KEY LARGO (1948)

Warner Bros., 100m 24s

It is always a pleasure to revisit KEY LARGO, one of the finest Warner Bros. products of the classic studio system era. Every time I watch it, I admire it a little more. Though not an overtly noir production in terms of visual style, its character types and situations reflect a society still coping with the aftermath of prohibition and war, which neatly positions the film in the noir universe from a narrative sense. Dramatic events of the past almost always give shape to the film noir.

"Frank McCloud, no address."

Set in the upper Florida Keys, an unlikely area for a noir story to unfold, KEY LARGO presents a group of disparate people struggling to find themselves after World War II. The drama occurs at and around a hotel owned by James Temple (Lionel Barrymore with pants under armpits), who is confined to a wheelchair more often than not. He lives at the hotel with his jaw-droppingly beautiful daughter-in-law Nora Temple (Lauren Bacall), the widow of the elder Temple's son George, who was killed overseas. Dropped off by bus is visitor Frank McCloud (Humphrey Bogart), who served as George's commanding officer in Italy. The war took a lot out McCloud, maybe everything. Despite an American victory, he has been converted into a defeated character, an itinerant job-hopper since the war ended. Nothing sticks to McCloud, who may have landed in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not only is a hurricane approaching, but an unsavory group of mugs led by exiled mobster Johnny Rocco (Edward G. Robinson) have rented the entire Temple hotel for one week under the pretense of a deep-sea fishing trip. Rocco's cohorts include Richard "Curly" Hoff (Thomas Gomez, RIDE THE PINK HORSE [1947], FORCE OF EVIL [1948]), Edward "Toots" Bass (Harry Lewis, THE UNSUSPECTED [1947], GUN CRAZY [1950]), Angel Garcia (Dan Seymour, THE BIG HEAT [1953]) and the gangster moll Gaye Dawn (Claire Trevor, MURDER, MY SWEET [1944], BORN TO KILL [1947]). In a related plot thread, the local sheriff Ben Wade (Monte Blue) and his deputy Clyde Sawyer (John Rodney) are looking for two Native Americans who escaped from jail:  John Osceola (Rodd Redwing) and Tom Osceola (Jay Silverheels). The Osceola brothers trust Mr. Temple, who truly wants to assist them. The boys get no help from the egocentric Rocco, though, who is loyal to nobody, not even his old crime buddy Ziggy (Marc Lawrence in a hilarious turn).

"There's only one Johnny."

The role of the cigar-chomping gangster figure Rocco points to one of the major differences between the noir film of the late 1940s and the gangster film popularized in the 1930s. One of the last of a dying breed, Rocco is set up as McCloud's double, each man with no clear role in post-WWII, post-prohibition society. Despite his lack of place, the arrogance of the gangster persists. In a memorable moment, Rocco cannot stop talking about himself long enough to get a complete shave. However, other folks do not share the gangster's high opinion of himself. Though he is unable to mount much of a challenge, Mr. Temple is the most outspoken about the "filth" Rocco represents. Temple embodies a familiar noir staple:  the crippled man whose ideals are undone by physical limitations. McCloud suggests Rocco turn his gun on the hurricane in a pointless gesture that only would underscore the gangster’s loss of power since the time of prohibition. Interestingly, Rocco is in the process of making his comeback as a counterfeiter; he literally cannot make money any of the old-fashioned ways (alcohol, slots, etc.).

Both Bogart and Robinson appeared as arch criminals in plenty of gangster films for Warner throughout the prior decade, so there is an obvious irony at work when Robinson's character is at odds with the man Bogart portrays. It seems McCloud would rather live a coward than die a hero when he admits, "One Rocco more or less isn't worth dying for." But McCloud ejects from self-preservation mode when he instinctively shows compassion for the embarrassing drunkard Dawn at her most humiliated. In the film's dramatic turning point, Nora reacts to the moral worth of McCloud; her gaze at him completely altered from that point on.

Mirrors suggest layered personalities in the film noir

KEY LARGO was the fourth collaboration between director John Huston and Bogart, who had combined previously on THE MALTESE FALCON (1941), ACROSS THE PACIFIC (1942), and THE TREASURE OF THE SIERRA MADRE (1948). Maxwell Anderson's 1939 play, in which Paul Muni played McCloud, was adapted for the screen by Huston and Richard Brooks (BRUTE FORCE [1947], CROSSFIRE [1947], MYSTERY STREET [1950]). The dialogue is terrific and eminently quotable, especially when Rocco dominates the scene, as when he condemns the people he propped up who ultimately deported him, or when he lectures Dawn about her excessive drinking. Rocco's unfailing disregard for others allows for the redemption of some of the film's flawed characters and implies a second chance for the downtrodden.

Some location footage from the Florida Keys is featured, but cinematographer Karl Freund (METROPOLIS [1927], DRACULA [1931]) worked mostly within Warner sound stages (what a time traveling treat it would be to visit them!). In what makes for a superbly noir environment, the heat of the off season locale is noticeable on the sweaty faces of characters. The well-staged hurricane, a compilation of stock footage from NIGHT UNTO NIGHT (1949), injects more chaos into an already unstable situation. The editing by Rudi Fehr (POSSESSED [1947], THE DAMNED DON'T CRY [1950]) is skillful, particularly during the sequence when Rocco gives McCloud a gun and taunts him. As usual, the score by Max Steiner is overbearing at times. Great performances abound, especially by Robinson and Trevor, who won an Oscar for Best Supporting Actress. Bogart offers one of his most subtle performances as the disillusioned veteran McCloud.

