The name’s 365. And the game: mediocre film reviews.
There I was, on a normal winter afternoon. Snow falling from the clouds, glittering white spectacle hiding the harsh cold outside. Seems like the world is that way sometimes: beautiful at a glance, but it’ll kill you if you leave yourself bare and unprotected. That’s why I stay indoors in times like this; watch it from afar, and you can’t get hurt. So I’ve learned in my 30 years of being on this planet.
I settled down, decided on watching a moving picture that day. I had settled on watching a 1941 classic, The Maltese Falcon. They say it’s the first film noir, or at least the first film that defined the genre as we know it. I fired up the television, and found the movie in HBO Max. I grabbed a drink, a cool glass of raspberry lemonade Crystal Lite, and relaxed for the first time in what felt like a long time.
But before I tell you about this, I need to ask: are you in? This is a story full of twists and turns, and some of you may not want to come along for the ride. I don’t get out much, but from what I hear, the kids today call them SPOILERS. You sure you want to hear this story? Well, then, sit down; grab a lemonade. Because boy, do I have a story to tell you.
Spoilers ahead, buster.
The picture came on, and there he was: Humphrey Bogart. This hadn’t been the first time we’d crossed paths, although that was a different time...different people. He was in The African Queen, playing a boat captain in World War I era central Africa. I was watching romance movies at the time, and had no idea what I was doing. Well, Bogart was different. I still have no idea what I’m doing on this hellsite.
Bogart was in rare form. He was playing detective Sam Spade, one of the most famous characters in script and screen. A hard-nosed private eye who takes no guff from those who’d offer it. He was mean, he was lean...he was cool. I liked him, to be frank. Admired his moxie, you could say. Spade was sitting in his office, accompanied by his secretary Effie (Lee Patrick). She was also a tough gal, and I also liked her a lot. Movie came out it 1941, but it felt like she was Spade’s real partner throughout the film. As for his other partner...ah, but I’m getting ahead of myself. My mind wanders in times like these.
That’s when she walked in. Well, maybe I should say they. Entering into my little world was my fiancée, a bright spot in my temporarily shades-of-gray world. She looked at me and asked what I was doing, and why I was wearing a fedora and in black-and-white. I just said “noir”, and she figured it out; she’s a smart dame. She sat down and played Minecraft, or something. I was too wrapped up in the movie.
Entering Sam Spade’s office was Ruth Wonderly (Mary Astor), and I knew who she was right away: the stereotypical film noir love interest/seductress/not to be trusted person. She wove some story about her missing sister, not that I or Spade believed it. Caught the interest of his partner, Miles Archer (Jerome Cowan), and they agreed to help her out. Got Archer killed. Why? Because it was inevitable in a film like this. Partners die. It’s the rules of the game for a film noir private eye detective. As is this shot of a newspaper. Surprised it wasn’t spinning. Then again, my head was compensating for the both of us. Too much lemonade, I think. I should probably lay off, but I need something sweet to tolerate this salty and sour world.
From there, the film went on in earnest. Archer’s wife, Iva Archer (Gladys George) is another in a likely long line of women in love with Sam Spade, and believes that Spade killed Miles to get her. Which, to me, sounds like somebody needs to get off her high horse; she’s liable to get hurt. Spade turns her away, but has two more visits soon enough. Detectives Dundy (Barton MacLane) and Polhaus (Ward Bond) are on his ass, also thinking he killed his partner. Idiots. He’s the main character in a film noir film. His hands might be dirty, but not with his partner’s blood.
The last visit, though, comes from a curious character, and another familiar face to me. The large-eyed Hungarian man was none other than Peter Lorre, from the last movie, M. He was playing Joel Cairo, a crook and a smuggler looking for a priceless treasure: the Maltese falcon. He offers Spade a tidy sum for the statuette back in his possession, but I was distracted. I knew at once that I’d heard of this fabled object. Not only was it the title of the film, but it’s also one of film history’s best and greatest MacGuffins. While Joel pulled a gun and Spade knocked him unconscious IMMEDIATELY, I got to work.
You’ve been in this business as long as I have, and you’ll be able to recognize a MacGuffin when you see it. Citizen Kane had the sled, Pulp Fiction has the briefcase of mystery, Frodo had to yank around that damn ring for three movies, et cetera. It’s that item that the plot centers around, that item that the characters have, need, or have a need to get rid of. But that’s not the only reason this little bird was flying through my head.
