A solid Bogart delivery system and meditation on if World War II accomplished any sort of permanent systemic change that gets a little repetitive in the second act; it’s a lot of Robinson threatening everyone and very little action. (For a film set entirely in a sweltering hotel filled with gangsters in the middle of a hurricane, there’s a surprising lack of claustrophobic atmosphere.) That said, there’s something to the sublimated eroticism in films of this era. When Bogart turns Bacall on by showing his skill with boat knots, and then expresses his desire for her by tossing her a rope that she slips around a dock post, and then he pulls the boat in and it looks like he’s lassoed her and he’s bringing her to him, that’s the good stuff.