Review #417: 'Key Largo' (1948)

Arriving at Key Largo, Florida, ex-Major Frank McCloud (Humphrey Bogart) meets up with Hotel Largo proprietor James Temple (Lionel Barrymore) and his former daughter-in-law Nora (Lauren Bacall), widow of one of Frank's unit from the war. The hotel is near deserted, with only a small handful of unruly looking characters staying there. It turns out that they have rented the hotel for a fishing holiday, but after an alcoholic woman they are with, Gaye Dawn (Claire Trevor), is manhandled by one of the group, Frank starts to suspect that there is more going on than it first seemed. With a hurricane approaching, Temple closes the hotel to wait out the storm, but the arrival of notorious gangster Johnny Rocco (Edward G. Robinson) and his injured police officer prisoner, confirms Frank's fears.

John Huston made many films in his long Hollywood career, and this was the last of four films that Bogart and Bacall made together, but Key Largo is far from the most fondly remembered of all their films. Yet although it doesn't achieve true greatness, especially when you compare it to the likes of Huston's masterpieces The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948) and The African Queen (1951), the talent on display allows it to be a tense, visually striking and occasionally riveting little film noir. The theatrical roots (it was adapted from Maxwell Anderson's 1938 play) of the film means the scale is minimal, but if nothing adds to the sweaty, closed-in atmosphere, all rendered beautifully by Karl Freund's cinematography, and Huston and Richard Brooks' script gives plenty for the cast to chew on, especially the colossal Robinson and the Academy Award-winning Trevor.

Although he comes second in the credits, Robinson dominates the film when he enters about twenty minutes in. He lies sprawled in the bath chomping a huge cigar, like a revolting beached animal, and emerges to truly push Bogart out of the limelight. Even the opening title sequence reflects this, with Robinson's name higher than Bogart's. It's an alarmingly restrained performance from Bogart, who we are all used to as either the bad guy, or the tough anti-hero, and Bacall is disappointingly mute, her character being no more than the put-upon love interest when will always be remembered for playing the sultry femme fatale.

Robinson dominates, but Trevor steals the show as Rocco's boozy, gambling ex-star girlfriend, who is the figure of desperation when Rocco masochistically makes her sing for everybody for a drink. She sings a story of a woman abused by her partner, and breaks down during the climax. Rocco, affected by the similarity, refuses her a drink anyway, only to have Frank pour her a hard drink and hand it to her, enraging Rocco. It's a great scene, and most likely the scene than won Trevor the Oscar. It is the quality of the acting, and some fine technical work that really bring the B-movie plot to life, as well as Huston's ability to craft an exciting, yet dark thriller.


Directed by: John Huston
Starring: Humphrey Bogart, Edward G. Robinson, Lauren Bacall, Lionel Barrymore, Claire Trevor
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie