Review - They Drive By Night

July 4, 2013

They Drove By Night – US, 1940

The entrepreneurial spirit hovers over most of Raoul Walsh’s 1940 road film They Drive By Night, and it is both a blessing and a curse. I say this because while it inspires people to dream of economic freedom and security, it also acts like a siren, calling normally sensible men to accept sometimes dangerous tasks simply because they get them a step closer to their all too elusive goals. It is this danger that worries the housewives and girlfriends left behind by their journeyman husbands, and it is this danger that ultimately pushes some into much more stable 9 to 5 jobs, jobs which lack the sexiness of being a rig runner but which put people at the kind of ease that is difficult to put a value on. It is this incongruity that makes one character in the film curse that her husband was in an accident in one breath and thank the heavens for it in another.

The film tells the tale of Joe and Paul Fabrini (played by George Raft and Humphrey Bogart), two rig runners with dreams of finally taking charge of their lives. Their dream, in keeping with the times, is a rather small one: owning two or three rigs and running a shipping business with them. At the start of the film, their dream has them in debt and, in Paul’s case, extremely sleep-deprived. Regardless, Joe’s dream remains in tact. As viewers hear Joe and Paul discuss their plans for the future, they are also shown their alternative – working for an established trucking company, a job with would possible give them steady work but leave them with little chance of moving up in the world.

At a diner frequented by truckers, Joe and Paul meet Cassie Hartley (Ann Sheridan), the diner’s sassy, no-nonsense waitress. The scene in which this character is introduced is slightly uncomfortable, for as much fun as it is to watch Cassie fend off the flirtations of her male customers – and those of her employer apparently – the scene is a reminder of just what women have had to endure over the years and subsequently why movie characters like Joe must have seemed like every woman’s dream. She ends up heading with them to Los Angeles, and along the way, she and Joe bond in a sweet and slightly realistic way.

If the film had kept its focus on Joe and Paul’s dream, as well as Joe’s relationship with Cassie, I have no doubt it would work much better today that it does. However, while the first half builds up the dream of making it on one’s own, the second half moves away from it completely. In that part of the film, we find Joe in the kind of job we never thought he would take while simultaneously being pursued by a character much more appropriate in piece of film noir than a road movie about real world issues. It’s as if Hitchcock’s screenwriters got a hold of the script and said, “What this script really needs is a murder.” It didn’t.

Also dating the film is its inclusion of two characters purely for comic relief, an unfortunately common occurrence in early dramas. The first character is a truck driver known as Irish (Roscoe Karns). For some reason, his character has a particular odd attachment to a pinball machine, and I’m not sure how that could have been funny even back in 1940. The second comic character, Ed Carlsen (Alan Hale), is slightly less confounding. He’s a former trucker who worked his way up the corporate ladder without losing one iota of the trucker inside him. When we first see him, he sticks his head out the window of his corporate office to watch a fist fight. As he offers both play-by-play analysis and in-fight coaching, he resembles a kid getting his first look inside a candy store. Ed is a pivotal character, yet he tells some of the worst jokes you’ll hear in a film. Even stranger is the fact that the crowd he travels with howls in appreciation. Perhaps they’re just kissing up to him.

I have no doubt that some viewers will find the second half of the film extremely enjoyable. For me, it strays too far from the social themes that the first half of the film works so hard to establish, resulting in a film that will likely be remembered more for its noir elements than for its social commentary. It’s a pity, really. The film is well acted throughout, and Bogart, here featured in a supporting role, demonstrates just why he would be elevated to A-list status a year later. Sheridan is memorable in a role that requires her to show both her rough and soft sides, and Ida Lupino gives a credible performance as Joe’s pursuer, Mrs. Lana Carlsen. As for the film’s climactic scene, it only works if you belief that Lana, with all of the money she possesses, would hire a completely incompetent lawyer who doesn’t question his own witnesses beforehand and who doesn’t know how to protect his own case. If that’s your idea of realism, then have at it. (on DVD)

3 stars

Review – High Sierra

July 28, 2011

High Sierra – U.S., 1941

The 1940s saw the release of two films that would later be called prime examples of film noir: Billy Wilder’s 1944 masterpiece Double Indemnity and Raoul Walsh’s High Sierra, released three years earlier in 1941. What further connects these films is the fact that they were made at a time when film studios were under strict orders to follow a list of restrictions that came to be known as the Hayes Code, The code essentially spelled out what could and could not be depicted on screen. How Wilder got Double Indemnity through, I’ll never know, but the film remains as powerful today as it did upon its initial theatrical release. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said about High Sierra.

