1949: Criss Cross (Robert Siodmak)

Released: January 12, 1949

Director: Robert Siodmak; Screenplay: Daniel Fuchs based on the novel by Don Tracy; Cinematography: Franz Planer; Studio: Universal International Pictures; Producer: Michael Kraike; Music: Miklós Rózsa

Cast: Burt Lancaster (Steve Thompson), Yvonne De Carlo (Anne Dundee), Dan Duryea (Slim Dundee), Stephen McNally (Detective Lt. Pete Ramirez), Tom Pedi (Vincent), Percy Helton (Frank), Alan Napier (Finchley), Griff Barnett (Pop), Meg Randall (Helen), Richard Long (Slade Thompson), Joan Miller (the Lush), Edna Holland (Mrs. Thompson), John Doucette (Walt), Marc Krah (Mort), Esy Morales (Rhumba Band Leader)

Now would this countdown be any fun if there weren’t some surprises involved? While maybe not a heart stopping surprise, I would venture to guess that I am one of the precious few that are likely to choose this one as the best film of 1949. I do so knowing full well that there are films that are quite properly deemed to be “superior” to this noir thriller or are seen as considerably more significant in the history of cinema. But as the translation of the Latin proverb says, there’s no accounting for taste and I have always considered this to be among the best films that Robert Siodmak ever directed and that Burt Lancaster ever starred in.

This is not to say that Criss Cross is a completely overlooked film. Quite the contrary, as it is commonly seen in lists of favorite noirs or crime films of the era. So while this may not be a complete shock, I’ll certainly be surprised if many (if any at all) concur with the selection.

There has already been a Siodmak-Lancaster collaboration included in this countdown, as Lancaster’s screen debut The Killers was selected as the choice for 1946. My love for that film hopefully came through in my review, making clear that I consider it to be among the best noirs that I have ever seen. Going against conventional wisdom, I actually think that in this follow-up effort the two combined to make an even better film. While The Killers may contain more iconic scenes and is routinely cited as being influential on later crime films, Criss Cross remains in my mind as Siodmak’s best film.

To be certain, there are obvious similarities between the two films. A cursory examination of the plot would lead one to believe that they are closely related – the nice guy turning to the underworld (who happens to be played by Lancaster in both instances), a doomed romance, a love triangle, double cross after a heist, use of flashbacks. Each of these elements is seen in both movies. Linking the two would be something of a stretch, however, because these elements are present in countless films noir. The fact that such similar stories and themes are played out in a vast number of movies, and yet The Killers and Criss Cross manage to distinguish themselves from any related films, is testament to the brilliant hand of Siodmak.


In Criss Cross, the focus is on Steve Thompson (Burt Lancaster), who returns home to Los Angeles after some months away. He had fled the city in the face of a deteriorating marriage to Anne (Yvonne De Carlo). After returning to his working class neighborhood, reuniting with old friends and visiting old haunts, Steve cannot shake memories of his romance with his stunning ex-wife. While hanging around the bar that the couple frequented together, one night Steve spots Anne on the dance floor. There is obviously still chemistry between the two and they begin to move toward getting back together. However, Steve’s best friend Lt. Pete Ramirez feels Anne is a terrible influence on his pal and manages to drive Anne away from him. In an act equal parts spite and defiance, Anne runs off and marries flashy gangster Slim Dundee (Dan Duryea).

Even the marriage cannot keep the two apart. They continue their romance secretively, realizing that if Slim were to catch them there would be hell to pay. Despite their caution, Slim does manage to catch the two of them together in his house. Thinking fast, Steve manages to concoct a reason for his being alone with Anne. He tells Slim that he came to Anne in order for the opportunity to pitch a job to him. Steve says that he has planned a heist of the armored car company that he works for, using himself as the inside man needed to pull off the job. After the job is agreed to, the necessary scheming transpires, with Steve and Anne secretly planning to double-cross Slim and his gang and escape with the loot.


I will stop short of revealing how everything plays out from this point forward, but there are certain sequences that transpire that I can praise without revealing exactly how the film concludes (in case there are those that have not yet seen it). The heist sequence is fabulous, as Siodmak and cinematographer Franz Planer make use of smoke to convey the complete confusion and disorientation of the heist. Amidst this chaos, it is hard for both characters and the audience to make out who is who. Such confusion is how I would imagine such a tense situation to be and that is precisely the feeling that Siodmak and Planer are able to communicate to the viewer. The other obvious aspect of the heist is that it is somewhat brutal for its time, with guards and burglars alike being gunned down in similar brutal fashion.

Lancaster is his usual excellent self as Steve Thompson. I’m not sure whether I prefer his performance here or as the Swede in The Killers, but I do know that as Steve he creates an incredibly friendly character. He is pulled into the criminality because he is trying to save himself and Anne from harm, whereas the Swede willingly turned to the rackets. While I’ll admit to not having seen the bulk of Yvonne De Carlo’s work, this is as good as I have seen her. The Anne character is intriguing because of her ambiguity. Is she good or bad? Honest or conniving? Even among femme fatales that are horribly callous, there is at least a sense of what their true intentions are. Not so with Anne, who kept me guessing as to whether her loyalty was truly with Steve or if she was conniving with Slim.

The Siodmak-Planer duo must be commended for the portrayal of the city of Los Angeles. That opening flyover shot is great, as the camera swoops over and then descends into Los Angeles at night. The depiction of L.A., and specifically the Bunker Hill section of Steve’s home, has a very realistic quality, showing a working class area that is becoming more and more middle-class in the postwar boom. L.A. is a common setting for noir, but Criss Cross has a feel that makes it distinct from others set in the City of Angels. The underbelly of the city obviously exists, as embodied by Slim Dundee, but for whatever reason there is not quite the same darkness permeating every character as is seen in films such as Double Indemnity.

This lack of omnipresent darkness, however, does nothing to dampen the gloomy conclusion. Rather than type out a long interpretation, I’ll finish in the same way that the film does, with the memorable closing shot.



Rating: 10/10

Other Contenders for 1949: I’m betting that my first runner-up is likely to be the most popular choice for this year. While I prefer the previous year’s The Fallen Idol, I recognize that Carol Reed’s The Third Man is an outstanding film. Joseph Cotten is good in whatever role he plays, and considering the great script of The Third Man, he is able to shine. And who can forget the haunting shots of the shadows running through the streets of Vienna?

A film from this year that I don’t see discussed as much as I think it deserves is House of Strangers. Over at the Wonders in the Dark blog, in reviewing 1972’s The Godfather, Allan Fish pointed out the parallels between Puzo’s classic crime story and this Joseph L. Mankiewicz film. He is absolutely right, and this story of a banker’s fall from grace at the hands of his sons is great drama. In my opinion, it definitely deserves to be mentioned among the top films of the year. I’ve already written on my love of Jimmy Cagney and his great performance as Cody Jarrett in White Heat, but I’ll mention it again here as being worthy of consideration.

I also have to bring up the Ealing Studios black comedy Kind Hearts and Coronets, directed by Robert Hamer. This story of murder and revenge is played out so matter-of-factly that it can’t help but make me smirk every time that I watch it.

