The Asphalt Jungle (1950) - John Huston

Doc is fresh out of the pen with a foolproof plan to knock off a jewelry store, one last big score before he retires to chase pretty girls in Mexico. He recruits a small group of low-life criminals to help with the job: Gus as driver; Louis to crack the safe; and Dix for muscle. With "the goods" secured, Doc and Dix make their rendezvous with Mr. Emmerich, the financier and fence, whose attempt to double-cross the thieves sends things spiraling out of control.

Director John Huston carved a sub-genre in noir with this stylistic and moody heist film. Often copied, no one has equaled it for its brilliant character development and ability to suck the viewer into the lives of bottom-rung criminals living on the dirty edge of post-war society. The film also exemplifies wonderfully well why black & white cinematography captured the mood of the genre in ways that color photography never could. The dark and shadowy scenes perfectly match the souls of the amoral characters here, and are analogous to the blanket of desperation that grips their lives.

We meet Dix (Sterling Hayden) first, slinking along in the early morning. The cops are looking for him, suspecting him of a nearby hold-up. Dix makes his way to Gus' diner (James Whitmore). Gus hides Dix' revolver in the cash register just before the officers arrive to take him in for questioning. We'll soon learn that Dix likes to play the horses--not well--as he'll return to Gus' to hit his friend up for a loan. At the station, Dix stands in a line-up. He has a long rap sheet. (Look for the middle suspect--a young, skinny Strother Martin in his first screen role.) Dix is released after a victim refuses to finger him as the perpetrator.

Dix hides to elude the police.

Next, we meet Doc Riedenschneider (Sam Jaffe), just out of seven years in prison. He comes to Cobby (Marc Lawrence), a smarmy bookie who has connections. Doc asks him to arrange a meeting with Mr. Emmerich, an attorney who'll finance Doc's caper. Dix arrives to place a bet, and while there, takes offense at something Coffy says and storms out; but in the process, leaves Doc impressed that here might be a man he can count on in a pinch. Later that night, Cobby and Doc visit Emmerich (Louis Calhern). They don't know it, but Emmerich is broke. Unable to support his lavish life style, he sees Doc's plan as a way to get out from under. Emmerich agrees to put up $50,000 so Doc can hire help. He also offers to fence the stolen goods, thereby increasing the overall take for all of them, estimated at upwards of $1 million.

Calhern is perfect as a man who hides behind a facade of wealth. Ostensibly calm, he is a practiced liar, devious, and as desperate as the thieves. In one scene, he confesses his plight to an associate, wringing his hands across his face in anguish. Emmerich has the film's best line. Talking with his bed-ridden wife, he calms her fears about the awful people he comes in contact with. "Oh, there's nothing so different about them," he says. "After all, crime is only... a left-handed form of human endeavor."

As the other two men leave, Emmerich steps into the adjoining room and we discover the cause for the man's financial straights. He leans over his mistress, Angela (Marilyn Monroe), dosing on the couch. A girl like that costs a lot of money to keep happy. Monroe, just 24 here, had appeared on screen before, but this surely was the start of her rocketing to fame as a sex-symbol. She looks like a girl used to getting what she wants, and knowing how to string along a sugar daddy. She only gets two scenes in the film, but they do the trick. Alluring and sensual, she is surprisingly thin and quite lovely. She'll look even better later in an off-the-shoulder black number. Emmerich's expression says it all. All he can do is utter "some sweet kid."

Dix receives a visitor at his simple apartment, Doll, played by Jean Hagen. Hagen gives a fine performance, the best in the film. Doll needs a place to stay for a few days; because the cops raided her place of employment, a clip joint, she's missed payday. Dix and Doll's relationship is the most interesting in the film. We can infer from their conversations they have a history. Perhaps once lovers, they at least seem kindred spirits, similarly downtrodden and unable to catch a break. Like all the characters in this dark story, they clearly haven't made the best choices in life. Still, you sort of feel sorry for both.

Dix either isn't able to express his feelings or doesn't want to. When she asks to spend the night, he says sure, "just don't get any ideas." Still, a smile creased his lips when he saw who'd come to call, and her face lights up expectantly later when he calls her on the stairs as she's leaving the next day. By her gaze, you know she has feelings for him. Like the men in the story, she seems scarred by life, trapped in a dead-end existence. The way she watches him finish his drink, you wonder if she's also an alcoholic.

Hayden as Dix and Hagen as Doll.

By now all the principals have been introduced, and we already know everything we need about the men in a few short scenes. Huston and collaborator Ben Maddow knew how flesh out their characters with little dialog. The script is highly entertaining, filled with clever slang and the nomenclature of the criminal underworld. Doc calls a safe cracker, a "boxman," and when Cobby insults Dix, Dix reacts angrily: "Don't bone me!"