Part of the problem with High Sierra has to do with one of the rules of the Code, the one that states that villains could not get away with their crimes, no matter how realistic it would seem if they did. The consequence of this rule is that a character like Roy Earle, someone who goes the extra mile to avoid making simple mistakes, inevitably begins slipping up. He starts staying places too long or visiting people he shouldn’t. Perhaps obstacles begin to be thrown at him for no apparent reason – perhaps his contact is away or he has to wait an extra day for what’s owed to him - anything to prevent a getaway. It works in Double Indemnity; it just seems tired and desperate in High Sierra.

Yet there’s another important distinction between these two films. Double Indemnity never tries to be cute or funny. Its two characters go ahead with their rather fiendish plan, only to see it all come crashing down in a series of plausible, earthly events, culminating in one of the more poetic downfalls in American films. High Sierra goes down another path, one involving a furry creature who is supposedly a harbinger of bad things to come. In fact, as one character explains it, each of this creature’s former owners has met an untimely death. Does this stop our hero from picking him up and bonding with him? Of course not. Writers John Huston (yes, that one) and W.R. Burnett therefore had a choice: they could make the dog a legitimate device for foretelling the fate of the central character, or they could dispel the myth and depict fate as something that people actually have a hand in deciding. If they chose the latter, then there would actually be little point in including the creature in the film in the first place. If they opted for the former, the film would likely begin to assume a degree of predictability at some point, which is unfortunately what happens with High Sierra.

This is regrettable, for the film has one of the most promising beginnings of any film I’ve seen in a while. It begins with a convicted criminal named Roy Earle (Humphrey Bogart) being pardoned by the governor and deciding to spend his first moments of freedom walking though a park looking at the lush green grass and the tall trees. Later, we learn that he grew up around nature, and it’s clear that it holds a unique place in his heart. We get the sense that he’d like nothing more than to live out the rest of his life on a farm near a lake. Reality intrudes, of course. In no time at all, he’s off to head what he’s told will be an extremely lucrative caper at a popular hotel in the mountains. On the way, he meets a family affected by the depression and finds himself drawn to Velma (Joan Leslie), a sweet twenty-year-old woman with a club foot.

As the film goes along, we see evidence of two divergent generations. Many of the older generation see beauty in nature, value hard work, and have codes they live by. A gangster from Earle’s generation would never bring women along on a heist and would never use someone who had the nasty habit of talking too much. Times have changed. The younger generation, at least those of the male species, is more easily distracted by beautiful women and more easily unnerved by the blare of police sirens. The older generation endeavors to persevere during trying times; some of the younger generation would rather spend their days dancing to the sounds of swing than toiling for hours on a farm.

The second woman to enter Earle’s life, Marie (Ida Lupino), also belongs to the younger generation, but she does not exactly fit the description above. She has no use for petty infatuations or ridiculous acts of bravado that seek to prove just who is manlier than whom. However, she’s also in a precarious situation - far from home, alone with two gentlemen, one of whom is jealous and has a violent streak. In Earle, she sees not only a decent man but also a protector, and she makes her move at what she thinks is the right moment. He disappoints her, though, explaining, “You couldn’t ever mean nothing to me – nothing special, that is.”

It’s interesting that both of these ladies are from the same generation (Lupino was 23 when she made the film; Leslie was apparently just 16) and that both of them have had to face difficulties. One gives every indication of having retained a degree of sweetness and optimism; the other has been hardened by her dealings with some rather unscrupulous people at a “dime and dance” joint in the city. To be with one of them, Earle would have to live a lie. The other would accept him as he is – past and all. Guess which one he prefers.

