THE WINDOW (1949)

RKO Radio Pictures, 73m 27s

An underappreciated cult classic, THE WINDOW effectively merges film noir, fantasy and horror elements. Such a collision of genres was not unexplored territory at RKO, where Val Lewton left his indelible mark with CAT PEOPLE (1942), I WALKED WITH A ZOMBIE (1943), THE LEOPARD MAN (1943), THE SEVENTH VICTIM (1943), THE GHOST SHIP (1943), THE CURSE OF THE CAT PEOPLE (1944), THE BODY SNATCHER (1945), ISLE OF THE DEAD (1945) and BEDLAM (1946). Not sure if Mr. Lewton was familiar with the title under review, but it is probably safe to assume he would have approved. Rooted in one of Aesop's Fables ("The Boy Who Cried Wolf"), the considerable amount of suspense offered by THE WINDOW is as palpable as the Manhattan summer heat that accents the proceedings.

Amidst abandoned tenements of New York City, Tommy (Bobby Driscoll) passes the time with other area kids. The boy has an active imagination and a bad habit of making up stories that travel, which leads to the mistaken notion his family is leaving the neighborhood. Embarrassed by an unexpected visit from their building manager, Mary and Ed Woodry (Barbara Hale, Arthur Kennedy) scold their son for his long history of untruths. That evening Tommy ventures outside to sleep on the fire escape due to the uncomfortable seasonal temperature. He climbs to his apartment building's next level in search of a comforting breeze, but instead of rest he finds a struggle between a sailor (Richard Benedict) and the upstairs apartment's tenants, Joe and Jean Kellerson (Paul Stewart, Ruth Roman). The scuffle culminates with what appears to be a fatal scissors stabbing. Tommy reports the evening's shocking brutality to his mother, who of course does not believe one word of it. She writes it off as a bad dream, but Tommy knows better. As the boy sticks to his rendition of what took place, it costs him his lunch and dinner, and potentially a lot more after Mary marches her boy upstairs to apologize to the Kellersons for the supposedly malicious lies he has told about them. Tommy rightly fears he might end up squashed like a bug under a shoe now that the Kellersons are aware he knows far too much to be ignored.

From an analytical standpoint, Mary Woodry might be onto something with her interpretation of her son's disturbing account of nighttime at the Kellersons, especially since the film's introduction of Tommy captures him awakening from an apparent nightmare. Indeed there is an element of the fantastic woven into the narrative, a uniquely urban nightmare that only could transpire in a sprawling, impersonal city. NYC is comprised of an incredibly intricate network of structures, from which rooftops, fire escapes and clotheslines interconnect. Among the living areas are deserted buildings that function as playgrounds for children. Fire trucks, squad vehicles and streetcars punctuate the atmosphere each day. It is the type of setting where the family patriarch might work the night shift, building managers have endless tenancy concerns and police detectives are handed information about killers but are unable to capitalize on it. The hectic urban environment is an ideal place for a vile criminal couple like the Kellersons to call home. No doubt they have fooled Mr. and Mrs. Woodry for some time; neither Mary nor Ed can imagine anything earth-shattering connected with Joe or Jean, a supposedly unassuming pair. But Tommy is more right about the Kellersons than he probably realizes; the man who dies at the Kellersons likely was lured there by the sexuality of Jean, one of the genre's alluring, exceptionally dangerous spider women. The nocturnal sequence in which she makes her way toward Tommy's bedroom via the fire escape is nothing short of chilling. Also frightening is the scene in which Joe punches out Tommy in the back of a taxi cab. With such activity playing out from a child's perspective, THE WINDOW could be excused were it to wrap up with one of those "it was only a dream" conclusions.

Other noir elements command the viewer's attention, though not in quite the same context as the noir fan has been trained to expect. Grade-schooler Tommy is this story's lead protagonist forced to contend with endless adversity, in this case through some fault of his own. As he grapples with his place in an uncompromising urban jungle, Tommy is guided by an unbreakable moral compass, the same sort of inner strength that drives numerous noir leading men who emerged after Samuel Spade (Humphrey Bogart) in THE MALTESE FALCON (1941). Tommy's fanciful storytelling tendencies aside, his parents have ingrained a strong sense of right and wrong in their son. The boy's potentially fatal flaw is his track record of not being truthful, which cannot be undone. Expressed in noir terms, his tall tales have fueled a dark past that rises to threaten his very existence. The flawed individual immersed in textbook noir terrain (the sweltering heat of the big city), Tommy is fatalistically pushed in the direction of the Kellerson dwelling. After the murder he so fatefully observes, Tommy discovers his road to redemption will be tortuous to navigate.

