A Certain Alcoholic Sloppiness
Rope of Sand (1949)
directed by William Dieterle
rating: 3 out of 5 cravats
watched on Netflix Instant
Everyone on IMDb thinks the love story between Paul Henreid and Burt Lancaster (or between Burt and his own ego) is more interesting than the principal romance with Corinne Calvet. I always like to see an actor "introduced" in the credits, and Calvet is pretty enough, if not quite up to par as a cynic. Each time Burt, Paul, and Claude Rains share a poker table, she hovers behind them and waits her turn, last in a long line of willing suitors. (In Henreid's own words, he is "overwhelmed" by her beauty.)
Rope of Sand is worth watching just for Peter Lorre's entrance at the bar. Afterwards, he describes himself as "splendidly corrupt and eager to be of profitable service," and embraces the small glass of liquor offered across the counter. All of the cocktails arrive in small glasses, and contribute in their small way to the very fine café where the principals gather to drink beneath the shadows of ceiling fans. The watering hole could best be described as Rick's by way of a Mexican hacienda: Spanish guitars, Moroccan screens, and archways that gather a breeze. One of the great Hollywood sets.
The movie begins with three armed white men - "Colonial Diamond Company Police" - in a jeep running down a black man on foot in the desert. Although a certain anti-apartheid sentiment runs beneath the surface, Burt throws around "boy" like it's going out of style. He calls Paul Henreid "pig," and Paul, in turn, has Burt hauled in for rounds of torture in the basement. Since Sydney Greenstreet wasn't available, Claude Rains does his best impression each time he hoists a pistol in his hand.
What bugged me the most is Burt's resentment of Suzanne for what he thinks is a double-cross. A better protagonist in a better movie would love her for that, not bitterly use her toward his own ends. But he does it all for Toady (my personal pairing pick). Suzanne makes it to the boat, but Burt's heart remains in sunny South Africa, in the pocket of a linen suit that Peter Lorre first put on as Ugarte, and slept in for the next seven years.
On a personal note, I don't know whether to be sad that two-thirds of my Instant queue disappeared overnight, or to laugh because I certainly had time to watch most of them if I really wanted to. At any rate, it's back to a world in which Deadhead Miles is only on YouTube in nine parts, but that's better than nothing.
directed by William Dieterle
rating: 3 out of 5 cravats
watched on Netflix Instant
Everyone on IMDb thinks the love story between Paul Henreid and Burt Lancaster (or between Burt and his own ego) is more interesting than the principal romance with Corinne Calvet. I always like to see an actor "introduced" in the credits, and Calvet is pretty enough, if not quite up to par as a cynic. Each time Burt, Paul, and Claude Rains share a poker table, she hovers behind them and waits her turn, last in a long line of willing suitors. (In Henreid's own words, he is "overwhelmed" by her beauty.)
Rope of Sand is worth watching just for Peter Lorre's entrance at the bar. Afterwards, he describes himself as "splendidly corrupt and eager to be of profitable service," and embraces the small glass of liquor offered across the counter. All of the cocktails arrive in small glasses, and contribute in their small way to the very fine café where the principals gather to drink beneath the shadows of ceiling fans. The watering hole could best be described as Rick's by way of a Mexican hacienda: Spanish guitars, Moroccan screens, and archways that gather a breeze. One of the great Hollywood sets.
The movie begins with three armed white men - "Colonial Diamond Company Police" - in a jeep running down a black man on foot in the desert. Although a certain anti-apartheid sentiment runs beneath the surface, Burt throws around "boy" like it's going out of style. He calls Paul Henreid "pig," and Paul, in turn, has Burt hauled in for rounds of torture in the basement. Since Sydney Greenstreet wasn't available, Claude Rains does his best impression each time he hoists a pistol in his hand.
What bugged me the most is Burt's resentment of Suzanne for what he thinks is a double-cross. A better protagonist in a better movie would love her for that, not bitterly use her toward his own ends. But he does it all for Toady (my personal pairing pick). Suzanne makes it to the boat, but Burt's heart remains in sunny South Africa, in the pocket of a linen suit that Peter Lorre first put on as Ugarte, and slept in for the next seven years.
On a personal note, I don't know whether to be sad that two-thirds of my Instant queue disappeared overnight, or to laugh because I certainly had time to watch most of them if I really wanted to. At any rate, it's back to a world in which Deadhead Miles is only on YouTube in nine parts, but that's better than nothing.
posted by NPK at 5:26 AM
<< Home