1948: Red River (Howard Hawks)

Released: September 30, 1948

Director: Howard Hawks, Arthur Rosson (co-director); Screenplay: Borden Chase and Charles Schnee; Cinematography: Russell Harlan; Studio: United Artists; Producer: Howard Hawks

Cast: John Wayne (Thomas Dunson), Montgomery Clift (Matthew Garth), Walter Brennan (Groot Nadine), Joanne Dru (Tess Millay), John Ireland (Cherry Valance), Coleen Gray (Fen), Harry Carey Sr. (Mr. Melville), Noah Beery Jr. (Buster McGee), Harry Carey Jr. (Dan Latimer), Chief Yowlachie (Quo), Paul Fix (Teeler Yacey), Hank Worden (Simms Reeves), Ray Hyke (Walt Jergens), Wally Wales (Old Leather), Mickey Kuhn (Matt as a boy)

Wow, did I go back and forth on this one. 1948 was a two-horse race for me right from the start and I vacillated between which of the tremendous films I would choose. There are quite clearly more than two worthy films in this year, but for me it was always a contest between the classic Howard Hawks western Red River and the Vittoro De Sica masterpiece Bicycle Thieves. If this countdown were purely an exercise in attempting to decide which film is the “greatest,” I feel quite confident that Bicycle Thieves would be the definite choice. I cannot praise it enough – it is a truly touching film and an amazing experience to realize that such a simple story is so affecting. Just thinking about the film as I type this review makes me want to consider changing my mind yet again. But of the two films, Red River is the one I most often return to. I watch it regularly and feel it is completely accurate to declare it to be the best western of the entire decade.

Over the course of the last few months I’ve slowly begun to come around to the realization that Howard Hawks may very well be my favorite director. The versatility displayed throughout his career is astounding – the man was equally adept with adventures, comedies, dramas, noir, and other types of films. This production was Hawks’ first foray into westerns, and while I will stop short of calling it his best take on the genre, I definitely feel that he hit it out of the park on the first swing. To me, the best westerns are not so much about wild chases and gunfights, but are those that offer fascinating character studies. I find it intriguing to watch flawed men as they attempt to maneuver through tempting or dangerous situations. The reason that Hawks is so successful in his western is that he is able to maintain this crucial element, while at the same time also including well-done action and gunplay. Prior to making this movie, Hawks was already well accomplished in action films (just watch Only Angels Have Wings if you need proof of this), thus it is no surprise that Red River would include thrilling sequences such as a wild cattle stampede or tense showdowns. But these moments of adventure never detract from the central force of the film – the relationship between the determined Tom Dunson (John Wayne) and his adopted son Matt (Montgomery Clift).


I won’t claim that this is the best role of Wayne’s career, because I don’t think it is, but the apocryphal story of John Ford’s reaction after seeing the film is telling. Referring to Wayne’s performance, Ford is said to have exclaimed, “I didn’t know the big son of a bitch could act!” Aside from being my favorite story of Hollywood lore, it speaks volumes of how good Wayne is as Tom Dunson. Dunson is the pivotal character in the story. The movie opens to Dunson leaving a wagon train bound for California in order to settle on land in Texas. He and his sidekick Groot (Walter Brennan) survive an Indian attack that kills everyone else in the train except a young boy who manages to escape with a single cow. Using the lone bull of Dunson’s and the cow that Matt managed to save, the two form a partnership and set out to establish a cattle empire in the Lone Star state.

The story then fast-forwards 14 years and the cattle ranch is fully up and running. Dunson controls a herd of cattle numbering in the thousands, but is cash poor as the price of beef in Texas is very low. Hearing that better prices are to be found to the north, Dunson decides the best and most lucrative option is to drive the cattle to Missouri. Along with Matt and Groot, Dunson hires more help among veteran cowhands like Buster (Noah Beery Jr.) and Dan Latimer (Harry Carey Jr.) and famous gunmen like Cherry Valance (John Ireland).

The brilliance of Wayne’s performance shines as the group progress deeper into the cattle drive. Through the early stages of the movie and the first half of the drive, Dunson is the usual gallant and heroic character that Wayne is commonly associated with. Here is a man who is caring enough to take in an orphaned boy, making him a partner in the cattle business and willingly raising him to manhood. But the same determination that spurred Dunson to embark on the daunting journey ultimately becomes all-consuming and leads him to emerging obsessed with making it to Missouri. Suddenly, Tom develops tunnel vision and allows nothing to deter he and his cattle from making it there – not complaining by workers, not advice from close confidants like Matt and Groot, and not even the threat of injury to his men. In this transformation into a much darker personality, you can clearly see the roots of a future Wayne character like Ethan Edwards.

When some of the workers on the drive begin to mention that the group would be better served to take the cattle to Abilene, Kansas instead of Missouri, Tom will hear none of it. Rather than put up with what he considers to be insubordination, he instead begins to drive the men even harder. Eventually, with the men nearing downright rebellion, Matt steps in and takes over command of the entire operation. Tom is left behind and sent back toward Texas, but before doing so he makes a bold speech to Matt. In possibly the most coldblooded moment of Wayne’s career, Tom Dunson looks straight into the eyes of his adopted son and declares: “You should have let 'em kill me, 'cause I'm gonna kill you. I'll catch up with ya. I don't know when, but I'll catch up. Every time you turn around, expect to see me, 'cause one time you'll turn around and I'll be there. I'm gonna kill ya, Matt.” No longer the likable character seen at the beginning of the film, Tom Dunson has now become a man hell-bent on nothing but revenge.

The last section of the drive appears to be building toward a final climactic showdown between Dunson and Matt. On the way to Abilene, Matt and his men help out a beleaguered wagon train that is under Indian attack. After driving off the natives, Matt meets Tess Millay (Joanne Dru) and the two begin to fall in love. However, Matt does not stay long, as he and his men are soon back on the trail to Abilene. After Matt leaves, Dunson proves to be right on his heels as he soon catches up to the same wagon train. He too is attracted to Tess, who tries in vain to convince Tom to let Matt live.


When Tom and Matt finally come face to face in Abilene, the expectation is a deadly showdown between the two fastest guns in the country. Instead, we get what I would argue to be the one weak spot of the film. The buildup to the showdown is hard-charging and relentless – something dramatic and brutal seems the only fitting conclusion based upon what has transpired. Instead, we get an awkward speech from Tess that settles the differences between the two and closes the movie with a forced happy ending. The buildup to the face-off is nearly flawless, so it would be a lie to say that it was not a letdown to witness this conclusion for the first time. Still, I love everything else about the film so much that I’m willing to overlook the misstep. I understand that this could sound like selective assessment, but it how I feel.

Wayne’s performance is not the only one worthy of praise. I have been a huge Montgomery Clift fan from the first time I saw a movie he starred in – that being From Here to Eternity. Even still, I remember being somewhat apprehensive in picturing Clift playing a cowboy. Luckily, my fears were easily discarded. While Red River was the first movie Clift ever made, he is smooth as the calm, confident Matthew Garth. And Walter Brennan is Walter Brennan. By this, I mean he gives yet another example of why I consider him to be the finest character actor of his era. His roles may have been variations of the same character over and over again, but it’s entertaining every time.


It also needs to be pointed out that the photography makes excellent use of the scenery of a cattle drive. Cinematographer Russell Harlan utilizes the sweeping landscape and we get great shots of the mountains, rivers, and the driving cattle. The photography also blends perfectly with the action sensibilities of Hawks, as witnessed in the filming of the famed stampede scene midway through the trek.

In my opinion, Howard Hawks would actually go on to direct an even better western than this in the next decade. But that in no way detracts from the greatness of this film. It is not a perfect film, as evidence by the fact that I openly admit to not caring for the ending (and evidently, neither did Howard Hawks himself). Even so, I think that taken as a whole that Red River can stand alongside any film ever made.

Rating: 10/10

Other Contenders for 1948: Hopefully my fondness for Bicycle Thieves came through loud and clear in those opening paragraphs, but I’ll reinforce it here. It’s a powerful movie and I would be shocked if someone could sit through it and be completely unmoved. There are two other films from this year that I absolutely love. The first is John Huston’s The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. This is another movie that examines a well-intentioned man’s descent toward madness and Humphrey Bogart is great in the role. The other film comes from Great Britain and is Carol Reed’s The Fallen Idol. While The Third Man is Reed’s most acclaimed movie, The Fallen Idol remains my personal favorite. It contains one of the great child performances I have ever seen from Bobby Henrey and manages to make very common situations feel unbelievably suspenseful.

Other films from this year that I really like but were not really close to dethroning Red River are: Raw Deal (Anthony Mann), The Search (Fred Zinnemann), and Key Largo (John Huston).

