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It’s a thriller from start to finish, one that has you on the edge of your seat. For a film that largely takes place indoors, the dialogue is witty, and the tension as taut as a mooring line. Even Gully, who’s already seen it, is similarly enthralled at the spectacle, breaking eye contact with the screen to grab more popcorn out of a shared bucket. She certainly picked a movie that you both would enjoy.
<span class="mu-i">“When a man’s partner is killed, he’s supposed to do something about it. It doesn’t make any difference what you thought of him, he was your partner, and you’re supposed to do something about it.”</span>
The ending is typical of its time, but not one that’s cliché or otherwise predictable. There are genuine heartfelt moments where the film escapes the detective drama, calling into question the nature of humanity. Spade waxes philosophical on the Falcon, the source of all the death and bloodshed and heartbreak – the stuff that dreams are made of.
…dreams. Insubstantial, fleeting things that all too quickly disappear and slip out of grasp upon awakening.
A dream where Caroline Godwin was your wife, not Jean’s.
A dream where Tom was your son, not just your nephew and godchild.
A dream where the boy hadn’t suffered an accident that very well near killed him.
A dream where you, Jean and Caroline could simply live out the rest of your lives in that idyllic, status quo of eternal friendship.
A dream…
…a dream.
Dreams that those would be, and would continue to be no matter how hard you pursued them. Ephemeral things that could never be accomplished in this real and Flooded World.
You clear your throat with a sip of your soda, masking the harsh cough and the swallowing of a heavy lump in your throat. As the lights come back on, and the audience gives an applause, you turn to Gully. But any compliment for her taste in movies dies on your lips as she stares, misty-eyed and wistful at the screen where the Falcon had disappeared.
A mirror of your own gaze.
The look of a dreamer chasing her own fleeting dream.
>>Dr. Strangelove (1964)
A quick break to freshen up, emotionally re-center and replenish your snacks finds you and Gully heading to a different room in the theater. Both of you hold your silence, settling in with as little noise and talk as possible. Perhaps inadvertently and definitely unintentionally, the <span class="mu-i">Maltese Falcon</span> hit a little too close to home.
<span class="mu-i">“I can no longer sit back and allow communist infiltration, communist indoctrination, communist subversion, and the international communist conspiracy to sap and impurify all of our precious bodily fluids.”</span>
But heavy as it had been, it isn’t enough to detract both of you away from the silver screen. If nothing else, that would have been an awful note to end a relaxing outing with. At the very least, you’ll sit through one of Kubrick’s lighter films. Although that’s saying quite a lot about the man, given his filmography.
(cont.)