Few things in movies are harder to put into words than the weird charm of "Beat the Devil". There's something lordly about the heedlessness of it all, as though John Huston had woken up one morning and, over eggs, decided to fritter away a few months, a couple of major stars, and the entire budget of a film on a practical joke. It's difficult to imagine the theater audiences who took this for an attempt at a serious thriller; any possibility of melodrama vanishes at approximately the moment Robert Morley, lower lip jutting with purpose, marches into sight -- his scowl is burstingly comic, and his crisp, supercilious phrasing seems to give the movie a whole extra level of energy. Despite Humphrey Bogart's famous irritation with the final product, he seems wry and laid-back here, and quite clearly aware that nothing of importance is happening. Jennifer Jones is unexpectedly funny and likable, Gina Lollobrigida is luscious (her pursuit of the stiff-necked Underdown is winning), and then of course there's Peter Lorre, who was one of those magic ingredients one could add to any film to make it better. (Where are they now?) He, Barnard, and Tulli make a hilariously seedy lineup -- "Surely one look at our faces should convince you we are honest men!"
What else? The plot is the shaggiest of dogs, the production looks cheap and somewhat patchwork, and the ending is -- well it just sort of ends. Yet as a sort of cinematic prank on the part of Huston and Truman Capote, who concocted some genuinely classic dialogue, the whole manages to be great fun. There ought to be more movies like this, but who has money to throw away?
What else? The plot is the shaggiest of dogs, the production looks cheap and somewhat patchwork, and the ending is -- well it just sort of ends. Yet as a sort of cinematic prank on the part of Huston and Truman Capote, who concocted some genuinely classic dialogue, the whole manages to be great fun. There ought to be more movies like this, but who has money to throw away?