1947: Out of the Past (Jacques Tourneur)

Released: November 13, 1947 (U.S.A.)

Director: Jacques Tourneur; Screenplay: Daniel Mainwaring (as Geoffrey Homes), based on his novel Build My Gallows High; Cinematography: Nicholas Musuraca; Studio: RKO; Executive Producer: Robert Sparks; Producer: Warren Duff

Cast: Robert Mitchum (Jeff Bailey), Kirk Douglas (Whit Sterling), Jane Greer (Kathy Moffat), Paul Valentine (Joe Stefanos), Rhonda Fleming (Meta Carson), Steve Brodie (Jack Fisher), Virginia Huston (Ann), Dickie Moore (The Kid), Ken Niles (Eels)

[NOTE: This review was written and posted in the first few days that this blog was open, long before I decided to undertake this Year's Best Countdown. But since I still like what I wrote about this film at the time, I have decided to go ahead and re-post it here, with the addition of an "Other Contenders" section that mentions other movies that I love from 1947. Keep up the great comments!]

There are certain films that I find extremely hard to write about or critically examine. These are films that I have some kind of deep emotional connection to – favorites from my childhood, movies that I saw at a key point in my life, or films that were absolutely essential to my development as a fan of cinema. So, I’m usually hesitant to try and overanalyze why I love them so much. This is one of those films. Out of the Past was the first film noir that I ever watched and it was nothing short of earth-shattering for me. I’ve been a noir junkie ever since, getting my hands on every noir I can, but all the time failing to find a single one that matches this 1947 classic. So, with that warning, I’ll go ahead and try to analyze it anyway. If I’m gushing in the review, it’s because this is one of my all-time favorite movies.

Out of the Past is on a shortlist of noirs that I would categorize as quintessential. If someone were to come to me and ask for a definition the style, I would direct them to this and Double Indemnity. If neither of those caught their attention, then it would probably be safe to assume that noir is not for them. The reason for such a bold proclamation? Out of the Past contains all of the archetypal elements of great noir. Adapted from a pulp novel. Private eye main character. Ruthless femme fatale. Shady gangster businessman. A story told in large measure through flashbacks and narration. And an unrelenting sense of destiny at every turn.

Oh, and Robert Mitchum. If Humphrey Bogart crafted the mold for the cool, tough guy noir P.I., then Mitchum perfected it in this film.

The story opens with the Mitchum character of Jeff Bailey working at a gas station in a small rural town. Little is known about Bailey’s history and this secretive nature arouses a bit of suspicion in the small town of Bridgeport, as evidenced by the negative reaction of his girlfriend Ann’s (Virginia Huston) parents. His attempt at distancing himself from his past is destroyed when gangster and ex-acquaintance Joe Stefanos (Paul Valentine) tracks Jeff down at the gas station. Joe tells Jeff that his ex-employer, wealthy gambler Whit Sterling (Kirk Douglas), is looking for him and sets up a meeting.


At this point Jeff is forced to reveal the truth to Ann concerning his life before Bridgeport. While driving to the meeting with Whit, Jeff recounts the tale to Ann, warning her that “Some of it’s gonna hurt you.” He says that his real name is Jeff Markham and that he used to be a New York private eye. A few years earlier, Whit hired Jeff to track down his runaway girlfriend and $40,000 that disappeared with her. The search takes Jeff to Mexico, where he finds the stunningly beautiful Kathie Moffat (Jane Greer). Rather than bringing her back to Whit, Jeff falls in love with her. They sneak away back to the States and begin to live life as a normal couple. But Whit has not forgotten his former love interest, the $40,000 dollars, or the private eye that he hired and who then vanished. Whit enlists Jeff’s old partner, Jack Fisher (Steve Brodie), to track him, which he does after randomly spotting him at a local racetrack. When the partner finds the couple and tries to extort them, Kathie insists that he won’t be revealing anything to Whit. She ensures this by gunning Jack down, then speeding away from the scene and leaving Jeff to bury the body. With Kathie again in the wind, Jeff then moves to Bridgeport and attempts to finally be rid of his former life. This pipedream is forever wrecked when Joe catches up with him at the gas station. Realizing that he has no choice but to confront his past, Jeff agrees to the meet with Whit and plunges himself back into the shady world he tried so desperately to abandon.

While at the meeting with Whit, Jeff discovers that Kathie has reunited with the gangster. Rather than being angry with him, Whit enlists Jeff for another job. But sensing that he might be getting caught up in a frame, Jeff has to navigate a path that keeps him safe from his employer, the law, and a variety of characters he comes in contact with along the way. Will this job set Jeff free from his past? Can he pay his debt to Whit and then resume his life with Ann in Bridgeport? Whose side is Kathie truly on? I’ll let you discover the answers to these questions yourself, as it’s a wild ride for the entire 97 minutes, chock full of plotting, double crossing and tense face-offs. For those that have already seen the film, I’m sure you’ll agree that the answers are always shifting and keep the viewer wondering.

The story has been characterized by some as convoluted, and it is, but don’t let anyone fool you into believing that it’s incomprehensible. The script is expertly crafted by Daniel Mainwaring, adapted from his own novel Build My Gallows High (both written under the pseudonym Geoffrey Homes). For as many twists and turns that take place throughout the story, the screenplay is surprisingly tight, with none of the conspicuous plot holes that have plagued some otherwise great noirs. And the dialog… oh my, the dialog. The lines come shooting out of characters’ mouths like daggers. Some of my favorite lines in all of cinema come from this film and from Mitchum in particular. The examples are numerous and outstanding:

“Kathie: Oh, Jeff, I don't want to die!
Jeff: Neither do I, baby, but if I have to I'm gonna die last.”
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“Ann: She can't be all bad. No one is.
Jeff: Well, she comes the closest.”
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“Kathie: Oh Jeff, you ought to have killed me for what I did a moment ago.
Jeff: [dryly] There's time.”

I could go on for pages. I’ll forever maintain that Jeff’s response in the first example is my favorite line of all time. This dialog is razor sharp and the epitome of cool. The brilliance of these lines is in large measure due to Mainwaring, as just reading them is terrific. But a lot of credit must also go to Mitchum. As Jeff Bailey, he is the personification of the detached anti-hero and makes these words come alive. These witty expressions would be nowhere near as powerful if they weren’t being delivered by the droopy-eyed Mitchum, adorned in an overcoat and stylish hat and with a cigarette hanging between his lips. The way that Jeff Bailey navigates this underhanded world and interacts with such shady individuals, the role calls for someone to be able to add the necessary cynicism to the character. Mitchum is precisely the man. It’s no coincidence that despite being his first top-billing, this is the role for which Mitchum is best remembered. He is that good.

As previously mentioned, the major themes that are found throughout all film noir are on display here, but this film outdoes nearly all of them in key areas. The sense of danger hanging over a likeable, yet flawed character has never been done better. It is impossible to ignore the fact that Jeff _willingly_ walks back into a world and situation that he knows could very well be his downfall. The audience knows this too, and it is distressing to see him continue down a path that everyone involved – audience and characters, Jeff in particular – knows is not likely to end well. To say that there is a sense of doom hanging over the events would be an understatement. And yet, in the end, there is redemption of sorts. The closing scene between Ann and Jeff’s deaf gas station attendant is poignant and reveals that Jeff may have been in control of his destiny all along.


The direction of Jacques Tourneur also deserves recognition. Darkness and shadows are the staples of any director working in film noir. However, few were ever able to utilize them as effectively as Tourneur, as he juxtaposed them with beautiful pastoral settings. Whenever Jeff is in Bridgeport, the scenes are wide open and bright, setting Jeff and Ann in front of a backdrop of rolling mountains, streams, and the country. But as soon as Jeff comes into contact with anyone from his past – be it Kathy, Whit or Joe – the scenes become dark and gloomy. Faces are obscured by shadows and movement becomes sinister as silhouettes creep across the screen. These are interesting contrasts and emphasize the wildly different worlds that Jeff is attempting to jump between.


