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Hey, I didn’t see this at the Book of the
Month Club! |
One of my favorite Christmas presents I received from Vinnie is a gift that we both enjoy to this day: the three-Disc Special Edition DVD set
of
The Maltese Falcon (TMF for short) I received from him last
Christmas! What a treasure trove! It contains a stellar print of
writer/director John Huston’s classic 1941 version of
The Maltese Falcon, Dashiell Hammett’s seminal detective novel about cynical private detective Sam
Spade’s adventures with the alluring bur treacherous Brigid O’Shaughnessy,
alias Miss Wonderly, alias Miss Leblanc, and a bevy of greedy no-goodniks vying
for the titular falcon statue. But wait, there’s more: this set also includes
the first two
TMF adaptations, including the first two movie
adaptations: an entertaining and informative documentary
The Maltese Falcon: One Magnificent Bird;
and oodles of fun extras, including Humphrey Bogart’s movie trailers, a
“Night at the Movies” compilation, including newsreels, cartoons, trailers, the
whole shebang; Warner Bros. movie blooper reels; and even an audio-only
TMF radio adaptation starring two of Team Bartilucci’s favorite actors:
Edward G. Robinson as Sam Spade, and
Laird
Cregar as Casper Gutman!
One Magnificent Bird
is chock-full of info about both Hammett and the films—including the fact
that the name “Dashiell” is apparently pronounced
“Da-SHEEL, at least according to
TCM’s beloved
Robert Osborne. I swear, ever since I became a Hammett fan back in my
teens, I’d never heard the
“Da-SHEEL” pronunciation before. Of
course, I usually just
read Hammett’s name, as opposed to hearing it said out
loud, but the few times I did hear the name “Dashiell” pronounced, it was always
as
“DASH-ell.” Go figure! Nit-picks aside, all kind of fascinating folks with
lore about Hammett’s life and the creation of his fiction are interviewed in
One
Magnificent Bird, including, among many others, Hammett‘s granddaughter Julie
Rivett; writer/directors Larry Cohen and Peter Bogdanovich; Frank Miller; Henry
Rollins; actors James Cromwell and Michael Madsen, presumably interviewed for
the documentary because they’ve starred in such hard-boiled crime films as
L.A.
Confidential and
Reservoir Dogs; Eric Lax, Humphrey Bogart’s
biographer, who also provides an excellent commentary track for the superb 1941
TMF
DVD; and Joe Gores, author of the mystery novel
Hammett, filmed in 1982
by Wim Wenders, starring Frederic Forrest
(The Conversation) in the title role; and Elisha Cook Jr—Wilmer Cook in his final role as a cabbie!
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Dr. Cairo is no match for our man Sam! Think he makes house calls? |
In real life, the dark
cloud of Hammett’s ill health ironically had the silver lining of turning
Hammett into a renowned author. A resident of San Francisco, Hammett had chronic
pulmonary problems, forcing him to retire from his career as a Pinkerton
detective, as well as forcing him to live apart from his daughters and his
then-wife. To fill his spare time, Hammett began writing stories and novels
inspired by his Pinkerton experiences, including
Red Harvest. This was
the uncredited inspiration for the Akira Kurosaka film
Yojimbo, as
well as being influenced over time by Walter Hill’s
Last Man Standing and
The Coen Brothers’
Miller’s Crossing, who even has a character in the
film who
looks like Hammett!.
And of course, don’t forget
Hammett’s great novels
The Thin Man and
The Glass Key, among many others, eventually being adapted for the movies!
In any event, when Hammett’s first novel was published, it was a best-seller, with
Hammett being favorably compared to Ernest Hemingway’s work!
The first film version of
The Maltese Falcon came out in 1931, directed
by
Roy Del Ruth (Ziegfeld Follies; Born to
Dance). It was known variously as both
The Maltese Falcon
and
Dangerous Female,
but for convenience’s sake, let’s call this version
Maltese 1.
This 1931 version was reviled by reviewers, but it was a big hit with moviegoers
during those Pre-Code days! Our private eye protagonist Sam Spade was played
by
Ricardo Cortez.