Eventually, the time for the caper arrives, and it is every bit as exciting as it should be. To say things do not go off without a hitch would be an understatement. For some people, the film’s finale will be exciting; for me, it was simply predictable. However, throughout the film, Bogart’s performance is top-notch. At times, he plays Earle as if he were a wide-eyed, naïve young man who believes in the innate goodness of everyday people. At other times, he approaches things with the kind of calm, no-nonsense, calculating mind that the most skilled in Earle’s profession have. That’s the Earle that has no place for love. It’s the former Earle that believes it is possible for someone like Velma to reciprocate his affections. Lupino and Leslie are also very good in the film. However, recognition should also go out to Henry Travers, who plays Velma’s grandfather, “Pa.” Travers scenes with Bogart are particularly special, and the bond their respective characters form feels remarkably authentic.

High Sierra is well acted, and it remains interesting throughout. The dog upsets the pacing somewhat, and the role of Algernon, a somewhat stereotypical African-American character who reminded me a bit of Steppin’ Fetchit, may make contemporary audiences sigh and roll their eyes. We were truly living in different times back then. Fortunately, time has been kind to the rest of the film. It’s still rather exciting to take a trip to the High Sierra. Corny but true. (on DVD)

3 stars

Review – Sabrina

December 5, 2010

Sabrina – U.S., 1954

One of the best things about Billy Wilder’s Sabrina is its length. That may be strange to some, but bear with me a moment. Sabrina could easily have been ninety minutes long without sacrificing much of the story. However, it’s hard to imagine what could have been cut to make such a running time. The humorous scenes in which the Larrabee’s servants read Sabrina’s letters aloud and delight at the sentiments she expresses? Sure, they’re not completely essential, but there are quite delightful. I suppose the scenes in France are not exactly essential either, but they do provide some of the biggest laughs in the film. Where else can you see a master chef devote an entire day to teaching the proper way to crack an egg? Truth be told, I can’t think of anything that I would cut. My hat’s off to Billy Wilder. The man knew how to both craft a story and film it.

Sabrina (Audrey Hepburn) is the daughter of the Larrebee family chauffer, and judging from the number of industries the family has a hand in, it’s safe to say that the Larrebee's are one of the wealthiest families in America. The Larrebee’s have two sons. First, there’s the older one, Linus (Humphrey Bogart). He’s smart, single, and dedicated to the family business. His young brother, David (a very funny William Holden), is rather different – immature, impulsive, and unreliable. He’s also the object of Sabrina’s affection. In a way, she should consider herself fortunate that he isn’t aware of her feelings. Three times divorced, David is hardly the person her father would wish for her. His persistent message is: “Don’t reach for the moon, child.” I can’t think of any young person in love who’s ever heeded such advice, and Sabrina is no exception. However, the pain of a broken heart is a bit too much for her to bear, and in a moment of weakness, she writes a letter saying good-bye to her father. The scene is shot masterfully, for Wilder allows Hepburn to sit quickly contemplating her actions and looking around her room one last time before leaving for the garage. Hepburn expresses a range of emotions without uttering a single word. In the garage, there’s an equally impressive moment, during which Sabrina bends low to the ground coughing, and then almost by accident notices the moon through a window. She looks at it, this object that she has always reached for, this thing that has always seemed out of reach, and she seems fully aware that this may be the last time she does so. Hepburn plays both scenes perfectly.

Later, Sabrina is sent to Paris to learn the art of cooking, for her father hopes she’ll become a chef like her mother, and if she happens to also get over David while she’s there, that’s even better. When she returns two years later, the naïve child is nowhere to be seen, replaced by a rather mature woman – she’s knowledgeable, fashionable, skilled, and unfortunately still madly obsessed with David. This time, however, she’s in luck, for David takes one look at her and falls head over heel in love. Everything would be perfect if only for one rather major road block: he’s engaged – albeit unwillingly, but engaged none the less. Surprisingly, this fact doesn’t seem to faze her. “He’s not married yet,” Sabrina remarks. When reminded not to reach for the moon, she replies whimsically, “The moon’s reaching for me.” It therefore falls upon Linus to ensure that David does not marry Sabrina. To accomplish this, he decides to make her fall in love with someone else, and lacking any other candidates, he reluctantly nominates himself for the job.