After spending so much time referring to this as the quintessential film noir, I have to admit that such praise is almost doing the movie a disservice. Pigeonholing it as the best of a specific genre is too restricting for a film this good. Out of the Past is not just one of the best films noir, it is one of the greatest films of all time, period.

Rating: 10/10

Other Contenders for 1947: Nothing ever really threatened unseating Out of the Past, but there are a number of other wonderful noirs and easily my favorite Powell and Pressburger film that deserve mention. P&P’s Black Narcissus is a visual delight, making great use of Technicolor. This is not meant to demean the storyline, because it is compelling, but this is a movie that I just sit back and marvel at the scenery. Definitely my favorite from the famed duo.

This was an all-around great year for film noir. Prior to his exile from Hollywood, Jules Dassin made some very good films and my favorite of them is the prison-break drama Brute Force. Burt Lancaster is great in the lead and Hume Cronyn is pure evil as Capt. Munsey. I also love Lawrence Tierney’s performance as a crazed serial killer in Robert Wise’s Born to Kill. As far as boxing movies go, I have always felt that Robert Rossen’s Body and Soul deserves to be mentioned among the best ever made. Nightmare Alley (Edmund Goulding) is among the most psychologically chilling noirs that I have ever seen. Anthony Mann produced a B-movie masterpiece with T-Men, making perfect use of the outstanding cinematography of John Alton. And finally, I cannot overlook the sinister performance from Richard Widmark as Tommy Udo in Henry Hathaway’s Kiss of Death.

Still, Out of the Past remains well out in front of all of these films.

1946: The Killers (Robert Siodmak)

Released: August 28, 1946

Director: Robert Siodmak; Screenplay: Anthony Veiller, Richard Brooks (uncredited), John Huston (uncredited) based on the short story by Ernest Hemingway; Cinematography: Elwood Bredell; Studio: Universal Pictures; Producer: Mark Hellinger

Cast: Burt Lancaster (Ole “Swede” Andersen), Ava Gardner (Kitty Collins), Edmond O’Brien (Jim Reardon), Albert Dekker (Big Jim Colfax), Sam Levene (Lt. Sam Lubinsky), Vince Barnett (Charleston), Virginia Christine (Lily Harmon Lubinsky), Charles McGraw (Al), William Conrad (Max), Charles D. Brown (Packy Robinson), Jack Lambert (Dum-Dum Clarke), Donald McBride (R.S. Kenyon)

No, I don’t intend to turn this into the Year’s Best Noir Countdown, but I can understand how someone could begin thinking that. That’s not my intention, but there is no denying the fact that film noir has always been a favorite genre of mine. This attraction to noir is largely responsible for me becoming interested in film and its history and starting down the path that has allowed me to become a full-fledged movie junkie. So it really should be no surprise that in these years of the 1940s and 50s that the countdown is going to be chock full of films from this golden age of noir. As great a year as 1946 was – and it truly was great – I just could not pick a film from this year that I enjoy more than The Killers.

As hard as 1939 was for me in making a selection, I think that 1946 was even more difficult. The roster of worthy films from 1939 may have been deeper, but there were always a few frontrunners that distanced themselves from the other possible choices. But I honestly changed my mind on this pick a few times while attempting to begin a review for the next entry. There are a number of iconic films from 1946. It’s a Wonderful Life is arguably _the_ Christmas film. The Best Years of Our Lives is legendary in its portrayal of the postwar malaise that troubled many returning veterans. The Big Sleep brought together the various talents of Hawks, Bogart, Bacall, Faulkner and Chandler. Great Expectations is often regarded as the best film adaptation of a Charles Dickens novel. And yet, each time I would nearly settle on one of these choices, I would always return to The Killers. All it took was re-watching that classic opening scene another time and the choice was made for me.


The aforementioned opening scene and the killing that follows are the only parts of the film based on Ernest Hemingway’s original short story. The biting dialogue and wisecracks of the two hitmen, sent to kill an ex-boxer named Swede for an unknown reason, is possibly the best part of film. The killers, Al (Charles McGraw) and Max (William Conrad), banter with the owner and make clear that they are hired guns simply doing a job. I always smirk when Al asks “What do you do here nights?” and Max mockingly answers “They all come here and eat the big dinner.” The killers then proceed to fulfill their contract, bumping off Swede (Burt Lancaster) without incident.

Following these first 20 minutes, the story is entirely new. Screenwriter Anthony Veiller (apparently with uncredited help from John Huston and Richard Brooks), crafts a story to fill in the background of events that led Swede Andersen to willingly lay in bed and allow gunmen to kill him. The idea of taking a short story like this, which makes perfectly clear that our main character is murdered, and then creating a suspenseful mystery by filling in the details through flashbacks, is very interesting. It doesn’t matter that we know that the Swede will ultimately be murdered. As you follow insurance investigator Jim Reardon (Edmond O’Brien) researching the life of the Swede, it becomes intriguing to discover how the Swede fell from a first-rate boxing attraction to someone who seemed to welcome his own death. In this sense, the structure of the film is very much like that of Citizen Kane, where we know where things will end but are absorbed in finding out how the story will reach that point.


The plot centers on the Swede after he realizes that his fighting career is over. No longer able to make his living in the ring, Andersen finds that the most lucrative career choice is to enter the numbers racket and work his way up in the underworld. In the process, he becomes enamored with Kitty Collins (Ava Gardner), the girlfriend of powerful hoodlum Big Jim Colfax (Albert Dekker). After Swede takes a rap for Kitty and goes to prison to keep her out of trouble, he emerges from jail and is drawn into a robbery scheme put together by Colfax. From there, double-crosses and backstabbing emerge as various members turn on each other. Kitty runs out on Swede and Swede in turn retreats to the small town life he was leading before his murder.

Director Robert Siodmak is not only a celebrated noir director, but one of my all-time favorite directors of any genre. Not knowing the specifics of the production, it is hard for me to pinpoint precisely who is most responsible for the look of this film, so I’ll go ahead and give co-credit to both Siodmak and cinematographer Elwood Bredell. The majority of the film is shot in interiors that are extremely dark. Just witness the image of the Swede lying in bed, surrounded by shadows, listening as his murders scale the stairs to his room. Such dark images are contrasted by the few scenes taking place outside, such as when Reardon visits Lt. Sam Lubinsky (Sam Levene) and they have lemonade on his roof. These scenes are much brighter, creating an interesting distinction between the two settings. These brighter images reinforce the dark underworld that the Swede has entered, and also offer a glimpse of the life that he could have led if he had followed in the footsteps of friends like Lubinsky.

I know people whose opinions I respect that feel scenes like the opening moments in the diner and other times in this film come across as cheesy. I cannot possibly disagree more, but I’ve realized that changing personal tastes is a completely futile exercise. The Killers will always have a special place for me, as it was the film that convinced me that Burt Lancaster was a truly brilliant actor and that Robert Siodmak is a man who deserves much more praise than he currently receives. It is still amazing for me to think that this was Lancaster’s debut film. Still, I am honest enough to admit that this is not a perfect film, as the sudden change in attitude of the Swede as he moves from pugilist to numbers man comes across as rather abrupt and not well-developed. But such a shortcoming is more than made up for by Siodmak’s deft direction and the way that Hemingway’s entertaining short story is expanded in reverse. It is among a handful of my favorite noirs.

Rating: 10/10

Other Contenders for 1946: As I said earlier in the review, I find 1946 to be an absolutely monstrous year. There are a number of movies that were very near being chosen. The most iconic film of the year is undoubtedly Frank Capra’s Christmas classic It’s a Wonderful Life. While I’ve reiterated many times that I am not a huge Capra fan, even I have to admit that I love It’s a Wonderful Life. Jimmy Stewart is superb as George Bailey. The winner of Best Pictures in this year, though, was actually William Wyler’s The Best Years of Our Lives and it is the film that made the strongest bid to supplant The Killers. The trio of performances from Fredric March, Dana Andrews and Harold Russell amazes me every time I watch it. William Wyler was such a consistently solid director it is amazing and it seems that I am always listing his films in this “Other Contenders” section.

