Sirocco

I totally enjoyed this film. I wasn't expecting much from what I had previously read (on here) and if you can try and not think about some of Bogart's other triumphs, this is a quick moving, interesting enough film with underlining truths..

Basically Bogart has been presented with a choice of doing right or wrong in a war torn city in Syria, trying to mind his own business and continue to profit himself with supplying guns to rebel fighters, he is steered towards helping the French. Of course this would also help him get out of the city and onto better places..but the story unveils complications for him..

Bogart's role is similar to his other characters but not entirely, he's definitely got that "cynic on the outside, but heart pointing in the right direction on the inside" thing going on.

Also, the film does have other strong roles, in particular the very beautiful Märta Torén as Violette, she trys to resist Bogart's outlaw charm but in the end like the rest of us, cant get enough..she is also a good choice of casting, definitely an unusual beauty about her with a presence to match.

My only glitch about this film and I noticed it right away, was that the French / Foreign army officers and in particular Everett Sloane as Gen. LaSalle speak with American and British accents. Could they not even try and break out in a French accent? What was the director thinking (You will notice in the glorious 'Casablanca', every nationality was played with the utmost truth to where they had come from, even a line or two in their given language)? However, overlooking that, this is a great film and I can't see why any Bogie fan would not dig it.

~paul browne.

In a way Bogart's greatest performances have left Sirocco "priced out of the market." I won't argue that it's on the same level as Casablanca, The Maltese Falcon, or Key Largo, but it is a surprisingly nuanced picture that gets unfairly criticized for not living up to some of the greatest films Hollywood ever produced.

Bogie is Bogie, tough-talking and trenchcoat-wearing as usual. He plays Harry Smith, a man who, ordinarily, doesn't take sides, but this time, see... there's a dame! That sounds a little dismissive, it's not meant to be. Nobody's ever played a "shades of gray" character quite like Bogart, in my opinion he could have done it a dozen *more* times.

Swedish actress Märta Torén (pegged as 'The Next Ingrid Bergman') is the dame. She really seems almost as out-of-place in the picture as she would have been in war-torn Damascus. Lee J. Cobb, playing the French commander Col. Feroud, chews the scenery a little but overall he gives a good portrayal of a man fighting for a cause he no longer believes in.

I'm a fan of both Zero Mostel (the original Max Bialystock) and Nick Dennis (the exuberant Greek mechanic from 'Kiss Me Deadly') and they both have good if small roles here.

I was impressed by the way Sirocco refused to overtly side with either the French or the Syrians. Neither does the film present Smith as anything but what he is, an opportunist. In fact, for me, it his teetering on the brink of whether to take sides or stay neutral (and thus be true to his own self-serving moral code) that provides the film's best drama.

This 1951 Bogart vehicle, produced by the great man himself, and directed by the estimable Curtis Bernhardt, is a slow-moving rehash of some of Bogart's better known films, going back to Casablanca. This one's set in 1925 Syria, with the Trenchcoated One working both sides against the middle. He's a gun runner selling arms to the Arabs, which at the time was illegal, since Syria was controlled by the French. Bogart had an affinity with the Levant, and was most at ease in an occupied city, with terrorists, revolutionaries and criminals,--often hard to tell apart--running around, blowing up things, and making life difficult for the authorities. As usual, Bogart couldn't care less who wins as long as he gets paid.

Sirocco is a back lot picture, yet an attractive one. It was made at a time when movies of its type were getting either a whole lot bigger or a whole lot smaller. As such it was somewhat of an anachronism when it came out, and its box-office was modest. This was really the end of the line for the old-style Bogart pics, which it is the last of; and Bogie's next movie, The African Queen, filmed on location and in color, would open up a whole new career for him. I like this one better than most people do, for its cast (Marta Toren, Lee Cobb, Everett Sloan, Gerald Mohr), and its shabby fatalism. A good deal of the picture is set indoors, in cafés, hotel rooms and warehouses. There is a circular, labyrinthine aspect to the movie, as it seems at times as if all the action were taking place literally underground, with the various characters moving from cavern to cavern.

(Marta Toren to Bogie)....what a great line! I'm surprised it hasn't gone down in the lexicon of great movie quips...and it captures perfectly the paradoxical mystery of Bogie's eternal charm, as well as the mystery of how an essentially mediocre film can be redeemed by its own dry, sardonic charm (due largely to help from fine supporting players as much as from Bogie), some great B/W photography, and a persistently downbeat refusal to push any sort of patriotic agenda.(adding greatly to that charm quotient.) The postwar noir influence is in fine fettle here. So Bogie doesn't exactly have a great motivation for his final decision? He just changed his mind, that's all. Take it or leave it. "I've taken long chances before. Okay." What could be better than that? It's the way people act every day. Every good critical eye without a mote in it knows that this film is safely and securely within the universe of the best product Hollywood ever put out, a great, mordant, counterweight universe to the unwatchable sap they themselves were producing right alongside it. "Sirocco" is not even really that minor a star in that universe. Good, good, good.

There are films that have been made that are no go, the reasons for creation not Key Largo, to be honest and quite franka, this just isn't Casablanca, as a fan of the great man, this is a blow. Although he plays with all the usual charisma, but for reasons this is just silly miasma, Everett Sloane you can't applaud, he's just a shadow of our Claude, and poor old Marta, holds no candle, to fair Ilsa. When the end arrives relief is quite immense, but at least you have a little recompense, ticking from a quite long list, this is one more you haven't missed, you can park it now, and let it all condense.