In High Sierra, Bogart got to make good on the rather phony gangster he played in his first Hollywood success (on his second try), The Petrified Forest. The source material here is a solid crime caper from veteran W.R. Burnett, and the studio allowed Raoul Walsh to film much of the tale on remote locations in Lone Pine and other places on route 395.

Forget the stagebound romantic gangsters of The Roaring Twenties and Angels with Dirty Faces, in High Sierra Bogart is finally allowed to sell his natural toughness. Just his Marine Corps haircut and surly expression in stills is enough to raise one's interest; Roy Earle is an experienced, alienated tough guy in a world of chislers, punks, and clueless civilians.

The corny, dated aspect comes with the basic concept that Roy, one of the nastiest stick-up men of the depression (is this supposed to be 1932, as we see on his parole document in the first scene?) has a big softie inside who wants to come out. He goes for a walk in the park on release, checks out the old farm and takes a liking to the Goodhues, a family of rubes come to the big city. Pard the dog has no trouble finding its way into his heart, and bad girl Marie Garson comes creeping in not far behind.

Scripters John Huston and Burnett mine audience sympathy by playing up the melodrama, but they make sure that nothing in the crime story is affected by the personal one (until the very end, that is). Roy's deal in LA going bad has nothing to do with his dalliances with the Goodhues, and when he goes soft by letting Marie and Pard accompany him, no blame is assigned. Of course, the movie is a bit cockeyed when it gets emotional mileage from showing Roy victimized by greedy motel operators, etc., wanting to cash in on him. By the end the unflattering picture of militant cops and opportunistic radio announcers makes Roy seem like an innocent guy.

The 'Bonnie and Clyde' formula extends to Ida Lupino's rather sanitized version of a 'dime a dance girl', who we have to presume is meant to suggest a pickup dame and maybe even a prostitute. Marie's no Madonna (in the old-fashioned sense), but she comes close. Naturally she suggests all good things and positive values to Roy. Interesting, however, that Roy's rough background (killings, brute force robberies, threatening and being threatened) barely show themselves in his relationship with her. Dagwood Bumstead couldn't be more domestic.

High Sierra, then, gets to have it both ways. You Only Live Once made its fugitive couple ridiculously innocent to the point of fairy-tale simplicity. This movie certainly lays on the bit about 'the forces of society closing in' with impressive cruelty. Even noble-looking Park Rangers all now seem to have high-powered rifles. With frequent reminders of how tough Roy Earle can be, Huston and Burnett satisfied the softies and the hardboiled audience at the same time.

Two almost irrelevant notes: Earle seems to be forever traveling between Lone Pine, some fictional Vegas-like resort out in the Mojave Desert (they can't mean Palm Springs, can they?) and Los Angeles. In 1941 (or 1932, if that date is to be believed), there were so few roads that three deputies posted out in the desert could ID and snag anybody trying to go from A to B in California. Or maybe they had few deputies, too.

Warners remade High Sierra in Warnercolor and Cinemascope in 1955, and it's not bad, with a fairly subdued Jack Palance and Shelley Winters starring. It copies many of the chase angles shot for shot in the exact same locations, and omits some of the opening montage stuff. The desert opening looks particularly good in widescreen, and the stereo sound is good too. Lee Marvin has a small role, if I remember.

And a lackluster Bogie followup, The Big Shot, re-uses High Sierra's action chase as a straight stock footage lift.

Warners' DVD of High Sierra has what we want to see, a nigh-flawless, brilliant transfer of this classic with a punchy soundtrack. I remember old TV broadcasts edited for time that lopped off the opening prison scenes, and they're all back now.

The brief featurette docu is to the point, using critics and historians as interviewees, considering that everyone directly associated with the picture passed away decades ago. They stick to the basic facts, but manage to editorialize some; Leonard Maltin is particularly good at putting his spin on Hollywood history without making things up, as some 'experts' seem to.

On a scale of Excellent, Good, Fair, and Poor, rates:
Movie: Excellent
Video: Excellent
Sound: Excellent
Supplements: Theatrical trailer, Curtains for Roy Earle featurette
Packaging: Snapper case
Reviewed: November 8, 2003