Another chapter in Warner Brothers' World War II propaganda film series, The Conspirators (1944) is a jambalaya of international intrigue, foreboding atmosphere, lackluster writing, and stellar casting. It is frequently derided as a Casablanca knockoff but it more closely emulates director Jean Negulesco's previous work The Mask of Demitrios both in its foggy milieu and abundance of returning cast members. This particular venture emerges more as a triumph of style over substance and is a personal favorite of mine.
Vincent Van Der Lyn (Paul Henreid), aka the Flying Dutchman, is a notorious Dutch resistance fighter passing through neutral Lisbon before making the jump to England. He is taken to underground leader Ricardo Quintanilla (Sydney Greenstreet) by Jan Bernazsky (Peter Lorre) and meets their small band of title characters. Quintanilla wants Vincent to brief agent Jennings (Monte Blue) who is shortly embarking on a dangerous mission behind Nazi lines. Before this happens Jennings is murdered in Vincent's hotel room and the Dutchman is arrested for the crime. Believing himself to have been betrayed by the beautiful Irene (Hedy Lamarr) Vincent stages a daring escape from prison and resolves to get revenge on her. Before successfully completing his mission Vincent must confront Irene, convince his friends he is not a traitor, and destroy the true villain in their midst.
There are many interesting ideas presented in the film but they are hamstrung by a lackluster script credited to Vladimir Pozner and Leo Rosten (additional dialogue by Jack Moffitt). The story bears little resemblance to the source novel written by Frederic Prokosch and features a threadbare, episodic plot with a plethora of characters. Told in flashback by Vincent himself everyone is either following or being followed; spying or being spied on. The melodrama is supposed to be buoyed by an epic love affair between Vincent and Irene that falls flat in every way possible. They meet by accident and Vincent, evidently consumed by passion, spends much of his time impulsively chasing her to the point he bungles his one assignment and finds himself in prison charged with murder. Hard to believe this legendary underground hero would comport himself in such a way. Their romance is further compromised by woeful romantic patter and zero chemistry between the stars. Things finally heat up when he escapes from prison and the third act of the film reinforces the "duty before pleasure" theme that rang more convincingly in Casablanca.
Director Jean Negulesco crafts a visually compelling film with that unmistakable Warner Brothers milieu and, in many ways, trumps the vapid writing. The story moves from the glitz of the Cafe Imperio and Estoril to the seashore fishing village of Cascais, the countryside of Lisbon, the fog shrouded prison, and the clandestine digs of Quintanilla's conspirators. Unfortunately his presentation of the action scenes - Vincent's prison escape and the climactic pursuit of the traitor through the woods - are poorly rendered. The prison escape is particularly ludicrous as Vincent and his cell mate appear to be the only convicts in the place with only one guard on duty in the cell block; it's as bereft of employees as a modern CVS. On the other hand Negulesco crafts several tense dramatic scenes in the third act particularly the kangaroo court of his friends judging Vincent and the activity at the Estoril roulette table when the quisling is flushed out. Supporting all these moments is another wonderful musical score by Max Steiner whose haunting and melancholy orchestrations set the appropriate mood every time.
The unquestioned MVP of the film is the splendid cast that deserved better but manages to transcend most of the shortcomings and propel the narrative. Furnishing the eye candy Hedy Lamarr steps out of the friendly confines of MGM to headline this group as the glamorous Irene. While her acting doesn't set the world on fire she is beautifully photographed and looks luminous in every scene. Despite second billing Paul Henreid essays the lead role as the Flying Dutchman; another resistance legend along the lines of Victor Lazlo in Casablanca. Sadly he doesn't cut such a commanding, inspirational figure here and frankly looks absurd running around in his trench coat blowing up railway stations and Nazis. Henreid does have one great scene where he reveals how he transitioned from schoolteacher to freedom fighter that is arguably the picture's highlight.
The supporting cast is brilliant and chock full of familiar faces from Mask of Dimitrios: Sydney Greenstreet, Peter Lorre, Victor Francen, Eduardo Ciannelli, Steven Geray, and Kurt Katch. Greenstreet is the standout who pontificates in his signature style and sports a rather ostentatious necktie while Lorre is relatively wasted in the undemanding role of Bernazsky. Francen is wonderfully oily as Von Mohr whose allegiance is a major question mark right up until the climax. Making a complete u-turn in his characterization from the mousy Bulic in Mask to the intimidating Nazi Dr. Schmitt and doing a bang up job is Steven Geray who lords over Kurt Katch as his underling Lutzke. Inhabiting the subtly complex role of Police Captain Pereira is Joseph Calleia who must handle both warring factions with diplomacy but is an ally at heart; he delivers an authoritative and crafty performance. Fans of classic cinema will enjoy spotting two significant actors in minor roles: George MacReady in one of his earliest parts as a disgraced Nazi thug and Universal horror icon Edward Van Sloan as Vincent's contact who dispatches him to Lisbon at the start of the film.
The Conspirators was a flop in its day and endured a difficult production history including reported displays of temperament from its stars Paul Henreid and particularly Hedy Lamarr. Personally I adore this film mainly because of the unsurpassed lineup of Warner Brothers character stars who always elevate any project in which they appear. Furthermore there is always something comforting about any of the studio's films evoking a melodramatic, exotic atmosphere emboldened by a wonderful Max Steiner score. While this film might not be for everyone it should do the trick for those who love the Warners ambience as I do.
