ENES
ENES

The Mask of Dimitrios

Tags: criticism

Negulesco had expected to direct The Maltese Falcon, but Warner Bros. wanted John Huston to make his directorial debut.

Three years later, Negulesco reunites two of the key figures behind The Maltese Falcon — the producer and the director of photography from that legendary film — and shoots The Mask of Dimitrios, a remarkable film noir whose action takes us from Istanbul to Athens, Sofia, Bucharest, Geneva, and Paris. At the time, the use of flashback to illustrate, in fragmentary fashion, different episodes from the life of Dimitrios — a genius of evil played by Zachary Scott — was considered highly innovative. What fascinates us most today is that, being a work shot entirely in a Hollywood studio, it conveys a strange truthfulness about the world it describes; it is not realistic — it is real. One might say the same of Negulesco’s work in general.

Yet the two true protagonists are Sydney Greenstreet and Peter Lorre: the former parades his 120 kilos of villainy with extraordinary elegance; the latter is constantly inventing, making ambiguity his character’s compass and frankness his weapon. There are also two memorable supporting turns: Victor Francen as an elegant spy, and Faye Emerson as a drug-addled cabaret girl.

The film is worthy of John Huston and Orson Welles — or, why not, of Negulesco himself. What is certain is that if it resembles any other picture, the first is the one mentioned at the outset, and the second is Mr. Arkadin (Mister Arkadin), from which it shares an almost identical structure and, above all, the same way of drawing each of its characters.

Negulesco proves himself a virtuoso of composition, giving each character the framing their identity demands. The duels between Lorre and Greenstreet deserve a place in every film school in the world as exercises in direction and in working with actors. The truth is that these two, traditionally cast in supporting roles, appeared together in as many as eight films, and they always managed to be the best thing in each one — which, in the case of the film before us, is no small claim.

Very good. Like Carmina.

CARLOS E.