The Maltese falcon in particular is very well-known in film history. Why? A story for later on, but take it from be; it’s famous. So famous that I already knew the ending of this movie. A pity, but I had to stick through to the end. Which wasn’t hard, since the direction and cinematography by Western director John Huston and partner Arthur Edeson made me tear up a little bit. First time I’ve cried in hours. This film was gorgeous, no doubt about that; you could see that as plain as the nose o Bogart’s face. Easy on the eyes makes for easy watching, lemme tell ya.
Spade thought the same thing about his client, the former Ruth Wonderly. I say former because, as I’d suspected, she was a sham and a pathological liar. Her real name was Brigid O’Shaughnessy, and she was in league with a group of smugglers and treasure hunters, one of whom was dead the same night as Archer. Another mystery to solve, although it’s pretty certain that the same dead man killed Archer before kicking his own bucket.
Soon, Spade decides to bring together the gang: him, Brigid, and Cairo. Together, at his apartment, they’ll figure out where they stand. When Cairo arrives, things are tense, real tense. He introduces another player into the mix: the Fat Man. That puts Brigid on edge, and makes Spade and I as curious as a cat in a canning factory. A new player? What role is he going to play in this sordid affair?
But just then, the tension boils over! Cairo pulls a gun, Spade bloodies his nose a bit, and then there’s a knock on the door. It’s Dundy and Polhaus, the nosy ninnies. They’ve come to talk with Spade, but end up breaking up the fight between Cairo and Brigid (feisty fella and dame that they are). Cairo’s taken into custody for questioning, and Brigid and Spade get to know each other. But all the while, somebody else is watching outside.
Doesn’t take long for us to meet that other person: a two-bit no-account thug named Wilmer (Elisha Cook Jr.). Handy with a knife as my lungs are with air, Wilmer’s not all there in the brainpan; a couple screws short of a full box, if you know what I mean. He threatens Spade, who takes it in stride. That’s our Sam for you; unnerved to the core. Anyway, Wilmer has a message for Spade, who’s at a hotel, waiting for Cairo post police questioning. Wilmer tells Spade that the Fat Man wants to meet him to propose a deal about the Falcon. Spade accepts, and goes to meet the man himself. And lemme tell ya...you’re gonna love this.
The minute I laid eyes on “Fat Man” Gutman (Sydney Greenstreet), I knew two things. One, this guy was one tough customer. And two, he is literally live action Kingpin (Wilson Fisk) before the character even existed. I did my research, and sure enough, Stan Lee based his famous NYC crime boss on Greenstreet, and on the Fat Man himself. I allowed myself to shed a tear in joy. Let’s go, Mets.
The Fat Man starts to dance around the topic of the Falcon, much to Spade’s feigned irritation. He throws a fit to get his way, and he gets his way alright. The Fat Man asks him to come back later that night, and he tells him the history of the little black bird. Apparently, it’s a treasure over 400 years old, and it’s worth a fortune. The Fat Man even offers Spade a quarter of the profits, were he to help them find it. But if you walk into a viper’s nest...expect to get bitten. Spade’s drink is spiked, and he passes out. Gutman, Wilmer, and the in-league Cairo escape, planning on going after the person they believe has the statue: Brigid.
From there, all hell breaks loose. See, Brigid actually smuggled the statue to a friend, a boat captain at the harbor. The two got caught by the Fat Man and his guys, leading to a burnt-down boat, a dead captain, and the statue in Sam’s oh-so-capable hands. Brigid sent him, dying, to Spade’s office, with the statue in hands. And once the Falcon is recovered, Sam rescues Brigid from the Fat Man’s clutches, only to find the Fat Man and crew waiting for them at his place.
Three dead men and one burned boat, all for this little black statuette. Spade agrees to take $10,000, right off the bat, assuming somebody can get fingered for the three murders, including that of his partner. Looks like Wilmer’s the fall guy, the poor slob. After all, he did kill the boat captain and the other dead man...but not Archer. That’s still a mystery. But enough of that; it’s Christmas time, because it’s time to unwrap our presents.