Warner Blu-ray

Warner DVD

The Warner Archive Collection dual-layered Blu-ray version of KEY LARGO boasts a magnificent transfer, framed at the correct theatrical aspect ratio of 1.37:1 (the DVD version released in 2000 compressed the image to 1.33:1). The lack of supplemental material other than a trailer (2m 24s) is odd considering the revered status of this beloved black & white classic. Despite the absence of bonus features, this is a nice upgrade for owners of the DVD, no doubt about it.

IN A LONELY PLACE (1950)

Columbia Pictures Corporation, 93m 36s

"I was born when she kissed me. I died when she left me. I lived a few weeks while she loved me."

The year 1950 saw the release of SUNSET BOULEVARD, arguably the finest film noir to focus on a has-been, and NIGHT AND THE CITY, perhaps the best to zero-in on a never-was. Of at least equal importance was director Nicholas Ray's IN A LONELY PLACE, in which Humphrey Bogart's Dixon Steele embodies the has-been from a professional standpoint and the never-was in terms of his private life. Even in the downbeat film noir mix, IN A LONELY PLACE occupies special status when it comes to "feel bad" movies. It is one of the most tragic of all doomed love stories.

By the age of 50, a lot of living had been etched into the face of Humphrey DeForest Bogart. After serving in the U.S. Navy, the WWI veteran worked on Broadway shows in the 1920s and 1930s. He found some success on the screen with his role in THE PETRIFIED FOREST (1936), which resulted in a contract with Warner Bros. He would specialize in supporting roles as gangsters from 1936 to 1940, but ascended to tier-one status in 1941 with HIGH SIERRA and THE MALTESE FALCON. The following year, he would be nominated for an Oscar for his iconic performance in CASABLANCA, ranked #2 on the American Film Institute's list of the 100 finest American films of all time that was published in 1998. Bogart married Lauren Bacall in 1945, a woman 25 years younger than he was. The marriage was famously happy, though not without issues. One point of contention was Bogart's addiction to alcohol; the heavy smoker and drinker was the original ringleader of the Hollywood Rat Pack. In the fall of 1947, the liberal Democrat Bogart and his wife helped form the action group Committee for the First Amendment in protest of the House Un-American Activities Committee hearings. The oft-cited quote from IN A LONELY PLACE at the beginning of this review takes on added significance with historical perspective:  Bogart was only 57 when he died, and his widow would live another 57 years after his death.

It comes without surprise, given the above footnotes, that numerous Bogart biographers have noted strong similarities between Bogart and Steele. That Bogart's own Santana Pictures Corporation produced IN A LONELY PLACE speaks to the actor’s personal connection to the character he portrayed. A Hollywood screenwriter by trade, Dixon Steele is a man with proven talent but a notoriously quick temper. He has fallen on hard times; his last project did not exactly pack 'em through the turnstiles. Though it has been a while since his last box office hit, his affable agent Mel Lippman (Art Smith, blacklisted after director Elia Kazan named him) has an adaptation project in mind for Steele, who openly detests the debasement of film artistry into popcorn-selling entertainment. Thinking he is being commissioned to continue that lamentable trend, Steele does not approach the adaptation prospect with alacrity. So sure is Steele the book “Althea Bruce” is trash he recruits pleasant but dimwitted checkroom attendant Mildred Atkinson (Martha Stewart) to relate her interpretation of the novel suggested by the agent Lippman.

Steele is in the wrong place (his own apartment!) at the wrong time when various warning signals go off (the mature man seen escorting a much younger woman, his failure to ensure she gets home without issue, her repeated cries for "help" while acting out the novel). As the fatalistic noir world would have it, Atkinson is murdered, found having been discarded from a moving vehicle. Captain Lochner (Carl Benton Reid) believes he has a viable suspect in Steele, who is unconcerned with disentangling himself from the police department's murder investigation. Steele's stoic calm is beyond belief ("...that is unless you plan to arrest me for lack of emotion."). Lochner later asserts, "He's hiding something, and I doubt if it's the proverbial heart of gold." Steele's new neighbor and B-movie actress Laurel Gray (Gloria Grahame, director Ray's wife at the time of filming) becomes his alibi, while openly professing her fondness for the rugged countenance of Steele.

