To Aquinas, greed is the worst of the major sins. Augustine
had privileged pride with the dubious distinction of being the worst of the
worst. In films, avarice is typically clothed with riches. The Maltese Falcon (1941) and (1931), as well as Satan Met a Lady (1936), which is based
on the same novel, all depict greed as an obsession. Even though the object sought
is thought to be very valuable, no one in the “hunt” is wealthy. Greed is
presented in this story primarily as an interior motive that relentlessly and
obsessively grips the whole person. That is to say, greed is reductionist, and
in so being, distortive of any sense of natural perception and proper
proportionality. This is depicted best in the most famous of the films. In this respect, the prior two films can be seen as building up to, or evolving into, a depiction of greed full-blown in a distinctly pathological sense.
In the 1941 film, in which Humphrey Bogart plays Sam Spade, the sickness of greed is
illustrated in the character of Kasper Gutman (the last name could be a word-play on gut, which means “good” in German; or a
descriptor of the character being fat), played by Sydney Greenstreet. The irony of Gutman being a good man is
all the more striking once we recall Michael Douglas’s famous line in Wall Street. “Greed, for lack of a better word, is good.”
Moral scruples fall by the wayside if the vice is defined as a virtue. Pretty crafty! More
generally, greed bristles with discomfort in the face of any obstacle, for the lack of limitation goes with the vice on account of the
nature of desire (and, I submit, the pathology particular to greed).
Gutman illustrates the pathologically obsessive nature of
greed by how he sells out his hired thug to get the Falcon from Spade. When the
detective suggests to the fat man that Wilmer be the fall guy, Gutman replies, “I
feel toward Wilmer here just exactly as if he were my own son.” The fat man
adds that Wilmer could inform the police about the falcon, so we don’t really
know whether Gutman does indeed have such feelings for his henchman. “The fall
guy’s part of the price,” Spade replies. As a direct result, Gutman sells out
his presumably only son, saying in a deflated tone without much discernable discomfort,
“You can have him.” Contravening Kant’s kingdom of ends, other people can only
be means, rather than ends in themselves, to a person gripped with greed.
Looking straight at Wilmer, Gutman tries to explain his priorities. “I’m sorry
indeed to lose you. I couldn’t be fonder of you if you were my own son. Well,
you lose a son, it’s possible to get another. There’s only one Maltese Falcon.” Greed does not admit of obstacles, even those
of the sentimental kind.
The deal made, the path is set for Gutman to get his falcon.
Once Sam’s secretary delivers it to the apartment, Gutman puts his “sausage
hands”—or one could use Nietzsche’s “ruddy fat hands” just as well—all over the
black bird as he sweats profusely. Greed is literally gripping the whole man.
Most interestingly of all, once he realizes that the bird is a fake, he goes
into a brief epileptic-like fit, with his head tilted in a strange way. Greed so gripping is pathological. Yet
not even its own nature is to be admitted as an obstacle, and Gutman quickly
composes himself to organize the next stage in the treasure hunt.
More than the 1931 and 1936 versions—the latter titled Satan Met a Lady (starring Betty Davis)—the
1941 version captures just how pathological greed can become if the occupant
does not endeavor to check its gradual, and thus subtle, cancer-like spread.
In the 1931 version of the story, Spade advises Gutman that
he can always get another son, but there is only one falcon. Gutman agrees and
gives up his thug. Spade is not greedy, so the line only implies that Gutman is
greedy if he agrees to give up Wilmer. In the 1936 version, the detective
delivers the line, but “auntie” (the Gutman character is a grandma figure here)
does not agree to give up her enforcer, so the implication is that she is not
greedy, which of course is not true. Additionally, in neither of these previous
versions does the unwrapping of the bird and horn, respectively, show any
obvious pathological respects.
In short, as the story evolves through the successive films,
the element of greed is darkened in how it is depicted in the antagonist. The message
is clear: At its extreme, greed is an obsession—a disorder—rather than merely
something immoral or sinful.