One of the delights of Sabrina is the performance of Humphrey Bogart. Bogart has such screen presence that he almost steals every scene he’s in. This includes scenes in which he only appears in the background. At one moment in the film, David and Sabrina are flirting with each other on the dance floor, while Linus is showing guests a form of plastic that is practically indestructible. One moment he’s getting everyone to bounce on it; the next he’s demonstrating how impervious it is to fire. All of this takes place away from the main action, and we don’t hear anything that Bogart says. Yet we can tell that there’s an entire scene taking place just out of earshot, and it must have been hilarious. I laughed, and I couldn’t even hear it.

If there is a fault with Sabrina, it is its unwillingness to let Bogart’s character remain as he is, and this is a shame. It creates the potential for the same awkward picture that I had such a hard time with when I watched Funny Face – the younger woman with the much older man. After all, Paris is supposed to be one of the most romantic places on earth. Surely, Sabrina could have found someone her own age there. You may be saying at this point, “There he goes again – not accepting a film for what it is.” I prefer to think of it as wanting a film to be more challenging that it is, and throughout the film, Sabrina fights her attraction to Linus. She seems to know it’s not wise to fall for him. If the film were truly daring, it would have just let her be right. I certainly thought she was.

To call Sabrina a modern-day Cinderella story would be to oversimplify the film, for I highly doubt Cinderella would have approved of the things that Sabrina does, yet Sabrina is a movie without a villain. Sabrina is a woman simply in love with the wrong man, David is simply a child in a man’s body, and Linus is simply a man trying to ensure a business deal. If that last details doesn’t make him sound likeable, watch his speech about improving the lives of people in Puerto Rico. I wish more businessmen thought like that.

Billy Wilder gave us some truly great films – The Fortune Cookie, The Apartment, The Seven-Year Itch, Double Indemnity, Some Like It Hot, and Sunset Boulevard are just a few of his films that have left a lasting impression of audiences. With Sabrina, he again demonstrated how masterful he was at his craft. Bogart, Hepburn, and Holden are superb in their roles, and the film’s supporting cast, which includes Walter Hampden as the elder Larrebee and John Williams as Sabrina’s father ,Thomas, is a delight. Sabrina is a truly fun film that stands the test of time. (on DVD)

4 stars

Review – The Caine Mutiny

June 1, 2010

The Caine Mutiny – U.S., 1954

I have never been in the military, but as a teacher, I know how it feels to suddenly be asked to teach a group of students that had great chemistry with the teacher you are replacing. On that first day, you wonder whether you should start off with a joke, perhaps tell them about your background, or simply try to dazzle them with your efficiency. In fact, we often tell first-time teachers to be firm at first, to establish order before showing the students your softer side. It is perhaps not surprising then that many new managers use the same tactic with adults. Promotions are often handed out along with instructions to make things more efficient or whip them into shape. Supposedly, it establishes one’s authority. However, it’s just as likely to cause deep resentment, which is unfortunately what happens to Lt. Cmdr. Phillip Queeg in Edward Dmytryk’s excellent film The Caine Mutiny.

The Caine Mutiny is primarily about Ens. Willis Seward Keith (Robert Francis), a recent graduate of the naval academy on his first assignment at sea. He is not pleased to be assigned to the Caine, a minesweeper that even some crew members describe as a walking death trap. One remarks that the ship is being held together by rust. Willis, or “Willie” as he is called by everyone, clashes with his new captain, Commander DeVriess (Tom Tully), whom Willie sees as being unprofessional and allowing the crew to be equally so. Willie is therefore quite pleased when DeVriess is replaced by Lt. Cmdr. Phillip Queeg (Humphrey Bogart), for Queeg brings the kind of philosophy that Willie has come to expect naval captains to uphold, one that emphasizes discipline and rules. The crew of The Caine does not share Willie’s feelings, and after a few instances of questionable decision making, one crew member in particular, Lt. Thomas Keefer (Fred MacMurray), begins to openly question whether Queeg is fit to command the ship.