In the asphalt jungle, no one is clean. A corrupt police lieutenant, Ditrich, who's earlier been read the riot act by the police commissioner for losing tract of Doc after his release from prison, interrupts Doc and Cobby in Cobby's office. He's obviously taking money under the table from Cobby. When he realizes who's sitting there, he leaves without speaking.

Doc: That copper, he recognized me.
Cobby: How'd you know he was a copper?
Doc: I can smell one a block off.
Cobby: Oh, don't worry about Ditrich. He's on my payroll. Practically a partner. Me and him, we're like that. [Cobby holds up his index and middle finger]
Doc: Experience has taught me never to trust a policeman. Just when you think one's all right, he turns legit.

A heavy sense of dread permeates the film, the end preordained. Capers like this never end well. The script portends the unrealized hopes for two of the gang. Besides Doc's wish to make Mexico afterwards, Dix laments to Doll about the loss of his family's horse farm, an incident from his youth that has left him deeply scarred. One big score will enable him to buy it back, and the first thing he'll do is "jump in the creek and wash off the dirt of the city." Louis echos the thought that urban life in the post-war city is filthy. Upset that his new son is sick because his wife takes him out in the morning for fresh air, he says it's too cold and barks, "there's no fresh air in this city!"

Doc goes over the plan with his men.

In a wise decision, director Huston doesn't linger on the actual robbery--it's not really the point of the film. It starts off like clockwork, but soon begins to unravel. A night watchman enters the scene. Dix wrestles the man, who drops his weapon. It goes off and Louis is fatally wounded in the stomach. With loot in hand, the robbers disperse. Doc and Dix meet Emmerich to make the exchange, but the shady lawyer doesn't have the promised cash. Doc rejects his offer to stash the jewels there, a decision that doesn't sit well with Emmerich's hired thug.

The end comes as expected, with all the bad guys paying a price for their crime. Cobby proves to be the gang's weak link, confessing under police pressure. As the cops close in, Emmerich isn't man enough to face the music. He at least lets Angela off the hook. His alibi, he tells her to "just tell the truth, baby." The old sap actually loves her.

Doc and Dix split up. Doc looks on his way to safety with the jewels sewn inside his coat, but is waylaid as he stops at a diner where he sits enchanted as a young girl jitterbugs to a juke box. Huston pushes the censor envelope with Jaffe's lecherous look. The best camera shot in the film occurs here, the lens following the girl as she moves to the window, slapping hands and twisting hips. She moves away and we glimpse two cops in the shadows, standing outside looking in.

Doc's vice.

Capturing the mastermind.

The film ends as it began, with Dix. He and Doll escape toward Kentucky. Shot in the side from his encounter at Emmerich's, he's hallucinating from loss of blood and barely conscious. Doll stops at a doctor who proclaims that he won't get far: "He hasn't got enough blood left in him to keep a chicken alive." Somehow they manage to cross the Ohio River and arrive at the old family farm. Dix staggers into the field of bluegrass and collapses as a colt comes to nuzzle his face. Home at last.

Dix makes it home.

The story is based on a novel by W.R. Burnett, who also authored Little Caesar (1931) and High Sierra (1941), two other crime dramas brought successfully to the screen. He also wrote the screenplay for The Great Escape (1963).  Harold Rossen handled the cinematography, so central to the mood of the film. He received an Oscar nomination for his efforts. For his career, Rossen was a five-time nominee.

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.

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)

Moby Dick (1956) - John Huston

"Call me, Ishmael." It's one of the most recognized openings of any great American novel. Director John Huston begins his film adaptation of Herman Melville's Moby Dick the same way. Narrated by Richard Basehart, who plays the young whaler, the film focuses on the adventurous pursuit of the elusive white sperm whale by an obsessed Captain Ahab (Gregory Peck) without delving too deeply into the symbolism of the book, nor the incredibly detailed aspect of the whale harvesting it portrays. It was a good decision, as the novel is heavy with complex metaphor and themes: man's place in the universe, good versus evil, the existence of god. (Writer Ray Bradbury deserves credit for editing the dense novel into a movie script.) Besides, there is adventure enough to excite any viewer.

