The Maltese Falcon

It's always hard to review an undisputed masterpiece, and The Maltese Falcon (1941) is no different. What can be said except it lives up to its reputation?

Hardboiled San Francisco detective Sam Spade (Humphrey Bogart) gets approached by a mysterious Ms. Wonderlay (Mary Astor) seeking to save her sister from a jilted lover. This seemingly routine case results in the death of Spade's partner Archer (Jerome Cowan), ensnaring Spade in a complicated treasure hunt. Turns out Wonderlay is really Brigid O'Shaughnessy, an associate of bumbling crook Kaspar Gutman (Sydney Greenstreet), who's obsessively pursuing the legendary Maltese Falcon - a jewel-encrusted statue of 16th Century vintage.

The prototypical film noir, The Maltese Falcon had a number of strikes against it. It's the third adaptation of Dashiel Hammet's novel, after a mediocre 1931 version and a forgettable comedy with Bette Davis. Big Warner Brothers star George Raft passed on the lead, resulting in seedy screen gangster Humphrey Bogart's casting as Sam Spade. Finally, of course, it was helmed by John Huston, an ace screenwriter (Juarez, Sergeant York) but directorally green. Despite all of this, Falcon is near-perfect in execution, with all the right elements - perfect cast, skilled director, surprisingly edgy content - coming together for a masterpiece.

Perhaps because of its B-picture origins, Falcon breaks the studio mould in every way. Sam Spade is lowliest of cads, a self-serving creep who has no compunction about bossing around thugs ("When you're slapped, you'll take it and like it"), cheating his partner (he's carrying on with Archer's wife (Gladys George)) and abusing women. Brigid sets the standard for a half-century of femme fatales, willing to lie, bed and kill unsuspecting men to pursue her goals. The villains are portrayed as barely-coded homosexuals, with Joel Cairo (Peter Lorre) toting a scented handkerchief and chewing on the nob of his cane. There's only the faintest whif of a romance and comic relief is incidental: the story is resolutely blunt and straightforward without the expected Hollywood frills.

Falcon is one of the greatest directoral debuts ever, with John Huston showing a natural talent that served him for nearly fifty years. Arthur Edeson's oppressively black-and-white photography and Thomas Richards's expressionist montages create an appropriately seedy, foreboding atmosphere. Huston's script is the perfect mixture of clipped dialogue and brisk story structure: long, involved dialogue scenes fly by, allowing Robert M. Haas's cramped sets to take on a life of their own.

Humphrey Bogart easily shrugged off his two-bit hood persona to become one of Hollywood's greatest icons: cynical, selfish, violent, yet with some scruples underneath. Bogart's rough around the edges charm is perfect for Spade, making him a complete jerk yet perversely likeable. It's a treat to watch Spade constantly outwitting dumb cops, fast broads and tough criminals, a master poker player in all situations. Bogart's had more complex roles but he was never better.

The supporting cast is no less impressive. Mary Astor (Act of Violence) is appropriately sensual, delicate and tough at turns, giving only the faintest hint of the conniving schemer within. Deceptively suave Sydney Greenstreet and effeminate Peter Lorre make iconic villains: both would reteam with Bogart in Casablanca. Lee Patrick (Vertigo) is wonderful as Spade's tough-as-nails secretary. Elisha Cook Jr. (Shane) gets an early role as Gutman's wimpy henchman, and Barton MacLane and (who else?) Ward Bond play the cops harrassing Spade.

The Maltese Falcon is simply one of the greats. There's only so much you can say about a film with seventy years of critical plaudits, and it speaks for itself anyway.