Johnny Farrell (Glenn Ford) is a low-level gambler and petty criminal who has been living hand-to-mouth for a while, having found his way to Buenos Aires, where he engages in any illicit games that can put a few pesos in his pocket. A chance encounter with a mysterious man (George Macready), who saves him from a gang of hoodlums, leads Johnny to a local casino, which he discovers Ballin Mundson, the man who rescued him from farm owns and operates. When he realizes that he can use his skills to great effect in such a location, he coerces Ballin into hiring him as the casino manager, which he reluctantly accepts. It isn’t long before the older man’s fears are proven insubstantial since Johnny is a consummate professional – sophisticated and smart, he is not afraid to get his hands dirty for the sake of his job, making him both an exceptional manager, and a worthwhile ally to the owner, who sees him as a perfect representative. However, what Johnny doesn’t realize is that this casino harbours many secrets – one of the biggest coming in the form of Gilda (Rita Hayworth), Ballin’s new wife who Johnny comes to be acquainted with, realizing almost immediately that he does indeed know Gilda, who is a figure from his ambigious past. Neither reveals their history, in fears that Ballin will not be happy knowing that his new bride has a history of cavorting with his employee. Suddenly, Johnny has yet another addition to his long-line of responsibilities: he is Gilda’s protector, someone in charge of keeping her out of trouble. This is made difficult when it becomes clear that she is a free-spirit, someone who doesn’t deal well with constraints – and it certainly doesn’t help that Ballin isn’t quite all he appears to be, with his casino turning out o be a front for something far more sinister, and Johnny yet another pawn in his perverted game of trying to gain dominance and wealth, by any means necessary.

There are two kinds of movie stars, particularly when looking back at the Golden Age of Hollywood. The first are those that come to amass fame through years of hard work, rising through the different levels of the film industry, normally starting as lower-level performers that work their way up towards the very top. The second group are those that may have been in the industry for a short while, but suddenly are launched to fame with only one role. Both categories have their merits, but its often those that occupy the second group that are the most interesting, since they prove that it sometimes just takes a single role to become a star – and on occasion, one could be considered definitive of both, such as in the case of the star of the present review. Rita Hayworth was the lead of many fascinating films over the course of her career, but the one that is normally attributed to her star-making moment was Gilda, Charles Vidor’s compelling film noir, in which Hayworth immediately established herself as someone worth paying attention to. Speaking about her and this film nearly eight decades since its release is a strange concept since this has been a work that has become a part of film history, an iconic moment in the genre that defined many subsequent works. However, there’s a great deal of joy that comes when one is able to see exactly why something like this was such an enormous success, and why it has lingered as a quintessential moment in that era of filmmaking. Gilda is a wonderful film, and one that has aged better than a lot of other works produced during that period. Watching it seventy-five years later is a tremendously satisfying experience, since it may have all the elements of a bygone era in filmmaking, but still remains fresh and exciting, with a few interesting surprises awaiting any viewer venturing into this film for the first time, proving that the age of a classic doesn’t mean anything when the themes and ideas embedded within it are timeless enough to resonate to the modern era.

It would be foolish to suggest that the primary reason anyone would want to see this film would be anything other than Hayworth’s performance. She only enters the film midway through the first act, and while the story has been pleasant enough and more than sufficient in holding our focus, it’s Hayworth’s entrance that sets the film in motion and captures our attention almost immediately. She was the epitome of radiance – every moment she is on screen, Hayworth is in command. Beautiful, wry and with a depth that makes her far more than just a trite femme fatale, but rather a fully-formed character with enough complexities to sustain an entire film on her background all on its own (which the film very effectively never dives too deep into – we don’t get to know Gilda very well, which seems like a purposeful choice that paid off exceptionally). Despite not being the sole focus of the film, the fact that it is named after her character indicates that she was the primary motivation for this story. However, she never becomes merely a plot device, nor is she secondary to any of the other characters – and when your co-lead is Glenn Ford, a gifted actor who rarely left much of an impression, it’s difficult to not be the shining star of the production. Not enough can be said for the brilliance Hayworth demonstrates in the titular role – elegant, sardonic and brimming with personality, could it be a surprise to anyone to realize that this was the performance that truly established her as one of the most important stars of this era? It wasn’t her first performance – she had clocked in over three dozen performances since childhood, many of them uncredited minor roles. She knew the industry, and learned from her experiences – but it was this precise moment that allowed her to leap into the public consciousness, in much the same way she rises rapidly into the frame when she enters the film, holding our gaze and keeping us enchanted until the very end.

Film noir isn’t always a genre that lends itself to excessive discussions on the performances, since only a select few had actors doing work that was worth mentioning. However, Gilda is a film that essentially depends on the titular character, both in the performance Hayworth gives, and what she represents as an individual and as a figure in the plot. It also helps significantly that Gilda isn’t set in the dimly-lit alleyways and dingy corridors of some American metropolis, but rather in the bustling exotic centre of Buenos Aires, which Vidor perfectly encapsulates without making the film dependent on the location, rather using it as an effective backdrop to the story that is essential but not the sole motivating factor behind the story. The premise itself isn’t all that compelling, since we’ve seen many similar works that use organized crime as the basis for the story – it’s solid, but absolutely nothing special. What is indeed more worthwhile is the relationship between the two leads, and the film gradually ventures deeper into this side of the story, using the impeccable characterization of Gilda and Johnny, as well as the marvellous chemistry that existed between Ford and Hayworth (most likely the result of their ongoing personal relationship that would last for decades in various forms), as a means to unveil various intricacies related to the themes of the film. It ultimately gives Gilda more nuance, since crime stories don’t age nearly as well as those of unrequited passion and warped romances, which are far more compelling and have an underlying resonance that speaks to some universal themes. This is a case of a film managing to overcome structural weaknesses by the sheer willpower of its more understated elements – and its almost certain that the aspect most take away from this film is the fiery passion existing between the two main characters, which is harnessed with such incredible precision by a director who knows exactly how to position a scene as being both complementary to the story, and independent enough to linger on as unforgettable moments for the viewer.

Quite simply, they just don’t make films like Gilda anymore. Unlike several genres, which many have tried to replicate to very rare success, classic film noirs have essentially been left alone, with the basic tenets of the genre serving as the foundation for other texts that use them to build their own unique style. The untouched nature of this kind of noir is always interesting to look at, since the precise formula that makes it so successful isn’t easy to discern – whether it be enigmatic characters, compelling stories that are often socially-charged and very much associated with prominent issues of the day, or just the overall mysterious nature of these stores, there is always something so wonderfully captivating about them. Vidor masterfully wove together a vivid, poignant film that doesn’t only function as one of the most fascinating entries into the genre, it evolves into a multilayered exploration of a number of themes. At its base, its a story about organized crime and the greed of those willing to go to any lengths to earn wealth. However, it’s also a striking romance, a darkly comical voyage into the lives of some eccentric characters, and a haunting character-driven drama. The fact that all of this was able to be distributed throughout this film, and convincingly conveyed without much inauthenticity, is all the more reason to celebrate this film, one that may not be entirely original, but is rather solid, entertaining and unforgettable.