Restless and bored with living on land, Ishmael feels drawn to the sea. The film follows him as he first encounters Queequeg, a cannibal and harpooner, in New Bedford at the Spouter Inn. They become friends and join the crew of the Pequod, a whaler whose captain is the mysterious and obsessed Ahab. The crew doesn't know it yet, but Ahab seeks revenge against Moby Dick, a great white sperm whale who has bit off Ahab's leg. The film follows the pursuit to its fateful conclusion, slightly altering Ahab's death for the better, and includes all of the most memorable scenes from the novel: Ishmael and Queequeg's first meeting, Father Mapples' rousing sermon, the strange Elijah's warning on the dock, sailing around Cape Hope in a typhoon, Queequeg's reading his future by tossing bones, spirited whale chases in longboats, and the final confrontation between man and beast.

The Pequod slips out of New Bedford Harbor.

You get a wonderful feel for a sailor's life aboard a 19th century whaler. It is hard, dirty, dangerous work for hard men. When they spot a whale and lower the boats, the crew haul hard on the oars until they are close enough for the harpooners to strike with their lances. Then the race is on, with the behemoths dragging the boats behind them, sometimes tossing the crew overboard. It is fast and furious, and Huston captures the action and the immensity of the ocean magnificently. The typhoon sequence is wonderfully intense and dramatic, leaving the viewer to wonder how men actually withstood such peril. It is one of the best such sequences in the history of film.

To give the action a contemporary look for the period, Huston and cinematographer Oswald Morris created a unique desaturated subdued pastel effect on the film stock. It works. At times it seems as if you are watching an old documentary, or looking over tintype or daguerreotype photos.

Peck, just 38 at filming, is unfairly criticized for his role. Some say he was miscast, others that he was too young. But he captures the madness of Ahab perfectly, using his deep voice to perfection. When this Ahab raises a wild eye brow and scowls at his crew as he begins to speak in the novel's signature prose, urging them onto the quest, you understand the character's magnetism and get a clear glimpse at his self-destructive maniacal nature. It takes a while for Ishmael to see the man for what he is. In one voice over he explains: "He did not feel the wind, or smell the salt air. He only stood, staring at the horizon, with the marks of some inner crucifixion and woe deep in his face."

First mate Starbuck (Leo Glenn) sees the danger in Ahab before any of the others, and in one passage touches on the novel's religious theme. He expresses his worry to two others:

Starbuck to Stubb and Flask: "It is an evil voyage, I tell thee. If Ahab has his way, neither thee nor me, nor any member of this ship's company will ever see home again."

Stubb: "Aw, come on, Mr. Starbuck, you're just plain gloomy. Moby Dick may be big, but he ain't THAT big."

Starbuck: "I do not fear Moby Dick - I fear the wrath of God."

In addition to Peck, the rest of the cast is just as effective, though Basehart is clearly too old for his role. Ishmael should be in his early 20's. Basehart was 41. It seems a strange choice, though perhaps Huston was impressed with his work in the acclaimed film, La Strada, two years earlier. Orson Welles is magnificent in a brief appearance as Father Mapples, as is Royal Dana as Elijah, whose prophecy on the dock should have warned Ishmael to find another boat.

"A day will come at sea when you'll smell land and there'll be no land, and on that day, Ahab will go to his grave, but he'll rise again, and beckon, and all save one shall follow".

Huston fills the film with little memorable touches: the camera pans across the church walls prior to Mapple's grim sermon to reveal the names of all the New Bedford men who have been lost at sea; Queequeg's face is heavily tattooed; and he changes the novel's ending to have Ahab's corpse beckon to the crew to continue the hunt. The captain has drowned and is lashed to Moby Dick's side by harpoon ropes. As the whale plows through the waves, Ahab's one loose arm flaps and appears to be calling the survivors onward. If some traditionalists decry a novel's alteration, this is one case where dramatic license improved the story.     

New York Times film critic Bosley Crowther called the film "one of the great motion pictures of our times," and lauded its "lean and violent drama."  It is Huston's most ambitious work. For his effort, the New York Film Critics named him Best Director of 1956.

Queequeg goes into a trance after reading his future in bones.

The special effects are wonderful considering the film was made in the mid-1950s. Moby Dick looks ferocious and real for the most part, even if at times it's clears that the boats are models. The musical score swells appropriately when he snaps the boats in half, sending the crews into the water where his massive tail crushes them beneath its weight.

The film ends as the novel does, with the lone survivor, Ishmael, floating half-dead on Queequeg's coffin, lamenting that he alone lives to tell the tale.

Peck as Ahab, waiting for his foe to rise.

