Huracán de pasiones

People often criticize this movie for really not being much more than a filmed play. Yeah! So what's wrong with that when the characters are three dimensional and the actors are brilliant. This movie gets dull only when it moves out of the hotel (the stage) and becomes a traditional action movie. The black and white photography is brilliant (I once saw it colorized and it was dreadful). The production design is perfectly honest. The direction is so clear and unpretentious; when you have faces as brilliant as these, you gotta take advantage of closeups. There is not one less than outstanding performance. Bacall's role doesn't call for her to do a lot of "acting" and as a result, she is very moving. Trevor had tough competition for her Oscar that year and she won because she understood that too much restraint would have been wrong yet she never goes too far. Bsrrymore is unusually tough and commanding, almost heroic against the thugs. Bogart is quiet and direct and when he gives Trevor her drink has the most powerful moment in the movie. Robinson? It is a real showy role, and Edward knew what not to do. He is savage. And he almost is sexy when he gets Claire to sing her song but he can revert to a monster within seconds and give the audience chills. It really is his movie. Gomez and his fellow stupid thugs are funny at times but the script is unusually honest and barbaric. Take away their guns and these guys are wimps. But why didn't they just stay in the hotel? The shootout at the end could have been done that way. The escape to Cuba isn't believable or compelling. Those who call this movie slow, just don't get it. They don't understand that artists use pacing for effect. Today's generation loving special effects and action and over-the-top acting will hate this movie. Their loss. And the loss for the future of film and theatre.

Humphrey Bogart and John Huston must be considered the artistic equivalent of De Niro-Scorsese. Huston and Bogie made several films together, this being one of their best. But there is another combo that comes to an end in cinema's history: Bogie and Bacall appear on screen for the final time together. It is their finest collaboration. Edward G. Robinson, "Little Caesar" himself, returns to gangster form after years of playing the good guy (Wilder's DOUBLE INDEMNITY, Welles' THE STRANGER) and has one of the more memorable entrances in film villain history. We see him in a tub, smoking, a fan in front of him. He seems to be decaying in a way, but "Johnny Rocco" is still to be reckoned with. This is the Robinson we all love, demented and wise, sinister yet humorous. The Largo Hotel is the setting and a hurricane of drama, heroism, and rain is coming.

Huston stages the film much like the play it is based on, yet we never feel confined. There is enough colorful dialogue to go around. Surprisingly, much of it is not by Bogart, who plays probably his most quiet role, promoting his character through facial gestures more than words. He plays off Robinson and his posse of mobsters perfectly in this way, allowing Edward G. to dominate the majority of the film, which is the point. Lionel Barrymore plays the chair-ridden owner of the Largo and his daughter Bacall is falling in love with Bogart, naturally. They are at the mercy of Rocco and his boys, all of whom have some itchy trigger fingers. Bogart is just buying his time to make his move. The finale is extremely well done and foresees suspense endings to come.

Lauren Bacall is one of the most beautiful actresses to grace the screen, especially in black and white. Her perfect features look sculpted in this light and her sensual stare is enough to make you melt. Her smoky voice and attitude is an excellent match for Bogie's simple, heroic character. Film Noir becomes Florida Noir here, as the lightening outside the windows of the hotel play games with the shadows and atmosphere of events inside. Robinson murders an innocent man with the look of a terrifying ghost, lightening flashing on him and all. The thunder substitutes for the sound of cars and street-life normally heard in classic noir pictures. KEY LARGO is a very good film, dark and suspenseful, in the most pleasant of locales.

RATING: 8 of 10

While chiefly remembered as a Bogart/Bacall vehicle, this story of expatriate gangsters commandeering a sleepy tropical hotel is, in actuality, a tightly directed ensemble piece with acting chops to burn.

There's Edward G. Robinson as Johnny Rocco--the brash, boisterous, sleazy gangster whose frailties (cowardice and a yearning for better times) gradually unfold before us. There's Lionel Barrymore as James Temple, the delightfully feisty and crusty hotel owner overcome with revulsion at Rocco's presence. There's Thomas Gomez, Harry Lewis, Dan Seymour and William Haade as Curly, Toots, Angel and Ralphie--Rocco's colorful but hard-edged thugs who are presences unto themselves. There's Claire Trevor as Gaye, Rocco's declining, alcoholic moll who symbolizes more than anything how far Rocco has fallen.

That's an awful lot. Too much scenery-chewing from Bogart or Bacall would push it over the top--and director/screenwriter/demigod John Huston knows it. He coaxes remarkably restrained and subtle performances out of his star couple. The romantic tension between them is suggested but never shoved in the audience's face. Bogart's wandering war vet Frank McCloud keeps his lips tight and plays his cards close to the chest--a streetwise outsider through and through. Bacall's Nora Temple lets her anger and distaste pour out through her smoldering eyes more often than her mouth.