Though the viewer is left without sufficient cause to be as suspicious of Steele as Lochner, IN A LONELY PLACE is consistent in its suggestion that Steele easily could have killed Atkinson during any number of his outbursts. Like so many flawed noir protagonists, his past transgressions have a way of clinging to his present life. At first those who irritate Steele seem rather deserving of his preferred form of conflict resolution (his fists, your face). At the outset, there is an angry husband (Charles Cane) who gutlessly flees the scene when Steele shows he is unimpressed with the man's tough talk, and soon afterward Steele defends perpetually inebriated "thespian" Charlie Waterman (Robert Warwick) after an arrogant filmmaker (Lewis Howard) insults the hopelessly washed-up actor. But as the narrative progresses, it becomes more and more difficult to excuse Steele's endless hostilities. In one of his most startling displays of uncontrolled emotion, Steele grabs a rock and is about to cave in the head of a young man (Don Hamin) whose only offense was to express anger that Steele's reckless driving ruined a fresh paintjob. Gray's plea is all that stops Steele from killing. He sometimes attempts to atone for his bad behavior, but his paranoid sensibility persistently betrays his more admirable qualities. In a cringe-worthy moment, Steele strikes the milquetoast Lippman, as harmless a person as one could meet. Tension mounts as Gray understandably becomes increasingly concerned about Steele's potential to explode without thinking. As erratic a personality as Steele is at the film's exposition, he is a far lesser man at the conclusion, when it becomes evident there is a price for treating everyone with disdain. In THE MALTESE FALCON, Bogart's Samuel Spade cannot help but laugh to himself a little when he notices his hand shaking after an episode of merely acting volatile. In the final act of IN A LONELY PLACE, his Steele character's shaking hand reflects an inability to maintain his composure. Without question, the neurotic Steele character anticipates Bogart's disturbed Lieutenant Commander Philip Francis Queeg, whose headaches only get worse in THE CAINE MUTINY (1954).

Among the most familiar of noir tropes that energize IN A LONELY PLACE is the soldier's struggle to adapt to a post-WWII society. Detective Nicolai (Frank Lovejoy) remembers Steele as his commanding officer during the war, a time when "…he was a good officer and his men liked him.” Tellingly, the easily riled Steele has not had a commercial hit since before WWII. In one sense a study of a veteran's alienation, in another the film serves as an indictment of a parasitic Hollywood studio system that requires dangerous personalities like Steele to function. The writer's capacity to create is the film title's "lonely place," a mental dungeon confined deep within Hollywood, which makes this film perhaps the darkest of all things film noir. For Steele, the development of fiction for public consumption comes at the expense of a productive personal life. The mutual exclusivity that keeps professional and private life separate is perceptible when Steele declares his love to Gray in a moment that sounds more scripted than heartfelt. Fictitious violence and actual violence converge when Steele gleefully encourages his old Army buddy Nicolai to choke his wife Sylvia (Jeff Donnell) in a reenactment of murder. Very quickly, fiction creeps into reality and causes intense discomfort, while the lighting of Bogart accents the severity of his disturbed state. The implication is any scenarist skilled in the art of depicting murder would have to have devoted plenty of serious thought to the subject. “I’ve killed dozens of people, in pictures,” says Steele. Detective Nicolai confesses to learning more about crime investigation from Steele than from conventional police procedure. Steele even advises the authorities to "…look for a man like me…" and his instincts about Henry Kesler (Jack Reynolds) are legit. Indeed a similar personality to Steele, Kesler is defeated by his own jealous rage.

Female archetypes inform the storyline, but IN A LONELY PLACE does not employ a femme fatale figure. In an interesting case of unintended intertextuality, at the police station Gray is informed there is no more coffee, an announcement that Grahame's character from THE BIG HEAT (1953) surely would have welcomed. Gray is introduced as a momentary distraction between Steele and Atkinson, but the murder of Atkinson perversely leads to a romantic relationship between Steele and Gray that only seems appropriate within the context of the film noir. When it is conveyed Gray can see into Steele's apartment but he cannot see into hers, it would appear an inference could be made that Gray is a woman of mystery, possibly dangerous, but in fact Steele is the enigma. Is it the romance with Gray that has reignited his screenwriting proficiency, or was it the death of Atkinson? It seems both women play necessary roles. In true film noir form, Steele, Gray and Atkinson all become worse off for having met. Prior to encounters with those women, Steele once was involved in a domestic abuse case that left past lover Frances Randolph (Alix Talton) with a broken nose. Only the married woman Sylvia Nicolai senses the danger of Steele quickly.

With each viewing of IN A LONELY PLACE, I become more convinced this is one of Bogart's best performances. Like Captain Lochner, I initially had a hard time getting past the cynical side of Steele, hardly the most likable of men portrayed by Bogart. But today I connect more with the sadness of Steele, his vulnerability, his isolation and his bitter resentment of a studio system that works best with escapist entertainment meant to appeal to everyone. Essentially the same theme that pits art against entertainment accents the same year's NIGHT AND THE CITY, but the difference is the featured protagonist of that film only pretends to care about art insofar as he might profit from it. Steele undyingly believes in the importance of substance over style. Never does IN A LONELY PLACE venture onto the grounds of a studio, as if to emphasize Steele's distance from everything a studio represents. His principles ultimately may put an end to his quasi blacklisting, but only at the cost of any foreseeable future with Gray, or anybody else for that matter. Without realizing how correct he is, Lippman nails it when he says, "If Dix has success he doesn't need anything else." No doubt Steele would have empathized with SUNSET BOULEVARD's Norma Desmond.

