Hollow Triumph (1948)

Director: Steve Sekely

Cast: Paul Henreid, Joan Bennett, Leslie Brooks, Eduard Franz

Have I Seen it Before: Never. Oddly enough, it was programmed as a surprise movie during Circle Cinema’s Noir Nights.

Did I Like It: It’s never the best idea to hinge a movie review on a comparison to another movie, even if the temptation is omnipresent. Comparing Alien (1979) with Aliens (1986) ought to be forgiven, to say nothing of using both films to illustrate just how objectively disappointing any other film featuring a Xenomorph proves to be*.

So, comparing this to Wicked Woman (1953) feels unfair. They’re completely unrelated, other than the fact that they make up the first two entries in this retrospective series. Wicked Woman was projected in 35mm, and on that front alone, the other film was an unusual treat, and experiencing this film is so much like every other film in the current age, just watching television on a slightly larger screen.

On the other hand, this is the far more assured and confident story. It unfolds with just enough pulpy nonsense to keep things lively, but most importantly all of the characters come to a—dark, grim—ending. It felt like a real, honest-to-god movie, and not a TV pilot that was a very appropriate pass from the network.

But what I would really like to talk about is a bit of movie theater comportment. I’d like to not be a stickler about these things, but there was a moment where I felt as if I was just immersed enough in the experience to believe I was in 1948 seeing the movie during its first run (digital vs 35mm not withstanding). And then some jerk’s cell phone went off. Illusion ruined. Seriously, folks. Silence your phones in the theater, but may God help you if you don’t silence your phone during retro screenings.

*When I started the review of this deep cut Noir film produced by one of the co-stars of Casablanca (1942), I did not think there would be quite so many references to xenomorphs, We’re here, though, and I think we probably better get used to it.

Casablanca (1942)

Director: Michael Curtiz

Cast: Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, Paul Henreid, Claude Rains

Have I Seen it Before: Yes. Although my most immersive experience with the film was a casual dining restaurant that existed in Oklahoma City several years ago that tried to incorporate the film as its theme, but in reality, just played the movie over and over again on numerous TV screens while you ate. It was… odd. I want to say the place was called Rick’s Café American, but I could be wrong, and Google is decidedly unhelpful on the subject. The restaurant is gone now.

Did I Like It: How do you even begin to criticize a film that is so sewn into the identity of American film? It’s review-proof, right? 

And that is strange because, objectively, there’s nothing particularly special about the filmmaking craft on display. It is a well-constructed melodrama in its writing, but still melodrama. It doesn’t have the complex plotting and characterization of Citizen Kane (1941), or the visual splendor of The Wizard of Oz (1939) or Gone with the Wind (1939). It is a little bit of a mystery why the film rose from the pack of other Hollywood films of the era and has become one of the most well-regarded films of all time, to the point where people try to make ill-advised theme restaurants out of it.

It’s got to be in the star power of Bergman and Bogart. This film may be the most potent dose of screen star as personality ever made. They have perfect chemistry together, and each has a screen persona that is effortless and perfectly formed. It seems like every leading actor over the next eighty years, from Harrison Ford to (ick) Woody Allen has at time tried to channel Bogart, and while there is thankfully a little more variety in the arena of leading ladies, I have a hard time imagining that any woman who has had her name above a title would blanche at the idea of summoning their inner Bergman. That’s why what the film is most strongly remembered not for its story of Nazi tinged Morocco, or even the music that is infused into the Warner Bros. vanity card to this day, but Rick and Ilsa’s goodbye at the end of that film.

Come to think of it, that might be the only scene they might have actually been playing at that strange restaurant long ago. It was certainly the only part for which I looked up from my burger.