But at the end, Frank and I agreed that it was ultimately unsatisfying; I blame the Production Code, but that won't surprise any of my friends!
In this movie, down-and-out tough guy Johnny Farrell (Ford) arrives in Buenos Aires (believe it or not!) and makes a bundle of money gambling with some American sailors on the docks "with his own dice." As he ducks out (lest he get beaten up), he meets a wealthy but enigmatic man named Ballin. Cryptic dialogue, a demonstration of a cane that conceals a deadly spring-loaded dagger, and a business card, then Johnny shows up at Ballin's illegal casino, wins too much money ("I make my own luck") and gets hired as Ballin's right-hand man. They become close -- the homoerotic undertone in their relationship is palpable. Ballin is cold and unemotional, refined and diffident -- like the 'sinister sissies' of 1950's movies discussed in The Celluloid Closet. But the moody Johnny is oddly open and eager with Ballin, almost puppy-like at times. At the very least, he's got a "man crush" on Ballin.
Ballin goes off for a few days and arrives home with a wife, Gilda, played by Rita Hayworth. We know immediately, in that inevitable movie-plot way, that these two have met before and it ended badly. Well, it all goes on from there with dialogue that's just dripping with innuendo. It's a fun ride but the plot is all over the place (as Karen once said in Will and Grace, "it'll be a really complicated plan with all sorts of twists and turns, and I'll hide behind things and you'll get to wear big shoes.") When it was all over, I looked up the New York Times review from 1946; it was spot on:
It is quite all right to make a character elusive and enigmatic in a film—that can be highly provocative—providing some terminal light is shed. But when one is conceived so vaguely and with such perplexing lack of motive as is the dame played by Rita Hayworth in "Gilda," … one may be reasonably forgiven for… questioning the whole drama in which she is set…. Despite close and earnest attention to this nigh-onto-two-hour film, this reviewer was utterly baffled by what happened on the screen. To our ...reasoning, it simply did not make sense....
In and out of this moody love story is drawn a vaporous thread of plot which involves the casino proprietor in some sort of Nazi cartel. The details are so mysterious and so foggily laced through the film that they serve no artistic purpose, other than to confuse things still more. Indeed, one is likely to wonder whether the waters of this expensive film have not been deliberately muddied in order to disguise its shallowness.
Miss Hayworth, who plays in this picture her first straight dramatic role, gives little evidence of a talent that should be commended or encouraged. She wears many gowns of shimmering luster and tosses her tawny hair in glamorous style, but her manner of playing a worldly woman is distinctly five-and-dime. A couple of times she sings song numbers, with little distinction, be is said, and wiggles through a few dances that are nothing short of crude.
The happy ending seems sudden and truly surreal and forced--these characters are NOT going settle down into anything but some sort of S&M relationship! I think what ultimately happened was that the film makers had a really juicy plot and terrifically titillating characters and relationships, but the Production Code required them to muddy the waters and tie it all up with a nice little bow in the end.
The whole thing ends up being pretty much a triumph of style over substance, but what a triumph! It's great fun for that very reason -- that's the essence of camp, isn't it? So, if you've got two hours to spare and you're in a campy mood (the gowns are FABulous!), I recommend Gilda.
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