I'm a John Garfield fan, and have wondered why this one is still only available on vhs and is shown only occasionally on tv. Among noir aficionados it might not be top drawer, but it has some appeal for me, & perhaps, for others. I hope that you'll post here if this film interests you as well, (hey, Mr. Arkadin! and anyone else!
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Garfield enjoying the view (Maureen O'Hara) in the bright, guilty world they inhabit in "The Fallen Sparrow"
One of the first things that strikes me is that a person should forget about trying to follow the plot of this movie, set mostly among high society in NYC, though previous violent events determine much of the behavior of the characters . As with many noirs and proto-noirs, looking for logical progression in the plot will just confuse things. It's atmosphere and elusive character that make this movie, (based on a novel by Dorothy Hughes), which is photographed moodily & beautifully by Nicholas Musuraca. Of course, cursory knowledge of the role of the Spanish Civil War, the Abraham Lincoln Brigade, the activity of the fascist powers in that conflict, and the fifth columnists in the New and Old World might help, but isn't a prerogative for savoring this little gem of a movie.
What counts here is that we get to see John Garfield creating a psychological portrait of a man who could easily unravel before our eyes. As usual, given the actor's raffish appeal, we can identify with him, and yet, still mistrust him a bit while feeling empathy for him. As is often the case during his contract at Warners, a film made on loan-out (to RKO here), gave the actor more of a challenge than many at his home studio. As with much of John Garfield's best work, it deals with struggles of an ordinary guy to live something like an ethical life in this sorry world.
He is exceptional as the Spanish Civil War vet who is haunted by his experiences during and after the war, especially during his time as a prisoner being interrogated by experts. Garfield's fragile edginess anchors the movie, as does his patented insolence toward conventional society. We see through his defensive, streetwise bluster but—watch for the scenes when he's alone and hears that…ominous sound in the hallway. Is it real or imagined?
Walter Slezak, an actor who seems to be quite unjustly forgotten, sketches one of his more detailed portraits of a sophisticated, smoothly sinister sort. Here he's an excellent, self-assured counterpoint to Garfield's shattered veteran.
Then there's also Maureen O'Hara, (who ken123 tells me has appeared in a few other films as well). She has one of her most interesting parts and besides, she's probably at one of her jaw-droppingly lovely peaks here in black & white, (thankfully without that candy-box technicolor that she's sometimes tied to during this era).
Additionally, there is the beautiful, somewhat brittle character played by Patricia Morison. This actress never seems to have caught a break during her time in Hollywood. When she decamped for the Broadway musical stage, of course, she did a heckuvalot better, notably in Cole Porter's Kiss Me Kate. Guess they didn't know what to do with one more beautiful babe who could sing and project intelligence when she appeared. Those pesky triple threats like Morison must've been a drug on the market in the halcyon days of the studio system.
Patricia Morison in the forties.
A funny remark made by Patricia Morison when reflecting on her studio days was that "I was fitted for costumes in The Glass Key with Alan Ladd when I was told by the studio boss, Buddy De Sylva, that Veronica Lake would do the part. He said I could stick around and play heavies. I said no! I over-ate my way out of the Paramount contract." Maybe she was too tall to play opposite the very good, but vertically challenged Mr. Ladd as well. The actress appeared in numerous plebian programmers of the war period, sort of like a dark counterpart to Hillary Brooke's blonde baddie in the B's. Many of these movies are still rather enjoyable, including appearances opposite Basil Rathbone as Holmes in Dressed To Kill (1946) & Tarzan and the Huntress (1947). I'm not sure if someone in her nineties might not have better things to do, but wouldn't it be lovely if TCM could interview the lady while she's still among us?