The Maltese Falcon (1941)

(In theaters, August 2000) Modern moviegoers will be shocked at the initial narrative drive of this film, where scenes steamroll across the screen one after another, setting up the plot with a raging, almost comical efficiency. Don’t be surprised to find multiple clichés in The Maltese Falcon, but don’t blame the film; blame the innumerable screenwriters who ripped off this film (and, reasonably, the original novel) for countless imitation, and the entire genre of noir film. There are a few rough spots, easy glossing over complex events (oh, so my partner’s been shot… wanna make out?) but the film eventually develops such an inherent fascination that most viewers won’t mind if the last twenty minutes of the film are little more than a theatrical play on film. Somewhat unpolished, maybe even a bit naive, but a lot of fun.

(Second Viewing, On Cable TV, June 2021) Even on a second viewing informed by decades of accumulated knowledge about classic Hollywood, film noir, Humphrey Bogart, writer/director John Huston and nearly everything else about the film, there isn’t all that much to say about The Maltese Falcon. It’s a classic for a reason, and a great example of how the studio system could end up creating a great movie through an accumulation of craftsmanship. Its influence of the following two decades of film noir is undeniable, and it launched Bogart to the superstardom he would solidify over the following two years. Peter Lorre and Sydney Greenstreet (in his screen debut) have the first of several collaborations here (they’d next show up again with Bogart in 1942’s Casablanca). It’s fun to compare it to 1936’s Satan Met a Lady, the very different adaptation of the same original Hammett short story. But taken by itself, whether you’re seeing hot or cold, The Maltese Falcon is still quite a bit of fun.