In addition to this plot, there is a subplot involving Willie, his overly protective mother, and May, the nightclub singer that Willie is involved with. It may look at first like this part of the film has little to do with the drama that is unfolding on the Caine, but both of these storylines have to do with Willie’s reluctant adherence to authority figures and his having to learn to decide what it right for oneself. However, I suspect that what is desirable and respected in one instance may in fact get someone in a heap of trouble in the other, for it is possible that respecting the chain of command means not expressing one’s opinion, especially if it contradicts with that of a superior officer. This is a perspective that only Lieutenant Steve Maryk (Van Johnson) seems to understand. To Lt. Maryk, it doesn’t matter who the captain of the Caine is – that person is to be listened to and respected, no matter what. And this is why what happens later is the film is so surprising.

Towards the middle of The Caine Mutiny, Queeg looks at Tom, Steve, Willie, and some of the other men who serve under him and in a soft uncertain voice speaks of family and the need to talk to each other as if they were indeed one. He seems to be trying to break the barrier that exists between himself and his lieutenant, yet when he opens the floor for comments, not one of his men speaks either for or against him. There is just an eerie, uncomfortable silence that leads to the meeting coming to an abrupt ending. The message is clear. Lt. Cmdr. Queeg does not have their support or their confidence. Should they have spoken up? Should they have taken the captain to task for running away from danger? Should they have spoken frankly about their concerns about his ability to lead? Would you have?

Like other movies in this genre, The Caine Mutiny includes some light-hearted moments, most of them coming at the expense of the inexperienced Willie. These scenes seemed unnecessary to me, and fortunately, they were kept to a minimum. And like later films such as K-19: The Widowmaker and Crimson Tide, The Caine Mutiny includes scenes depicting practice runs or simulations of sea maneuvers. In most film, I question the inclusion of such scenes. I understand why they are important to the characters, yet I’m not sure they are important for viewers. However, in The Caine Mutiny, they are important, for they give us valuable insights into Queeg and the men he commands.

The Caine Mutiny is based on a book by Herman Wouk, who also wrote “War and Remembrance” and “The Winds of War.” Unlike others who would have made the mutiny the climax of the story, Wouk seemed to understand that it is what happens after such an act that is ultimately most important, for only later do people who decide to mutiny know whether their actions have been judged correct or not. In addition, an unfavorable verdict carries with it a jail sentence for those who instigate a mutiny, and so the drama in the film does not end with the words I am relieving you of your command. It simply enters another stage, one in which the fate of two characters continues to hang in the balance.

The Caine Mutiny remains an impressive film, and Bogart, MacMurray, Johnson, and Francis each give superb performances. However, what I found most intriguing about the film is how it manipulates us into thinking we understand the situation in front of us. In fact, it all seems too clear – a paranoid captain, a dangerous storm, the fear of being led into the abyss. All too often in movies like this, characters come to the right conclusion rather quickly, and most of the time, viewers know that their decision was the correct one, rendering a court room scene tedious and unnecessary. That The Caine Mutiny devotes so much time to the trial of the mutineers should tell us something. It’s not over yet. (on DVD)

4 stars

Review – To Have and Have Not

March 5, 2010

To Have and Have Not – U.S., 1944

Watching Howard Hawks’ 1944 film To Have and Have Not, I felt an eerie sense of déjà vu, as if I had seen this film before. In truth, I had only seen parts of this film, and they were better the first time around. By now, audiences all over the world probably recognize the following film elements - a man in an occupied country, a young woman in danger, a secret mission that the man is hesitant to get involved in, the musician who plays a rather telling musical number, a spy who must find a way out of a country, and the consistently impressive Humphrey Bogart. That these elements would again appear in a movie so soon after 1942’s masterpiece Casablanca is not entirely surprising. After all, if it works once, who’s to say it won’t work a second time?

And for many people, To Have and Have Not indeed works. Martin and Porter give the film four and a half stars, the film has an 8.1 ranking on IMDB, and on Rotten Tomatoes the film has a perfect rating of 100%, although it should be noted that only twenty-one people have seen fit to rate the film. However, with rankings such as these, someone viewing the film for the first time would probably be forgiven if he went into the film expecting to be completely dazzled by what he saw in front of him. The problem is that such high expectations are rarely met, and such is the case with To Have and Have Not.

