DOUBLE INDEMNITY (1944) and (1973)

Paramount Pictures, 107m 39s

My favorite of all film noirs was based on the 1935 novella by James M. Cain, author of THE POSTMAN ALWAYS RINGS TWICE (1934) and MILDRED PIERCE (1941). The original Cain material was adapted for the screen by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler. Co-writer/director Wilder's first film noir undoubtedly was his most important and influential. That is high praise considering Wilder would go on to helm the transcendent noir classics SUNSET BOULEVARD (1950) and ACE IN THE HOLE (1951). Most of the pertinent themes and motifs associated with film noir can be identified in DOUBLE INDEMNITY, which effectively set the benchmark for every noir film that would follow it. One project observed the blueprint a little too closely:  the Sigmund Neufeld Productions release APOLOGY FOR MURDER (1945) was so similar to DOUBLE INDEMNITY that Paramount sued and won.

Cain's DOUBLE INDEMNITY amounts to a written confession from the main character. Set in California, 34-year-old insurance man Walter Huff makes a routine renewal stop at the residence of oil man H.S. Nirdlinger, only to find the Mr. of the house absent. Instead Huff meets his customer's wife Phyllis, an attractive early-thirtysomething who asks about purchasing accident insurance for her husband. Huff instinctively recognizes this broad is big trouble, but Mrs. Nirdlinger has a burning-hot body. Instead of running the other way, Huff teams with Phyllis to plot her husband's demise, all for a sizeable insurance check and a newly-available Phyllis.

It is made clear Huff entertained thoughts of how to rig the system to his advantage before meeting Phyllis, but it is her situation that provides the opportunity. Huff is determined to hit it big:

"Just pulling off some piker job, that don't interest me. But this, hitting it for the limit, that's what I go for. It's all I go for."

Huff's dream of "hitting it for the limit" is one of the major themes carried over to the film, and indeed a theme that would recur as the film noir genre proliferated. The defining noir films frequently concentrate on flawed individuals and the risks those characters take in the hope of bettering their economic prospects.

An opening image that sets the tone of a genre

The theatrical run of DOUBLE INDEMNITY ushered in the classic noir period (roughly 1944-1950). During that timeframe, a cavalcade of noir exercises appeared that emulated DOUBLE INDEMNITY's narration/flashback structure, including MURDER, MY SWEET (1944), MILDRED PIERCE (1945), THE KILLERS (1946), OUT OF THE PAST (1947), CRISS CROSS (1949) and Wilder's SUNSET BOULEVARD. Narration was a pragmatic convention considering the complexity of some of these plot structures. To set up the narration in DOUBLE INDEMNITY, the story begins at the end. Pacific All Risk Insurance Company's ace salesman Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray) narrates his story into a dictating machine for the benefit of both the film audience and Barton Keyes (Edward G. Robinson), the dogged chief claims investigator and Neff's close friend. Through Neff's "confession," he explains how an ostensibly respectable man could become hopelessly tangled up with the likes of Phyllis Dietrichson (Barbara Stanwyck beneath platinum blonde wig). Since the outcome of the story is clear from the outset, and Neff is not long for this world, his confession has a therapeutic function. As he addresses Keyes, he seeks redemption from his surrogate father, the man who never doubted Neff's character for a second. Keyes could not have been more wrong.

"I didn't get the money and--I didn't get the woman."

Released in May of 1944 but set in 1938 Los Angeles, DOUBLE INDEMNITY was the first American crime film to really concentrate on killers who are not gangster types. Instead, unremarkable personalities are presented, on the surface not much different from the casual filmgoers who attended DOUBLE INDEMNITY showings. The perfect illustration of this point occurs whenever Neff and Dietrichson meet at the local supermarket, surrounded by patrons who know nothing of the murderers perusing the canned goods aisle. The film's implications are far-reaching; even someone like MacMurray, who normally appeared in benign comedies and melodramas, could stray from the moral path and encounter the ruinous femme fatale portrayed by Stanwyck.

