Tuesday, 11 November 2008 08:56 pm
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deckardcanineOn Sunday, I watched The Petrified Forest. It stands out partly for providing Humphrey Bogart's first hit movie role, and partly for providing a touch of noir in the time before film noir. Heck, it came out in 1936, with no compunctions about highlighting economic misery, when most movies were light and had happy endings.
This should have been a real winner for me. I'd seen 10 Bogart films before and liked them all. This one's based on a play, which is generally a promising sign for the writing. But there was something about the movie that kept me from giving it more than three stars in my Netflix rating. And I know what that something is.
I generally agree with IMDb ratings, but sometimes the average voter thinks highly of films that I find too disturbing to really enjoy. TPF is like that much of the time.
Specifically, it's Leslie Howard's main character of Alan Squier. He's an intellectual and makes it obvious in half his dialogue. Like many self-described intellectuals, he categorizes people a lot and makes analogies for them. But as arrogant as that sounds, he considers intellectuals to be "obsolete" in the modern world. I dunno, dude. Anti-intellectualism has seemed prevalent for a long time now, but there's always a place for the opposite.
That much is merely annoying. What really gets me is that he considers his entire being to be obsolete. Here we have a brainy, able-bodied, apparently healthy man; he falls in love with a woman and knows that she loves him back... and how does he show that love? By arranging for his assisted suicide. He does this about a half-hour before the end, and not once does he begin to change his mind about it.
I see where he's coming from, much as I hate it. He comes in dead broke, but with a considerable amount of life insurance. Basically, he believes that his entire value, even to a lover, can be measured monetarily. What's worse, nobody corrects him on the matter. Some call him a fool, but they don't say why and lack the conviction to keep arguing the point. Do they feel the same way on some level? Did the Great Depression leave people feeling that all that mattered was the tangible stuff they lacked most?
In the end, he dies in what may be a legitimate attempt at heroism or merely his vindication of an irrationally suicidal mindset. Either way, I don't see it redeeming him. I like the antivillain who shot him better, and probably would even if Bogart were replaced by an actor I didn't like.
This should have been a real winner for me. I'd seen 10 Bogart films before and liked them all. This one's based on a play, which is generally a promising sign for the writing. But there was something about the movie that kept me from giving it more than three stars in my Netflix rating. And I know what that something is.
I generally agree with IMDb ratings, but sometimes the average voter thinks highly of films that I find too disturbing to really enjoy. TPF is like that much of the time.
Specifically, it's Leslie Howard's main character of Alan Squier. He's an intellectual and makes it obvious in half his dialogue. Like many self-described intellectuals, he categorizes people a lot and makes analogies for them. But as arrogant as that sounds, he considers intellectuals to be "obsolete" in the modern world. I dunno, dude. Anti-intellectualism has seemed prevalent for a long time now, but there's always a place for the opposite.
That much is merely annoying. What really gets me is that he considers his entire being to be obsolete. Here we have a brainy, able-bodied, apparently healthy man; he falls in love with a woman and knows that she loves him back... and how does he show that love? By arranging for his assisted suicide. He does this about a half-hour before the end, and not once does he begin to change his mind about it.
I see where he's coming from, much as I hate it. He comes in dead broke, but with a considerable amount of life insurance. Basically, he believes that his entire value, even to a lover, can be measured monetarily. What's worse, nobody corrects him on the matter. Some call him a fool, but they don't say why and lack the conviction to keep arguing the point. Do they feel the same way on some level? Did the Great Depression leave people feeling that all that mattered was the tangible stuff they lacked most?
In the end, he dies in what may be a legitimate attempt at heroism or merely his vindication of an irrationally suicidal mindset. Either way, I don't see it redeeming him. I like the antivillain who shot him better, and probably would even if Bogart were replaced by an actor I didn't like.