To Have and Have Not is essentially two films – a political thriller and a romance, and it only succeeds at being one of these. The film’s central character is Harry Morgan, the captain of a small fishing boat docked on the French island of Martinique. His crew consists of two men, Horatio and Eddie. Horatio (played by a man named Sir Lancelot) appears in the beginning of the film, seems to be an important figure on the boat, and then disappears from the film entirely. Eddie (Walter Brennan), on the other hand, is given plenty of screen time, and despite Morgan’s assertion that Eddie is looking after him, I can't escape the feeling that Eddie exists solely for comic purposes. Why else would a character be given what could be a form of memento, keep asking people if they’ve ever been stung by a dead bee, and ask for alcohol in such a sympathetic way as to elicit the kind of sighs normally reserved for small furry animals in a Disney movie?

After an opening scene designed to establish Morgan as a righteous and noble character – he defends his two friends after some rather mean-spirited remarks are hurled in their direction – Morgan finds himself being recruited by members of a French liberation group. It seems there’s a mission of vital importance that only he and his boat can handle properly. In true Hollywood fashion, Morgan turns their offer down. After all, he knows what happens to those who are caught aiding the enemy of the Vichy. Eventually, he changes his mind though and stealthily embarks on a secret mission that neither he nor the audience fully understands the significance of. This aspect of the film, while being somewhat predictable, was well made and somewhat suspenseful, for we get the sense that danger lurks everywhere around Morgan – on the streets of Martinique, in the hotel, even at sea.

As a romance, however, the film falls somewhat short, for the relationship between Morgan and Marie Browning (Lauren Bacall), a woman staying in the room adjacent to Morgan’s, simply never achieves absolute believability. Sure, the two of them are attracted to each other, and yes, they are not meeting in the most ideal circumstances for a budding romance, but there’s appears to be very little to their growing love than a few casual remarks that get under the other’s skin and the sense that both of them have been wronged by love in the past. Neither of them is forthcoming about the past, and they seem to push each other away just as often as they draw each other close. One could argue that this is the way love develops in an occupied land filled with potential assassins. In fact, this is indeed what has been said about the lead characters in Earnest Hemingway’s novel For Whom the Bell Tolls. I didn’t accept that explanation when I read that book as a literature major at U.C. Riverside, and I don’t buy it when it comes to To Have and Have Not either. Think of it this way. There’s a difference between accepting the existence of love prior to a film’s opening scene, which we do when we watch Casablanca, and watching love develop in front of us. It’s takes much more to convince me that two characters are falling in love than it does that they are already in love. The former requires not only attraction and circumstance but also time and deeply personal conversation, two ingredients that exist sparingly in Hawks’ film. In fact, the film even acknowledges the almost silly nature of Morgan and Browning’s relationship when it has Browning sing a song about how little two people in love know about each other. Just when the piano player named Cricket got around to writing that one, I’m not sure.

To Have and Have Not does have some clever dialogue, and there is indeed great chemistry between Bacall and Bogart. I particularly enjoyed their banter about just which of them is sore at the other at certain points throughout the film. However, the much touted “You know how to whistle” scene did nothing for me. Neither for that matter did either of the film’s four musical interludes. For me, therefore, To Have and Have Not is an average film that is made slightly better by some of the performances of its cast, in particular those of Bogart, Bacall, and Dolores Moran, who plays the wife of the French spy that Morgan is sent to pick up. Still, if it’s something memorable and fresh that you’re looking for, I’d stick with Casablanca. (on DVD)

3 stars

Review – In a Lonely Place

December 29, 2009

In a Lonely Place – U.S., 1950

There’s a moment in Nicholas Ray’s masterful film In a Lonely Place when Dixon Steele (Humphrey Bogart) hold his girlfriend, Laurel Grey (Gloria Grahame), in his arms lovingly, looks her in the eyes and tells her that she’ll go when he tells her to go. Ms. Grey doesn’t seem to take the remark seriously and soon she is reciting Shakespeare to him in an effort to help him get some much needed sleep. It’s possible that Dixon intended the remark to be playful, to be a funny line said between two lovers in one of those “let’s not be serious” moments. However, by this time in the film, viewers have already seen Dixon hit a young director for insulting a friend of his, heard a police captain recite a list of his past transgressions – at least the ones that there are reports of – and seen Dixon explain his theory about how a young woman was murdered in such a way that one could easily believe he enjoyed dreaming up scenarios involving murder. What makes this even more chilling is the fact that the murder scenario he is describing is the very one that he is suspected by some of having committed. Perhaps Ms. Grey should have seen Steele’s “innocent” remark as a sign of impending trouble.