There were also a number of other noirs from this year that I love and watch regularly. I mentioned Howard Hawks’ The Big Sleep earlier and love the interaction between Bogart and Bacall. Rita Hayworth and Glenn Ford work together in Gilda to create a film that I probably enjoy even more than The Big Sleep. I know many people that find The Postman Always Rings Twice (Tay Garnett) to be boring, but I think that it is another great adaptation of a James M. Cain novel. Lana Turner is irresistible and stunningly gorgeous in this movie. While not necessarily a noir, Alfred Hitchcock’s Notorious contains similar elements and is a top-notch thriller.

There are two other films that I expect will receive support as the best of this year. David Lean’s Great Expectations is a very good film, if not necessarily a favorite of mine. I also suspect that there will be many admirers of the John Ford film My Darling Clementine. Surprisingly, this is one that I do not like. This is something of a shock because I love all of the following things: westerns, John Ford, Henry Fonda, Wyatt Earp, and Doc Holliday. And I’m usually not a stickler for historical accuracy and often willingly overlook writers and directors taking liberties with facts. But being familiar with the actual story of Tombstone and Earp, this one just rubbed me the wrong way. I have never been able to warm to it.

1945: Scarlet Street (Fritz Lang)

Released: December 28, 1945 (U.S.)

Director: Fritz Lang; Screenplay: Dudley Nichols based on he story by Georges de La Fouchardière; Cinematography: Milton R. Krasner; Studio: Universal Pictures; Producers: Walter Wanger and Fritz Lang

Cast: Edward G. Robinson (Christopher Cross), Joan Bennett (Kitty March), Dan Duryea (Johnny Prince), Margaret Lindsay (Millie Ray), Rosalind Ivan (Adele Cross), Jess Barker (David Janeway), Arthur Loft (Dellarowe), Russell Hicks (J.J. Hogarth), Cy Kendall (Nick)

One of the ubiquitous features of film noir is an overbearing sense of darkness, as characters dig themselves into ever-deepening holes from which they can never emerge. In many cases, the predicaments that people find themselves in are beyond their control, playing upon the premise of “fate dealing a bad hand” to certain people. Even more disturbing, however, are the instances in which the audience is allowed to witness a person willfully engaging in behavior that is dangerous and results in them essentially digging their own graves. It can be an unnerving experience to observe someone making choices that you, as a viewer, know to not only be harmful but entirely avoidable. The best films that play upon this premise can make you want to grab the TV and scream at the character you are watching self-destruct, knowing that even if you could connect with the person on the screen, it would do no good.

When properly executed, watching such a film can be a harrowing experience. And no one has ever been better at creating this distressing atmosphere than Fritz Lang. The man could craft movies that by the time you come to the finish, leave you feeling like you’ve come through an abyss yourself. This is precisely the case in his 1945 noir masterpiece Scarlet Street. I know of nobody who would argue that this is Lang’s greatest film (I’ve already reviewed that one in the countdown). But I would contend that this film is every bit as dark and disturbing as anything that this master of notoriously melancholy films ever made. By the time I finished it for the first time, I was torn as to whether I should feel relief, repulsion, or pity. The fact that after many subsequent viewings I’m still not sure what the correction response should be is a testament to how intriguing this film is.

It’s interesting to consider that the three key actors of this movie – Edward G. Robinson, Joan Bennett, and Dan Duryea – had teamed up in 1944 for another Lang noir The Woman in the Window. There are some plot similarities between the two films, but not to the point where they are connected in any sense of Scarlet Street being a sequel. The characters too stand up well individually and are distinct between the two films. Lang, however, is a unifying force and it’s obvious in both films that he is the one in the director’s chair. But while in The Woman in the Window inserts a blatant copout of a finish, Scarlet Street is unrelenting in its gloom until the very last second.

The film opens to a banquet to celebrate the twenty-fifth work anniversary of banker Christopher Cross (Edward G. Robinson). Cross, middle-aged and mild-mannered, immediately comes across as a caring person, as on his way home from the dinner he stops to help a woman who appears to be in the process of being attacked. The woman, Kitty March (Joan Bennett), is beautiful and Chris becomes immediately enamored with her. The two begin an initially benign relationship that soon turns more serious when Kitty mistakenly assumes Chris to be a wealthy artist. After hearing Chris talk of his love of painting, she thinks that he must be an accomplished painter and she in turn tells her “friend” Johnny Prince (Dan Duryea).

Johnny, it turns out, is the very man that Chris rescued Kitty from on the night of their first meeting. While it is never explicitly stated in the film, it becomes quite obvious (at least to me) that Kitty is a prostitute and that Johnny is her pimp and lover. Duryea turns in a truly sleazy performance, as Johnny is the ultimate con-artist, always on the hustle and trying to make money any way he can. When Kitty mentions that Chris is a wealthy artist, Johnny pushes her to leading him on in order for the two of them to extort money from him. Kitty does as she is told, convincing Chris to set her up in an expensive studio apartment.


The truth of Chris’ situation, however, is far from what Kitty believes it to be. He is certainly not wealthy. In in order to maintain payments on the apartment and keep Kitty happy he is forced to resort to embezzling bank funds. The fleece is taken a step further when Johnny finds one of Chris’ paintings in the apartment and decides to try and hock it for some quick cash. Shockingly, the painting begins to cause a stir among the artistic community, resulting in Kitty now assuming the role of a talented artist. Chris ultimately discovers the ruse, but is so charmed by Kitty that he is content to allow her to pawn of his art work as her own. The plan begins to unravel, leading to a thrilling conclusion in which Chris becomes aware of the fact that has been played by Kitty. Making it even worse, he discovers that Johnny has been a puppetmaster of the entire relationship. I don’t want to give away how the entire conclusion of the film plays out, but I will say that none of the three involved in the love triangle are left unharmed. After watching the story come to a close with a murder, an execution, and a life left in shambles, I cannot imagine a viewer coming away completely dispassionate.

The film is based on Jean Renoir’s 1931 film La Chienne. I haven’t seen Renoir’s version, but my understanding is that it deals with the subject in more of a comedic fashion, whereas this one is deadly serious. If the plot sounds a bit convoluted, watching it is not nearly as complicated as it sounds in describing it. There are twists and turns, but nothing stretching into the outlandish. What holds the entire story together is the way that Fritz Lang is able to skillfully make the audience feel sympathy toward Edward G. Robinson’s Chris Cross character. Normally, allowing the leading character to fall for the various dupes and set-ups that Chris is victim to would just make a person come across as overly gullible and dim-witted. Rather than feeling sympathy for such a person, it is more likely there would be embarrassment or possibly even annoyance from the audience. Chris Cross manages to avoid this pitfall. Credit for this must go to both Robinson, who is very good in his role, and Lang, who provides situations to portray Chris as the perfect candidate for such a con.


Extolling the virtues of Edward G. Robinson is probably unnecessary, but he is excellent as the pitiful Chris Cross. This is a man who is gentle, kindhearted and appears to want nothing more than to be appreciated. His wife (Rosalind Ivan) provides no such support, as she is still in love with her deceased first husband. She does nothing but ridicule Chris, making fun of him for his love of painting and constantly comparing him to his saintly predecessor. Lang adds to the pity felt toward Chris, showing him wearing an apron around the house and working tirelessly for an unappreciative wife. After witnessing what he is forced to put up with in dealing with his wife, I came to the point that I wanted him to find a woman that would appreciate his sensitive personality and interests. This is what makes it so depressing to see the lengths that he will go to in order to find such a relationship. In Chris, Kitty and Johnny have the perfect mark.