Born Jacob Kranz in Austria, Cortez came to Hollywood during
Rudolph Valentino’s
heyday, so the publicity machine turned him into a Latin lover type, albeit
without the cliché Latin Lover accent. Cortez’s films and TV appearances
included films
I Am a Thief; Behind Office Doors; The House on 56th
Street, among others).
Fun Fact:
Cortez’s brother
Stanley Cortez
was twice nominated for Oscars as Director of Photography, for
The Magnificent Ambersons
(1943) and
Since You Went Away
(1945), as well as an American Society of Cinematographers, USA Lifetime
Achievement Award!
Screenwriters don’t always agree with the original authors, and Hammett was no
exception. Still, like many writers, they were paid by the word,
so they were quite at peace with padding the word-count when necessary. Hey,
writers have to eat, too!
So here’s Hammett’s description of Sam Spade, straight from Chapter 1 of
The
Maltese Falcon:
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Sam sure knows how to reassure a client, especially pretty ones! |
“Samuel
Spade’s jaw was long and bony, his chin jutting a v under the
more
flexible v of his mouth. His nostrils curved back to make another, smaller v.
His yellow-grey eyes were horizontal. The v motif was picked up again by
thickish brows rising outward from twin creases above a hooked nose, and his
pale brown hair grew down—from high flat temples—in a point on his forehead. He
looked rather pleasantly like a blond satan.”
Sam doesn’t look much like Humphrey Bogart, does he? For that matter, neither
did Warren William’s character in the second film version,
Satan Met A Lady
(1936
), but we’ll discuss him and that
delightful underrated comedy (yes, a comedy!) in our next installment!
In any case, unlike Cortez or William, both of whom concentrate on the Lothario
aspect of Spade’s personality, Bogart had Spade’s cynical, wily-yet-basically
honorable attitude down perfectly—more about that when I discuss the 1941
version in depth in our upcoming big finale; but I digress! In
Maltese 1, Cortez is all smooth moves and toothy smiles, which he flashes even while he’s
trying to speak! By any chance, did Cortez have a contract with a big
toothpaste company?
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"Iva" idea Hot Toddy's too clingy for Sam’s liking! |
Anyway, Cortez’s Sam Spade may or may not always get his
man, but he sure does get his
women! We first see Spade as a silhouette
kissing and fondling a female silhouette behind his glass office door. When
Spade isn’t ravishing his female clients, he’s slyly making time on the side
with his secretary, Effie Perine (a playful Una Merkel ); talk about perks in the office! As if that wasn't enough office drama, Sam's partner's wife Iva (
Thelma Todd—“Hot Toddy” herself, in happier times) is still crazy about Sam, but he's tired of the needy Iva getting all clingy on him all the time. Clearly Sam isn't interested in wedding bells despite Iva's wishes, but no doubt Iva won’t let Sam go without a fight! Ah, but there's nothing like a murdered partner to change things, and when your partner's bumped off, you're supposed to do something about it, so the sleuthing begins! No doubt it's also partly because the Hays Office
hadn’t
completely succeeded in spoiling moviegoers’ naughty film fun! When Spade isn’t ravishing his female clients, or Iva, or the mysterious Ruth Wonderly (Bebe Daniels from
42nd Street), he’s kissing office
secretary Effie and who knows who else. It’s a miracle Sam gets any work done at
all, but it sure looks like fun. Lucky for Sam, that little tease Effie likes it and the story’s
set in 1931, or Spade would find himself slapped with a sexual harassment
lawsuit!
I’m always intrigued at the elaborate wording of the credits of films of this
era, like “Screen Play and Dialogue by Maude Fulton & Brown Holmes.” Don’t
screenplays
automatically have dialogue? Holmes is also credited with
the script for
Satan Met a Lady
(1936) which I also think of as
Maltese 2, and which you'll see sometime next week.
Good thing the writers left the writing to John Huston for the classic 1941
version!
