‘When you’re slapped, you’ll take it and like it...’
As with Westerns, I’ve never been much of a fan of film noir. Both genres are so defined by familiar tropes and motifs that they have a tendency to become samey and predictable. It takes something special to entice me into a film noir, in the case of The Maltese Falcon, it was a combination of the film’s stellar reputation and one Humphrey DeForest Bogart that persuaded me to sit through the damn thing, and I’m glad I did…
Samuel Spade (Bogart) is a world weary private detective who becomes embroiled in the hunt for the Maltese Falcon – a Golden Falcon encrusted ‘from beak to claw with rarest jewels’. As the bodies and the lies start piling up, Sam Spade must navigate these choppy waters whilst also smoking a cigarette and looking cool at all times.
And it’s a good job that Bogie is so damn cool because he really carries this movie. The plot is unnecessarily convoluted and labyrinthine, Bogart’s female co-stars are shrill and hysterical and the romantic subplot really doesn’t land either. What does land is the Humph laying down the law and tying the whole thing together. The Falcon itself, when it does finally appear, really doesn’t look impressive at all, and that is indicative of the whole film. Huston’s noir classic suffers in comparison to something like The Third Man or even Bogart’s other hugely famous film Casablanca.
I enjoyed this movie and it doesn’t outstay its welcome, but I also feel that it doesn’t quite live up to the hype either. Essential for fans of film noir, but probably not for anyone else.