They also that seek after my life lay snares for me: and they that seek my hurt speak mischievous things, and imagine deceits all the day long.
As to Janet Henry’s place in the film The Glass Key, while I found it a bit interesting to muse on the idea of going to the movies to watch a starlet & not worry about the actions or dialogue, I still don’t agree that it makes the film worthwhile. Certainly, just because the general public finds entertainment (or an escape) in romantic comedies with unimportant dribble scattered amongst semi-important utterances, this cannot make it artistic or worthy? This isn’t to say that I don’t understand the importance of the directions in the eyes in certain scenes or whatever – although the eyes played a much bigger role in the novel, & to a more suspenseful effect at that – but I also just don’t find enjoyment in cliched movie roles.
Perhaps it’s my gender, or perhaps it’s my generation, but these kinds of romantic doodlings pulled without warrant from an otherwise lean, mean, & daring story make me bored & anxious to just go read the book again. During the dinner scene especially, as that was one of the instances of conversation in the class, Paul’s mannerisms & demeanor are disposable shades of an otherwise forlorn, beaten character. The same can be said for just about every other character, as well. What was mysterious & coldly calculated on the page became a joke of itself on stage. That is to say nothing of the tale itself, either. While Hammett constructed the story to flow in angles, leaving the reader always guessing, the Big Screen adaptation is like some old mopey dog: slow, aloof, & unadventurous. The only difference is, I would feel sorry for the dog.