The renowned Dr. Clitterhouse (Edward G. Robinson), interested in the criminal personality, joins a gang of thieves anonymously. He finds himself strangely thrilled in their presence. He carries out research, pupilary dilation and whatnot, and eventually plans their big heist. (He gives his part of the proceeds to charity.) Then, his work accomplished, he bids the gang adieu.
Alas, one of the more obnoxious of the gangsters, Rocks (Humphrey Bogart), unravels Robinson's professional identity, tracks him down in his office, and tries to blackmail him into coming up with more master plans. Robinson coolly poisons Bogart and dumps his body in the river, believing that the police will attribute the death to accidental drowning.
Some doctor! He neglects to put Bogart's body in the bathtub and fill his lungs with water, so the cops find a stomach full of paraldehyde chloride and a homicide. It doesn't take them long to find that Dr. Clitterhouse is responsible.
The trial is a mockery (co-written by John Huston). Robinson's lawyer put on a psychiatrist who befogs the air with psychiatric gibberish. Catch-22 applies, the jury concludes. Robinson, the defendant, has only one chance of getting off without being fried -- he must be insane. However, Robinson takes the stand and declares repeatedly and emphatically that he's perfectly sane. Therefore, if he's so convinced he's sane, he must be insane. He gets off with a trip to a psychiatric hospital. "Remarkable," comments Robinson.
Humphrey Bogart was making a slew of movies around this time, usually in the same roles -- secondary and villainous. He always made fun of his performance in this film, and of the film itself, lending its title a vulgar change. But, although Bogart's part is stereotyped, the film isn't that bad. The protagonist, Robinson, does a fine job of projecting professional cool. He's believable as a supercilious doctor. He did a much different job of showing a professional man's anxiety in Fritz Lang's superior "The Woman in the Window".
Litvak hurries the film along. The motto of the later gangster films was abbreviated to ODTAA -- one damned thing after another. Characters whiz in and out of door. When they speak on the phone, it sounds like this: "Hello, gimme Leftie -- Leftie? Take the envelope and get rid of it -- What? -- No, don't do that -- Yeah, just what I told you -- No, don't come here -- Right." (Hangs up.) The pauses between these snapped-out comments don't last long enough for anyone on the other end of the call to take a deep breath, let alone make a comment or ask a question. Not a second is wasted. Nobody even says good-bye.
I kind of like it.
Alas, one of the more obnoxious of the gangsters, Rocks (Humphrey Bogart), unravels Robinson's professional identity, tracks him down in his office, and tries to blackmail him into coming up with more master plans. Robinson coolly poisons Bogart and dumps his body in the river, believing that the police will attribute the death to accidental drowning.
Some doctor! He neglects to put Bogart's body in the bathtub and fill his lungs with water, so the cops find a stomach full of paraldehyde chloride and a homicide. It doesn't take them long to find that Dr. Clitterhouse is responsible.
The trial is a mockery (co-written by John Huston). Robinson's lawyer put on a psychiatrist who befogs the air with psychiatric gibberish. Catch-22 applies, the jury concludes. Robinson, the defendant, has only one chance of getting off without being fried -- he must be insane. However, Robinson takes the stand and declares repeatedly and emphatically that he's perfectly sane. Therefore, if he's so convinced he's sane, he must be insane. He gets off with a trip to a psychiatric hospital. "Remarkable," comments Robinson.
Humphrey Bogart was making a slew of movies around this time, usually in the same roles -- secondary and villainous. He always made fun of his performance in this film, and of the film itself, lending its title a vulgar change. But, although Bogart's part is stereotyped, the film isn't that bad. The protagonist, Robinson, does a fine job of projecting professional cool. He's believable as a supercilious doctor. He did a much different job of showing a professional man's anxiety in Fritz Lang's superior "The Woman in the Window".
Litvak hurries the film along. The motto of the later gangster films was abbreviated to ODTAA -- one damned thing after another. Characters whiz in and out of door. When they speak on the phone, it sounds like this: "Hello, gimme Leftie -- Leftie? Take the envelope and get rid of it -- What? -- No, don't do that -- Yeah, just what I told you -- No, don't come here -- Right." (Hangs up.) The pauses between these snapped-out comments don't last long enough for anyone on the other end of the call to take a deep breath, let alone make a comment or ask a question. Not a second is wasted. Nobody even says good-bye.
I kind of like it.