Here are my notes from introducing the film... WE'RE NO ANGELS premiered September 23, 1955 and was produced and distributed by Paramount in Technicolor & VistaVision!
This version does not star Robert DeNiro or Sean Penn, that was a sort of remake made in 1989.
It was based on the French play by Albert Husson, "Kitchen Of The Angels" and with a screenplay written by Ranald MacDougall. The working title of this film was Angels Cooking.
On Broadway in 1953 a droll, tender romp called "My Three Angels." Based on the same French play, was adapted by Bella and Sam Spewack about some nice Devils Island inhabitants and a trio of convicts. When this film came out, the Spewack's sued and the result of that lawsuit was never disclosed.
Two key talents of the studio system actor Humphrey Bogart and director Michael Curtiz collaborated four times. Their first was ANGELS WITH DIRTY FACES in 1938, a picture that cemented Bogey's gangster reputation. CASABLANCA followed in 1942, capturing the Best Picture & Best Director Oscar for Curtiz and securing film immortality for Bogart. Their third collaboration was PASSAGE TO MARSEILLE a 1944 World War Two action film. So it only makes sense that their final film together would be . . . what else but a light weight Christmas comedy?
Bogart plays Joseph a master forger and ringleader of the convicts. He is joined by Peter Ustinov as the multitalented Jules trying to avoid a life sentence as a wife-murdering safecracker. And Aldo Ray rounds out the group as Albert, likewise pulling a life stretch for knocking his uncle over the head—fatally. Albert is inseparable from his pet, a poisonous viper named Adolph that he carries with him everywhere in a little basket. Ustinov had just completed THE Egyptian, also directed by Curtiz.
And, both men were looking forward to working together again. On the set, Ustinov and Bogart would become good friends as well, although Humphrey was prone to practical jokes like putting raw liver in Ustinov's shoes, something Peter did not find funny.
The main fascination comes from seeing tough-guy Bogart in one of his very few comedies. His character practically drips with sarcasm. Ustinov excels at effete snobbery and gets off some of the best lines, while the gravel-voiced Ray is by turns menacing and charming and sometimes both at once.
Leo G. Carroll who plays the shop keeper, a benign and lovable fuddy-duddy will be recognizable from NORTH BY NORTHWEST & The Man From UNCLE. Basil Rathbone plays the sinister store owner with glee, a delightful parody of the villain roles he often played. And Joan Bennett is particularly memorable as the kindly shopkeeper's wife. Bennett, best known for Fritz Lang's film noir classics and as Spencer Tracy's wife in FATHER OF THE BRIDE, had been away from the screen for almost three years after being embroiled in a scandal that effectively blackballed her from Hollywood. In 1951 her husband, producer Walter Wanger shot her lover and agent Jennings Lang in a jealous rage. When the smoke (literally) cleared, Bennett was painted as the antagonist in the lover's triangle and quickly shunned by film society. Bogart, a long-time friend, came through for Joan by recommending her for the role in WE'RE NO ANGELS.
The film starts in French Guiana, a few days before Christmas. Bogart, Ustinov and Ray escapees from prison need a place to hide out. They need of clothing and money
the trio makes plans to rob milliner Leo G. Carroll and his family. "We'll cut their throats for a Christmas present", Bogie, remarks. "That might spoil one's belief in Santa Claus" replies philosophical wife-murderer Ustinov.
We're No Angels is a curious little comedy, flirting with the macabre, then pulling back to play nice. It's not dark enough to qualify as black comedy, nor is it total fluff either. But it's a seriously good-looking film with an exceptional cast of tough guys enjoying a rare cinematic romp.
From all reports, the set of We're No Angels was a happy one, a fact reflected in the warm, engaging performances of its stars. There's not a cute kid or snowflake in sight, but We're No Angels, like It's A Wonderful Life, still manages to capture the essential humanistic message of the best Christmas themed films, with a delightful underlying irreverence and sense of fun.
The charmingly hammy performances capture this feeling well and make me wish that all of us no matter how sorded our past could, at Christmas time, at least act like angles.
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