In spite of the alleged plot holes identified by other reviewers, this still stands as my very favorite Bogey-Bacall feature. I realize that I am probably in the minority among their fans. The film is superbly directed by Delmer Daves ("3:10 to Yuma", "Pride of the Marines", "Destination Tokyo"), based on the original novel by David Goodis, and includes a very strong musical score by Franz Waxman.
What about those alleged plot holes? Considering Irene Jansen's (Lauren Bacall's) strong fixation on the plight of Vincent Parry (Humphrey Bogart), couldn't she have satisfied her need to be physically close to him by finding inspiration to paint in the hills that surrounded San Quentin while he was imprisoned there? At one point, she suggests that fate itself compelled her to that location on that day. And was her friendship to the villainous Madge Rapf (Agnes Moorhead) far too coincidental, or could she have deliberately sought out Madge's companionship only for the purpose of ultimate retribution against Madge after she framed the innocent Parry for the murder of his wife? I haven't yet read the book, but it may succeed in patching the holes that the screenplay failed to do.
Plot holes aside, I knew that I would love this movie from the moment that the barrel started swaying precariously from the back of the prison truck while the sirens of San Quentin blasted throughout the surrounding California countryside. Next, I am suddenly spinning down the mountain through the eyes of escapee Vincent. For the first thirty minutes of the movie, we only witness the action from first person point of view as Parry experiences it and narrates it.
From the very start, this movie never disappoints. At every moment, there is an unexpected turn of events and the introduction of a new and unique character of interest. There are so many fascinating and quirky elements, including personalities both large and small, that I don't know where to begin, so I'll start with the wonderful, dramatic score of Franz Waxman, prominently showcasing the classic Mercer-Whiting song of the era, "Too Marvelous for Words". Who can deliver us to the world of 1947 more authentically than icon Jo Stafford as she sings what would soon become Vincent's and Irene's very appealing theme song?
Clifton Young is well cast as Baker, the blackmailing weasel and small time thug, who curiously drives a jalopy that can't do more than 40 mph featuring, of all things, seat cushions made from a carnival tent. As we learn more about Baker, we fully understand Vincent's desire to "crack open his head full of figures".
Soon we are on board a very tense drive through a police dragnet, targeting Vincent, from one end of the Golden Gate Bridge to the other with Irene nervously behind the wheel and Vincent hidden in the back of a station wagon among her freshly painted oils. "Be careful not to get paint on your sleeve, officer," she warns a policeman as he pokes through her cargo and comes within inches of Vincent's hand. Fortunately for the sake of both Irene and Vincent, he heeds her advice, withdrawing just in the nick of time.
Once Irene and Vincent successfully dodge the police checkpoints, we are invited into Irene's intriguing, art deco building somewhere in the hills of San Francisco. It includes a glass elevator and a striking, etched panel of glass that lead to an apartment with an attractive, spiral staircase that ascends to a very cozy bedroom.
Tom d'Andrea as Sam, the gregarious and goodhearted cab driver, is another amusing element of the film, as is an unforgettable Housely Stevenson, who plays Dr. Coley, Vincent's de-certified plastic surgeon. Is the doctor the fiend that Vincent imagines him to be as he is sedated prior to the operation? "Got the money?" Dr. Coley asks during a fascinating nightmare sequence. A health insurance card is obviously of no use in this place.
Agnes Moorehead is genuinely detestable as Madge Rapf, whose unpleasant name matches her grating personality. The intensity of Madge's and Vincent's encounter at her apartment is another dramatic turning point, thanks to the unique talent of Bogart and Moorehead, two of the best in the business, as they go to battle with a tight script that matches their abilities. Madge's "moment of truth" and her subsequent exit from the scene without a stairway or an elevator must be seen to be fully appreciated. Could those shoes sailing through the bay breeze be bright orange too? Orange is, after all, Madge's favorite color.