Director Ray was the ideal attachment to Bogart's turn as Steele. After working with Ray on KNOCK ON ANY DOOR (1949), Bogart called upon him to helm IN A LONELY PLACE. Ironically, Ray's marriage to Grahame was ending at the time IN A LONELY PLACE was being filmed. One wonders how much of the film's dark tone can be attributed to the fact Ray was directing his soon-to-be ex. The following year, Ray would direct ON DANGEROUS GROUND (1951), again with a volatile personality front and center, this time Robert Ryan as Jim Wilson. Future Ray protagonists would struggle mightily to keep it together, i.e. Jim Stark (James Dean) in REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE (1955) and Ed Avery (James Mason) in BIGGER THAN LIFE (1956).

Though not a box office smash during its original theatrical run, IN A LONELY PLACE always has been well regarded by film critics. This new 2K digital restoration from The Criterion Collection was generated from a new 35mm fine grain master positive and pleases the eye. Framed at the original theatrical scope of 1.33:1, the Blu-ray version is an obvious must-buy for any self-respecting noir aficionado. The audio commentary track features film scholar Dana Polan, professor of cinema studies at New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts and author of IN A LONELY PLACE (BFI Film Classics, 1993). Recorded in 2015 for The Criterion Collection, Polan eschews the typical biographical information in favor of incredibly in-depth analysis. He builds a steady case for the film as an exercise in surveillance, especially in terms of the Steele character being monitored. People watch him, investigate him, try to get the upper hand. Polan also discusses the film as a woman's picture, with the Gray character's fears and anxieties of primary importance.

Criterion Collection Blu-ray

Sony DVD

Supplemental material continues with I'M A STRANGER HERE MYSELF:  A PORTRAIT OF NICHOLAS RAY (1975), a condensed version (40m 33s) of the documentary feature devoted to the filmmaker at work on WE CAN'T GO HOME AGAIN (1973). Named after the working title of every Ray film, I'M A STRANGER HERE MYSELF reviews Ray's emergence in the NY theater arena, where he was heavily influenced by Elia Kazan and John Houseman. Discouraged by studio meddling and in poor health, Ray was mostly absent from the movie world from the mid 1960s through the early 1970s. The director's passion for his art is apparent during a heated discussion between Ray and actress Leslie Levinson. Ray frequently spoke with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, as Bogart often did. The director confirms he had filmed an alternate ending to IN A LONELY PLACE in which Steele finishes his screenplay in the same breath as his murder of Gray, but the conclusion of the film that printed was improvised.

Also unique to this Criterion edition is an interview (16m 40s) with Gloria Grahame Hallward biographer Vincent Curcio, author of SUICIDE BLONDE: THE LIFE OF GLORIA GRAHAME (1989). It was Grahame's breakthrough performance in IN A LONELY PLACE that led to roles in other major productions, i.e. SUDDEN FEAR (1952), THE BAD AND THE BEAUTIFUL (1952), THE BIG HEAT. Curcio contends Grahame handled the publicity element of her career well, despite her rocky marriages. While married to Nicholas Ray, Grahame was forced to foot the bill for her husband's addiction to gambling, alcohol and drugs. Whatever the couple had together disintegrated when Grahame began an affair with Ray's son Anthony, who was just 13 at the time! Amazingly, that news item was kept from the public. Like Bogart, sadly Grahame would reach only 57 years or age.

Ported from the DVD released through Sony Pictures Home Entertainment in 2003 is the excellent featurette "IN A LONELY PLACE:  Revisited" (20m 23s) with filmmaker Curtis Hanson (L.A. CONFIDENTIAL), who reveals some of the profound differences between the source material and film as engineered by screenwriter Andrew Solt and Ray, who in essence do the same thing to the original novel by Dorothy B. Hughes that Steele does with his source material:  create a work of art that stands on its own, with only a tangential connection to the original material, which in the Hughes novel involved a psychosexual killer. In light of the powerful film that was crafted, IN A LONELY PLACE is one of many great films that emerged despite, or perhaps because of, the stifling production code that self-policed Hollywood content.

In her booklet essay, critic Imogen Sara Smith makes a very good point that director of photography Burnett Guffey (THE RECKLESS MOMENT [1949], NIGHTFALL [1957]) favors shades of gray over the sort of high contrast compositions often associated with film noir. Indeed the film devotes a lot of time to gray areas, despite an outcome that is purely black and white.

Also of interest is a radio adaptation (59m 56s) of the original Dorothy B. Hughes novel that originally aired March 6^th, 1948 as episode #287 of the CBS radio series SUSPENSE. The program features the voice of Robert Montgomery (RIDE THE PINK HORSE [1947]) and differs radically from the famous film that would follow. Also selectable is a theatrical trailer (2m 27s).

WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS (1950)

Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation, 94m 49s

Set in nonaffluent sections of New York City, producer/director Otto Preminger's WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS opens with an emphasis on the city streets and the characters who navigate them. Like the Western's frontier, the film noir city often becomes something of a character, one with its profound influence on everybody who inhabits it. This particular city's featured noir protagonist is Mark Dixon (Dana Andrews), an experienced detective who perhaps brings a little too much passion to his work. In fact, a dozen citizens have registered formal complaints against Dixon recently. Inspector Nicholas Foley (Robert F. Simon) lectures Dixon about the rogue detective’s penchant for beating up thugs. Foley reduces Dixon to second-grade status in the hope the volatile cop will mend his ways. Another potential level of stress for Dixon is introduced before the demotion, when Foley announces all cops now answer to Lieutenant Thomas (Karl Malden). While he points to the leadership Thomas will provide, Foley looks upon Dixon with obvious disdain.

