BROTHER ORCHID

New Zealand Listener, Volume 4, Issue 95, 18 April 1941, Page 16

BROTHER ORCHID

(Warner Bros.)

WENT along to see Brother Orchid for two reasons, The first, of course, was Edward G. Robinson. Ever since I saw Passport to Fame I have regarded

him as the goods-as capable as he is ugly. And that, I suggest, is saying something. Then, I was under the impression that Brother Orchid was going to be like A Slight Case of Murder. I still get a nostalgic ache in the ribs when I remember that riot. It was, you will recollect, by Damon Runyon, and Damon at his pithiest, with "roscoes’" in every pocket and cadavers in every cupboard. Though not a Runyon commentary, Brother Orchid started off just as well. Unfortunately, it got right off the rails before it had gone halfway. Robinson is introduced as little Johnny Sarto, "protection" racketeer, who, having piled up a modicum of mazuma retires to seek culture in Europe, leaving Humphrey Bogart in the managing director’s chair. Fleeced in every capital on the Continent, Johnny returns, still full of confidence, to take over his old business again. However, neither Bogart nor the other ranks are willing to kill any fatheaded calf. Instead they try to kill Sarto. He escapes by the film on his teeth but with some lead in his hide and finds sanctuary in a "floracian" monastery (i.e., one where the brothers grow flowers to support their charities). Here, as the novice Brother Orchid, he hides out for some time, but leaves hurriedly on learning from a stray newspaper that his "doll" is about to wed another. Away from the cloister, he takes time off to wash up the protection racket which has kept the brothers’ flowers off the city markets before he decides that the world is too much with him and goes back to grow bigger and better zinnias, leaving Ann Sothern. to Ralph Bellamy. Weighed against other Robinson films, Brother Orchid must be found wanting, but the fault lies with the story, not the players. You can’t laugh at racketeers and take them seriously in one and the same ffim and even Robinson can’t make Sarto’s renunciation of the world convincing. More, the juxtaposition of tough citizens and kindly friars left me feeling just a little uncomfortable. The cast do their best. There are flashes of the real Robinson. Bogart and Ann Sothern do well within the limits of their parts, but though Ralph Bellamy, as a daffy Western millionaire, has plenty straw in his hair most of the bricks are dropped by the producer. And what happened to Allen Jenkins? After appearing in two early and delightful scenes, he simply disappears from the story without even a tommy-gun to patter out his hasty orisons. No, the director is Lloyd Bacon, but I -don’t think he brings any home this time.