And yet it’s hard to completely fault her for believing the oft-repeated notion that love can transform a flawed man into a righteous one. She and Steele barely know each other, after all. Their first actual meeting is at police headquarters, where Ms. Grey corroborates Steele’s assertion that he was in his apartment after midnight on the night of the murder. During questioning, Ms. Grey reveals that she likes Steele’s face. This perks Steele up because he likes every aspect of Ms. Grey. (If you’re wondering how he knows about this, it’s because he is allowed to sit in the back of the room during questioning – my how times have changed.) Later she’ll tell an overeager Steele, “I said I liked it. I didn’t say I wanted to kiss it.” She seems to understand that this will only make a man like Steele pursue her even more. Her later assertion that she needs to be sure before she jumps into a relationship could easily be seen as a calculated move to make Steele feel even more devoted to her when she finally accepts his advances, for what man doesn’t love the feeling that a woman thinks of him as being “the one”?

In most movies, we are led to think of a troubled protagonist as one step away from recovery. Perhaps that step involves listening to a well-meaning coach’s subtle words of encouragement or the protagonist somehow conquering a long-held fear. Here we are led to believe that a relationship can cure Steele of whatever ails him. His manager, Mel Lippman (Art Smith), believes this so much that when he sees Steele sitting at his desk writing, he proclaims it to the result of Ms. Grey enormously positive influence. And as problems develop, they are blamed on the ongoing police investigation, not because of any disconnect existing or developing between them. If that’s true, though, what explains what Steele is rumored to have done to one of his previous girlfriends, Ms. Francis Randall? According to police, Steele left her with a broken jaw, and there was no murder rap hanging over his head at that time.

One the most striking things about In a Lonely Place is just how violent the world it takes place in can be for women. It’s as if the world is filled with grown men who turn to physical violence whenever jealously rears its ugly head. When things begin to go south for Steele and Ms. Grey, her masseuse warns her that it won’t be as easy to get away from Steele as it was from “Mr. Baker.” We don’t learn much else about Mr. Baker, but we understand what is being implied. As for Steele, it’s tempting to see his violent streak as indicating that he is suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. We do hear that Steele hasn’t written well since coming back from the war, but we also hear that he was aloof and hard to understand even back then.

As I watched In a Lonely Place, I was reminded of something Garance says to Frederick Lemaitre in Marcel Carne’s masterpiece Children of Paradise, that if the two of them were truly happy together, Frederick wouldn’t feel the need to try to make her laugh all the time. I suspect if Steele and Ms. Grey were truly happy or if Steele were completely confident in their relationship, he wouldn’t feel the need to lavish her with gifts all the time. And if Ms. Grey were truly happy with Steele, she wouldn’t feel the need to keep so many things from him. This is not to say that the two of them do not have moments in which they are the picture of bliss, smiling, laughing, unable to take their eyes of the other. It’s just that these scenes do nothing to erase the problems that they will inevitably have to confront. Perhaps then theirs is a love that we should not root for, and contrary to what Ms. Grey would have us believe, twenty-four hours would not likely have altered that.