Like many early talkies I’ve watched, I found
Maltese 1
had a slow pace. It’s only 78 minutes long, and yet to me, the time seems to
crawl by for my 21
st century attention span. Having said that, I
found the 100-minute
Maltese 3
1941 version seemed to fly by because I was so caught up in the crackling
intrigue and the dazzling performances. Still, I’m impressed with how closely
the 1941 version held, having me spellbound with suspense and snappy dialogue.
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Just how squeaky clean is Miss Wonderly? |
Sometimes it adhered a little bit
too closely. For instance, in the 1931
version of the film, Ruth Wonderly, as Brigid is named in
this
version, sleeps with Sam. But while she sleeps, Sam stealthily ransacks the
apartment for the Falcon, taking the joint apart in his search. Yes, it’s true
to the novel, but the plodding pace and static camerawork drains the scene of
any suspense that this scene might have had; even Cortez seems bored. By the
way, all three versions leave out the scene from the novel with Gutman’s daughter waylaying
Spade, as well as my own favorite bit, Sam’s Flitcraft story, but even I realize
they’re not truly essential
.
Besides, as I've said, I’ve always suspected that Hammett included the Flitcraft story simply
to increase his paycheck, since he was being paid by the word. Hey, Hammett had
to eat, too!
TCM’s
Frank Miller says,
“The Maltese Falcon earned solid reviews and did well
at the box office, but its shelf life was limited. Four years after its
release, threats of national boycotts of ‘bad movies’ inspired the studios to
accept strict Production Code enforcement under the decidedly tough Joe
Breen.” And what a fascinating cast: Dwight Frye as “gunsel” Wilmer Cook; Dudley
Digges as a more slender, almost more comical Kasper Gutman. Much of the dialogue in
Maltese 1,
is devoted to plot exposition, as opposed to the classic 1941 version’s
storytelling style: sleek, economical, more showing, less telling. While John
Huston was a master of dialogue, he also reminded us viewers that film is a
visual medium.
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Hold onto your hat, Wilmer, they’re selling you out! |
Even the establishing shots of San Francisco somehow manage to be slow-paced;
the legend “San Francisco” lingers onscreen
so long, I found myself thinking,
“All right already, we know it’s San Francisco!” It didn’t help that the music
by the Vitaphone Orchestra, conducted by the usually capable Leo G. Forbstein,
sounded to me like an Italian concerto for hurdy-gurdy and violin; I
half-expected a street musician with a monkey to stroll onscreen. But then,
keep in mind that if I’d been alive in 1931, I’d think this was cutting-edge
music, so feel free to take my comments with a hefty helping of salt!
As portrayed by Bebe Daniels
(42nd Street), Ruth Wonderly came
across to me as more like a miffed flapper than a beguiling, mercurial
femme
fatale. Cortez utters the famous line to Daniels about “the throb you get in
your voice…” when she begs for Sam’s help, but her so-called throb is barely
perceptible. Indeed, Sam cheerfully mocks Ruth like a he's teasing a bratty little sister; certainly no match for the palpable throb in our beloved Mary
Astor’s voice in the 1941 masterpiece!
Joel Cairo gets upgraded to the Eurotrash Dr. Cairo, as played by Otto Matieson
(Surrender!; Beau Ideal). He’s not as memorably colorful
as Peter Lorre in the 1941 version, but he’s still just as overdressed and
exotic. Dr. Cairo also tends to inexplicably turn up out of nowhere in Sam’s
apartment when Lt. Dundy and Det. Sgt. Polhaus (played here by Robert Elliott
and J. Farrell MacDonald) show up, which doesn’t work as well as the 1941
version with Sam, Dr. Cairo, and Ruth; somehow I simply didn’t feel any sense of
urgency or suspense.
Then there’s Dudley Digges as Caspar Gutman, the formidable “Fat Man.” Digges
tries hard, but he comes off as more of a slimmer, sweatier Falstaff than Sydney
Greenstreet. On the positive side, Dwight Frye,
Dracula’s Renfield, adds
another great supporting role to his repertoire as Wilmer Cook, Gutman’s gunsel
in every sense of the term!
Next time: The 3
Faces of The Maltese Falcon: Satan Met a Lady (1936)