In the end, the movie's unfaltering state of suspense and uncertainty leads to a splendidly elegant finale that, in my humble opinion, expresses unlike any other the everlasting love that Bogey and Bacall felt for each other in real life. Just too marvelous for words.
What about those alleged plot holes? Considering Irene Jansen's (Lauren Bacall's) strong fixation on the plight of Vincent Parry (Humphrey Bogart), couldn't she have satisfied her need to be physically close to him by finding inspiration to paint in the hills that surrounded San Quentin while he was imprisoned there? At one point, she suggests that fate itself compelled her to that location on that day. And was her friendship to the villainous Madge Rapf (Agnes Moorhead) far too coincidental, or could she have deliberately sought out Madge's companionship only for the purpose of ultimate retribution against Madge after she framed the innocent Parry for the murder of his wife? I haven't yet read the book, but it may succeed in patching the holes that the screenplay failed to do.
Plot holes aside, I knew that I would love this movie from the moment that the barrel started swaying precariously from the back of the prison truck while the sirens of San Quentin blasted throughout the surrounding California countryside. Next, I am suddenly spinning down the mountain through the eyes of escapee Vincent. For the first thirty minutes of the movie, we only witness the action from first person point of view as Parry experiences it and narrates it.
From the very start, this movie never disappoints. At every moment, there is an unexpected turn of events and the introduction of a new and unique character of interest. There are so many fascinating and quirky elements, including personalities both large and small, that I don't know where to begin, so I'll start with the wonderful, dramatic score of Franz Waxman, prominently showcasing the classic Mercer-Whiting song of the era, "Too Marvelous for Words". Who can deliver us to the world of 1947 more authentically than icon Jo Stafford as she sings what would soon become Vincent's and Irene's very appealing theme song?
Clifton Young is well cast as Baker, the blackmailing weasel and small time thug, who curiously drives a jalopy that can't do more than 40 mph featuring, of all things, seat cushions made from a carnival tent. As we learn more about Baker, we fully understand Vincent's desire to "crack open his head full of figures".
Soon we are on board a very tense drive through a police dragnet, targeting Vincent, from one end of the Golden Gate Bridge to the other with Irene nervously behind the wheel and Vincent hidden in the back of a station wagon among her freshly painted oils. "Be careful not to get paint on your sleeve, officer," she warns a policeman as he pokes through her cargo and comes within inches of Vincent's hand. Fortunately for the sake of both Irene and Vincent, he heeds her advice, withdrawing just in the nick of time.
Once Irene and Vincent successfully dodge the police checkpoints, we are invited into Irene's intriguing, art deco building somewhere in the hills of San Francisco. It includes a glass elevator and a striking, etched panel of glass that lead to an apartment with an attractive, spiral staircase that ascends to a very cozy bedroom.
Tom d'Andrea as Sam, the gregarious and goodhearted cab driver, is another amusing element of the film, as is an unforgettable Housely Stevenson, who plays Dr. Coley, Vincent's de-certified plastic surgeon. Is the doctor the fiend that Vincent imagines him to be as he is sedated prior to the operation? "Got the money?" Dr. Coley asks during a fascinating nightmare sequence. A health insurance card is obviously of no use in this place.
Agnes Moorehead is genuinely detestable as Madge Rapf, whose unpleasant name matches her grating personality. The intensity of Madge's and Vincent's encounter at her apartment is another dramatic turning point, thanks to the unique talent of Bogart and Moorehead, two of the best in the business, as they go to battle with a tight script that matches their abilities. Madge's "moment of truth" and her subsequent exit from the scene without a stairway or an elevator must be seen to be fully appreciated. Could those shoes sailing through the bay breeze be bright orange too? Orange is, after all, Madge's favorite color.
In the end, the movie's unfaltering state of suspense and uncertainty leads to a splendidly elegant finale that, in my humble opinion, expresses unlike any other the everlasting love that Bogey and Bacall felt for each other in real life. Just too marvelous for words.