The premeditated murder of Mr. Dietrichson (Tom Powers) is conceived following a lovemaking session between Neff and Phyllis. The two lovers never will be so close again. After Mr. Dietrichson is eliminated, there is no suggestion made that Neff and Phyllis will live happily ever after. Instead the two are at each other's throats. Neff unravels the most, and for good reason. Even if Mrs. Dietrichson helped topple the first domino, the remaining ones that fall derive momentum from Neff's arrogance and lack of foresight. In that sense, the film is a cautionary tale about how self-destructive a man can become in pursuit of the wrong woman and ill-gotten money. Neff is done in by his own greed and lust. As the narrative plays out, the compressive force of a moral vice slowly tightens, and both Neff and Dietrichson eventually succumb to the pressure. The palpable sense of doom is best described by Neff when he says, "I couldn't hear my own footsteps. It was the walk of a dead man."

The worst type of backseat driver

After the crime:  a dark romance

Falling apart at the seams

The novella in particular is Huff's tragedy, written in the first person. The film follows the source material fairly closely until the final four chapters, which play out quite differently compared to the film's denouement. Other departures from the original story are slight, but interesting. In the novella, Walter Huff seems less educated than his film counterpart--Huff's grammar is atrocious--but he is more experienced and streetwise. When Phyllis Nirdlinger broaches the subject of accident insurance, Huff reacts as follows:

"But all of a sudden she looked at me, and I felt a chill creep straight up my back and into the roots of my hair."

The film's smooth-talking Walter Neff speaks a lot more eloquently than the book's Huff, but is a little less practiced in insurance sales (11 years experience versus 15). It is not until Neff visits the Dietrichson home for the second time that he realizes the implication of a wife inquiring about accident insurance for her husband. Though a more polished man, Neff is nonetheless more susceptible to Phyllis than the novella's Huff.

The Barton Keyes character is more critical to the film than the original Cain story. As the film's most disciplined insurance professional, chief claims adjuster Keyes is suspicious of Phyllis from the moment he sees her, but never does he get the idea that her partner in crime could be his colleague and close friend Neff. Not even the 26-year man Keyes can explain the contagion of events correctly that revolve around the film's scheming femme fatale. Keyes serves as the film's doggedly determined private eye, though he fails to solve the case. Instead he must face the frustrating conclusion that he does not understand human nature quite as well as he thought. Ironically, Keyes never trusted anyone but Neff. The film's real tragedy is the shattered father/son-type bond between Keyes and Neff. Robinson's portrayal of Keyes is a remarkable achievement in casting that only gets better as time passes. There is nothing quite like seeing Robinson’s character deftly school company prez Edward S. Norton, Jr. (Richard Gaines) regarding the mountain of statistics behind suicides.

With its unsettling implications about female sexuality, DOUBLE INDEMNITY would influence many a misogynistic noir production. That is not to suggest that prior entries in the noir category did not feature decadent, acquisitive females, but few are "rotten enough" to measure up to Phyllis and her long history of wanton wickedness. Especially upon repeat viewings, Stanwyck's portrayal of Phyllis is absolutely chilling. The iciness of her eyes could be mistaken for vacuous by the uninitiated, but notice the emphasis on Phyllis while her husband is murdered; her expression exudes complete heartlessness. Her only display of vulnerability comes at the film's conclusion, when she seems genuinely surprised she cannot fire a second shot to finish Neff. But even this moment could be explained as self-centered; Phyllis seemed the more aware of the two that if one goes down the drain, so does the other. Whatever her true feelings about Neff may be, Phyllis betrays everyone sooner or later, as when Neff learns of her clandestine meetings with Nino Zachetti (Byron Barr). Based on the concatenation of circumstances that unite Neff and Phyllis, it appears fate must have brought them to each other. The phrase "straight down the line" is repeated throughout the film, mostly by Phyllis; there is no going back to however things were prior to the meeting of Neff and Phyllis. They truly deserve each other:  Phyllis brings out the dark flaw in Neff he had kept bottled up before falling for her, and Neff provides the money-making component Phyllis requires to dispose of her unwanted mate. The protracted manner of death that befalls first Mr. Dietrichson and (presumably) Neff only confirms the extent of the evil embodied by Phyllis. Mr. Dietrichson is offed in his own car, but is transported to another location to "die." Similarly, Neff is shot at the Dietrichson home, but travels back to the office where it is inferred he will expire.

Top-flight Paramount cinematographer John F. Seitz contributed mightily to the film noir edifice through his work on THIS GUN FOR HIRE (1942), NIGHT HAS A THOUSAND EYES (1948), SUNSET BOULEVARD, APPOINTMENT WITH DANGER (1951) and DETECTIVE STORY (1951). Most of DOUBLE INDEMNITY's pivotal sequences transpire in dark settings typical of the noir style, either nighttime exteriors or destabilizing interiors rife with shadows. This point is hammered home from the beginning, with Neff's late-night return to the office to tell his story. The ensuing semiotics insistently communicate damage or danger, even in seemingly innocuous environments. The immaculate veneer of suburban tranquility, where area children play stickball in the street, contrasts with the dominant venetian blinds inside the Dietrichson home that suggest a prison-like interior of both physical and psychological confinement. When Neff first meets Phyllis, she is alluringly dressed in only a towel, yet unattainable placement-wise. She occupies a superior position atop the stairway, while Neff stands below. Such positioning would become a much-imitated noir trope.

DOUBLE INDEMNITY was nominated for seven Academy Awards, including Best Picture. Unfortunately for Wilder and crew, Paramount backed the Bing Crosby vehicle GOING MY WAY (1944) as the studio's premier offering of that year. It worked--GOING MY WAY won Best Picture and six additional Academy Awards. Wilder would be honored for the following year's THE LOST WEEKEND (1945), a fine film in its own right, but a lesser achievement than DOUBLE INDEMNITY. The most influential of film noirs was inducted into the National Film Registry for preservation in 1992.

The 70th Anniversary Limited Edition Blu-ray version available from Universal Studios Home Entertainment was digitally remastered and restored from high resolution 35mm original film elements, framed at 1.35:1. The excellent results are apparent in the screen captures within this review. The 1080P dual-layered disc includes a 2.0 mono DTS-HD Master Audio track as the primary audio option. Supplements ported over from the dual-disc DVD released by Universal in 2006 include two audio commentary tracks, the first by Richard Schickel, who explains the development of film noir as a Hollywood genre and DOUBLE INDEMNITY's place in it as the first "true" noir film. Schickel notes the film's various detours from the source material, many penned by Chandler, who didn't particularly care for the work of Cain. The second commentary track combines film historian Nick Redman and screenwriter Lem Dobbs (KAFKA [1991], THE LIMEY [1999]). Dobbs met Wilder in 1971 and believes the "manic energy" Robinson brings to DOUBLE INDEMNITY is the closest emulation of Wilder to be found in one of the director's films. Unlike the anonymous locales of modern films, Dobbs points out, the LA of DOUBLE INDEMNITY is peppered with specific locations that add a sense of verisimilitude to the production. The tribute featurette "Shadows of Suspense" (2006, 37m 56s) boasts an impressive array of noir authorities, including Eddie Muller, Film Noir Foundation founder and president, as well as noted authors Drew Casper, Phil Cousineau, Paul Duncan, James Ellroy, Kim Newman, Richard Schickel, Alain Silver, Vivian Sobchack, James Ursini, and Elizabeth Ward. Filmmakers called upon include Caleb Deschanel, William Friedkin, Paul Kerr and Owen Roizman. The feature presentation is introduced by Robert Osborne (2m 30s), and there is a tattered theatrical trailer (2m 16s).

Another extra that made the trip from DVD to Blu-ray is the made-for-TV DOUBLE INDEMNITY (Universal Studios, 73m 53s) that aired in 1973. A subtle dialogue update provides a hint of what is wrong with this perfunctory remake, long before one notices the fades strategically timed for commercial interruptions. While recording his confession, Walter Neff (Richard Crenna) declares "...I don't want the woman" versus the original version's "...I didn't get the woman." It is not quite the same thing! Even after shooting her, note that MacMurray's Neff cannot resist one last glance at that anklet that so captured his attention—he still desires her. The remake’s change in dialogue dilutes a theme central to the noir cycle:  the futility of the protagonist's obsession with an unattainable woman. But then, this is a color film almost completely devoid of the noir visual style that graced the 1944 film. Despite heavy dependence on the original screenplay, adapted for the small screen by Steven Bochco, the narrative and settings seem rather ordinary without the noir look to compliment the action. Genre filmmaking cannot be half-hearted any more than a woman can be a little bit pregnant.

Phyllis Dietrichson (Samantha Eggar) and Walter Neff (Richard Crenna)

Incredulity of character is another serious issue that plagues the telefilm. Crenna is among the most irritatingly theatrical of all movie actors; I still just cringe when he appears on the scene in the otherwise excellent FIRST BLOOD (1982). In his late 40s at the time of filming, Crenna inspires doubt when he announces his Walter Neff is 36. As portrayed by Lee J. Cobb, Barton Keyes seems in more immediate need of an appointment with a gastrointestinal specialist than Robinson's character. Even more troubling, the father/son dynamic between Keyes and Neff that enhanced the original version is completely lost in the remake. Samantha Eggar as Phyllis Dietrichson is another disappointment. I always have loved Eggar, the stunning beauty of THE COLLECTOR (1965) and the terrifying matriarch of THE BROOD (1979). But she looks positively emaciated here, and fails to create the irresistible sex appeal necessary for the Phyllis character to be convincing. Writer/director Lawrence Kasdan's BODY HEAT (1981) was the far more aesthetically pleasing color interpretation of James M. Cain (uncredited), with Richard Crenna this time in the role of the doomed husband.

Unique to this very collectible Blu-ray edition are UltraViolet & iTunes renditions of the feature 1944 film, along with a little packet that contains a theatrical poster reproduction, three lobby card reproductions, and a still of the film's alternate ending that condemned Neff to the gas chamber.

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OUT OF THE PAST (1947)

RKO Radio Pictures, 96m 45s

After the release of such formative genre staples as THE MALTESE FALCON (1941), THIS GUN FOR HIRE (1942), DOUBLE INDEMNITY (1944), MURDER, MY SWEET (1944) and THE POSTMAN ALWAYS RINGS TWICE (1946), to name several, the major ingredients of the film noir formula were pretty standard:  a protagonist with a checkered past, a complex storyline, a disjointed narrative structure, up-tempo dialog, nighttime settings, chiaroscuro lighting, low camera angles and shadows that combine to suggest entrapment, a man who signs his own death warrant by falling for the wrong woman, and above all else, an unshakable sense of fate. OUT OF THE PAST delivers a potent mixture of those familiar elements, seamlessly directed by Jacques Tourneur. Justly inducted into the National Film Registry in 1991 for preservation in the Library of Congress, OUT OF THE PAST is considered by many to be one of the most accomplished examples of the film noir form, and I have to agree.

Ann Miller (Virginia Huston) and Jeff Bailey (Robert Mitchum)

The narrative gets started on a fatalistic note as Joe Stefanos (Paul Valentine) discovers the whereabouts of an old associate through chance. The man in hiding is Jeff Bailey (Robert Mitchum), who Stefanos knows has assumed a new identity. Bailey's real last name is Markham (mark him?). Via flashback it is revealed Bailey was commissioned by Stefanos's boss Whit Sterling (Kirk Douglas) to find Kathie Moffat (Jane Greer), who according to Sterling ran off with $40,000 of his money after shooting him. Now Sterling has a new assignment in mind for Bailey, who puts up no resistance after being summoned, like a wiseguy who realizes his time to get whacked has arrived. So why would Bailey willingly march to his own doom? All of the evidence points to his past association with Moffat, who had cast her spell over Bailey without having to expend much energy. One senses Bailey was finished the moment he located Moffat. The only important question left to be answered is when.

Jeff Bailey (Robert Mitchum) and Kathie Moffat (Jane Greer)

The observation that Moffat only emerges at night should be a hint and a half for a private eye, but the delicate-looking Greer, only 22 at the time of filming, does not portray the type of feminine evil that appears inherently dangerous at first glance. With her angelic, girlish good looks, especially when dressed in white, she avoids the appearance of impropriety with ease. The same never could be said about the tempting bedroom eyes of noir vixens like Marie Windsor, Ava Gardner or Linda Darnell. No wonder Bailey finds Moffat so difficult to resist, even when he should know better. She is not completely unsympathetic—she is a victim of Sterling's sometimes violent power over her—but her base instincts are completely self-centered. Bailey's other romantic interest Ann Miller (Virginia Huston) provides the opposite female archetype to Moffat, although Miller seems too good to be true, even a little boring. Exciting and cerebral, Moffat is the female most worthy of male attention, but an extreme danger factor is part of the package.

"And then I saw her, coming out of the sun..."

Moffat may be the most complicated character, but other prominent characters are also textured and more complex than the viewer is led to believe. In an early starring role, Mitchum is ideally cast as Bailey. This gumshoe is a sharp guy and a quick thinker, but he is unable to rescue himself from a hopeless obsession for the temptress Moffat. Despite his imposing physique, Mitchum is able to convey a degree of vulnerability. He is the most passive of tough guys, a little too naturally relaxed, like a journeyman prizefighter with a losing record. He never looks like he got quite enough rest the night before.

"Do you always go around leaving your fingerprints on a girl's shoulder?"

In only his second film, the first being THE STRANGE LOVE OF MARTHA IVERS (1946), Douglas is sensational as the racketeer and tax evader Sterling, one of the many reprehensible types Douglas would become noted for playing. It is not difficult to envision Moffat letting a pistol explode in Sterling's direction. Like Bailey, Sterling is a flawed personality. "...I fire people, but nobody quits me..." he declares with smug confidence. That approach might work alright with his male cohorts, but it is the wrong philosophy when it comes to dealing with the resourceful female Moffat. Both men would have been better off keeping their distance from her, but what man could resist? Moffat must have made fools of many who came before them.

There is an infectious, raw beauty to the depth of the compositions that grace OUT OF THE PAST. Almost every frame conveys balance and cinematic meaning. Yet with such obvious attention to detail and artistry, nothing seems self-conscious—that is a tough trick to get right. The resonant themes and motifs never seem telegraphed. Shifts in tone are subtle. The stylized imagery seems natural, with a lyrical grace that complements the dialog and narration, which seems determined to register the damnation of Bailey only gradually, despite the non-negotiable nature of his downfall. As Bailey presciently points out, "...I'm gonna die last." A criminal past cannot be undone, crime cannot go unpunished, second chances are fleeting. The final scene involves a gesture that is both truthful and deceptive, a fitting tribute to the love affair between Bailey and Moffat.

Jeff Bailey (Robert Mitchum) takes his place within textbook noir compositions

OUT OF THE PAST director Jacques Tourneur is noted for directing the first three Val Lewton-produced RKO horror titles:  CAT PEOPLE (1942), I WALKED WITH A ZOMBIE (1943) and THE LEOPARD MAN (1943). All of these films have a film noir sensibility in terms of visuals and themes. Later Tourneur would go on to helm NIGHTFALL (1957), which like OUT OF THE PAST serves as a reminder that noir concerns are not unique to urban environments. OUT OF THE PAST is particularly insistent that film noir has invaded every square inch of North American soil, from small town gas stations in Bridgeport, California to San Francisco, from the High Sierra Mountains to the Acapulco coast. The location coverage blends surprisingly well with soundstage footage. Prior to handling the cinematography for OUT OF THE PAST, the very capable Nicholas Musuraca had distinguished himself with STRANGER ON THE THIRD FLOOR (1940), sometimes considered to be the very first film noir, Tourneur's CAT PEOPLE, and THE LOCKET (1946).

Daniel Mainwaring adapted his novel BUILD MY GALLOWS HIGH as Geoffrey Homes, the pseudonym he often used. Even today, his writing is quite quotable, and the snappy dialog does not sound as stilted as some noirs do. OUT OF THE PAST originally was released in England as BUILD MY GALLOWS HIGH. It was remade as AGAINST ALL ODDS in 1984, with Greer among the cast. Greer and Mitchum would star together again in Don Siegel's THE BIG STEAL (1949), co-written by Mainwaring. In 1987, Mitchum hosted Saturday Night Live and was featured with Greer in a spoof of OUT OF THE PAST.

Framed at the original theatrical aspect ratio of 1.37:1, the Blu-ray version of OUT OF THE PAST now available through the Warner Archive is among the site's premier offerings. Skin tones and contrast show noticeable improvement compared to Warner's 1.33:1 DVD version released in 2004. The dual-layered Blu-ray maintains the audio commentary track by film scholar James Ursini that was included on the DVD.

THE GLASS KEY (1942)

Paramount Pictures, 85m 19s

A memorably physical human connection accents the opening sequence of THE GLASS KEY:  after political boss and "biggest crook in the state" Paul Madvig (Brian Donlevy, top-billed) makes an unflattering comment about her brother, feisty Janet Henry (Veronica Lake) delivers a heavy slap to Madvig's stunned countenance. Lovestruck, he concludes he has met his future wife, and pledges support for the Reform Party campaign of Janet's father Ralph Henry (Moroni Olsen), who is running for governor. Some conflict is introduced in the form of Janet's deadbeat brother Taylor (Richard Denning), a hopeless drinker and chronic gambler indebted to area gangster Nick Varna (Joseph Calleia). Taylor is in a relationship with Madvig's 18-year-old sister Opal (Bonita Granville), and naturally Madvig does not approve. So when Taylor is found face-down in the street, Madvig becomes the logical suspect. That leaves it to Madvig's most trusted associate Ed Beaumont (Alan Ladd) to determine what happened to Taylor.

Janet Henry (Veronica Lake) ignites male passion in THE GLASS KEY

Based on the hard-boiled Dashiell Hammett novel, this screen adaptation by Jonathan Latimer (NOCTURNE [1946], THE BIG CLOCK [1948]) radiates a lot of human indifference to brutality and death. Ladd creates an exceptional noir protagonist, just as he had in the same year's THIS GUN FOR HIRE. Director Stuart Heisler (STORM WARNING [1951], I DIED A THOUSAND TIMES [1955]) strives to make the viewer feel the pain when Beaumont is held captive and savagely roughed up; the raw sequence culminates with a further test of Beaumont's endurance when he survives a fall from dangerous heights after a daring escape through a last-chance window.

Ed Beaumont (Alan Ladd) is not to be messed with

The theme of humans connecting physically boils over when archetypal noir sadist Jeff (William Bendix) prepares to administer another thorough beating of Beaumont, but not without the two indulging in a friendly round of drinks first. When it comes to homoerotic noir tension, this is about as overt as it gets, with word choices such as "baby" and "sweetheart" in active use. Like so many American films (not just noirs), the crucial relationships are between men in THE GLASS KEY. At one point Madvig refers to Beaumont as his "partner" and makes a strong suggestion that the relationship is closer than people would guess. Beaumont is the most composed character of the film, even when he is getting the beating of his life from the psychosexual Jeff. Beaumont's notion of a moral compass is THE GLASS KEY's most defining component. It is probably safe to say his is not much like the moral code of the average person—as when he uses a betrayed man's suicide to his advantage—but Beaumont's intense loyalty to Madvig is what bonds the viewer to Beaumont as the character most worthy of our trust.

Jeff (William Bendix) leads a perverse courtship of Beaumont (Alan Ladd)

The deeply embedded sense of eminent corruption that characterizes this important early film noir recalls traditions established in the gangster films of the prior decade. Seeking the (glass) key to an extended stay at the governor's mansion, Ralph Henry teams with Madvig, a slightly-cultured, old-school thug from "the old 8th ward" who still talks unmistakably like a tough guy. In a similar dynamic, a murder becomes a handy political weapon manipulated by the gangster Varna. District Attorney Farr (Donald MacBride) is a spineless lush, easily pushed around by Beaumont. The interconnectedness of politics, law, the press, and the criminal underworld is best exemplified by Varna's grip on the mortgage of The Observer, the newspaper run by Clyde Matthews (Arthur Loft).

Within this corrupt system roam alluring but conniving women who just cannot be trusted. This theme would become the noir normal very early in the cycle that proliferated from 1940-1959. Beaumont struggles mightily with his feelings for Janet, who he suspects is trying her best to send his (boy?)friend Madvig to the chair. Tellingly, Beaumont is willing to turn in Janet for a crime even though he knows she is innocent. Then there is Eloise (Margaret Hayes), the shameless couch kitten of puppet newspaperman Matthews. As soon as she learns her husband is broke, the bitch immediately gravitates to Beaumont, right in front of her suddenly discarded husband!

Madvig (Brian Donlevy) and Beaumont (Alan Ladd) discuss a dead body

I’ve looked better

Again the man in the mirror is Beaumont (Alan Ladd)

Dashiell Hammett's original fiction first appeared in the pulp magazine BLACK MASK in 1930 as a four-part serial ("The Glass Key," "The Cyclone Shot," "Dagger Point," and "The Shattered Key") before being published as a novel in 1931. Paramount released the first film version in 1935, with George Raft featured as Ed Beaumont and Frank Tuttle (THIS GUN FOR HIRE [1942]) directing.

Presented without comment

THE GLASS KEY is available as part of the Film Noir 10-Movie Spotlight Collection 6-disc DVD set available from Universal Studios Home Entertainment.

MY NAME IS JULIA ROSS (1945)

Columbia Pictures, 64m 58s

An adaptation of the Anthony Gilbert novel THE WOMAN IN RED, written for the screen by Muriel Roy Bolton, this rousing B-picture was directed by Joseph H. Lewis, who would go on to direct two of the most deservedly famous film noirs:  GUN CRAZY (1950) and THE BIG COMBO (1955).

Fire destroys an image of Julia Ross (Nina Foch)
Interestingly, the restoration of Ross involves water

Shot in 18 days on Columbia's backlots, MY NAME IS JULIA ROSS begins properly enough for a noir film, with our protagonist introduced upon rain-soaked streets. Londoner Julia Ross (Nina Foch) is looking for work with a certain sense of desperation. She learns of a secretarial position available with a Mrs. Hughes (Dame May Whitty), who seeks an applicant of unwavering commitment. Ross pledges she has no personal life to speak of that may interfere with her job performance, and agrees to move in with Hughes. Soon after that, the Hughes family leaves London behind for an isolated seaside estate in Cornwall. Ross awakens from a lengthy drug-induced slumber to be greeted as Marion Hughes. Her "husband" Ralph Hughes (George Macready) does not seem to be all there, as he makes a habit of destroying household fixtures with obsessive knifework in repeated displays of symbolic impotence. Sort of makes you wonder what happened to the original Marion Hughes.

The unlucky Ross falls into an extremely dark place through no fault of her own—all she wanted was a job! Her disorientation begins with being drugged, then she must endure being treated as someone she knows very well she is not. MY NAME IS JULIA ROSS anticipates the better-known noir films SORRY, WRONG NUMBER (1948) and SUDDEN FEAR (1952), both of which feature women being targeted by their own husbands. There is also a connection to "walking dead" noir permutations like DETOUR (1945) and DECOY (1946). In terms of setting, MY NAME IS JULIA ROSS involves a woman being menaced within the confines of a gated gothic environment, similar to the same year's THE SPIRAL STAIRCASE (1945). Ross even encounters a treacherous staircase in a particularly suspenseful sequence (staircase danger is an overused but stylistically bankable noir trope).

A Nosferatu-like presence torments Ross (Nina Foch)

Some traditional elements of the horror narrative come into play in MY NAME IS JULIA ROSS, especially in regard to visuals. Cinematographer Burnett Guffey's compositions recurrently emphasize the presence of closed doors, barred windows, elaborate fences, and imprisoning shadows. Guffey would work on a large number of high quality noir productions, including JOHNNY O'CLOCK (1947), IN A LONELY PLACE (1950), and THE SNIPER (1952), to name just a few. He teamed with Lewis again on SO DARK THE NIGHT (1946) and THE UNDERCOVER MAN (1949).

