Humphrey Bogart

The Noir Film to End all Noir Films

Bacall and Bogart in The Big Sleep

We don’t normally start our articles with a caveat, but we’ll make an exception for this one.  We’re not considering Casablanca a noir film for this one, mainly because it doesn’t quite have the necessary cynicism in many of the characters that noir embodies.

Having said that, we can move along.

It seems that, over the past few years, a very good chunk of our posts regarding the 1001 films one must view before the grim reaper arrives have been about noir in one form or another.  It’s pretty much to be expected, as we’re traversing the golden age of the genre, the mid forties.

We’ve seen some films that we liked, a few that played with the expectations, and at least one which was just that little bit too dense to be enjoyable.  Hell, we even thought we’d finally found the be-all and end-all of noir film.

We were wrong.  The best noir film ever made is The Big Sleep (1946), and the reason it beats out To Have and Have Not is twofold.  The first part of the explanation is that the producers built on a formula that was pretty much perfect.  They took the same insanely talented group of actors and writers and applied the lessons that they and everyone else had learned over the intervening two years–and though two years might not sound like much, remember that there was more noir going on in those two years, than any time before or since.

The second reason is that, though we’re including To Have and Have Not among our noir films, it’s actually, to a certain degree, more aligned with Casablanca than with The Maltese Falcon.

The Big Sleep Movie Poster - Lauren Bacall and Humphrey Bogart

But there’s no doubt about The Big Sleep.  As soon as Marlowe walks in, you know it’s the real deal… almost by definition.  In fact, we’re going to establish a new definition for noir: it has to contain either Marlowe, Hammer or Spade.  There.  We said it.

But even if the main character was some other detective, we’d have allowed this film in.  The plot twists and turns like a corkscrew, and you need to pay attention, or you’ll miss just what the heck is going on.

The women are beautiful–even the ones that aren’t Lauren Bacall–and the fact that the characters inhabit a world where night never seems to end is an inspired artistic decision.

Unusually, there are two versions of this film, one from 1945 and this one. The ’46 version is one in which the studio made a bunch of alterations… and, in an unusual turn of events, is actually better than the director’s original vision (more Lauren Bacall can never, ever be a bad thing, can it?).

So, if you are going to watch only one noir film in your life, this might be it.  It is film noir fully grown up and using all the tricks it learned in adolescence.

 

Also, here at CE, we’d like to give a shout out to surviving members of the cast: Dorothy Malone and Sonia Darrin, two women who have had an extraordinary run… long may it continue!!

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When Everyone is Out to Get Everyone Else

Murder My Sweet Poster

We’re on an unapologetic film noir binge here at CE, and we don’t care who knows it.

After our recent review of Double Indemnity–which established a lot of the basic format of noir while simultaneously ignoring the most important element, the hardboiled detective–we’re back in more familiar territory.  In fact, we’re entering hallowed ground, for we are about to speak of Philip Marlowe‘s film debut.

While other Chandler novels had been filmed–even Marlowe ones–the character had never appeared by name until 1944’s Murder My Sweet (which British audiences will likely know as Farewell My Lovely).

Possibly the most notable element of this film is that Dick Powell, known for light-hearted roles as opposed to anything Marlowe-esque was cast in the lead role… and, seventy years later, therein lies a problem.  The major issue is that the hard-boiled dick actor par excellence is Humphrey Bogart, and no amount of thespian versatility by lesser men could ever really equal that.  Having anyone else play Marlowe seems somehow sacrilegious.

This is still a great film, mainly because the plot is so twisted that one ends up needing a corkscrew to figure it all out… that is until the end, where the spider at the center of the web is revealed, and the motivations become a bit clearer.

Dick Powell in Murder my Sweet

We won’t spoil it by giving away the final revelation, but will limit ourselves to noting that most of the comments about human sorididity that we made about  Double Indemnity are still valid, but detract less from this film.  It’s one of those cases where having the plot focus less closely on the relationships between people and having more actually go on shifts the focus away from the baser elements of behavior.  This one feels more like a roller-coaster ride through the murky depths than the view through a microscope of that same muck… and gains by it immeasurably.

Watching the two films back to back is recommended for anyone who wishes to truly understand the extremes of noir, and how two aesthetically similar films in the same genre which touch on similar themes, and even use a similar flashback framing to tell the story, can feel completely different, and yet be unmistakably related.

And a final reflection is how dark films seemed to find favor during dark times, despite the best efforts of the Hays office.  Noir is a product of the early and mid forties, which would seem to be anti-intuitive; one would think that a people weary of war would look for light-hearted filmography.

But that clearly wasn’t the case.  Noir would never be done as well as it was then, much like comedy would never be as good as the screwball type of the thirties – Hollywood simply never recovered that particular magic.

We give this one four Schlemmons.

Bogart, Hemingway and Faulkner? Definitely “To Have”

Lauren Bacall - The Look

It’s well established that almost no one liked the book version of To Have and Have Not – not even its author, Mr. Macho himself, Ernest Hemingway.

But that didn’t stop Howard Hawks from deciding that it could be a basis for a great film, casting Bogart and Lauren Bacall in an unforgettable pairing.  Bacall is so perfectly well suited to noir that the pair’s chemistry simply blows that of Casablanca out of the water…

But it wasn’t quite that simple.  The book was a bit of a turkey, so the production had to really rework it to get it right, and not much of the original material survives in the film.  Of course, having William Faulkner helping with the screenplay can’t have hurt, either – even if he and Hemingway were anything but best buddies.

Lauren Bacall and Humphrey Bogart

Let’s stop to think about that for a minute.  When was the last time you heard of a Hollywood movie which had TWO Nobel-prize-winning writers involved in the screenplay?  Granted, neither of them had won when the film was produced, but the choice of a “difficult” writer such as Faulkner for adaptation would have meant that a lot of the dialogue was deeper than normal.

That is not something that would happen today – the blockbuster system neither needs nor is interested in Nobel Prizes, and difficult dialogue is strictly verboten.  I believe that’s one of the main reasons that today’s films last a lot less in our memory than the old classics – and the reason that recent years are not referred to as “Hollywood’s Golden Age” in the way the thirties and forties are.

Of course, both Bogart and Bacall are dead, too, and don’t look like they’ve been replaced – although it would be both unfair and inaccurate to say that modern film is devoid of giants.  That isn’t true – but the giants are a lot more careful of their image, and ambiguous characters are not all that common anymore among the true superstars.

To Have and Have Not Piano Scene

I suppose that, in much the way that the thirties were the classic era of the screwball comedy, the forties were the era of film noir (this one isn’t exactly textbook noir, but it’s close enough) and Hollywood moved beyond it.  But looking back on the era now with modern eyes, it’s an amazingly entertaining body of work – and the Hays Code probably helped by forcing directors to up the innuendo so that audiences could read between the lines.

Not that much of that is necessary while watching To Have and Have Not.  The sexual energy between Bogart and Bacall – not to mention the sheer sultry throaty presence of Bacall herself – were enough to telegraph intentions, and give us a much more believable story of damaged people making the most of their situation than the one in Casablanca.  Yeah, despite being unabashed fans of Rick’s Café, we actually wrote that last sentence.

It’s hard to call this one unappreciated or forgotten, because it still gets its good share of late night air time, but it’s definitely worth rediscovering, as a lot of it is actually better than its more famous Bogart stablemate.

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