Vincent Van Der Lyn (Paul Henreid), aka the Flying Dutchman, is a notorious Dutch resistance fighter passing through neutral Lisbon before making the jump to England. He is taken to underground leader Ricardo Quintanilla (Sydney Greenstreet) by Jan Bernazsky (Peter Lorre) and meets their small band of title characters. Quintanilla wants Vincent to brief agent Jennings (Monte Blue) who is shortly embarking on a dangerous mission behind Nazi lines. Before this happens Jennings is murdered in Vincent's hotel room and the Dutchman is arrested for the crime. Believing himself to have been betrayed by the beautiful Irene (Hedy Lamarr) Vincent stages a daring escape from prison and resolves to get revenge on her. Before successfully completing his mission Vincent must confront Irene, convince his friends he is not a traitor, and destroy the true villain in their midst.
There are many interesting ideas presented in the film but they are hamstrung by a lackluster script credited to Vladimir Pozner and Leo Rosten (additional dialogue by Jack Moffitt). The story bears little resemblance to the source novel written by Frederic Prokosch and features a threadbare, episodic plot with a plethora of characters. Told in flashback by Vincent himself everyone is either following or being followed; spying or being spied on. The melodrama is supposed to be buoyed by an epic love affair between Vincent and Irene that falls flat in every way possible. They meet by accident and Vincent, evidently consumed by passion, spends much of his time impulsively chasing her to the point he bungles his one assignment and finds himself in prison charged with murder. Hard to believe this legendary underground hero would comport himself in such a way. Their romance is further compromised by woeful romantic patter and zero chemistry between the stars. Things finally heat up when he escapes from prison and the third act of the film reinforces the "duty before pleasure" theme that rang more convincingly in Casablanca.
Director Jean Negulesco crafts a visually compelling film with that unmistakable Warner Brothers milieu and, in many ways, trumps the vapid writing. The story moves from the glitz of the Cafe Imperio and Estoril to the seashore fishing village of Cascais, the countryside of Lisbon, the fog shrouded prison, and the clandestine digs of Quintanilla's conspirators. Unfortunately his presentation of the action scenes - Vincent's prison escape and the climactic pursuit of the traitor through the woods - are poorly rendered. The prison escape is particularly ludicrous as Vincent and his cell mate appear to be the only convicts in the place with only one guard on duty in the cell block; it's as bereft of employees as a modern CVS. On the other hand Negulesco crafts several tense dramatic scenes in the third act particularly the kangaroo court of his friends judging Vincent and the activity at the Estoril roulette table when the quisling is flushed out. Supporting all these moments is another wonderful musical score by Max Steiner whose haunting and melancholy orchestrations set the appropriate mood every time.
The unquestioned MVP of the film is the splendid cast that deserved better but manages to transcend most of the shortcomings and propel the narrative. Furnishing the eye candy Hedy Lamarr steps out of the friendly confines of MGM to headline this group as the glamorous Irene. While her acting doesn't set the world on fire she is beautifully photographed and looks luminous in every scene. Despite second billing Paul Henreid essays the lead role as the Flying Dutchman; another resistance legend along the lines of Victor Lazlo in Casablanca. Sadly he doesn't cut such a commanding, inspirational figure here and frankly looks absurd running around in his trench coat blowing up railway stations and Nazis. Henreid does have one great scene where he reveals how he transitioned from schoolteacher to freedom fighter that is arguably the picture's highlight.
The supporting cast is brilliant and chock full of familiar faces from Mask of Dimitrios: Sydney Greenstreet, Peter Lorre, Victor Francen, Eduardo Ciannelli, Steven Geray, and Kurt Katch. Greenstreet is the standout who pontificates in his signature style and sports a rather ostentatious necktie while Lorre is relatively wasted in the undemanding role of Bernazsky. Francen is wonderfully oily as Von Mohr whose allegiance is a major question mark right up until the climax. Making a complete u-turn in his characterization from the mousy Bulic in Mask to the intimidating Nazi Dr. Schmitt and doing a bang up job is Steven Geray who lords over Kurt Katch as his underling Lutzke. Inhabiting the subtly complex role of Police Captain Pereira is Joseph Calleia who must handle both warring factions with diplomacy but is an ally at heart; he delivers an authoritative and crafty performance. Fans of classic cinema will enjoy spotting two significant actors in minor roles: George MacReady in one of his earliest parts as a disgraced Nazi thug and Universal horror icon Edward Van Sloan as Vincent's contact who dispatches him to Lisbon at the start of the film.
The Conspirators was a flop in its day and endured a difficult production history including reported displays of temperament from its stars Paul Henreid and particularly Hedy Lamarr. Personally I adore this film mainly because of the unsurpassed lineup of Warner Brothers character stars who always elevate any project in which they appear. Furthermore there is always something comforting about any of the studio's films evoking a melodramatic, exotic atmosphere emboldened by a wonderful Max Steiner score. While this film might not be for everyone it should do the trick for those who love the Warners ambience as I do.