A personality oppressed via imagery

A commercial success, MY NAME IS JULIA ROSS likely influenced future noir films with horrific sequences like NIGHTMARE ALLEY (1947) and THE WINDOW (1949), as well as color thrillers that emerged in the '60s, i.e. DIE! DIE! MY DARLING! (1965) and THE COLLECTOR (1965). MY NAME IS JULIA ROSS would be remade as DEAD OF WINTER in 1987.

The noir psychopath usually comes to a bad end, as he does in MY NAME IS JULIA ROSS

Part of the Turner Classic Movies Vault Collection from Sony Pictures Home Entertainment, the Columbia Pictures Film Noir Classics III 5-disc DVD set contains a 1.33:1 presentation of MY NAME IS JULIA ROSS, along with some worthwhile supplemental material.

NIGHTFALL (1957)

Columbia Pictures, 78m 54s

The archetypal money satchel gets a workout in NIGHTFALL, an ambitious outing from the great director Jacques Tourneur, a pioneer in the art of horror noir, i.e. CAT PEOPLE (1942) and I WALKED WITH A ZOMBIE (1943). Written for the screen by Stirling Silliphant (5 AGAINST THE HOUSE [1955], THE LINEUP [1958]) and based on a novel by crime fiction writer David Goodis, NIGHTFALL concentrates on the whereabouts of the aforementioned satchel and its $350,000 of stolen money inside.

Heavy machinery spells danger in Jacques Tourneur's NIGHTFALL

In a nod to the noir form popularized in the ‘40s, and Tourneur’s own OUT OF THE PAST (1947) constitutes a prime example, present day complications have their basis in past events that are revealed via multiple flashbacks. The lead protagonist is Chicago-based commercial artist and veteran Art Rayburn (Aldo Ray in a likeable turn), who currently masquerades as James Vanning for reasons that are not apparent at the outset. So alienated from society is Rayburn that he carries no identification. He picks up model Marie Gardner (Anne Bancroft) only to become entrapped by John (Brian Keith) and his unbalanced accomplice Red (Rudy Bond in the noir psychopath role), a couple of bank robbers in search of their lost heist money, which lies somewhere in the vast mountainous wilderness of Wyoming. Rayburn knows—roughly, anyway—where the loot is.

Art Rayburn (Aldo Ray) and Marie Gardner (Anne Bancroft)

In a departure from the noir form of tarnished characters, our point of identification in NIGHTFALL is at no fault for his predicament. The wrong-man-on-the-run Rayburn finds himself pursued by not only the two crooks, but determined insurance man Ben Fraser (James Gregory). Rayburn is deceived, beat down, shot at, chased relentlessly, and suspected of getting rid of his hunting and fishing buddy Ed Gurston (Frank Albertson), who left behind a widow linked romantically to Rayburn. The classic noir element of randomness is palpable, especially when Rayburn explains to Gardner in no uncertain terms that fate brought them together, “Because you were unlucky enough to talk to me tonight.”

Red (Rudy Bond) toys with Art Rayburn (Aldo Ray)

The narrative is introduced in the traditional urban locales in which noir stories so often play out, then Tourneur and cinematographer Burnett Guffey (IN A LONELY PLACE [1950]) explore rural exteriors—atypical staging for the noir film, but not unique (ROAD HOUSE [1948], ON DANGEROUS GROUND [1951], CRY VENGEANCE [1954]). The mise-en-scène comes exceptionally tough for 1957, as when John and Red confront Rayburn at an oil field. And whenever the expansive snow-covered landscape is emphasized, as when Rayburn flees a murder scene while carrying the money satchel, and when a character meets a grisly fate via a most unforgiving snow blower truck, the progenitor of FARGO (1996) is strikingly evident.

My best fiend

The title track performed by Al Hibbler does not compliment this otherwise outstanding film noir, by far one of the most accomplished of programmer length. Tourneur’s suspenseful CURSE OF THE DEMON also was released in 1957. A clean-looking 1.85:1 anamorphic presentation of NIGHTFALL is available as part of the 5-film Columbia Pictures Film Noir Classics II DVD set available from Sony Pictures Home Entertainment.