A serious man

The uniquely urban storyline is rooted in a floating craps operation gone wrong. Mr. Morrison (Harry von Zell) tries to slither out of the illegal dice game after scoring $19,000, but it is not a good idea to take the money and run when gambling with Tommy Scalise (Gary Merrill), a smug little bastard and noted area crime magnate. The man who brought Morrison to the dice game is Kenneth Paine (Craig Stevens), who slaps up his wife Morgan Taylor (Gene Tierney) before knocking out Morrison. When the 16th Precinct representatives arrive, Morrison has been pronounced dead thanks to a knife through the heart. Dixon is quick to assign blame to Scalise, a slippery hood who walked after Dixon got him in court two years back. But when Dixon attempts to question the hopeless drunk Paine, the conversation turns violent and Dixon accidentally kills him. Then Dixon learns Paine was a war hero. Through no fault of his own, at the time anyway, Dixon falls into one of those untenable noir situations. Given his reputation as a cop who crosses the line when it comes to police procedure, who would believe what actually happened? The detective attempts to cover up his connection to Paine by pretending to be dead man, never a sensible practice in the film noir (i.e. DOUBLE INDEMNITY [1944], NORA PRENTISS [1947], HOLLOW TRIUMPH [1948]). In one of the genre's great moments of palpable tension, Lieutenant Thomas asks Dixon to re-enact his impersonation of the fallen Paine!

Painekiller

The film's brisk first act ends as New York City exercises its power over the individual. By way of a window, the nighttime urban landscape dissolves into daylight as Dixon sweats it out. Widespread physical trauma and sickness characterize the corrosive urban milieu, a place where the disposal of a human body occurs with classical music audible in the background. Due to shrapnel, the decorated veteran Paine returned to civilian life with a silver plate in his head. Per film noir norms, after surviving wartime combat the veteran is far worse off within the American city, where arch criminal Scalise addictively relies on a nasal inhaler to breathe. Further evidence of physical suffering is associated closely with the family, which often is in jeopardy in the film noir, as it certainly is in this instance. Scalise was sponsored by Dixon's father, a thief who died in an attempt to shoot his way out of incarceration. Dixon claims he always endeavored to be different from his father, but how different is he? According to Scalise, Dixon is "half cop and half killer." The product of the same father figure, Scalise embodies Dixon’s dark half. Maybe the shadowy past of Dixon's family explains his attachment to cafe owner Martha (Ruth Donnelly), who was victimized in the past by a wife-beating husband, now in prison thanks to the efforts of Dixon.

The Taylor family is under considerable strain as well. Morgan Taylor is married to the abusive drunkard Paine, though they are separated. Her pop Jiggs Taylor (Tom Tully) is furious with Paine for striking his daughter, which leads to the angry father’s detention. Ironically, years ago the cab driver Jiggs was commended for aiding Dixon's pursuit of gun-toting criminals, but the dysfunctional relationship between his daughter and her husband causes the innocent man Jiggs to become a murder suspect. The requisite moment of existential recognition, so crucial to the downbeat tone of the film noir, occurs when Dixon laments, "Innocent people can get into terrible jams...one false move and you're in over your head." In the cruelly indifferent noir universe, even the innocent can be accused of a capital offense, both harmless people like Jiggs Taylor and well-meaning if overzealous detectives like Dixon. WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS suggests there is a cost associated with bending the rules in the interest of crime deterrence, but in a scene that willfully contradicts that notion, Foley tells Thomas to interrogate Steve (Neville Brand, D.O.A. [1950]) with the strong-arm methods for which Dixon is noted. The implication is, like it or not, tough tactics sometimes may be necessary to get results. Such thinking is not in vogue today, but the flawed detective Dixon of WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS is redeemed by the moral code that guides so many noir protagonists. In his letter to Inspector Foley, the obsessed Dixon is prepared to die to incriminate Scalise and free Mr. Taylor. The narrative wraps with an emotional resonance unusual for the noir film, especially one that revolves around a morally ambiguous cop.

The examination of gritty detective work in WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS anticipates the better-known film noir ON DANGEROUS GROUND (1951), in which Jim Wilson (Robert Ryan) struggles with anger management when it comes to his police work. Subsequent "bad cop" noirs included THE PROWLER (1951) starring Van Heflin as scheming cop Webb Garwood and PUSHOVER (1954) with Fred MacMurray in one of his rare heel turns. But today when Dixon is asked to take a one-week vacation for consistently annoying his superiors, the viewer immediately recalls the plot mechanics of DIRTY HARRY (1971) and its four sequels, all of which made the same general point that the detective must employ tough tactics to fight crime, yet the detective's various bosses invariably frown on those measures.

