The Sea Wolf

"I've spit in the eye of better men than you for saying less", boatswain John Garfield snarls at sadistic captain Edward G. Robinson in this gritty film noir, set in the open sea, but fenced in, very noir-like, by constant dense fog.

I believe Raoul Walsh would have made a more dynamic film over Jack London's novel than Michael Curtiz did, but it is still a pretty good watch any day of the week. Robert Rossen wrote the screenplay which is well-structured, but far too literal and talkative for the pacing of a dramatic work of art. The lighting of the set, basically just the ship 'The Ghost', is brilliant, Erich Wolfgang Korngold's score must count among his best, highly effective and evocative.

Acting is on a very high level, with Robinson grabbing a first prize for his portrayal of the complex sadist 'Wolf' Larson. John Garfield is his swarthy and sexy adversary, and Barry Fitzgerald turns his signature role of the Irish leprechaun on its head with his vicious, diabolical snitch of a sailor, truly scary, a virtuoso performance.

This is probably the best remembered version of the Jack London tale. A ruthless and savvy sea captain(Edward G. Robinson)reluctantly rescues a shipwreck and puts his unplanned passengers to work on his ship. Soon he is forced to deal with an enraged, rebellious crew. Directed expertly by Michael Curtiz.

Robinson is great as the meglomaniacal master of the ship. Outstanding performances from Ida Lupino and John Garfield. Also in supporting roles are Howard Da Silva, Barry Fitzgerald and Alexander Knox. Watch this in tandem with another Curtiz swashbuckler SEA HAWK(1940)along with popcorn shrimp and dramamine...talk about adventure.

One of the great classics Directed by the gifted tyrant Micheal Curtiz. Every performance is excellent with Edward G. giving one of his best. Curtiz did not make boring films, this speeds along at under 90 minutes without a dull moment. The miniature work is even good, note the scene near the beginning with the row boat in the bay. That is a miniature in a tank but pretty damn convincing. Flawless and gripping.

Edward G. Robinson puts his own brand of cruelty on the role of a freighter captain who tyrannizes his crew and some unexpected passengers (Ida Lupino, John Garfield, Alexander Knox) in this taut, suspenseful psychological melodrama with no shortage of brooding atmosphere.

Based on the famous Jack London story of Wolf Larsen (Robinson), the callous and inhuman skipper of a schooner, who proceeds to make life hell for his crew and his unwilling passengers rescued from a sinking ferryboat. Lupino and Garfield are a couple of losers with a past; Knox is a mild-mannered novelist. The romantic angle between Garfield and Ida is underplayed with the accent more on the brooding tension aboard the schooner.

Under Michael Curtiz' direction, all the performances are first-rate and Erich Wolfgang Korngold's intriguing score helps sustain the tense mood of passengers adrift on a fog-shrouded sea. Alexander Knox's restrained portrayal of an intellectual is a perfect foil for Robinson's bombastic megalomaniac skipper. Stand-outs in the large supporting cast are Gene Lockhart as a nervous, cowardly doctor and Barry Fitzgerald as a crafty cook, a sinister departure from his usual comic roles.

Absorbing all the way, well worth viewing, this represented a step up the ladder for Ida Lupino's career at Warner Bros. Watch for my full-length career article on Ida Lupino scheduled to appear in an upcoming issue of FILMS OF THE GOLDEN AGE.

It's amazing what a really good actor can pull off. In the Jack London novel on which this film was loosely based, Wolf Larson is tall, blond, Scandinavian, an "ubermensch" flaunting his invincible strength and power over other men. Edward G. Robinson was very short and dark, almost gnome-like with little stubby hands, a homely face and nasal voice. Yet somehow he fills this improbable role, making Larson at once larger than life and credibly human.