Ultimately, the subtlety is so well-hidden between the gigantic performances of Robinson and Barrymore that you might miss just how sophisticated Frank's story is. Disillusioned and drifting since the war, he stops in to visit the wife (Nora) and father (James) of a fallen comrade whose bravery he admired. Implicit in his visit is an unspoken apology that it is he, and not their loved one, who is returning home. The fallen soldier is a constant unseen presence in the film--his bravery and honor mocking what Frank sees as his own cowardice and inability to stand up to Rocco (Bogart's fast-talking explanation of why he didn't shoot Rocco when he had the chance is classic and rare--a protagonist lying to his friends and his audience--"One Rocco more or less isn't worth dying for!"). Frank's eventual decision to take on Rocco and his hoods is a victory against the fear that plagues and shames him.

In a larger sense, this is a true period movie about a generation of men returning home from the greatest conflict the world has ever known. Most of our national memories of World War II are proud and triumphant, but, as with any war, it left countless people scarred physically and mentally. Though Frank is a decorated soldier, he feels somehow that what he did wasn't enough (because he lived and his friend did not?), and he returns back to a country in which he has no place with no real pride or satisfaction. The confrontation with Rocco affords him a chance (perhaps only possible in Hollywood or on the stage, where the story of "Key Largo" was first performed) to make things right with his world.

While it has not aged as well as the better-known films of Bogart's and Huston's careers, "Key Largo" is a film that, for a little investment of attention and thought, will pay big dividends to anyone that really and truly loves movies.

See the screen legends of Humphrey Bogart, Edward G. Robinson and Lauren Bacall in one film, not to mention great Lionel Barrymore and Claire Trevor.

The film is directed like a stage play with basically one set, the hotel on Key Largo, but it's not static or dull in the least.

Robinson's villain gangster Johnny Rocco is one of his most memorable performances and he steals the movie.

Robinson and his "boys" are hold-up in a hotel on Key Largo awaiting the arrival of some business associates when a hurricane hits. The hotel is owned by Barrymore and his daughter Bacall. Bogart is there to give Barrymore some possessions of his son who was killed in the war.

Bogart plays a returning WWII veteran and Bacall is the daughter of the hotel owner Barrymore. The film isn't a love story but you can still tell that Bacall adores Bogie and their chemistry is obvious. Bacall is lighted beautifully to show off her outstanding facial features.

A top rate drama full of crackling dialog and superb performances from everyone.

When I think of the colorized version that, regrettably, is the only copy of this excellent film noir in my video store, I can't help but think of a comment Orson Welles made to a friend a few days before his death in regards to Turner's plans to colorize "Citizen Kane"(thankfully defeated, because of the fact that it came under Welles' original contract with RKO, which specified that only Welles would make changes): "Keep Turner and his g**d*** Crayolas away from my movie." Watching this version of "Key Largo" more than proves Welles' point; the lighting becomes terrible in several key scenes, particularly the closing ones on the boat, to whereas before, you could see what was going on, now you can just barely tell a thing. That said, it can't destroy the fine work that this film truly is.

I was led to this film by my mother, who called it one of her favorites from Bogie (another being "The African Queen") and now I can see why. Leave it to John Huston, the man who was bold enough to make a true adaptation of Dashiell Hammet's "The Maltese Falcon", to give us a tightly woven drama that never feels forced. Bogie's Frank McCloud is probably the most silent of all the strong-silent types he ever played, barely saying more than is necessary for the scene he's in. Such reticience leaves some large blanks for the audience to fill; though he says that he doesn't care one way or another, I really don't believe him. The feeling I get the entire time he's in the clutches of Johnny Rocco's gang is that he's just waiting for his moment. After all, you don't survive WWII's Italian campaign and not know when it's best to stay still and when it's best to make your play. That's why he threw away the gun offered to him by Rocco; no way was Rocco's gang just going to let their boss be gunned down even if the deck was stacked in Rocco's favor. The murders of the deputy and the Indians on the lam just adds to the need to take care of business.

I was a little disappointed to see Bacall in such a minor role (it still had to be better than what she was given, sans Bogie, after this film, from reports I've heard), but her spitting in Rocco's face is an undeniably powerful moment. As for Edward G. Robinson, one of Hollywood's original tough guys imported from Bucharest, Romania, he literally runs away with the part of Johnny Rocco, the former big-shot with delusions of grandeur. He's a casually vicious, ruthless fount of hate, bitter over his fallen status and hungering for a comeback. But he still fails to draw an important lesson from his soused ex-galpal: times change and not necessarily for the better. He may have defied a ton of police in his day or gun down a deputy in this one, but it still doesn't change the fact that the outside world (nicely symbolized by the hurricane) can and will eat him alive without the slightest trace of indigestion. All Rocco is is a dinosaur: proud, strong, but too stupid to realize that his kind have become extinct.

In fact, that may very well be why McCloud was such a natural match for Rocco as an opponent. McCloud had changed his spots many times in his life to fit the job situation he was in, while Rocco has never been anything else but what he is now. Small wonder that one can see the confrontation between them coming to full steam. This core element, and all the others mentioned and not mentioned here, help make "Key Largo" one of the great unsung classics of Humphrey Bogart AND Edward G. Robinson. Here's looking at you, tough guys.