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A lot of great movies have been released in my lifetime, but my favorite remains one that came out a couple of decades before I was born: “The Maltese Falcon.”

I’m talking about the 1941 version — written and directed by John Huston from Dashiell Hammett’s novel — the film that catapulted Humphrey Bogart to stardom and set the model for every hard-boiled detective picture that came after.

Set in a pre-war San Francisco of trench coats and fedoras, nickel pay phones and opulent hotel lobbies, the film entangles private eye Sam Spade (Bogart) in a web of intrigue as various villains conspire to possess the titular falcon, a jewel-encrusted statuette painted black to conceal its immense value.

In a shadowy underworld where nothing is what it seems, Spade must sort out friend from foe while tracking down the missing artifact, figuring out who murdered his partner and staying one step ahead of the cops.

But nothing rattles Bogie, who shrugs off the fears of femme fatale Brigid O’Shaughnessy (played by Mary Astor) that helping her will get him into trouble with the police.

“I don’t mind a reasonable amount of trouble,” he deadpans, cooler than the ice in a double shot of bourbon.

He doesn’t even let the cigarette fall out of his mouth when he disarms the sinister Joel Cairo (Peter Lorre) and knocks him unconscious with a straight right to the chin.

Cairo also is on the receiving end of one of the movie’s most memorable lines, when Spade stops him from retaliating after Brigid strikes him in the face: “When you’re slapped,” Bogie sneers, “you’ll take it and like it.”

My favorite scene, though, is a verbal fencing match between Spade and “the Fat Man,” Kasper Gutman (Sydney Greenstreet), over whiskey and cigars.

Gutman, the mastermind of an international criminal gang that will stop at nothing to get the falcon, pours Spade a full glass.

“We begin well, sir,” he purrs. “I distrust a man who says when. He’s got to be careful not to drink too much because he’s not to be trusted when he does.”

He offers a disingenuous toast — ”Here’s to plain speaking and clear understanding” — then asks Spade if he’s “a close-mouthed man.”

“No, I like to talk,” he responds.

“Better and better!” Gutman exclaims. “I distrust a close-mouthed man. He generally picks the wrong time to talk and says the wrong things. Talking is something you can’t do judiciously unless you keep in practice.

“Now, sir, we’ll talk if you like. I tell you right out I’m a man who likes talking to a man who likes to talk.”

“The Maltese Falcon” is packed with snappy patter like that, along with colorful characters, plenty of action and enough plot twists to keep viewers on the edge of their seats.

No wonder it’s still my favorite. They just don’t make ‘em like that anymore.