This movie is dark. Really dark. Dark, dark, dark. It might be cliché as all get out to refer to movie in this way, but if ever the description is accurate it is in this film. It would not be hyperbole to say that this film can be disturbing. Still, as with most noirs, it’s impossible not to hold out hope that at some point Chris is going to realize what is being done to him and somehow repair the situation. But with Lang at the helm, deep down you know it’s unlikely.

Rating: 9/10

Other Contenders for 1945: I have to preface this section by acknowledging that there is a significant film from this year that I have not seen – Roberto Rossellini’s Open City. The only print I had available to me was an overdubbed English version, so I have held out to track down a copy without overdubs. This is a movie that I am intrigued by and look forward to eventually watching. I also should go ahead and acknowledge that in terms of greatness, it seems obvious that Marcel Carné’s Les Enfants du Paradis would be the logical choice. I enjoy the film and can’t deny its stature, but since a large part of my selection comes down to personal taste and enjoyment, I went with a more individual choice. Still, I want to recognize that it is a film that all movie buffs seek out and watch.

The closest competition for me in this year was another grainy noir thriller, Edgar G. Ulmer’s Detour. It’s a B-movie that looks horrible, has some plot issues that are probably laughable to some viewers, but one that packs a heavy emotional punch. This is the best example of a film that fits the description in the first paragraph of this review of a noir where the lead character appears doomed and fated to a life of hardship. This movie (and Scarlet Street, for that matter) is in the public domain, so it is easily found online to watch free of charge. I also really like Michael Curtiz’s Mildred Pierce, the movie that introduced me to the great Joan Crawford.

Other films that I like, but were not serious contenders are Jean Renoir’s The Southerner and Billy Wilder’s The Lost Weekend. I would also guess that Brief Encounter, from director David Lean, will receive much support but I’ve always been rather indifferent toward it.

1944: Double Indemnity (Billy Wilder)

Released: September 6, 1944 (U.S.)

Director: Billy Wilder; Screenplay: Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler based on the novel by James M. Cain; Cinematography: John F. Seitz; Studio: Paramount Pictures; Producers: Buddy G. DeSylva and Joseph Sistrom

Cast: Fred MacMurray (Walter Neff), Barbara Stanwyck (Phyllis Dietrichson), Edward G. Robinson (Barton Keyes), Tom Powers (Mr. Dietrichson), Jean Heather (Lola Dietrichson), Byron Barr (Nino Zachetti), Porter Hall (Mr. Jackson), Fortunio Bonanova (Sam Garlopis), John Philliber (Joe Peters), Richard Gaines (Edward S. Norton, Jr.)

- "I killed him for money and for a woman. I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it?"

Just looking at the notables involved in every facet of this legendary film is enough to make a classic movie fan or noir buff salivate. The cast is superb, combining diverse on-screen personalities that result in maximum tension. With Barbara Stanwyck having already perfected the role of a manipulative, ambitious vixen in earlier pre-Code films, she is the ideal fit as the calculating Phyllis Dietrichson. Fred MacMurray, who until this point had played mostly wholesome, friendly characters, is cast against type as the man who is drawn into Mrs. Dietrichson’s machinations. It is a brilliant casting decision, as although Walter Neff takes an active role in the planning, the persona of MacMurray manages to convey the sneaking suspicion that the insurance agent is in over his head and is being maneuvered. Edward G. Robinson plays Barton Keyes, a claims adjuster who is hell-bent on uncovering any fraudulent claims submitted to the Pacific All-Risk Insurance Co. While not as ruthless as the gangster characters that made Robinson a star, Keyes is every bit as resolute and determined toward his job. The script is based on a novel by one of the godfathers of pulp fiction, James M. Cain. It is adapted for the screen in part by another of the titans of the hardboiled genre, Raymond Chandler, who infuses his trademark snappy dialogue with the dark themes of Cain’s story. The soundtrack is handled by the celebrated Miklós Rózsa. The photography of John Seitz is appropriately dark and shadowy. And the entire affair is overseen by arguably the most versatile director of his era, Billy Wilder.

On paper, it is a can’t-miss experience. On-screen, it manages to be the equal of such impressive credentials.


It is the story of insurance salesman Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray), who finds himself in the middle of a murderous love triangle after doing something as simple as attempting to renew an automobile insurance policy. While on a call to renew of the policy of Mr. Dietrichson, Neff meets his gorgeous wife Phyllis and immediate chemistry is developed between the two. The sexual tension at this first meeting is palpable. As the two begin an affair, Phyllis sheepishly proposes the idea of purchasing life insurance for her husband, then later progresses to planning to kill him in order to collect on the policy. While he at first resists such an evil idea, Walter eventually comes on board, but decides that if they are to go through with it they are going to go for the gusto. If they can make Mr. Dietrichson’s death appear to be an accident, they will collect twice as much through the double indemnity clause.

When Mr. Dietrichon is found dead on railroad tracks, apparently having fallen off the back of a slow-moving train, police are quick to conclude his death the result of an accident. Unfortunately for the plotting couple, Barton Keyes (Edward G. Robinson) and Pacific All-Risk are not as easily convinced. Keyes senses something strange and quickly begins to suspect that Mrs. Dietrichson likely plotted with another man to kill her husband. The relationship between Phyllis and Walter is strained as they try to maintain secrecy and keep Keyes from the truth. Meanwhile, as relations between the couple begin to deteriorate, Walter comes to suspect Phyllis of plotting more than just the murder of her husband.

It may not be my favorite film noir, but Double Indemnity remains one that I would put forth as the quintessential expression of the genre. As I have said previously on this blog, couple this one with Tourneur’s Out of the Past and even a complete neophyte will have a perfect introduction to the elements that have become noir staples. The flashbacks, the shadows, the dark lighting, the femme fatale, the unforgiving determinism – all of these components are on display here. But with Chandler involved in the screenplay and Wilder involved in both the screenplay and direction, there is the unmistakable quality of everything being a bit tongue-in-cheek. This is a story dealing with deadly serious issues, and yet nobody in this film – with the possible exception of the never-tiring Keyes – seems to be taking themselves seriously until it is far too late.

This feeling is due in large part to the sarcastic banter between characters. It is biting, cynical, and at times can feel a bit awkward. Lines like Neff telling Phyllis, “Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket” or “They say all native Californians come from Iowa” at first left me scratching my head wondering where in the heck they came from. I may be in the minority, but I truly do feel like some of the dialogue can be unwieldy. But it does fit with the sarcastic nature of the proceedings for most of the film – at least through the planning stages of the murder – as if there is a joke behind everything.


It is also amazing how tense this film at times can be, when considering that from the opening scenes the audience basically knows the conclusion. Early on we see a wounded Walter Neff stumbling into the insurance office and declaring into Keyes’ Dictaphone that his plan did not work out. Within the opening minutes, the plot that he and Phyllis hatched is outlined and he confesses to committing murder, declaring that he now plans to reveal all to his friend and coworker. Even with all of these details, there are moments in the film that are incredibly suspenseful. Just witness the scene when Keyes unexpectedly barges into Neff’s apartment to discuss the Dietrichson case. Unaware of the visitor, Phyllis pays a visit at the same time. Realizing the potential problem, Neff works to keep the two out of each other’s sight. Because of the opening of the film, we know that Keyes is not going to see Phyllis, and yet there is great tension as Walter tries everything to usher Keyes to an exit. Praise must go directly to Billy Wilder for this, as the direction of scenes such as this reinforces how masterful he could be. He is able to take something as simple as a woman hiding behind an open door and make it thrilling.

The other aspect that I did not initially realize, but that on subsequent viewings came to understand, is the fact that this is a rare example of a film that does not have a single likable character. Phyllis is as devious a character as has ever been committed to celluloid. Although it at times seems as if Walter is being manipulated by Phyllis, it’s impossible to overlook the fact that Walter is a willing participant and contributes significantly to the planning of the murder. Even Keyes, the incorruptible claims adjuster, can be irritating. After all, who likes overbearing insurance employees who will do anything to see to it that no money is ever paid out? The only character I ever remotely felt for was Lola (Jean Heather), Mr. Dietrichson’s daughter, but she is primarily on the periphery. It is this dearth of heroes or likable personalities that makes Double Indemnity such a grim film. No matter how much sarcasm or snappy dialogue is rattled off throughout, it is never enough to overcome the fact that these are unpleasant people all the way around.