After industrialist Howard Hughes purchased RKO in 1948, THE WINDOW was among the completed products Hughes considered unworthy of theatrical release. It sat on the shelf for almost two years. Once released it proved to be a popular item that earned several times its production cost. The development of THE WINDOW was overseen by Dore Schary, who served in a production capacity for noir heavy hitters that include THE SPIRAL STAIRCASE (1946), THEY LIVE BY NIGHT (1948), THE SET-UP (1949) and WALK SOFTLY, STRANGER (1950), a personal favorite. Director Ted Tetzlaff is best remembered for his long career as a cinematographer, with the Alfred Hitchcock noir masterpiece NOTORIOUS (1946) among his many credits. Screenwriter Mel Dinelli was a veteran of the noir narrative, with his first seven assignments all falling under the noir umbrella:  THE SPIRAL STAIRCASE, THE WINDOW, THE RECKLESS MOMENT (1949), HOUSE BY THE RIVER (1950), CAUSE FOR ALARM! (1951), BEWARE, MY LOVELY (1952) and JEOPARDY (1953). Here Dinelli adapts the Cornell Woolrich story "The Boy Cried Murder" (MYSTERY BOOK MAGAZINE, March 1947). The writing of Woolrich provided the backbone for well regarded noir exercises such as THE LEOPARD MAN, PHANTOM LADY (1944), BLACK ANGEL (1946), THE CHASE (1946) and NIGHT HAS A THOUSAND EYES (1948). The expressive black & white cinematography by William O. Steiner combines studio work with location footage in New York's Lower East Side for a convincing noir experience. Without question THE WINDOW would be a lesser achievement had it been filmed in color. The highlight of the final act is a suspenseful chase sequence through an abandon tenement complex that could hold its ground in comparison to any of the genre's many similar finales.

A familiar sighting in the film noir, NYC native Paul Stewart portrayed unrepentant lowlifes with brazen assurance in JOHNNY EAGER (1941), APPOINTMENT WITH DANGER (1950), WALK SOFTLY, STRANGER and KISS ME DEADLY (1955). His brand of evil is especially boundless in this film; his character coldly attempts to murder little Tommy and make it look like an accident. Another of the more capable actors in the film noir firmament, Ruth Roman blended well into noir narratives such as CHAMPION (1949), LIGHTNING STRIKES TWICE (1951), STRANGERS ON A TRAIN (1951), TOMORROW IS ANOTHER DAY (1951) and DOWN THREE DARK STREETS (1954). Here she radiates her usual amount of sex appeal (a lot). Stewart and Roman combine to form a noir couple best avoided by anyone who wants to keep living. Bobby Driscoll was awarded an Academy Juvenile Award for his work in THE WINDOW and SO DEAR TO MY HEART (1948). The child actor best known for live-action productions from Walt Disney Studios would struggle in adulthood with substance abuse. Sadly, and ironically for those familiar with THE WINDOW, he died at the age of 31, his body discovered in an abandoned building in the East Village of Manhattan. Thought to be homeless, Driscoll was buried in an unmarked grave in NYC's Potter's Field on Hart Island. His identity was discovered after the fact.

The Blu-ray edition of THE WINDOW recently made available from Warner Archive looks sharp framed at 1.37:1 but disappointingly offers no supplemental material. Film grain is apparent but minimal. Compared to the 1.35:1 Warner Archive DVD, this Blu-ray presentation reveals more information on all sides of the frame and strikingly superior detail:

Warner Blu-ray

Warner DVD

THE WINDOW would make a nice double feature with director Charles Laughton's THE NIGHT OF THE HUNTER (1955), another film noir that puts childhood innocence at odds with ruthless adult criminality. Another potential match I have yet to check out is THE BOY CRIED MURDER (1966), a British suspense film based on the same Cornell Woolrich story that inspired THE WINDOW.