This story of Bogart as a gun runner unwilling to commit himself is set in 1925 supposedly. A Western army of occupation runs an Islamic country in the Middle East and is in a constant battle with fervent but treacherous insurgents fighting an asymmetric war. And this is 1925. Not that anyone would know it was 1925, not judging from our contemporary circumstances or from the dress or demeanor of the performers in this movie.
The role of man in the middle, the disillusioned idealist, wasn't a new one for Bogart. He practically defined the role in "Casablanca" and repeated it several times after, as in "Key Largo." But here, he's disillusioned not by having seen where his earlier idealism has led but, as far as we can judge, from his betrayal by a wife. And it's turned him into an exceptionally bitter and irritable opportunist. He's rather a skunk, right up to the end in which he commits an act that isn't so much heroic but still involves courage.
Lee J. Cobb is the French colonel. He's fighting the insurgents who are being provided with weapons by Bogart. Cobb is also in love with Marta Toren and Bogart is trying to steal her away. Bogart's motives have nothing to do with love. There is, needless to say, considerable friction between Cobb and Bogart. Neither gets the lady because she's on her own trip.
Marta Toren made few movies and died at an early age but she was stunning. Although Swedish, she resembled the Italian Alida Valli -- the actress who loved Orson Welles in "The Third Man." Marta Toren really was a knockout. Whew! Her eyes were slanted at an alarming dihedral and each looked at the world from a slightly different angle. They were blue, with thin dark circles around the irises. They were eyes you could fall into.
The plot has a few moments of action that evoke real-life events, if anyone remembers Algiers. (The movie doesn't take sides. The Syrians slit your throat, but the French shoot you.) In an early memorable scene, a raggedy Syrian nationalist explodes three grenades in a café full of Europeans. It's to the director's credit that it takes the survivors several smoky minutes to shake themselves of dust and slowly recover from the blast. It's nicely photographed too, although the whole movie is shot effectively.
Outside of that the story is routine -- full of spies, intrigues, betrayal -- and generally a little unpleasant. That includes Bogart's character. In other films, enacting similar roles, Bogart always had a hidden spark of fundamental decency. He may be disillusioned -- "I stick my neck out for nobody" -- but he was basically just waiting for the right moral moment. Here, he's old and cranky throughout.
The role of man in the middle, the disillusioned idealist, wasn't a new one for Bogart. He practically defined the role in "Casablanca" and repeated it several times after, as in "Key Largo." But here, he's disillusioned not by having seen where his earlier idealism has led but, as far as we can judge, from his betrayal by a wife. And it's turned him into an exceptionally bitter and irritable opportunist. He's rather a skunk, right up to the end in which he commits an act that isn't so much heroic but still involves courage.
Lee J. Cobb is the French colonel. He's fighting the insurgents who are being provided with weapons by Bogart. Cobb is also in love with Marta Toren and Bogart is trying to steal her away. Bogart's motives have nothing to do with love. There is, needless to say, considerable friction between Cobb and Bogart. Neither gets the lady because she's on her own trip.
Marta Toren made few movies and died at an early age but she was stunning. Although Swedish, she resembled the Italian Alida Valli -- the actress who loved Orson Welles in "The Third Man." Marta Toren really was a knockout. Whew! Her eyes were slanted at an alarming dihedral and each looked at the world from a slightly different angle. They were blue, with thin dark circles around the irises. They were eyes you could fall into.
The plot has a few moments of action that evoke real-life events, if anyone remembers Algiers. (The movie doesn't take sides. The Syrians slit your throat, but the French shoot you.) In an early memorable scene, a raggedy Syrian nationalist explodes three grenades in a café full of Europeans. It's to the director's credit that it takes the survivors several smoky minutes to shake themselves of dust and slowly recover from the blast. It's nicely photographed too, although the whole movie is shot effectively.
Outside of that the story is routine -- full of spies, intrigues, betrayal -- and generally a little unpleasant. That includes Bogart's character. In other films, enacting similar roles, Bogart always had a hidden spark of fundamental decency. He may be disillusioned -- "I stick my neck out for nobody" -- but he was basically just waiting for the right moral moment. Here, he's old and cranky throughout.