Despite the reunion of stars Andrews and Tierney from Preminger’s commercially successful LAURA (1944), WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS was the poorest box office performer released by Fox in 1950. Thankfully the film’s reputation has improved since the time of its theatrical release, and now we have a gorgeous Twilight Time Blu-ray version derived from a recent 4K restoration. Framed at 1.33:1, this 1080p interpretation of the 35 mm film provides a superior presentation in comparison with the Fox Film Noir DVD released in 2005, in terms of both image quality and information within the frame. With interior compositions and location work combined, the production serves as a veritable showcase for the skill of director of photography Joseph LaShelle, who also covered such genre staples as LAURA, FALLEN ANGEL (1945), ROAD HOUSE (1948) and the noir straggler STORM FEAR (1955).

Twilight Time Blu-ray

Fox Film Noir DVD

Supplements include the audio commentary track with noir expert Eddie Muller, which was ported from the Fox DVD. Muller draws the viewer's attention to the "bookend composition" framing style frequently employed by Preminger, as well as the director's fondness for fluid camera movement and minimal cuts. The understated filmmaking style of the famously cranky Preminger blended well with Andrews, who had the ability to convey multiple thoughts simultaneously. Close-ups are used sparingly and are seldom static. Muller notes prolific screenwriter Ben Hecht wrote the story for UNDERWORLD (1927), thought by some to be the very first American film noir. In the case of WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS, according to Muller, noir credentials are certified when Dixon briefly considers reporting the accidental death of Paine before proceeding with a plan to conceal the truth. When faced with crises, noir characters often make bad decisions that invite a whirlwind of increasingly complex troubles.

An isolated score track and an original theatrical trailer (1m 47s) are selectable, and the disc's packaging includes a booklet with an essay by Julie Kirgo.

THE MALTESE FALCON (1941)

Warner Bros., 100 minutes

TCM Big Screen Classics 75^th Anniversary Event

2/21 and 2/24 at over 650 cinemas nationwide

Introduction and closing from TCM host Ben Mankiewicz

In recognition of the film's 75th anniversary, Turner Classic Movies in conjunction with Fathom Entertainment has returned THE MALTESE FALCON to theatrical exhibition this week. All movies are best witnessed on the big screen, especially the greatest movies. That is the premise of this year's TCM Big Screen Classic presentations each month, along with the related idea there are enough people willing to pay for the experience to justify re-releases of classic cinema in the digital age. We can only hope there is enough public interest to keep the presentations flowing throughout select theaters for years to come.

THE MALTESE FALCON marked the directorial debut of John Huston, who would team with its star Humphrey Bogart again for ACROSS THE PACIFIC (1942), THE TREASURE OF THE SIERRA MADRE (1948), KEY LARGO (1948), THE AFRICAN QUEEN (1951) and BEAT THE DEVIL (1953). Whether THE MALTESE FALCON constitutes the best effort of that group I will leave for others to debate, but there is little doubt that it was their most important collaboration. Many of the key elements that would define the film noir movement are there:  the narrative's origin in a hard-boiled detective novel (this one authored by Dashiell Hammett), a complex web of a story, a gritty urban setting, a tough-as-nails PI whose moral code trumps the rules established by society's institutions, a duplicitous dame, exotic villains, a dark and sinister atmosphere, and not the happiest of conclusions. All of these genre conventions would gather steam throughout the 1940s and 1950s. One of the best is THE ASPHALT JUNGLE (1950), also directed by Huston. But the more crucial film noir was THE MALTESE FALCON since it impacted every crime film that came after it.

Production Photo

For a film originally released 75 years ago, during a time when the rigors of the Production Code monitored Hollywood content, it is remarkable how tough a cookie Samuel Spade (Bogart) really is, and how little he is bothered by things that would make the average man shake in his boots. When he learns his smarmy PI partner Miles Archer (Jerome Cowan) has been found dead, Spade's only initial reaction is, "Where?" Maybe that is because Spade had been fooling around with Archer's wife Iva (Gladys George), but it is more about a cynical world view that permeates the entire film. Later when Captain Jacoby (Walter Huston, uncredited) staggers into Spade's office and dies, Spade only regrets the man did not live a bit longer so he could have been questioned. Not even his love for a woman can alter the course that Spade's moral compass provides ("If they hang you, I'll always remember you."). So closely associated with the role is Bogart it is hard to believe he only became involved with the project after George Raft declined the role.

The invaluable falcon statuette that causes the film's characters to collide is a lot less interesting than the characters themselves. With her portrayal of Brigid O'Shaughnessy, Mary Astor established the femme fatale archetype that would distinguish the film noir cycle, especially in the mid-to-late '40s. O'Shaughnessy is a great-looking woman, but cannot be trusted for anything but endless betrayal. At one point she even admits she is a chronic liar. Despite all of her obvious flaws, Spade still struggles with handing her over to the cops. That is what makes her so dangerous—men want to believe in her, even when they know she is thoroughly deceptive. Iva Archer is not a much better representation of woman; she seems fine about her husband being out of the way since she prefers Spade anyway. Spade's faithfully attentive assistant Effie Perine (Lee Patrick) embodies the film’s ideal female, one with traits Spade considers more representative of a trustworthy male. Interestingly, she does not see O'Shaughnessy to be the menace she actually is. The assortment of criminals is led by Kasper Gutman, a man of culture as portrayed by Sydney Greenstreet, a veteran of the stage making his screen debut. Gutman's gunman/boyfriend Wilmer Cook is perfectly realized in a supporting performance by Elisha Cook Jr., who made a long career of playing wannabes not built to last.