Rating: 9/10

Other Contenders for 1944: A solid if unspectacular year for me. There are a number of outstanding films, but nothing to seriously challenge Double Indemnity. The story of To Have and Have Not from director Howard Hawks certainly owes a lot to Casablanca, but it’s still a great film on its own. The interplay between Bogart and Bacall, with this being the first film to ever unite them, is just so hip. Plus, Walter Brennan is always golden whenever in a Howard Hawks film. I don’t feel it’s on the same level as Casablanca, but it’s at least worthy companion or follow-up. Preston Sturges released two very good comedies in this year with The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek and Hail the Conquering Hero. Both star Eddie Bracken, and in my opinion Hail the Conquering Hero is the superior of the two. It is hilarious as Bracken’s Woodrow character tries to convince his hometown that he is _not_ a war hero.

There are also were some very good other noirs released in 1944. Otto Preminger’s mysterious Laura is another noir that is considered to be an essential. I like it, but actually prefer the later Preminger-Dana Andrews film Where the Sidewalk Ends (1950), which shares much of the same cast as Laura. Edward Dmytryk’s Murder, My Sweet has been often parodied, but I still think it’s an entertaining film and that it’s interesting to see Dick Powell’s version of the Philip Marlowe character.

1943: I Walked with a Zombie (Jacques Tourneur)

Released: March 17, 1943

Director: Jacques Tourneur; Screenplay: Curt Siodmak and Ardel Wray based on a story by Inez Wallace; Cinematography: J. Roy Hunt; Studio: RKO Radio Pictures; Producer: Val Lewton

Cast: Tom Conway (Paul Holland), Frances Dee (Betsy Connell), James Ellison (Wesley Rand), Edith Barrett (Mrs. Rand), Christine Gordon (Jessica Holland), James Bell (Dr. Maxwell), Sir Lancelot (Calypso Singer)

Val Lewton oversaw nine horror classics at RKO, working with directors such as Jacques Tourneur, Robert Wise, and Mark Robson, all of whom would go on to prominence in later independent pursuits. However it would not be a stretch to argue that these directors produced some of their best work in these low-budget masterpieces. While each of the films in the cycle has developed loyal supporters, many seems to have settled on 1942’s Cat People as the gem of the bunch. It’s hard to argue that opinion, as the famed pool scene from that film is among my favorite in all of American cinema. But in deciding on my favorite of the Lewton RKO films, I’ll side with the producer himself, who is said to have declared his own personal favorite as the next year’s collaboration with Jacques Tourneur, I Walked with a Zombie.

I’ll even go a step further. Not only do I feel this is the best of Lewton’s films at RKO, it is also quite easily my favorite of 1943. It may have been a B-movie, but the atmosphere and suspense created is the equal of any full scale blockbusters.

The interesting thing about this film is that although classified as being in the horror genre, it’s not a horror film in the usual sense. I guess a more accurate description would be a mystery film with a tinge of the supernatural, but that’s not nearly as catchy or shorthand as simply calling it a horror movie. Still, it’s worth noting that I Walked with a Zombie isn’t unnerving due to violence or gory spectacles, as has become the staples of modern horror. Not only is there not much in the way of violence, there never really appears to be the threat of serious violence taking place. Instead, Tourneur and company combine a mixture of voodoo folklore and eerie use of shadows to craft a story that serves to make the viewer feel more uneasy than outright scared. There is a certainly a supernatural aspect to the film – after all, how could a film with such a title _not_ involve some type of mysticism – but it is different from other monster or zombie movies.


The story is a unique blend, combining a magazine article by Inez Wallace with certain elements of Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre. It follows the Betsy Connell (Frances Dee), a Canadian nurse who is hired by Caribbean plantation owner Paul Holland (Tom Conway) to care for his incapacitated wife. The woman, Jessica Holland (Christine Gordon), is still living, but does nothing more than eat and lay in bed, acting like a – surprise – zombie. After arriving on the island, Betsy also meets Paul’s half-brother Wesley Rand (James Ellison), who speaks disparagingly of his brother and seems to indicate to Betsy that Paul is the reason that Jessica is incapacitated. For his part, Paul does much to reinforce some of these suspicions, talking of death and beautiful things succumbing to it. Even so, Betsy begins to fall for Paul, increasing her determination to bring Jessica out of her paralyzed state.


Traditional medical treatments fail to help her in this mission and so she then begins to turn toward local practices, becoming intrigued by voodoo. The belief in zombies, or living dead beings such as Jessica, is a part of this voodoo tradition. There is a thriving community practicing the art, which traces its origins to the days of slavery on the island, and at the urging of a housemaid, Betsy decides that voodoo medicine may be Jessica’s only hope. This leads to one of the exemplary sequences in the movie, as the nurse leads her barely mobile patient on a clandestine journey through sugarcane fields and plantations in order to reach a voodoo ceremony.

The acting in the film is more than adequate, though it falls well short of amazing. This is unimportant, however, because the true stars of the film are director Jacques Tourneur and cinematographer J. Roy Hunt. I’m worried about becoming a broken record in continually praising the atmosphere of my favorite films, but this is such an integral part of the success of this movie that I have to say it again. It both looks and feels like a mystery set in the Caribbean is supposed to. This film is not just dark in certain scenes, but looks as if a cloud or fog is perpetually blanketing the set. This effect is a major reason why certain sections have the unsettling effect that they do. The previously mentioned journey through the plantation fields in search of the voodoo ceremony is spectacular. Adding to the brilliance of this sequence is Tourneur’s decision to let the elements be the only soundtrack accompanying the voyagers. As Betsy and Jessica make their trek, the howling wind and whistling of the plants amplify the uneasiness. Equally as stunning is the earlier sequence in which Betsy follows a then-unknown Jessica as she roams the plantation in sleepwalking-like trance.


The story also benefits from subtle incorporation of the island culture. The sound of the drum that the natives beat throughout the night gives the sense that Betsy is being led on a doomed march. I also love the manner in which the calypso singer (Sir Lancelot) and his song are handled. While Betsy and Wesley Holland dine at an outdoor café, you can hear the lyrics of the song in the background, recounting the story of the Holland family. You don’t initially see the calypso singer, but based on the reactions of Betsy and Wesley, it is understood that the story being told in the song is significant. Thus, the attention of the audience is drawn to the song and more of the previous story of the family is revealed in this fashion. It is a brilliant way of filling in background of the situation with Jessica and her husband without having a character reveal it in a more cliché manner such as an awkward speech or narration.

This is a short, entertaining, quick-moving thriller. It’s amazing that Lewton and Tourneur were able to make a movie that feels so fully developed while clocking in at only 69-minutes. Lewton produced many other outstanding films and Tourneur would go on to direct a film that I personally rank among my 4-5 favorites of all time (you’ll see it in the countdown very soon), but this is one that I always enjoy revisiting.

Rating: 9/10

Other Contenders for 1943: As I survey the entire roster of films for 1943, I see a lot of quality films but not quite the number of masterpieces as in other years of the 1940s. The films that I’ll highlight here are more personal favorites than films that are normally considered to be the best of the year. I Walked with a Zombie is not the only excellent collaboration between Lewton and Tourneur in this year, as they also teamed up to make The Leopard Man. I have always liked this one, while still considering it to be a little below the quality of I Walked with a Zombie or Cat People. I have to admit to not having seen the third Lewton film of this year, the Mark Robson directed The Seventh Victim, so I can't compare it. While most see it as a U.S. propaganda film, I’ve always had a soft spot for Howard Hawks’ Air Force. It might be overly patriotic and sentimental but for whatever reason these aspects have never bothered me. Alfred Hitchcock also released a legendary film in 1943, with Joseph Cotton starring in Shadow of a Doubt. While I don’t rate it as high as others that I know – I know some people consider it the equal of films like Rear Window and Psycho – I still think it is very well done and at least in the same stratosphere as his other major films. William Wellman’s western The Ox-Bow Incident is also very well done, as Henry Fonda is very good in his lead role. Also worth of recognition, while not director Henri-Georges Clouzot's best film, is the intriguing mystery Le Corbeau.