Ho. Ho. Ho. Somebody fetch the milk and cookies.
There it is: the Maltese Falcon. In the world outside of the silver screen, this little bird fetched $4.5 million at auction, making it one of the most valuable film props in film history. And in universe, underneath its black lacquer, priceless jewels rest beneath. Or, uh...so you’d think.
See, the big ending of the film, and the most ironic twist in film history, is that the statuette that was worth 4.5 big ones in real life...is a fake in the film. Three men dead, all for a useless, worthless, statue of a falcon. The owner of the bird swapped it out when he realized these idiotic treasure hunters were coming, making the entire struggle of the movie completely pointless. The world feels that way sometimes, to a film noir private eye. All that struggle, for a useless hunk of rock.
Cairo freaks out, and Gutman demands his money back. Spade takes a service fee, professional shyster that he is. Gotta admire that fella’s moxie. Cairo and Gutman make a clean escape to find the statue elsewhere, while Wilmer escapes and Brigid stays with Sam. But Spade knows the score now, and he lays the truth squarely on the liar’s head: Brigid killed Archer. And she’s gonna pay for it. No amount of honeyed words or passionate kisses can save her now. He turns her over to the detectives, and tells them where to find Gutman, Wilmer, and Cairo. One of the detective picks up the bird, asks what it is. And Spade says:
Hell of a film. My thoughts? Worth about 92¢.
Cast and Acting: 10/10
Plot and Writing: 9/10
Direction and Cinematography: 10/10
Production and Art Design: 9/10
Music and Editing: 8/10
...Also, yeah, enough of the noir speak. Got draining towards the end there. Real talk, this film is goddamn fantastic. Even knowing from the beginning that the falcon was fake didn’t matter to me; gorgeously shot and iconically written by John Huston, beautifully scored by Adolph Deutsch, and perfect acting literally all around (not a single weak point here for me, I loved it whole-heartedly), this movie...this is a great movie.
I’d have more analysis normally, but...I really don’t! It’s a great movie! My only notes are the fact that I wouldn’t really buy this sountrack (it’s good, but not playlist-worthy for me), the Falcon actually does just look like wood, and the writing is great, but also cheesy-as-hell. Still, in context, it works ridiculously well. If you’re a film fan, a mystery fan, or a film noir fan (especially if you’re a fan noir), this is your movie, hot damn! Can’t wait for another film noir! So, what’s next?
what are your favorite poems? if that's too hard to answer, what are your favorite poems right now?
ohohohoho this is an impossible question but here goes nothing
-elegy written in a country churchyard by thomas gray. this is one of my longtime favourites. it captures the feeling of being in a cemetery PERFECTLY
-ode to a nightingale by john keats. this one hits hard, especially this stanza:
-to mrs reynolds’ cat by john keats. i’m obsessed with the fact that he wrote a poem to a cat
-adonais by percy shelley. every time i read it i’m just 😭😭😭
-england in 1819 by percy shelley, as well as his other political poems honestly. i don’t think anyone could be more iconic than to roast monarchs and politicians through poetry
-anthem for doomed youth by wilfred owen. this one really expresses how brutal wwi was, and how those who died were viewed as nothing more than just another corpse
-suicide in the trenches by siegfried sassoon. DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THIS ONE ITS JUST SO HEARTBREAKING
-here dead we lie by a.e. housman. who knew that only four lines could make me cry so much
to sum things up i just really like poetry that makes me sob
anyways i’m probably forgetting stuff, i nearly forgot about the last three actually. thank you 🖤🖤🖤
Above all, he had become more restless and often wandered for long periods of time through the countless labyrinthine corridors of Birchfield, hoping to come across something interesting, but when he found nothing, he could think of no other way out than to summon his cousin Ivy.
😂 Share your funniest line (or dialogue exchange).
"You'll just have to come," he said over the phone, "and hurry. I don't want you to have to carry me to the grave and commission a gravestone with the inscription: perished from the agonies of boredom.”
🎲 Using a method of your choosing, share a randomly-selected line.
He had never been interested in business nor did he have a knack for it, so he cared little for whatever they were doing.
it’s time for a url change! this one fits my blog more and i finally got rid of my super old and outdated one. i would appreciate it if my mutuals would boost this! thank you!! 💖
