Beat the Devil (1953)


They’re desperate characters. Italy’s Amalfi coast. Billy Dannreuther (Humphrey Bogart) is a formerly wealthy American who has fallen on hard times. He is reluctantly getting together with four crooks: Peterson (Robert Morley), Julius O’Hara (Peter Lorre), Major Jack Ross (Ivor Barnard) and Ravello (Marco Tulli), who are trying to acquire uranium-rich land in British East Africa. Following a newspaper report, Billy suspects that Major Ross murdered a British Colonial officer who threatened to expose the plan. Waiting in Italy for passage to Africa on the SS Nyanga whose captain (Saro Urzi) is on a drunk, Billy and his wife Maria (Gina Lollobrigida) meet a British couple, Harry Chelm (Edward Underdown) and his wife Gwendolen (Jennnifer Jones) who plan to travel on the same ship. Harry seems a very proper and traditional upper crust Englishman, while Gwendolen is flighty and a compulsive fantasist. Billy and Gwendolen have an affair and Maria flirts with Harry who’s travelling to Africa to take over a coffee plantation. All husbands like a wife who seems attractive to other men. Peterson becomes suspicious that the Chelms may be attempting to acquire the uranium themselves. Charm and dependability seldom go in one package. Though this transpires to be untrue, it seems to be confirmed by Gwendolen, who lies about her husband and exaggerates his importance. The potential mineral wealth of Africa has hardly been scratched. Billy and Peterson decide to take a plane instead but their car runs over a cliff when they are pushing it after a couple of breakdowns and the pair are wrongly reported to have been killed. In order to replace Peterson’s investment Ravello approaches Harry and explains the scheme. To everyone’s surprise, Billy and Peterson return to the hotel unharmed, just as the purser announces that the ship is at last ready to sail. Gwendolen is shocked that Billy isn’t dead. On board, Harry reveals that he knows about Peterson’s scheme and intends to inform the authorities. Peterson orders Major Ross to kill Harry but Billy stops the murder attempt. Gwendolen claims that Harry is mentally ill with paranoia so, disbelieving Harry’s outraged accusations, the ship’s captain has him locked in the brig. The ship’s engine malfunctions and the passengers are told to escape by lifeboat but there’s no sign of Harry … I’ve seen Americans in the street and at the cinema of course but I’ve never talked to one before. Adapted by Truman Capote and director John Huston from the 1951 novel by Olivia Wilde’s grandfather, journalist Claud Cockburn (under the name James Helvick), this is one of those films more talked about than seen and which quickly became a cult item. The fifth and final film co-starring Bogart and Lorre, it was written on the hoof and its satirical intentions become a little confused by the wordy script. Conceived as a spoof of The Maltese Falcon and its film noir ilk, with Morley presumably standing in for Sydney Greenstreet, the original screenplay by Peter Viertel and Tony Veiller was rejected by the Breen office for censorship approval 10 days before production due to the adultery storyline. Bogart co-financed it, insisting that Huston go ahead and commit to the shoot and the crew decamped to Italy where Jones’ husband David O. Selznick informed Huston that Capote was in situ following his rewrite for DOS on Indiscretion of an American Wife. He proved a brilliant choice for Huston who despite his contempt for gay men declared Capote to have the courage of a lion. They shared a suite at their hotel which gave rise to hilarious gossip about their possible relationship, a rumour that Bogart spread among the crew to Huston’s apparent delight. We’re only adrift on an open sea with a drunken captain and an engine that’s liable to explode at any moment. Capote said of the production chaos, Sometimes scenes that were just about to be shot were written right on the set. The cast was completely bewildered … sometimes even Huston didn’t seem to know what was going on. It was totally mad but it was meant to be. At one point Capote disappeared to Rome to check in on his raven because he hadn’t spoken to him on the phone. Selznick started to keep tabs on the shoot apparently at the behest of Jones and Huston had fun messing him around with set reports missing pages which invariably delayed the arrival of the producer’s infamous prolix memos. Shooting principally at the Ravello hotel where Greta Garbo had holed up with lover Leopold Stokowski the orchestra conductor, delays were caused not just by the lack of a working screenplay but by a car accident which caused Bogart’s bridge to be destroyed and a new one had to be sent from his dentist in Los Angeles. Several of his lines were voiced by Peter Sellers as a result of his difficulties speaking. With his character described as a middle-aged roustabout by Harry Chelm, in real life Morley didn’t think much of Bogart: A nice man but not much brain, really, he concluded. Filled with in-jokes and ad libs from the cast, production manager Jack Clayton, who would go on to have a successful career as a director, is honoured by having his name used for a British police inspector (Bernard Lee) who arrives to investigate a murder, while we assume Huston was responsible for the anti-Nazi line for Lorre: Many Germans in Chile have come to be called O’Hara. It was Lollobrigida’s first American movie and Bogart said of her she made Marilyn Monroe look like Shirley Temple. In this scenario however it’s Jones who’s the nympho. Crisply shot by estimable British cinematographer, Oswald Morris, who said of his second of eight collaborations with Huston, In the end, he was making a shaggy dog film. Visitors to the set like Orson Welles and George Sanders had a lot of fun. Another visitor was Stephen Sondheim who is sometimes credited as the clapper boy. He played the piano but Huston never noticed him because he wasn’t rich. Huston shot five days’ worth of script on the last day, left early and returned to his new mistress in Paris. Make sure to see a good print. This is the end. The End