Man, what stylized dialog! Like an old painting it has only grown more precious with time. When somebody asks fight promoter Edward G. Robinson if he really means that threat, he replies, "Say, I mean it PLENTY." Robinson discovers an amateur boxer with a tremendous punch, Wayne Morris, and he and Harry Carey teach Morris more sophisticated techniques like using his left and saving his right until there's an opening.
Their opposite number is manager Humphrey Bogart, deceptive and frequently particeps criminis. Morris is sort of an innocent pawn and does what Robinson tells him. Morris seems on his way up the title and everything is going well and -- cherchez la femme! Robinson's moll, Bette Davis, falls for the big dumb lug of a fighter, but he's too dumb to realize it. Morris meets Robinson's sister, recently released from the convent for good behavior, and they fall for one another. Robinson is insanely jealous of both. He envies and hates Morris and agrees with Bogart to send Morris into the ring with the wrong instructions, thus losing the title fight.
It was 1937 and this was Michael Curtiz at the helm. During Morris's rise to fame, we are subject to the banner headlines of half a dozen whirling newspapers with names that never were -- The Cincinnati Beobachter, the Minneapolis Dagbladet, the El Paso Concha, The Lancaster Volkskrant, The Chicago Gazeta Polska, and so on. The headlines leave no doubt about the message. GALAHAD FLOORS MANTICORE IN 2ND!!!! The performances are mostly up to par. Robinson has a chance to display the three personae he showed us in "Little Caesar": the cocky wise guy on the way up, the domineering boss, and the self-doubting hesitant who is unable to shoot his erstwhile partner.
Bette Davis has never been better or more appealing. Whatever "magnetism" is, Jane Bryan doesn't have it.
This was Wayne Morris's big break. He's tall, handsome, well-built, naive, and can't act. He had a fine war record. (Kids: that's a reference to World War II. The Allies (us) fought the Axis (them). PS: We won.) After that he appeared occasionally in villainous or wimpish roles, as in "Paths of Glory." Those roles fit the requirements of the Peter Principle. His boxing technique -- and I say this as an expert, having spent at least two, and possibly three, minutes in an amateur ring -- his boxing technique is rudimentary. He's supposed to have a long reach and lead with his left hand, right? So instead of facing his adversary at an angle, like a fencer presenting a smaller target, he stands facing his opponent foursquare, the reach of both hands now equal, throwing away any advantage he might have had.
There's a surprisingly subtle moment embedded in all the action. Morris and Bryan are in love and spend a night in the city. Morris takes her to hear Bette Davis sing at a nightclub, and Davis, who silently loves Morris, joins them for a moment. Bryan and Davis have never met before. As Davis is about to leave them, Morris asks her to stay longer, but she demurs. Turning to Bryan she says with a polite smile, "You know, don't you?" "Yes." Morris puts down his drink and asks, "Know what?" He's so damned stupid it's all over his head.
This film was put out by the Warners movie machine and delivers what you'd expect. It rockets along and leads to a satisfactory shoot out which the unambivalently good guys survive so they can live happily ever after. Except for Bette Davis, who wanders off alone into the night, perhaps on strike.
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