The Maltese Falcon at 85

Picture this: You’re 42 years old. You’ve been kicking around Hollywood for a decade, mostly playing gangsters in one crummy programmer after another. Your third marriage is on the rocks, you’ve just shot your 40th movie, and you wonder if stardom is just for pretty boys like Errol Flynn, not serious actors like you.

Then, just like that, you’re cast in one of the most legendary films of all time.

The Maltese Falcon was life-changing for Humphrey Bogart in three key ways: It was the picture that put him on the A-List. It was the role – hard-boiled private eye Sam Spade – that made him a screen icon. And it was the first of six classics that paired Bogie with writer-director John Huston, including Key Largo, Treasure of the Sierra Madre, and especially, The African Queen (1951), which earned Bogie his only Best Actor Oscar.

Now picture George Raft playing Sam Spade. (I know, it’s painful.) Because if Raft hadn’t turned down The Maltese Falcon, Bogie might have spent the rest of his career being gunned down in the last reel of a dozen forgettable crime dramas instead of headlining hits like Casablanca, To Have and Have Not, The Big Sleep, and Sabrina. (Pop quiz: Name one great George Raft performance. I know, it’s impossible.)

Personally, I cannot imagine anyone except Bogie chasing that legendary black bird stuffed with priceless jewels. As writer David Zinman explains: “Bogart is Spade. From the moment he appears, he dominates scene after scene. Probably no other actor of his era has fit a part so perfectly. Wry, detached, anti-Establishment, a man with the sure masculinity of whiskey straight. Bogart was unflinching, outspoken, cynical and a realistic: a tough guy in a trench coat, a man’s man.”

The film was based on a 1930 novel by the criminally gifted crime writer Dashiell Hammett. There had been a lackluster 1931 version of The Maltese Falcon, and a 1936 spin (Satan Met a Lady) starring Bette Davis, who pronounced it “junk.”

What set John Huston’s pic apart? As TCM host Eddie Muller notes, “For the first time, Hammett’s words were in the care of someone with an affinity for them...By hewing faithfully to the writer’s crisp exposition, Huston crafted the most significant landmark in the development of Hollywood noir.” And by the way, Huston was thrilled to “settle” for Bogie in the lead – he later said, “If Raft had appeared on the set, I’d have beaten him with a pair of brass knuckles.”

Yet Bogie wasn’t the only brilliant casting choice. Mary Astor is unforgettable as compulsive liar Brigid O'Shaughnessy, who’s willing to kill anyone who stands in the way of finding the falcon.

“Of course you don’t know you’re making history while you’re there making it,” Astor writes in her autobiography, A Life on Film. “But Bogart kept other actors on their toes, he listened to them, he watched them, he looked at them. Bogie would have hooted if anyone had called him an ‘artist.’ He would have made a wisecrack if anybody had called him ‘Humphrey’ or even ‘Mr. Bogart.’”

The rest of the Falcon hunters were equally spot on, particularly Sydney Greenstreet, who earned an Oscar nomination at age 61 in his movie debut. Weighing in at 357 pounds, Greenstreet steals every scene as “The Fat Man” Casper Gutman. But in real life? Mary Astor said the veteran theatrical performer was terrified of the cameras, imploring her, “Mary, dear, hold my hand, tell me I won’t make an ass of myself!”

Gotta love Astor’s recollection of how the cast bonded by pulling practical jokes on studio visitors. It started innocently enough: One day, Astor cut short a shot after noticing she had “a goddam run in my stocking,” unaware that six clergymen were standing nearby.

An embarrassed publicist ushered the group out, but Bogie, Huston and the crew rejoiced. “That’s our girl,” they cried. “That’s the way to get ‘em off the set!”

Astor adds, “After that, Huston dreamed up an act for each of us, designated by numbers” to keep their soundstage free from star-struck looky-loos.

For instance: He would announce “Number five, kiddies, number five!” at which point a cast member would perform their appointed, highly inappropriate set-clearing “scene.” Most outrageous of them all was “Number ten,” in which Peter Lorre would emerge from Astor’s dressing room, pretending he was refastening his fly, for all the shocked guests to see.

In the end, The Maltese Falcon was sprinkled with stardust – finishing two days ahead of schedule, $54,000 under budget. and acclaimed by top critics like James Agee, who anointed it “The best private eye movie ever made.” Audiences turned a sleeper into a sensation. Even the often curmudgeonly Bogie was happy with the result, saying, “It was practically a masterpiece. I don’t have many things I’m proud of, but that’s one.”

Or as Eddie Muller puts it, “Bogart = Spade. Huston caught lightning in a bottle.”

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