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| Bogart Bogarting |
- The Maltese Falcon (Nominated 1941)
- Casablanca (Won 1943)
In The Maltese Falcon, Bogart plays private detective Sam Spade, aka the basis for every other noir detective character, whether ironic or not. There is no Eddie Valiant (Who Framed Roger Rabbit), Jake Gittes (Chinatown), Tracer Bullet (Calvin & Hobbes), Dean Corso (The Ninth Gate), Doc Sportello (Inherent Vice -- OK, this may be a stretch) etc., etc., etc. without Sam Spade. He is written as a shiftless, no-scruples type of guy who somehow manages to stay one step ahead of his rivals, except when he doesn't, and even then, he manages to get out of trouble with little more than a bump on the noggin. The cops are not his friends, but they aren't out to get him either. Women are equal-parts repulsed and drawn to his droopy-eyed, vague-faced attitude.
Oh, and the movie itself is about some people trying to find a statue that, supposedly, is worth upwards of ONE MILLION dollars (in Dr. Evil voice). Allegiances and motives are turned upside down and backwards among a shifty cast of characters, including Peter Lorre and Sydney Greenstreet (both of whom also appeared as cinematic stick figures in Casablanca). But, really, it is not important what happens. All that matters is what Sam Spade says, how he says it, and how cool he is. No, really. I do believe that's what this movie amounts to, and despite being rather one-dimensional, it is pretty good. Here is one of my favorite scenes:
This was my first experience with director John Huston, and other Huston installments will be upcoming throughout this project, e.g. The Treature of the Sierra Madre (also a Bogart vehicle), and Moulin Rouge (1.0). The Maltese Falcon did not win Best Picture in 1941, as that honor went to Mrs. Miniver.
Score for The Maltese Falcon: 7.5.
Now, we arrive at a discussion regarding one of the most personally conflicting movies of this project to date. A little movie called... Casablanca.
This movie is about an exiled American nightclub owner in early 1940's, quasi-occupied Casablanca, Morocco, who has somehow risen to a vague but meaningful level of influence among both authorities and underground figures. That man's name is Rick Blaine, easily Bogart's most famous and historically significant character (although I think Sam Spade is better). Blaine's former lover Ilsa Lund (Ingrid Bergman) arrives in Casablanca with her husband, Victor Laszlo, a leader of the Czech Resistance. To make a longer and more complicated story short: Casablanca is where you need to be if you want to escape occupied Europe, and Blaine has the means for such an escape. He spends most of the film conflicted over (1) his love for Ilsa and (2) his fleeting support of anti-fascist causes, and in the end, he chooses the latter, much to the weepy chagrin of Ilsa.
This was the first time I'd ever seen Casablanca from start to finish. (Gratuitously extraneous detail: I got to see it while chowing on a four-course, Moroccan-inspired menu, complete with wine pairings, thanks again to the best place in the universe, The Alamo Drafthouse.) This movie makes the very short list of one that I've consistently seen near the top of every "All Time Best" list. I knew all the famous quotes, e.g. "here's lookin' at you," "beautiful friendship," "play it Sam" (not "play it again," nobody ever says that), "of all the gin joints," etc. To say that I came into watching this movie with high expectations would be an understatement. I came into this movie expecting to walk out, with tears in my eyes, wanting to rush back to my seat and demand that it be played again from the beginning.
But that didn't really happen.
Don't get me wrong! This is a great film. It is a clinic in writing, and has one of the best closing scenes ever in a movie. But aside from that scene, and possibly the wonderful flashback sequence showing Blaine's and Ilsa's happier times in Paris, I thought that the movie was rather shiftless. Most of the movie takes place inside the nightclub and consists of boring, explanatory dialogue. The supporting cast is very caricature-ish, especially poor Sam and Renault. Bogart acts like Bogart, which is fun if you've never seen any of his other movies, but don't put Rick Blaine and Sam Spade side-by-side and tell me that Spade is not a far superior character. In the end, Bergman, for me, is probably the acting highlight of the film. She is really wonderful, and I'm looking forward to seeing her in Gaslight.
Is Casablanca very, very good? Yes. Is it among the best movies of all time? Not even close.
I've searched the Net high and wide for cinephiles who share my conflict. There are many. There is one writer in particular who I think summed it up best, and excuse me if I paraphrase, but the gist of his notion was that Casablanca might be more "lovable" than it is actually good. This movie has become a sort of idealized notion of old Hollywood, and I think it gets a lot of breaks for that reason. If there's anything I have learned in this project, it's that not all pre-1950's, black-and-white movies are as boring and dialogue-driven as Casablanca. They don't all need to feature wooden, barely believable romances, either. I think we're allowed to expect a little more of a movie that many say ranks among Citizen Kane, The Godfather, Lawrence of Arabia, etc., as one of the best ever made.
For the five people reading this, I invite you to disagree with me and tell me why. These views are subjective and inclined towards certain tastes. But I've been watching a lot of movies from a lot of different decades, and simply do not see the basis for universal, outright, adulation.
Casablanca won Best Picture in 1943, and I have yet to see any of the nine other films that it beat out. But I will probably watch those with an extra careful eye towards comparison. I will give this movie a score fitting of one that is very good, even great, but not nearly an all-time best: 8.4.
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