The movie is essentially a series of conversations punctuated by brief, violent interludes. It's all style. It isn't violence or chases, but the way the actors look, move, speak and embody their characters.

The Maltese Falcon is an unassailable triumph of script, casting, direction and editing.

The film that brought the detective movie into the modern world, complete with novel film-noir techniques (shadows, low-angled shots, anti-heroes and duplicitous dames) and assembled one of the most enjoyable casts ever to play off each other.

It's the slickest exercise in cerebration that has hit the screen in many months, and it is also one of the most compelling nervous-laughter provokers yet.

On a number of accounts it is distinguished celluloid entertainment, but it is of great interest to the trade because it reveals, in startling terms, the unheralded talent of topflight scenarist, John Huston, who, in the dual capacity of writer and director of this picture, is now entitled to take his place among the most important creative artists in the industry.