron. One of directors Powell and Pressburger's impressive output in the decade, which included The Red Shoes, A Matter of Life and Death, I Know Where I'm Going, and Life and Death of Colonel Blimp. P&P films have luscious cinematography and highly interesting stories.

9. Out of the Past - 1947

Perhaps the definitive film noir. All the requisite components of the genre are here: lots of shadows and lighting; a story that you know will have a dark end for someone; a cynical hero in Robert Mitchum, an amoral detective who gets in way over his head; and a gorgeous femme fatale in Jane Greer, the woman who plays Mitchum like a sap. He knows it too, saying in one voice over, "How big a chump can you be? I was finding out." Kirk Douglas in an early role provides support.

10. The Third Man - 1949

Director Carol Reed's marvelous look at intrigue in post-war Vienna. Joseph Cotten is a down-and-out writer of pulp Westerns named Holly Martins. He's looking to land a job with his old friend, Harry Lime, but arrives too late, learning that Lime is dead, recently struck down by a hit-and-run driver. When accounts of the death don't quite agree, Martins gets suspicious and starts poking around, attracted in large part by Alida Valli, Lime's lover, Anna Schmidt. Vienna is not what it seems. The black market flourishes in the bombed-out streets and Lime's old friends, odd and mysterious, seem to be keeping a secret. This is one of the most atmospheric films ever made, infused with a bizarre zither music and some of the best black and white cinematography ever recorded. It contains one of film's most shocking appearances and a spectacular chase through the city's old sewers.

Just Missing:

The Treasure of Sierra Madre - 1948

She Wore a Yellow Ribbon - 1949

The Ox Bow Incident - 1943

The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp - 1943

Late Spring - 1949

Key Largo - 1948

Favorite Films of the 1950s

The 1950s was a spectacular decade of films. Here are ten of my favorites in chronological order. Maybe not the ten best of the decade, though some certainly are by most people's measure.

It marked the last decade for Bogart, who did some of his best work, and for Gary Cooper. Marlon Brando was at the top of his game, and it was perhaps the best decade for Westerns. Two make my list, but it was a rich genre. Cooper won his second Oscar with High Noon; Anthony Mann and Jimmy Stewart produced five terrific collaborations, including Winchester '73 and The Naked Spur; and Budd Boetticher and Randolph Scott combined for several classics.

Hitchcock continued his impressive run and peaked commercially in the decade with several classic suspense films. I include just one, and omit Strangers on a Train, Rear Window and North by Northwest.

Other directorial achievements of note included came from Nicholas Ray, Billy Wilder, and the great John Ford, but other fine films of theirs are omitted.

Foreign directors continued to make wonderful films, even if some weren't shown in America. I include just two here and must omit several worthy ones. De Sica's Umberto D is the best film to ever feature a dog, and Fellini made two poignant films with his wife, Giulietta Masina: La Strada and Nights of Cabiria. Jules Dassin's Rififi is a tight noir that paved the way for heist films, and Henri-Georges Clouzot gave us the Hitchcockian Diabolique and Wages of Fear.

1. In a Lonely Place 1950

Humphrey Bogart's best performance in Director Nicholas Ray's best film. Is he a murderer or not? Gloria Grahame plays his confused lover, trying to help him overcome his inner demons. From the pulp novel by Dorothy Hughes, it contains a memorable last scene. "I was born when she kissed me. I died when she left me. I lived a few weeks while she loved me."

2. Sunset Boulevard 1951

Billy Wilder's scathing look at Hollywood follows the weird affair of a has-been movie star, Norma Desmond (Gloria Swanson), with struggling writer Joe Gillis (William Holden). Swanson gives one of film's iconic performances. "Mr. DeMille. I'm ready for my closeup."

3. Tokyo Story 1953

The third of Director Yasujiro Ozo's "Noriko Trilogy," packs an emotional wallop. Setsuko Hara is the generous daughter-in-law in a family whose children are too busy to bother with its aging parents. Now considered on the short list of greatest films ever made, it was not released in the United States until 1972.

4. Shane 1953

One of the most authentic Westerns, it is George Stevens' best film and Alan Ladd's signature role as a retired gunfighter who helps farmer Joe Starett (Van Heflin) fight off cattlemen in a range war. Shot against the beautiful Grand Tetons it is Jean Arthur's last film and includes one menacing bad guy in Jack Palance as Jack Wilson.

5 On the Waterfront 1954

Marlon Brando as dock worker Terry Malloy comes up against the brutal union led by Lee J. Cobb. Brando won a well-deserved Best Actor Oscar in that year's Best Film. The most memorable scene takes place inside a taxi between brothers Brando and Rod Steiger. "I coulda been a contender."

6. The Searchers 1956

John Ford and John Wayne's best collaboration and cinematographer Winton Hoch's masterpiece. Inexplicably neglected at that year's Oscars, it is now on the short list of greatest Westerns. Wayne is a brutally racist Ethan Edwards out to rescue his abducted niece. A great final shot of Wayne in the doorway.

7. Sweet Smell of Success 1957

Easily Tony Curtis' best performance. He is Sidney Falco, a sleazy sycophantic press agent. Burt Lancaster plays the powerful columnist J.J. Hunsecker. Filmed in glorious black and white, New York City never looked more grittier. Ernest Lehman co-wrote the memorable script. "Match me, Sidney."

8. The Bridge on the River Kwai 1957

Director David Lean's first epic, and maybe his best. Alex Guinness gives his signature Oscar-winning performance as a rigid British colonel who helps the Japanese build a bridge. His counterpart is Sessue Hayakara as the Japanese colonel, facing Hari Kari if the bridge isn't completed on time. William Holden leads the commando raid to stop them. With a rousing climax, it deservedly captured that year's Best Film.

9. Vertigo 1958

Alfred Hitchcock's most complex film. Jimmy Stewart is a retired detective afraid of heights and obsessed with a dead woman. The twist, revealed mid-stream, is stunning the first time you see it. A magnificent score by Bernard Hermann, impeccable editing by George Tomasi, and a memorable title sequence by Saul Bass make it one of the most satisfying film experiences.

10. The Cranes are Flying

One of the first Russian films produced after the death of Stalin that deviated from the state's imposed mandate to champion Russia as a military victor, the film tells the story of a beautiful young couple separated by the war. Tatyana Samojlova, as Veronika, promises to wait for Boris, who finds himself on the Eastern front. The film depicts war as ugly and devastating and won that year's Golden Palm at the Cannes Film festival.

Just Misses:

Early Summer 1951 with Setuko Hara.

Moby Dick 1956 with Gregory Peck.

Touch of Evil 1958 with Orson Welles.

Room at the Top 1959 with Simone Signoret and Lawrence Harvey.