Last week I had the rare privilege (I assume it is rare…) of watching all three versions of The Maltese Falcon on successive nights.
I had already seen the Huston version, and in all honesty, can anyone who has seen that version really watch the earlier versions without bringing a Bogie lens to them?
The first version is very interesting as a comparison. Sam Spade is quite the slick smoothie rather than a hardboiled tough-guy, and if not wealthy, is at least running a highly profitable agency. The settings are Hollywood glamourous, light-years away from the cramped seediness of the Huston sets, though not quite anticipating the ridiculous extravagance of some of the sets in Satan Met a Lady. Ricardo Cortez is all wrong for Spade, and not just because he ain’t no Bogart; he also ain’t no Spade as Hammett conceived him. I never for one minute believed he was an edge-of-the-law, two-fisted, morally sleazy gumshoe … and that incessant blinding grin set my own teeth on edge.
The biggest disappointment may well have been Bebe Daniels. I love her in silent comedies, and she’s been good in most of the talkies I’ve seen her in (which is not many), but she didn’t seem able to figure out how to play Brigid. She overacts badly every time she wants to telegraph that Brigid is lying. But the role itself seems extraordinarily difficult to play on-screen; I consider Mary Astor the only actor to turn in a poor performance in the Huston version, and Bette Davis plays a completely different character in Satan Met A Lady. Maybe it will take a modern-day actress to catch the right tone of casual, amoral deception behind a beautiful face, someone like Reese Witherspoon, Penelope Cruz, or Scarlett Johansen.
As for Satan, without knowing anything of the history of this film, anyone can easily figure out that the success of a comedy approach to The Thin Man resulted in the usual Hollywood brain-cramp that a comedy approach to Maltese Falcon would be twice as successful. What a dumb idea! What was insouciant and subversive with Nick and Nora is ham-fisted and phony with Sam and Brigid (who isn’t even called Brigid in this version). Nothing with Warren William and Bette Davis in the leads can be a total write-off, so there are several good moments, but this version is an unintentional farce rather than a comic caper. I thought the guy playing Wilmer was the best of the three who have played that role, though; Elisha Cook Jr. was handicapped by being given practically no lines in the Huston version.
After watching those two versions, the Huston version hits like the 1927 New York Yankees playing the Washington Senators. The casting was sublime (maybe Gloria Graham would have made a better Brigid), the writing was electric, and overall the picture just crackles with a black, evil energy. Despite a couple of flaws, they got it right the third time around.
Jim
I had already seen the Huston version, and in all honesty, can anyone who has seen that version really watch the earlier versions without bringing a Bogie lens to them?
The first version is very interesting as a comparison. Sam Spade is quite the slick smoothie rather than a hardboiled tough-guy, and if not wealthy, is at least running a highly profitable agency. The settings are Hollywood glamourous, light-years away from the cramped seediness of the Huston sets, though not quite anticipating the ridiculous extravagance of some of the sets in Satan Met a Lady. Ricardo Cortez is all wrong for Spade, and not just because he ain’t no Bogart; he also ain’t no Spade as Hammett conceived him. I never for one minute believed he was an edge-of-the-law, two-fisted, morally sleazy gumshoe … and that incessant blinding grin set my own teeth on edge.
The biggest disappointment may well have been Bebe Daniels. I love her in silent comedies, and she’s been good in most of the talkies I’ve seen her in (which is not many), but she didn’t seem able to figure out how to play Brigid. She overacts badly every time she wants to telegraph that Brigid is lying. But the role itself seems extraordinarily difficult to play on-screen; I consider Mary Astor the only actor to turn in a poor performance in the Huston version, and Bette Davis plays a completely different character in Satan Met A Lady. Maybe it will take a modern-day actress to catch the right tone of casual, amoral deception behind a beautiful face, someone like Reese Witherspoon, Penelope Cruz, or Scarlett Johansen.
As for Satan, without knowing anything of the history of this film, anyone can easily figure out that the success of a comedy approach to The Thin Man resulted in the usual Hollywood brain-cramp that a comedy approach to Maltese Falcon would be twice as successful. What a dumb idea! What was insouciant and subversive with Nick and Nora is ham-fisted and phony with Sam and Brigid (who isn’t even called Brigid in this version). Nothing with Warren William and Bette Davis in the leads can be a total write-off, so there are several good moments, but this version is an unintentional farce rather than a comic caper. I thought the guy playing Wilmer was the best of the three who have played that role, though; Elisha Cook Jr. was handicapped by being given practically no lines in the Huston version.
After watching those two versions, the Huston version hits like the 1927 New York Yankees playing the Washington Senators. The casting was sublime (maybe Gloria Graham would have made a better Brigid), the writing was electric, and overall the picture just crackles with a black, evil energy. Despite a couple of flaws, they got it right the third time around.
Jim
