Classic Review: Gilda (1946)

There are some films that seemingly exist solely as a showcase for their extremely charismatic leading star. Gilda is one of those films. Its impossibly beautiful leading lady oozes sex appeal and movie stardom, and the film around her is so gorgeously mounted that it’s almost eye-wateringly hurtful. But the plot itself? It’s so thoroughly bunk that one can’t help but laugh upon really thinking about it, and it’s unfortunately tied to one of the most unlikeable leading men of the Hollywood Golden Age playing a thoroughly loathsome character.

Gilda sees small-time gambler Johnny Farrell (Ford) get hired to work in a Buenos Aires casino, only to discover that Gilda (Hayworth), the new wife of his employer Ballin Mundson (Macready), is his former lover. The main attraction is obviously Gilda herself. Hayworth has an infectious joy in her performances, a sense of mania that makes her persona so captivating. The scene where she flips her hair is obviously iconic, but that expression on her face – the excitement of it all – is what makes that scene so thrilling.

That same sensuality informs the rest of her performance throughout. It’s hard to really emphasize what a great movie star turn this is from Hayworth, at every corner emanating sexuality and raw charisma. The film around her is quite stunning. Cinematographer Rudolph Mate employs all his typical noir tricks with winning results. The way he lights the casino turns it into a mysterious chamber, where the attendees almost feel like otherworldly spectators. His use of shadows is intoxicating. The loving way he lenses Hayworth is sumptuous. The sets make the Buenos Aires nighttime seem inviting in its own festive sense, while Jean Louis’ iconic strapless dress for Hayworth is ravishing. As with Cover Girl, Vidor has a knack for immersing viewers into a world with visual finesse.

The plot, on the other hand exists seemingly for showcasing gorgeous visuals and Hayworth’s charm and little else. There is an almost airless quality to the way the film transitions from one plot-point to another. Viewers don’t truly get a sense of the plot moving along as the characters move from one set piece to the next. This doesn’t matter that much while spending time with the saucy Hayworth playing guitar and “singing” ‘Put the Blame on Mame’ (actually sung by Anita Ellis, but I digress), and it is also worth mentioning the thrilling dance numbers courtesy of choreographer Jack Cole. But it really should’ve just been a Hayworth vehicle and not an arbitrary tacked-on romance, especially with a leading man as uncharismatic as Ford.

Ford was one of those astonishingly dull B-level leading men, along with George Brent, Paul Henreid and Robert Taylor, who seemingly existed to be the “male love interest” to much more respectable leading ladies without taking the focus away from them. But Ford stands out for playing so many unlikeable characters. At least Robert Taylor could somewhat credibly sell vulnerability, and Paul Henreid had some icy European appeal. Ford had one of those faces viewers just wanted to look away from, and his character is a straight-up jerk who is constantly possessive of Gilda and unfortunately slaps her on more than one occasion. He has no chemistry with Hayworth and it completely puts the ‘romance’ off balance.

In spite of everything else, those looking to see the quintessential Rita Hayworth role will get it here. She may give a more dramatic performance in something like Separate Tables, but Gilda is probably her most iconic performance for a reason.

still courtesy of Columbia Pictures

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Gabe Guarin

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