Delmer Davies,
1947
Starring:
Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall, Agnes Moorehead
Vincent Parry, mistakenly sent to jail for killing his wife, escapes from
prison and begins hitchhiking across California. A man picks him up, but hears
about Parry’s escape on the radio; he is forced to beat the man unconscious and
flee. A beautiful young woman, Irene Jansen, picks him up and hides him in her
trunk to get to San Francisco. She knows who he is and wants to help, but
Parry’s poisonous ex-girlfriend Madge shows up, forcing him to flee. Madge knew
Parry’s wife and testified against him at his trial. It turns out that Irene is
willing to help him because her father was also falsely accused of murder, and
she believes strongly in Parry’s innocence. He happens to run into a cab driver
who recognizes him, but the man is sympathetic and takes Parry to get facial
surgery, potentially allowing him to escape. Sparks fly between he and Irene
during his recovery time, but he knows trouble is just around the corner. Parry intends to flee to an undisclosed
location south of the border and hopes that Irene will meet him, but Madge
stands in his way…
Though Dark Passage was somewhat maligned by
critics, I think it is an underrated and unfairly maligned film. This is the third (out of four) films that
Bogie and Bacall appeared in together and is technically noteworthy because of
the first-person POV shot it employs for the first thirty minutes of the film.
This is due to the fact that Bogart’s character initially has a difference face
and only appears to look like Bogart after surgery. Critics and audiences at
the time where disturbed that Bogart only appears in shadow or dialogue for the
first thirty minutes and bandages for the second thirty minutes, but I think
this profoundly emphasizes the films themes of identity, agency, and
responsibility.
It also struck a powerful chord and reminded me of Universal and
classic-era horror. In the opening of Dr.
Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931), star Frederic March appears in first-person
P.O.V., moving through his house until the shot ends when he looks in the
mirror. In Dark Passage, after
Bogart’s surgery, he spends a significant amount of time in bandages, which
reminded me inevitably of The Invisible
Man, as well as the Peter Lorre film The
Face Behind the Mask (1941), where a well-meaning immigrant recently
arrived to New York is disfigured in a fire and can only make a living as a
gangster. In all three of these films, the physically transformed protagonist
turns to evil, emotionally damaging the woman he loves and putting her in
physical danger. It seemed inevitable that Bogart’s Victor Parry would take
this path in Dark Passage.
Based on a
novel of the same name by hardboiled writer David Goodis, director Delmar
Davies (The Red House) also wrote the
flawed script. There are plenty of plot holes – for instance, everyone Parry
encounters knows who he is and is in some way involved with him – but these
flaws oddly work in the film’s favor, giving it a dark, almost surreal tone.
The incredibly complicated plot rivals something Raymond Chandler would write,
but it is actually a simplified version of Goodis’ original tale. Though I
haven’t yet read the book, I suspect the script’s glossing over of Goodis’
complexities resulted in all the plot holes.
There is a nightmarish
sense of logic at work – coincidences occur in nearly every scene and there is
a strong feeling of unreality throughout the film. While other film noir
efforts deal with the concept of fate, Dark
Passages instead seems to expose Parry to a series of obstacles and
disappointments not to further damn him, but to remove him from his current
reality – his life in San Francisco – and push him towards a tropical dream
world, where he and Irene can fade away into the sunset. Both of these
characters have an odd sense of death, or possibly un-life, about them. Even
though Irene does not share Parry’s doomed fate (a return to prison, escape, or
death), her character has a sense of waiting, a feeling of not existing without
Parry.
Though
Bogart’s performance leaves nothing to complain about, this is really Bacall’s
film. For maybe the only time in their cinematic partnership is she able to
stand on her own. She is excellent -- mysterious, lovely, and a strange mix of
determined and naïve – and the camera lingers expertly on the shadows and
contours of her face. There’s another strong performance from Agnes Moorehead, who gives
one of the best and most uncharacteristic performances of her career as the
maniacal femme fatale, Madge. Though she is given limited screen time, her
character presents an otherworldly portrait of obsessive love that gets under
the skin. Her death scene, which I will not spoil here is jarring, abrupt, and
utterly unexpected.
Houseley
Stevenson, Tom D’Andrea, Clifton Young, and Rory Mallison are all memorable in
colorful, well-written side roles. Stevenson is particularly great as the
questionable, yet charismatic surgeon. His scene with Bogart reminded me
powerfully of the scene in Tim Burton’s Batman,
where the Joker goes to a hack surgeon and wakes up with a colorful face and a
demented smile. After the dizzying dream sequence during the surgery scene in Dark Passage, I was waiting for
something similarly disfiguring to happen to Bogart.
The final
thing worth mentioning is the cityscape. The favorite city of film noir and
hardboiled fiction, San Francisco looks particularly dark and unsettling here
and almost becomes a character itself. Dark
Passage benefits greatly from the cinematography of Sid Hickox (To Have and Have Not, The Big Sleep),
which makes the rolling hills and pleasant vistas threatening and uncertain,
with danger always lying in wait.
Dark Passage is certainly a flawed, meandering work,
but it comes highly recommended. Available
on DVD or as part of the Bogie
and Bacall Signature Collection DVD box set alongside The Big Sleep, Key Largo, and To Have and Have Not, Bogie and/or
Bacall fans, as well as anyone interested in unusual, off-the-beaten-path film
noir will want to check this out.
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