The Maltese Falcon

Smoke –filled rooms, lighting reminiscent of night, vertical lines shrouding a woman and foretelling her eventual imprisonment; everything seems slightly off, slightly hazy, and not to be trusted. John Huston’s masterpiece, The Maltese Falcon comes equipped with all the devices. The semantic codes that set for the mood and style of this film noir piece are incredibly telling. Roles like the tough private eye, the sidekick, the femme fatal or the lackey delightfully play on this urban setting, complete with darkened living rooms and offices, cliff-sides and oh, so many windows. This dark and foreboding feeling is furthered in the films themes of treachery and deceit; even within the object central to the plot, the falcon itself, which, once finally seen by the audience is equally black and sinister. Shadows permeate the space, making a nice playing ground for the syntactic components like the relationship of detective vs. criminal, dark vs. light, and man vs. woman.

And perhaps we should start our examination there. Wood discusses that in Film Noir, there is a break from classic Hollywood cinema structure. What was once valued, like the belief in American capitalism and the notions of ownership and work ethic, marriage and family are all tossed aside in pursuit of darker ambitions The ideal male and female in this case are seemingly abandoned and replaced with their shadows. Just how these shadows are constructed is of particular interest. The “settled man” in The Maltese Falcon is most certainly Sam. He is an embittered and hardened private eye, set in his ways and in his pessimistic view of the world and the individuals who people it. Disillusioned himself, his dynamic with the female characters in his life furthers the notion of the femme fatal, the sexualized woman who clearly can’t be trusted. From the first moments of the film, Sam has labels for the women in his sphere, calling them a myriad of terms from sweetheart to darling, from knock-out, to angel, to my own true love. Sam refers to his secretary (the solid sidekick), his partner’s wife (the weepy, obsessive matron), and to Mrs. O’Shaughnessy (the conniving femme) as a school-girl, precious, and possessing a sweet neck, that sadly will hang. Women in this piece are one dimensional, sexual objects who are asked…“what else can I buy you with?”

Schrader talks about the aspects on film noir in his writing and emphasizes the identifiable by tone and mood found in this specific period. He notes that it is an incredibly thematic approach to storytelling, emphasizing the pessimistic future and loss of nostalgia, and lack of priorities of the characters on the screen. Their despair adds to the ambience of the piece, and that of the audience. The Maltese Falcon is filled with crime and corruption. Even the stalwart detective, the person who by ideological expectation should be the “good guy,” is corruptible. He is having an affair with his partner’s wife, the partner for whom he is trying to attain vengeance, who was equally willing to step out on his wife. We can’t even look back at the dead through rose colored glasses, because there is no rose available, it is all shrouded in shadow and darkness.

 In keeping with the features that stylistically mark a Film Noir, Hudson’s directing – his debut piece – creates a feeling of moral ambiguity; of the audience and the characters being caught somewhere between the dark and the light. Heavy on shadows and tension (there is more dialogue in the piece than action), his shots felt like they were often being filmed from the perspective of Bogart’s character and in fact, he seems to be present in each scene. We are the little angel on Humphrey Bogart’s shoulder, from time to time, we see what he sees, from his perspective. Further, it appears that Hudson was playing with physical levels in his shots. Those in the power position were often shot looking down on the characters who were shot looking up. As the film progressed, it appeared that those with the knowledge at the moment, which is to say, the power, had the camera’s omnipotent perspective. To further enhance this, Bogart’s character stands each time he is about to reveal withheld information. When Sam is thrown to the floor and kicked, it not only strips him of power, but also of his perspective. Additionally, the presence of windows in almost every scene, allows for almost a sense of voyeurism. Each shot gave a sense of being followed – a formidable end from which there was no escape. Shadows on the wall appear more menacing, bigger than real life. Even the outdoor scenes had windows from which spectators were following their every move. The police followed the characters, they followed each other, and they greatest peeping-tom of all – the audience – was in on the whole plot, though unable or unwilling to make a difference in the outcome of the piece.