I just watched The Maltese Falcon and The Big Sleep back-to-back. The films, based on novels by Dashiell Hammet and Raymond Chandler respectively, offer Humphrey Bogart the opportunity to set his reputation as a private dick in what would become known as film noir. They’re both excellent films.

What makes The Big Sleep memorable are several things. First, there’s the convuluted plot…no one I know can actually figure out the mystery with any certainty. But that’s certainly not the point. Instead, the detective narrative seems to be an excuse to let Philip Marlowe (Bogart) and Vivian Rutledge (Lauren Bacall) start a romance. And what a romance it is—filled with witty banter, whisky voices, and innuendo (similar to their relationship in To Have and Have Not). They have, for lack of a better word, the chemistry lacking in so many contemporary romances. And did I mention that Bogart has a fine sense of comedic timing? Watch for his turn as an undercover book collector!

In fact, the bottom line? Just watch it. You won’t be disappointed.

It’s been said before, that Rowling’s strengths are in characterization and plotting. The same can’t be said of her use of exposition. These strengths and weaknesses are present in Half-Blood Prince, as they are in the rest of the series. To be sure, if you’re still with the series now, you’ll be favorably inclined toward Book 6 and will read Book 7. And certainly, Rowling is a stronger genre writer than many who publish in the fantasy market. And it seems to be fairly well-done for the children’s/youth book market. But is Harry Potter great literature? I don’t know yet; I think much will depend on the last book tying things together.

As for Half-Blood Prince specifically? Well, the plot is relatively light for this one and the exposition even heavier than in other books. It seems to be primarily a set-up for the final book in the series. It answers peripheral plot questions about romantic relationships, it does the job of moving Harry from angsty adolescence into the beginnings of adulthood, and provides what it now the expected cliffhanger moment which moves the books’ fans into tears. But, for this reader at least, Half-Blood Prince was a disappointment. It was structured in such a way that it relied too much on Rowling’s weaknesses and even seemed to cater to fan questions instead of moving the overall narrative arc forward.

Ulmer’s 67 minute cult masterpiece, Detour is almost a textbook example of classic film noir. Al Reynolds (Tom Neal) decides to hitch a ride to Hollywood to meet up with his lady love. Some substantial obstacles threaten Al’s plans, but he manages to almost overcome them when he runs into Vera (Ann Savage), the femme fatale. As you might, that’s when things get really interesting.

Although the DVDs are made from prints of the film that are of pretty bad quality, the film itself is quite good. It’s really impressive, and the film is made even more so if you know Ulmer filmed Detour in under a week and on an extrordinarily low budget. If you’ve been curious about what film noir is, you could do a lot worse than to start with Detour.

Based on Dashiell Hammett’s light and airy recounting of Nick and Nora Charles, the film is a bit of tasty froth. First, who could fail to appreciate the snappy exchanges between the married couple, Nick a “retired” dectective and his socialite wife? Although the mystery to be solve never gets down to the nuts-and-bolts of the genre requirements, I found it hard to feel deprived. In its place, we have a nice amusing character types, an endless supply of alcohol, banter in the best sense of the word, and the pure eye candy of the costumes and set.

I grew up reading Peanuts and, although I liked the comics, I never really bonded with them. Sure, I could see why comics artists were appreciative of Schulz’s work, even laudatory. He influenced generations and the strip had a clean line and almost archetypal characters. But as I came of age, Schulz’s humor seemed to change; it became more nostalgic and almost sentimental. I didn’t see him tackling the existential issues some critics had attributed to his style. Plus, I was ruined by the animated television specials, which in turn specialized in schmaltz and not Schulz.

But then I made a commitment to read the strips once I heard the entire collection was going to be released. NOW I understand why Peanuts holds the place it does. The characters in
Schulz’s earliest strips are more volatile, they’re darker, they’re struggling with their identity. I understood their conflicts and complexities, which are made all the more compelling because of Schulz’s style. And in turn, I now appreciate the later strips because I have a better undertanding of Peanuts; it was a comic that continue to grow and challenge the artist and his audience over its entire production run.

I’m now truly a Peanuts’ convert. Buy the books, read them, share them with your friends and loved ones.

What more is there to say? This is Humphrey Bogart’s first role as a lead actor, even though he’d been a contract actor for years and had received lots of good press for The Petrified Forest and High Sierra. It was John Huston’s directorial debut. Huston also wrote the screenplay, and was smart enough to keep novelist Dashiell Hammett’s terse and evocative dialogue for his adaptation. (The Maltese falcon had already been adapted for cinema twice before, but Huston made it work, by the way.) In addition to Bogart, the film stars Mary Astor, Sydney Greenstreet, and Peter Lorre.

It’s got a lot of the elements you expect in noir—the lighting, the camera angles, the hard-boiled detective and the femme fatale. There are witty exchanges, dark city streets, and enough smoking and drinking to make you feel positively decadent just for watching it.

A mere 1 hour, 40 minutes, you’ll wish it were longer.