Scene Still

I have screened THE MALTESE FALCON in many different home video incarnations, but the large screen experience made me more aware of the film's finer details, especially in terms of its exceptional performances. O'Shaughnessy comes close to cracking up when Spade bamboozles the police. Wilmer Cook indeed looks like the "boy" he is accused of being when he realizes he has been deemed the most expedient fall guy. With his scented calling card, the flamboyant Joel Cairo (Peter Lorre) makes a perfect nemesis for Spade; talk about two polar opposites in one room! In a film absolutely loaded with great lines, Cairo probably has the best one when he tells Spade, "Our private conversations have not been such that I am anxious to continue them."

Hammett's 1929 novel was filmed twice before the Huston interpretation. Director Roy Del Ruth's early "talkie" THE MALTESE FALCON was released in 1931, followed by William Dieterle's SATAN MET A LADY in 1936. The second film's cinematographer Arthur Edeson served in the same capacity for the Huston film, definitely the standout of the three adaptations. Academy Award nominations included Best Picture, Best Screenplay, and Best Supporting Actor (Greenstreet).

GILDA (1946)

Columbia Pictures Corporation, 110m 23s

"You do hate me, don't you Johnny?"

"I don't think you have any idea how much."

On a dock in Buenos Aires, Argentina, loaded-dice gambler Johnny Farrell (Glenn Ford) is rescued from an attempted holdup by Ballin Mundson (George Macready), who diffuses the situation with a walking cane that doubles as a dangerous dagger. The dual nature of the cane introduces GILDA's recurring motif in regard to things that may be something other than what they at first appear, and certainly the cane's owner represents another ambiguity factor. "I lead the life I like to lead," Ballin assures Johnny, as the two carry on a conversation rich with homoerotic connotations. Ballin invites Johnny to his casino, and almost instantly Johnny becomes Ballin's most trusted man. As the two build a close relationship, Johnny even compares himself to Ballin's phallic cane. Though Ballin openly theorizes "gambling and women do not mix," complications are triggered when Ballin violates this doctrine and impulsively weds Gilda (Rita Hayworth), to whom Johnny is stunned to be introduced.

Gilda and Johnny became acquainted long ago, but the background of their relationship is left as the film's variation on the MacGuffin plot device. What went wrong, disastrously wrong it seems, is never explained. All that matters is they hate each other. What is more clear is Ballin's new bride is one high-maintenance babe. Apparently having married him for the money, Gilda spends a minimum of time with her new husband, instead showing preference for the willing company of both attractive local men and free-wheeling out-of-towners. At the same time, Gilda has no issue with the idea of being a kept woman. Johnny has a big problem with that moral accommodation, no doubt because of his own ties to the same benefactor.

Though the story is easy enough to follow as directed by Charles Vidor, the love triangle between Gilda, Johnny and Ballin is geometrically complex in terms of unresolved feelings, sexual repression, sexual freedom, and shame. Johnny's devotion to a male partner in part may be connected to his deep disappointment with Gilda, and his exasperation about her choice for a new husband. Whether Johnny is jealous of Ballin or Gilda sometimes is left to viewer conjecture, but the romantic connection between Johnny and Ballin is granted far too much screen time to be dismissed as a hazy subtext. During a dinner table conversation that serves a hearty main course of sexual tension for subjective consumption, Johnny registers resentment that Gilda has returned to inject turmoil into his life. Ballin proposes a toast to the three of them that echoes his earlier toast to the union of Johnny, himself, and his dagger-cane, Ballin's "little friend." Johnny notes Ballin's cane must be female "because it looks like one thing, then right in front of your eyes it becomes another thing." Though Johnny seems to be taking a shot at his ex, he just as easily could be referring to Ballin. Later Ballin is the jealous half of the male couple, as the two converse obliquely about "swimming." As the intensity of the fire between Johnny and Gilda heats up, the cane comes to stand for Ballin's sexual confusion and probable impotence. The cane-wielding Ballin recalls another cane, the ambitious Charles Foster Kane (Orson Welles) from CITIZEN KANE (1941). Ballin hopes to control the global supply of tungsten necessary to incandescent lighting, but much like Kane, his professional struggles are tied to losing control of one woman.

Working from Jo Eisinger's adaptation of a story by E.A. Ellington, screenwriter Marion Parsonnet's finished product is embedded with lots of uncertainties and false appearances. A cynical "peasant" becomes the manager of an upper-scale casino, games that appear legit are rigged, businesses that appear legal are illegal, and life is confused with death. Of course the film's greatest enigma is Gilda, whose flirtatious antics would drive any husband nuts, especially a certain ex-husband; Johnny gets pretty rough with Gilda on more than one occasion. But when her second rendition of "Put the Blame on Mame" degenerates into a striptease, is she really the thoughtless tramp she projects? Hate and love are so intermixed in GILDA, one wonders if it is precisely Johnny's dark half that appeals to her. During an embrace, she tells him, "I hate you so much that I think I'm going to die from it." Those are some strange words of adoration. Johnny's occasional narration includes one of the genre's great lines, "She was in the air I breathed, in the food I ate."

Contextualized by the presence of post-war Nazis with big plans deep within the international business underworld, GILDA was released within the classic film noir period of the last '40s. Oddly enough, there has been some critical debate as to whether GILDA is representative of the film noir movement, which I find puzzling, even if you do not buy into the notion that Gilda qualifies as a femme fatale. For unquestionably noir material, one need only look to the perverse sexuality of the film's final act, when Johnny endeavors to keep Gilda faithful to a dead man! If that is not film noir, nothing is.

The unsatisfying concluding sequence attempts to remedy almost two hours of incivilities. Unfortunately, the resolution phoned in from CASABLANCA (1942), the narrative's obvious source of inspiration, does not dovetail very well with the bitter love/hate dynamic that makes GILDA so resonantly noir for most of its runtime. With the threat of the liberated sexuality Gilda embodied for most of the film neutralized, Johnny safely can leave for America with the Gilda he still loves (hates?). Despite a conclusion without a kernel of truth to it, there is precious little else to bother a film noir fan. The performances by the leads are nuanced enough to offer something new upon every viewing, and the B&W cinematography only adds to the sense of intrigue. Director of photography Rudolph Maté later shot THE LADY FROM SHANGHAI (1947), another justly famous Hayworth noir vehicle, and would himself direct the important noir works THE DARK PAST (1948), UNION STATION (1950) and the unremittingly bleak D.O.A. (1950). Prior to GILDA, Ford and Hayworth already had teamed up for THE LADY IN QUESTION (1940). Again they would work together in THE LOVES OF CARMEN (1948), AFFAIR IN TRINIDAD (1952) and THE MONEY TRAP (1965).

The Criterion Collection's new 1080P dual-layered Blu-ray presentation of GILDA boasts a new 2K digital restoration framed at 1.33:1. The new HD transfer utilized a 35mm fine-grain master derived from the original camera negative. The restorative work was completed by UCLA Film and Television Archive in cooperation with Sony Pictures Entertainment, the Library of Congress, and the National Film and Television Archive (U.K.). With solid film grain representation and excellent contrast, a Hollywood studio system classic is upheld. The film's production design really comes to life in this restored version, with director Vidor's masterful grasp of mise-en-scène always evident. "The Long Shadow of GILDA" essay included from critic Sheila O’Malley gives the viewer an indication of just how far the influence of GILDA extended:

"The shadow of Rita Hayworth in GILDA has stretched across the culture for almost seventy years now. In 1946, the United States conducted a couple of atomic bomb tests on Bikini Atoll in the Marshall Islands. The first bomb dropped was named Gilda."

Foremost among the assorted extras is an interview (22m 13s) with film noir historian Eddie Muller. Recorded in 2015 for The Criterion Collection, the author of DARK CITY DAMES: THE WICKED WOMEN OF FILM NOIR (2001) wonders what type of impression viewers were left with after GILDA's original theatrical run. With its dark tone and strong suggestion that the Glenn Ford character is bisexual, was GILDA the Production Code era's MULHOLLAND DRIVE (2001)? Muller is in top form throughout, especially when he advances the notion that producer Virginia Van Upp may have considered the Ballin Mundson character an interpretation of Columbia Pictures Corporation boss Harry Cohn, who constantly reminded Hayworth she was his "property." In what amounts to a special treat for those who notice subtextual meaning in film, Muller recalls screening GILDA with its director Vidor's ex-wife Evelyn Keyes, who confirmed the scene that shows Hayworth bending over to reach a waist-high cigarette lighter held by Ford indeed was constructed to suggest fellatio.

A welcome vintage extra is an episode of the NBC television documentary series HOLLYWOOD AND THE STARS that originally aired in 1964. Narrated by the familiar voice of Joseph Cotten, "The Odyssey of Rita Hayworth" (25m 11s) explores the early career of Margarita Carmen Cansino, who became a professional dancer at the age of 12. Her dancing ability led to roles in B-films at Fox as Rita Cansino before she became Rita Hayworth while under contract at Columbia. At the age of only 23, she appeared in YOU'LL NEVER GET RICH (1941) with Fred Astaire, who later said Hayworth was his favorite dancing partner. The episode pays a lot of attention to the dancing ability of the "love goddess," her marriages to Orson Welles and then Prince Aly Khan, and her transition to dramatic roles, i.e. FIRE DOWN BELOW (1957), SEPARATE TABLES (1958) and CIRCUS WORLD (1964), in which she portrays the mother of Claudia Cardinale's character.

Additional supplements were extracted from the 2010 edition of GILDA released by Sony Pictures Home Entertainment. The audio commentary track features Richard Schickel, the former film critic for TIME magazine. Despite numerous lapses in his comments, Schickel adds a fair amount of critical insight. He recognizes film noir as a specifically post-WWII development, with male fears and anxieties about the liberation of women central to the genre. He notes women play more active roles than they had in the past, with men oddly passive. My favorite Schickel comment recalls his memory of quoting the line about women and insects among his high school pals. In another reflection on the movie under review, filmmakers Martin Scorsese and Baz Luhrmann discuss the historical significance of GILDA, particularly in terms of Hayworth's performance and her heightened level of glamour (16m 6s). A theatrical trailer (2m 9s) is also included.