Beat the Devil (1953) - John Huston



The film opens with the camera looking down on a hot plaza in a coastal Italian village. Police lead four disheveled prisoners to the military beat of the town band: Peterson (Robert Morely), O'Hara (Peter Lorre), and two companions to an uncertain fate. Humphrey Bogart's voice explains that this is the inglorious end of the seedy characters. From there, the story is told in flashback. We soon learn that Bogart was in league with these men (international criminals intent on swindling their way to riches), to secure uranium rich land in Africa. They are a motley crew, not nearly as clever they think themselves to be, but ruthless. Bogart plays Billy Dannreuther, a sort of advance man. He doesn't particularly like or trust his associates, who have killed a British official back in London, and they return the favor, suspecting he is merely out for himself. Dannreuther is married to Maria (Gina Lollobrigida). While awaiting for the steamer to leave they meet another couple on vacation, the Chelms (Edward Underdown and Jennifer Jones), who soon complicate matters, Harry by being insufferably British (he travels with his hot water bottle), and Gwendolen by seemingly falling in love with Dannreuther.

Who's playing who?

If a slightly odd film, it is also a fun one. Legend has it that director John Huston and cast somewhat flew by the seat of their pants, sometimes relying on ad libs and daily re-writes. At times it appears they are all on vacation. In any case, it was a fine formula for producing a superb tongue-in-cheek spoof of the caper genre. From the outset, you know the scheme will go a cropper somewhere along the way. The fun is watching how. Huston, with writer Truman Capote's help, created an intriguing cast of characters. None are particularly steeped in morals, though Bogart comes closest. Looking all his 53 years, he is alternating charming and devious. One can't quite tell if he is serious about leaving his wife for Mrs. Chelm, or just playing her along. As for Mrs. Chelm, her motives are similarly hard to decipher. She appears a little ditsy. At one point Bogart says she relies more on her imagination than her memory.  



Jennifer Jones and Gina Lollobrigida on the beach.

There are some quite funny scenes, one with Bogart and Morley chasing a runaway cab down a mountain road, neither man fit for the effort, and another on the beach in Africa when Morely and his companions scramble to hide their passports in the sand, in hopes of keeping their identity secret. When later questioned, they profess to be vacuum cleaner salesmen. There is also a nice sequence with Lorre and Bogart, old co-stars in several films who always played well of each other. There is a nostalgia about the scene. As O'Hara, Lorre is sent to divert Billy with idle conversation while Peterson tries to find out if the Chelms are onto the uranium deal. Lorre beats around the bush, going on and on about trust and confidence, not coming to any point. Sneaking a peek out the window, he notices that Peterson is finished and abruptly stands up, starts to back out through the door, turns and scurries down the hallway without finishing what he was saying.   

And there is some clever dialog. Lorre has the best line: "Time. Time. What is time? Swiss manufacture it. French hoard it. Italians squander it. Americans say it is money. Hindus say it does not exist. Do you know what I say? I say time is a crook."

Jones doesn't like Peterson and his crew, warning her husband to be wary:

Gwendolyn Chelm: "Harry, we must beware of these men. They are desperate characters."
Harry Chelm: "What makes you say that?"
Gwendolyn Chelm: "Not one of them looked at my legs!"

Jennifer Jones is lovely as a blond and gives a terrific comedic performance. She was just 34 at the time. And it is easy to understand why Lollobrigida was considered such an international sex symbol. This is a 1950s bombshell. All of the characters are a little shallow; still, it stretches belief that someone with her beauty would be with Bogart's character. Currently down on his luck, Billy once owned a large villa in the town and employed a chauffeur; he apparently is a man who wins and loses large sums of money. Mostly, he keeps his wife comfortably in money, but surely any number of men would do the same. 

It is essentially a film in two parts, the first taking place in the port town and the second on board the steamer and in Africa where they encounter an Arab leader and his army. Lollobrigida steps out of a raft and walks up the beach in high heels (they have evacuated the steamer thinking it was about to sink). The first half is the better portion.    

What Makes Beat the Devil Special:

Besides the enjoyable script, the mood of the film is one of its best features. You are never certain who is double-crossing who. The four criminals are a ridiculous looking band: one tall and fat, one short and wiry, one pencil thin, and one short and round. They are never in control of things, and while they stumble confused through the story, their secret conversations would lead you to believe they are highly competent intriguers. Morely, the group's leader, has a wonderful doughy face and his occasional looks of incredulity are perfect.     

Inside Story:

This is the fifth and last film that paired Bogart with Lorre. The other four were, The Maltese Falcon (1941), All Through the Night (1941), Casablanca (1942), and Passage to Marseilles (1944). 

Prints of the film have not aged particularly well, which is a shame. The main location, Ravello, Italy, would look enchanting. The cinematographer was Oswald Morris, whose other credits include Fiddler on the Roof (1971), for which he won an Oscar, Oliver (1968), for which he was nominated, and Huston's own Moby Dick (1956) and Heaven Knows Mr. Allison (1957).