In a Lonely Place is a truly remarkable film, for it goes against all of the audience’s expectations. The “hero” does not act very heroic, and the damsel in distress should have known better than to get involved with him. In fact, the film makes Hollywood out to be a place where career moves trump common sense or self-preservation, where one can achieve fame but never feel valued as an individual. Bogart is simply amazing as Dixon Steele, showing enough charisma to make us root for him temporarily and then shattering that faith as quickly as he built it up. Grahame is equally good as a woman hoping that this relationship will be different even though she seems to have a habit of choosing the wrong people to date. Andrew Solt’s screenplay wisely focuses on these two characters and only returns to the murder when doing so will add to the insecurity and paranoia that Steele and Ms. Grey increasingly feel. It all leads to an ending that is shocking, powerful, and completely realistic. In a Lonely Place deserves to be considered one of the finest films to come out of Hollywood. (on DVD)

5 stars

Review – The African Queen

August 21, 2009

The African Queen – U.S., 1951

Picture this if you can. A woman is having a grand time in a small boat called the African Queen. She is smiling and seems to be enjoying the presence of the man whom she is accompanying on her journey. The man is a rather cheerful chap and seems to be taking a certain pleasure in the sound of her laughter. The man offers to make her tea, she asks him what he’s drinking, and replies in a nonchalant manner, “Gin.” Suddenly, all is different. The word has had an unnerving power over her, and her smile is instantaneously replaced by a mixture of shock and fear, as if the word gin has sent her mind spinning to some distant avenue of the brain where long-suppressed nightmares are stored. It’s a truly powerful moment. And then in the blink of an eye, the moment is over and never explained.

In other films, a moment such as this one would form the basis for later, much more serious conversations, perhaps about the damage that alcoholism inflicted upon the woman’s family or for that matter about her own struggles with the beast that is alcohol dependency. We’ll never know, for the man does not appear to notice her reaction, and thus whatever tale is behind it remains an enigma. In some movies, such an unexplained detail would be potentially frustrating for the audience; however, in John Huston’s The African Queen, it is an instance of pure genius.

I say this because the conversation that would have to take place in order for us to understand her reaction would require that the two characters engage in a rather serious conversation about the past, and the characters in The African Queen are almost completely focused on the present. Sure, they make small talk about how long they’ve each been in Africa and what part of their respective home countries they’re from, but anything else would probably be a distraction from the task at hand. And that task became perfectly clear when the woman, the sister of a reverend irreversibly wounded by German troops after the onset of World War I, said in a determined and almost hypnotic voice, “Could you make a torpedo?”

The woman is Rose Sayer (Katharine Hepburn), and her words seem at odds with the devoted missionary she appears to be at the beginning of the film. Yet, witness how quickly she casts aside that role and dedicates herself to inflicting a heavy blow on the German war machine. The man is Charlie Allnut (Humphrey Bogart), and it is his skills and seamanship that she must rely upon if they are to carry out her plan of attack. The plan calls for them to somehow make it down the treacherous Ulanga River and then ram the German gunship, the Louisa, with their boat, the African Queen, thereby setting off the torpedo and downing the Louisa. Along the way, one of the most interesting relationships I’ve ever seen in a film develops.

That said, not everything in The African Queen stands the test of time. Some of the film’s special effects are extremely dated, especially the scene in which Rose and Charlie are attacked by swarms of mosquitoes, and I could have done without Charlie’s imitation of the animals they are passing and the somewhat forced scene in which Rose and Charlie have their first argument. I also wonder what present-day audiences will make of the scene in which Rose and Charlie take baths on opposite sides of the boat. The scene is meant to show the level of respect and trust they are developing for each other, but when Rose and Charlie both emerge from the river practically fully-clothed, contemporary viewers may have to be forgiven if they chuckle a bit and wonder why this was made out to be such a big deal.

However, the rest of The African Queen is a thing of beauty, consisting of two of the most likeable and fascinating characters I’ve seen in a long time. They bond, learn to truth each other, and ultimately fall in love. In another film, I may have questioned the amount of time it took for them to do so, but with performances like the ones Bogart and Hepburn deliver, as well as the gifted leadership of director John Huston and an impressive story by C.S. Forester and James Agee, there is not a moment in their relationship that rings false. Combine that with a suspenseful plot, several emotionally-charged scenes, and a pair of unforgettable performances, and you have a film that intrigues, thrills, and makes you believe in the awesome power of destiny. This is truly a film not to be missed. (currently unavailable on DVD)

4 and a half stars

*Humphrey Bogart won Best Actor for his role in The African Queen.