The Fallen Sparrow

I was totally surprised by the quality of this one. The pacing of the film was perfect. I can't say enough how good John Garfield was. I recently watched and reviewed "Out of the Fog" in which he was in and was really disappointed in that one. Far and away my least favorite of his but with this one, just an excellent film.

They don't give anything up until the end of this one. You really have to pay attention to every cast member. Even half way through you'll be wondering what the heck is going on, but don't worry, wait til' the end. It's so worth it.

I can't recommend this film any higher. This is really good stuff here.

Thank you Turner Classic Movies and Robert Osborne for introducing us to this excellent specimen of film noir. What is obvious to John Garfield fans is his passion and energy that he pours into his characters. Along with his performance, Maureen O'Hara is in an unusual role as the mysterious girl friend. A thriller!

Long before the "method" style "invaded" the acting profession, there were many equally fine performers which came before the mid-'50s "movement."

These "predecessors" didn't wear their craft-on-their-sleeve as much; in fact, many (like Tracy, Ryan, and Cagney) behaved so naturally, it was as though they were speaking their own lines. One such earlier talent was John Garfield.

A consummate performer, Garfield could seemingly do no wrong--not make one false move. In film after film, he didn't appear to be acting; rather he was just "being" the character.

Although "The Fallen Sparrow" isn't one of Garfield's greatest parts or films, he's on target in every scene. Yes, it's called "talent, star quality," and Garfield's got "it."

With a respectable "noir" script, and peopled with a solid cast of leads and supporters, "Sparrow" manages to engage the attention and create genuine interest throughout. A good looking, sharp and crisp, black-and-white production design enhances this presentation, which also features the always dependable Maureen O'Hara and Walter Slezak.

Hollywood fought World War II on many fronts: most obviously, in its documentaries and war dramas; in genre series coopted for the war effort (such as Sherlock Holmes programmers); and in thrillers dedicated to smoking out the Fifth Column at home (The House on Ninety-Second Street). There was also a more complicated, ideologically tinged kind of movie, not simply anti-Nazi but more broadly `anti-Fascist' (and defiantly leftist). Lillian Hellman's Watch on the Rhine was one; The Fallen Sparrow was another.

John Garfield (who else?) survived torture while fighting for the anti-Franco forces in the Spanish Civil War, but it took its toll; he recuperated in a sanitarium in the Southwest. Upon returning to New York – where a war buddy has met death by defenestration from a penthouse party – he finds some of his friends traveling in the same circles as vaguely sinister Europeans and fly-specked aristocrats – Germans, Italians, Spaniards – who take a perverse interest in him. Among them is Maureen O'Hara (in a dark, forties updo), who runs hot and cold when it comes to his advances.

The dense plot of The Fallen Sparrow collapses into a noirish muddle. Multiple heavies purr in a babel of as many stage accents (Hugh Beaumont's Prussian the most amusing of them). Walter Slezak plays a mittel-European professor whose passion seems to be the aesthetics of torture, and whose limp summons up nightmares for Garfield. There are also family crests dating from at least the Borgias (whose speciality was goblets of poisoned wine), a senile old curmudgeon who believes he'll be restored to the throne of France, and a tattered standard Garfield has rescued from Spain, which becomes this film's black bird....

Following all these threads require rapt attention, but who would be willing to devote anything less to the fight against Fascism? The film borrows from such immediate predecessors in the nascent noir cycle as The Maltese Falcon (especially the ending) and The Glass Key. It cooks up plenty of atmosphere but lacks vital clarity. It's not without interest – the attention to the psychological aftermath of torture is a bold and courageous stroke – but with its political passions looking quaint, if not naive, this overheated melodrama leaves a scorched aftertaste.

This is an extremely powerful film noir in the guise of an espionage mystery. It contains what may well have been the finest performance by John Garfield in his brief career (he died aged only 39 of congenital heart disease in 1952, though he had by then appeared in 32 films). Garfield plays a man who had fought on the Republican side in the Spanish Civil War but had been captured, imprisoned, and sadistically tortured by Nazis involved in supporting the Franco side. He was held for two more years in prison after that war ended because they were trying to find out from him where he had concealed something. After escaping, he made his way back to America, where he was followed, and Nazi spies continually monitor him and kill his best friend. An ambiguous femme fatale provides the love interest, played with menace and studied elegance by Maureen O'Hara. Is she a Nazi spy or is she not? She tells Garfield she loves him. It is amazing how rapidly film stars fall in love on the screen, in a matter of sentences. Very effective use of sound occurs in this film, the sound of a crippled man dragging his bad foot is continually heard at moments of Garfield's greatest stress, as it was the same sound made by the Nazi official who came once a month to Spain from Berlin to supervise Garfield's torture. Is this man now in New York? Has Garfield met him? Can he survive such a confrontation? The suspense is thick, and Garfield's portrayal of a tough idealist who is on the verge of cracking up under the strain is horrifyingly real. What actor ever twisted his face up as well as that before or since, without looking silly? But we believe Garfield, because he is so convincing and genuine about it. The film is expertly directed by Richard Wallace, a highly talented though uneven director who is insufficiently recognised today. He directed the pathos-ridden SEVEN DAYS' LEAVE (1931, see my review), the impressive THUNDER BELOW (1932) with Talullah Bankhead, Katherine Hepburn in J. M. Barrie's THE LITTLE MINISTER (1934), and the forgotten film noir PAULA (1947) with Glenn Ford and Janis Carter, which has never had a modern release, but should. (He also directed a Shirley Temple film and numerous other light-weight comedies and adventure films.) This film is particularly noted for the sinister and powerful performance by Walter Slezak as 'Dr. Christian Skaas', ostensibly a Norwegian, but as we discover, really someone and something else. He has 'a hold over' O'Hara. Is he really holding her daughter captive somewhere, or is that just a story? As Garfield sweats it out, gun in pocket, sweat on brow, he tries to find the answers, and that ain't easy.