Review of The Maltese Falcon (1941) by Michael W — 17 Dec 2008

As someone who is a professed fan of hardboiled crime fiction and film noir, I have read and seen a surprisingly small number of the classics of these styles in the mediums of literature and film respectively - of those I've seen and read, the only one I really remember, in both mediums, is Raymond Chandler's The Big Sleep, which is my favourite novel/la of all time and one of my favourite films, even if I dislike what Howard Hawks did with the ending of the novella (there's also numerous neo-noirs, Brick, Se7en and the like, but they don't count in this case). Therefore, I figured it was about time I started working through said classics, which brings me to The Maltese Falcon. John Huston's first film as director, Sydney Greenstreet's first feature film performance, and Humphrey Bogart's breakthrough film, The Maltese Falcon is a landmark film in many respects for classic film noir, but a film being a landmark one doesn't necessarily make it amazing.

So, where do the problems lie? Well, it's not in the narrative, for sure. Hammett's twisty-turny tale is engaging, interesting and unpredictable, and one really does feel like Bogart's private dick, Sam Spade, while watching the film - we only ever know as much as he does, and it makes a refreshing change of pace from films where everything is spelled out right at the beginning. It's probably one of the best things about noir as a style (because it's not really a genre), and when done well, the end result is amazing. Here, the narrative is executed exceptionally well, and absolutely nothing is incomprehensible or left hanging (unlike in The Big Sleep, where we have the problem of Owen Taylor). The story is evenly paced, well structured, and the reveal feels natural and clever, not forced and aggrandised.

There's no problem with the dialogue or the performances (in general) either. While the script isn't as blisteringly slick and sharp-witted as that of The Big Sleep, there are still plenty of memorable lines to go around ("When you're slapped, you'll take it and you'll like it" being my personal favourite), and the exposition is kept brisk and interesting. The performances are, by and large, exceptional, with Bogart in barnstorming form as Spade, and his supports doing equally well - for his first film role, Greenstreet steals all the scenes he's in as the genial Gutman; Peter Lorre is exceptional as the weasley Joel Cairo; and Elisha Cook Jr. doing well as the surly Wilmer.

However, there are two problems, glaring problems, with this film that make me question the classic tag. The first is the quality of some of the supporting characters, particularly the women. Mary Astor, who really needs to learn how to slow down when speaking, has a good character in Brigid, but never really capitalises on it until near the end, when she is absolutely exceptional. Likewise, Gladys George, as the wife of Spade's dead-too-soon partner Miles, and Lee Patrick, as Spade's secretary, get very little interesting to do, and seem to spend most of the film shreiking and being submissive to Sam - a far cry from the much more interesting female characters in The Big Sleep. Also, the first fifteen minutes are badly executed and, bar a few striking lines ("A customer?" "I guess so. You'll want to see her anyway, she's a knockout.") and Bogart, they do absolutely nothing to reel the audience on and come packaged with one of the absolute worst camera shots I have ever seen, when Miles gets shot - he simply walks onto a black screen, stands there for what seems like forever, facing the camera, and then a gun appears in the corner of the screen and he's shot. It's abrupt, but not in a good way, and it just feels silly and amateurish, and is emblematic of the first ten-fifteen minutes, which feel like Huston's still finding his feet with this directing lark and hasn't mastered it quite yet.

The Maltese Falcon is a very good film, full of good performances, dialogue, and direction, but by the end of the film, you'll be surprised that you're watching the same film as you were an hour and a half ago.