The Big Sleep: Like father, like son, like Bogart

Maybe it's just wishful thinking, or something a son might do when he looks up to his father and he actually looks nothing like him. Maybe it was seeing black and white photos of my dad when he was younger and I was at a more impressionable age, at a similar time to when I got into Film Noir and of course, that genre’s central, most iconic figure.

I was originally going to write a journal piece highlighting our reRUN film The Big Sleep on Sunday 15th June and how it related to Father’s Day. Then I would go on to talk about the fathers of the film's leading couple, which I will do a little below. But instead, I stumbled across something I think is more interesting: what we, as viewers, bring to films and, in turn, how they can affect us and our memories over time and how films live with us throughout our lives.

Humphrey DeForest Bogart was born on Christmas Day 1899 in New York City, the eldest child of Belmont DeForest Bogart (1867–1934), who was a cardiac surgeon, specialising in heart and lungs. Dr. Bogart ran a flourishing downstate practice and was known to have inherited wealth. His wife was the renowned illustrator and children's artist Maud Humphrey. They lived in an Upper West Side apartment and also owned a cottage on a 55-acre estate in upstate New York.

Whilst they had a pretty well-off and privileged lifestyle, their family life was not without its problems, with both Bogart's father and mother being heavy drinkers, Belmont being addicted to medical morphine and they apparently fought constantly.

Lauren Bacall was born Betty Joan Perske on September 16, 1924, also in New York City. Her father William Perske (1889–1982), was a medical supplies salesman. It’s interesting to note that her father was born just 10 years before Bogart himself (there was a 25 year age difference when Bogart and Bacall met and fell in love). Her dad’s family came from Belarus, while her mother, Natalie Weinstein-Bacal emigrated from Iasi, Romania through Ellis Island.

Sadly Bacall’s parents divorced when she was five years old and a few years later, she never saw him again.

That’s interesting as far as it goes. 

However, what interests me more about Bogart and The Big Sleep in particular is despite all the other reasons to love the film: the tight, lean plot, cut down to the barest minimum, the convoluted narrative, so complicated you need to be your very own shamus to untangle it, the droll wise cracks of Bogart himself and the glorious, fizzing chemistry of Bogart & Bacall‘s on (and off) screen relationship. 

No, it’s simply that I can’t help but see my dad in Bogart’s every twitch and glance, in his mannerisms and yes, his wise cracks (he’s pretty funny, my dad).

I think this is a good example of how what we bring to films shapes our memory and understanding of them, particularly for a film like The Big Sleep, that merits rewatching throughout your life, changing subtly (as we all do), on every watch, over the years. The film is as fantastic as it’s ever been and has become somehow deeper and clearer to me as time goes by (to quote another Bogart classic). 

This all links into heritage of course, which is what cinema (whether it admits it or not) and our cinema in particular, is in the business of. Heritage buildings yes, but also film heritage, personal heritage and emotional heritage. It’s one of the multitude of reasons we might prefer one film over another, an example of the emotional impact of cinema and how its stories intertwine with ours, in sometimes surprising ways.

My dad was seven when The Big Sleep was originally released in 1946 and I very much doubt he saw it at the time. If he did, he would have been a very naughty boy! In fact, I’m not entirely sure that he’s actually even seen the film. Although I do know he went most weekends to see the latest Buster Crabbe Flash Gordon & Buck Rogers serials and he went to see Bambi in 1942 when he was three. Here are photos of two of the cinemas he went to as a child.

Now in his 80s and succumbing to that cruel, vicious, memory-stealing disease that is dementia, I likely never will know if my dad has seen The Big Sleep. However, even now, if he’s not asleep (thankfully a small sleep) he does still enjoy films very much. So despite struggling with the plot (who doesn’t?!), I think I could host a little screening of The Big Sleep for him. I’m sure he’d get a lot from it and I could add another layer to my (and our) relationship to it. 

Also, if he was more mobile, (and not living 200+ miles away) I’d love to bring him along to one of our dementia friendly Memory Matinees too, which take place every 2nd Monday of the month. If you live a bit closer to Hyde Park Picture House and think you would benefit from our Memory Matinees, you can find out more here.

Obviously our relationship with our dads will be very different, sometimes good, sometimes not so good and you may or may not observe Father’s Day (my dad doesn't and I don’t). Irrespective, I would urge you to come along to see The Big Sleep on Sunday 15th if you can. Make it part of your story.

You can buy tickets for The Big Sleep here.