The Desperate Hours

C

My second Humphrey Bogart movie and I'm disappointed. I'm not familiar with Bogart's track record, but seeing his brilliant performance in Casablanca, I couldn't help but to feel dismayed at his empty-shell of a performance here. Well, to be fair, he's not to be singled out. Everyone in this movie seem to be just like him - walking and talking empty shells. Hence, it's as much the screenplay's fault as Bogart's agreeing to take it up.

Family man Dan Hilliard (Fredric March) comes home to find that his family is being held hostage by 3 escaped prisoners, led by Glen Griffin (Humphrey Bogart), and his house used as their hideout until midnight. Dan's family includes his suburban wife Eleanor (Martha Scott), daughter Cindy (Mary Murphy) and irritatingly energetic son Ralph (Richard Eyer). When an accident delays the convicts' escape plans and the Hilliards is becoming an indefinite refuge for Griffin and his gang, Dan considers getting help from the police but fears that Griffin's desperation would lead his family into danger. Meanwhile, the police and the FBI are organizing a massive manhunt that would threaten to foil the convict's plans and unbalance the uneasy truce in the Hilliard's house.

Ironically, none of the scenes in the movie imply any desperation in the part of any character. If handled well, this movie could have been nervewrecking. But Joseph Hayes' screenplay simply refuses to allow the so called villains to do anything bad, other than ransacking furnitures. There's no power struggle, no life-or-death situation, no suspence. Not once do we worry about the fates of any member of the Hilliards (though I was secretly hoping one of them would actually just die). And for a supposedly psychological cat and mouse game, the film offers little food for the audience's brains.

Reviewing for this film proves to be a challenge to me. Not only am I not familiar with the key players (the only name I recognised out of the entire cast is Bogart), I am also not well versed with classic movies, much less those of the 40s and 50s. However, a bad film is a bad film, there's no denying that. Fortunately, The Desperate Hours never vered off bad into excruciating.
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