Larson is, of course, the "sea wolf" of the title, captain of the Ghost, a mysterious, perpetually fog-enshrouded schooner. Manned by a crew of brutal and brutalized men, the ship is ostensibly hunting seals, but its real destination is a show-down with Wolf's brother, the even more colorfully named Death Larson. We never learn much about this sibling feud, or about the backgrounds of the major characters. Aside from Larson, there is George Leach (John Garfield), who signs on with the ship to escape a prison rap, and two passengers rescued from the wreck of a ferry in San Francisco harbor: Ruth (Ida Lupino), an escaped convict, and Van Weyden, a well-bred writer who becomes, as observer and interpreter of the action, the film's central consciousness. Larson refuses to put the two castaways ashore, seemingly out of pure spite. Leach plots to escape the ship, and the threat of mutiny hangs in the air.

As this summary suggests, the movie's plot is as foggy as its atmosphere, but this doesn't matter very much. The atmosphere, at once raffish and eerie, and the beautifully drawn characters provide plenty of interest, and there is also a serious and compelling theme. Larson's motto (from Milton) is "better to reign in hell than serve in heaven." Van Weyden, who becomes the secretly intellectual captain's confidant, realizes that Larson is afraid to leave his ship because only as its captain can he enjoy absolute power; on shore he would be forced to compete with his equals and betters. His sport is humiliating his victims and stripping them of dignity and self-respect. He gratuitously insults and torments all those who attempt to challenge him: in addition to Leach and Ruth, there is Louis (the excellent Gene Lockhart), a broken, alcoholic doctor who tries to recover his dignity after saving Ruth's life with a transfusion of Leach's blood. Larson won't let him, of course, and his desperate response prompts the writer's comment, "There is a price no man will pay for living." Larson even turns against Cookie (Barry Fitzgerald), his most loyal crew-member. Fitzgerald is spectacularly loathsome, shrieking with laughter and scuttling around his galley like a demonic leprechaun.

John Garfield, to his credit, was never reluctant to take supporting roles in films he admired. His part here, while secondary, is a pip: a defiant young roughneck, smarting with wounded pride, looking terrific in a tattered sweater and fisherman's cap. He gets a great introduction in the first scene, walking into a waterfront dive where he brushes off a pickpocket ("If you find anything in there, brother, I'll share it with you") and knocks out the recruiter who tries to slip him a mickey. On board the Ghost, he's the only one of the sailors who rebels against Larson; when ordered to address the captain with respect, he manages to make "sir" sound like a four-letter word. "Don't worry," he says before the transfusion, "This kind of blood never cools off."

Ida Lupino is wonderful (when was she not?) as the convict who has lost her spirit; her pathetic lady-like act keeps giving way to flashes of anger and underlying sadness. She and Garfield make a perfect couple, and their romance, which could have seemed like a sop to the box office, is deeply touching. Like Garfield, Lupino regularly played tough, resentful hard-luck kids. But her pale, waif-like delicacy and wistfulness contrast nicely with Garfield's rough-hewn sturdiness and combustible temper. They have three good scenes together: one where she finds him huddled like a whipped puppy in the ship's hold (he has been beaten after assaulting the captain) and they smoke cigarettes together. Initially hostile—he tells her scornfully that he only stood up for her because "I can't even stand to see a dog beg, much less a human being"—they quickly bond. He urges her to keep fighting and boasts that Larson can never break his spirit, while she wearily responds that nothing makes any difference to her anymore. Later they talk in a doorway, Ida in her nightgown, and he touches her arm, realizing that his own blood is running through it. They don't kiss, but their chemistry is palpable. Finally they play a love scene on either side of a locked iron door, whispering to each other with their lips touching the wall between them.

Eventually Larson's invincibility starts to crack, as he suffers from crippling migraines and hysterical blindness. He remains too vicious to arouse any pity, but Robinson makes him a fascinating monster. He conveys such a dominant, overpowering will that you hardly notice he's not physically imposing; his sneering voice, nasty laugh and devious intelligence make him genuinely scary. The intense performances of the whole cast knit together this unusual blend of boy's-adventure-story entertainment and serious drama, a classic of the Warner Brothers' minor-key style.