Great movie stars are rarely great actors. But they are people who exude elements of humanity, which we'd like to possess- John Wayne's toughness, Sharon Stone's glamour, Gary Cooper's inner silence, or Michael Douglas's ruthlessness. More unique than acting talent, Humphrey Bogart's element was that of hardened sinner whose inner spark of decency wasn't entirely subsumed. In this Cinemascope/colour movie, where Bogie's late-night drinking and myriad of broken marital relationships was visibly etched upon every facial crevice, the idea that he could pass himself off as a priest was ludicrous. But THE LEFT HAND OF GOD never demands that of him- nor us.
It makes instead, the not impossible proposition that a simple, remote Chinese community traumatised by marauders might presume Bogie to be the 'priest of Christ' they so anxiously await. We the audience, are privy to who Bogey is and still is. His un-Godly skill, which ultimately saves the mission from General Yang's terror, is entirely in character.
The Catholic theology was also dead on. Those whom Bogie absolved, married and buried were spiritually exonerated by the very innocence we moviegoers cannot share about Bogart. The power of the central argument of William Barrett's much dissipated novel, in spite of -or maybe because of, 50's Hollywood formulaic moviemaking- is somehow preserved.
The repetitious references to Bogey as 'the priest of Christ' and the ingenuous children's enigmatic broken-English farewell of 'Oole Kantackee Hom,' also persuade. We know Bogey must leave, and that he is redeemed in spite of himself. Even Bogie doesn't know that. We now also know that this life-scarred, bloodshot, poker-playing sceptic received a fair Hearing- after dying from throat cancer less than two years later on January 14th 1957 -at least from the left Hand Side of his Maker.
It makes instead, the not impossible proposition that a simple, remote Chinese community traumatised by marauders might presume Bogie to be the 'priest of Christ' they so anxiously await. We the audience, are privy to who Bogey is and still is. His un-Godly skill, which ultimately saves the mission from General Yang's terror, is entirely in character.
The Catholic theology was also dead on. Those whom Bogie absolved, married and buried were spiritually exonerated by the very innocence we moviegoers cannot share about Bogart. The power of the central argument of William Barrett's much dissipated novel, in spite of -or maybe because of, 50's Hollywood formulaic moviemaking- is somehow preserved.
The repetitious references to Bogey as 'the priest of Christ' and the ingenuous children's enigmatic broken-English farewell of 'Oole Kantackee Hom,' also persuade. We know Bogey must leave, and that he is redeemed in spite of himself. Even Bogie doesn't know that. We now also know that this life-scarred, bloodshot, poker-playing sceptic received a fair Hearing- after dying from throat cancer less than two years later on January 14th 1957 -at least from the left Hand Side of his Maker.