The strongest contender in this year, however, came from Denmark and famed director Carl Theodor Dreyer. If The Passion of Joan of Arc isn’t proof enough, Day of Wrath confirms that Dreyer could make a film that would just grab you by the gut and never let go. This story of witch trials and accusations is depressing for me, but it’s so well made and captivating that I couldn’t stop watching.

I would imagine that the Powell and Pressburger film The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp will register support as well. I like it, but it has never really been a favorite and was never in contention in my selection process.

1942: Casablanca (Michael Curtiz)

Released: November 26, 1942 (premiere)

Director: Michael Curtiz; Screenplay: Julius J. Epstein, Philip G. Epstein, Howard Koch, Casey Robinson based on the play by Murray Burnett and Joan Allison; Cinematography: Arthur Edeson; Studio: Warner Bros.; Producer: Hal B. Wallis

Cast: Humphrey Bogart (Rick Blaine), Ingrid Bergman (Ilsa Lund), Paul Henreid (Victor Laszlo), Claude Rains (Captain Louis Renault), Sydney Greenstreet (Signor Ferrari), Peter Lorre (Signor Ugarte), Conrad Veidt (Major Heinrich Strasser), Dooley Wilson (Sam), Madeleine LeBeau (Yvonne), Joy Page (Annina Brandel), S.Z. Sakall (Carl the waiter), Curt Bois (Pickpocket), John Qualen (Berger), Leonid Kinskey (Sasha)

Don't tell me you're surprised by the choice? For someone like me, who is completely enamored with classic Hollywood, there was never any doubt. So, here is yet another entry in the “what can I possibly add to the volumes already written on this film?” category. The obvious answer is not a whole lot, at least in terms of scholarly film analysis and interpretation. All I intend to do in making Casablanca my runaway selection as the best of 1942 is recount my own personal experiences with this classic and why it has remained possibly the most versatile film in my viewing activity.

By versatility, I am referring to the fact that this is a movie that I can watch at any time, regardless of my mood. It doesn’t matter whether I am happy or sad, depressed or in high spirits, tired or wide awake. It can cheer you up, it can calm you down. It can make you smile or be quite touching. I know firsthand how comforting it can be, as I can still vividly remember putting it on the first night I returned from the hospital after a very scary episode of what I would ultimately discover was cancer. Casablanca is like a safety net of sorts for me and thus will always have a significant place in my life.

The background on the conception and production of the film is legendary and is probably well known by most readers. Still, it is always amusing to remember that this film that has become so iconic was originally viewed as just another movie. There are legends about key roles being offered and refused – George Raft as Rick, the even more shocking possibility of Ronald Reagan in the lead, the push for William Wyler to direct. Judge for yourself the veracity of such claims, but true or not they certainly reinforce the recognition that producer Hal Wallis ultimately found the perfect combination of actors and director. In Michael Curtiz he had a man perfectly suited to oversee the studio setting in which nearly all of the scenes were shot. And with a cast that resembled representatives at the soon-to-be-established United Nations – according to that fount of knowledge and sometimes accurate resource Wikipedia, only three credited actors were Americans – Wallis and Curtiz were able to create an atmosphere in which each performance appeared to one-up the other.


Leaving the appeal of the story aside, the key characteristic of the film that has always stuck out to me is the number of truly great performances that are on display in this film. This applies to roles of all sizes, be it the top-billed or the supporting cast. Humphrey Bogart is the epitome of cool as Rick Blaine, the expatriate American who runs the popular café. He does his best to make it clear that his number one priority in life is looking out for himself, and this is articulated by both words and physical nonchalance. Ingrid Bergman is irresistible as Rick’s love interest Ilsa, who reunites with him in Casablanca and completely wrecks the life that Rick has crafted for himself. As Ilsa’s husband Victor Laszlo, Paul Henreid is determined and fully committed to the cause of France. While maybe not as impressive as other performances, Sidney Greenstreet is sufficiently immoral as Signor Ferrari, the club operator and self-styled rackets boss. Claude Rains is the French Captain working with the Nazis, but Rains makes the Captain so likable that such an indiscretion is overlooked. The interaction between Rick and Captain Renault is unendingly witty. They appear to be at the same time adversaries and the best of friends. Then there is Peter Lorre playing the excitable knockaround guy Ugarte, a criminal who is both sleazy and sweet-talking. In his very limited time in the film, Lorre very well may be the most entertaining. Whenever I think of Lorre I always think of him as Ugarte telling Rick that “...just because you despise me, you are the only one I trust.”


These central performances are routinely celebrated, and rightfully so. But the lesser roles are what really add subtle flourishes that make the city of Casablanca feel alive. In this case I am thinking of characters like Carl, the waiter at Rick’s. While nearly everyone else in Casablanca views the city as something of a purgatory on the way to freedom, Carl seems to be always cheerful. His interaction with various characters is amusing, with his sarcasm coming through with biting one-liners. Just witness his declaration that he decided on his own to give Major Strasser the best table, “knowing he was German and that he would take it anyway.” There is Sasha, the bartender who woos the women who come into the club. It’s impossible not to smile when he tells a spurned lover or Rick’s, “Yvonne, I love you, but he pays me.” Dooley Wilson, Rick’s most loyal friend and employee, is delightful. Such minor characters, although not playing substantial roles in the story, feel fully developed. They are not just included to take up space on the screen, but instead enhance the movie.

The number of enduring scenes and quotable dialogue are innumerable. Who can forget the dueling national anthems, with the passionate singing from the French patrons at Rick’s? Or how about Captain Renault leading his officers into the café and feigning indignation as he tells Rick, “I am shocked… shocked, to find that gambling is going on here!” While I could go on for days citing my favorite moments and exchanges, I won’t indulge myself. But I do think that naming such diverse scenes as being so memorable speaks to why this movie is so appealing to me and so many others. I already mentioned how I can put this movie on at any time and be drawn into the story. This is because there are so many different things to concentrate on. It can be viewed as a good ol’ fashioned love story, and may well be the best of its kind. You can watch it as a war movie, with a story documenting Nazi resistance. There are many moments of comedy, such as the above raid by Renault or scenes involving Sasha and Carl. Versatile is the word I keep coming back to.

I’ll close things with another fond memory I have of watching the film, this time in a group setting. I am a young guy, so it was only a few years ago that I was sitting in a college classroom for a “History Through Film” course. Casablanca was one of the films selected to be shown, which was great for me as it was already one of my personal favorites and I had seen it many times. Sadly, some folks in the class had not already seen it or had only a vague knowledge of the film. What I remember about that day is that after running a bit long with the lecture, the professor realized that the movie was not going to be done by the end of class. So as we neared the normal ending time, he told the class that if someone needed to leave that they could go ahead but anyone who wanted to stay and finish the film was more than welcome. Not a single person left. It just underlines what a timeless film this is.



Rating: 10/10

Other Contenders for 1942: There was never any doubt about what the choice was for this year. Still, Ernst Lubitsch’s classic comedy To Be or Not to Be is so good that I almost feel guilty about the fact that it doesn’t somehow make the countdown and get a full review of its own. It is nearly as good as Trouble in Paradise, which I consider to be Lubitsch’s greatest film. This was also a year that fell within the stretch of time in which Preston Sturges was white hot. Palm Beach Story is another outstanding comedy written and directed by Sturges. While I don’t think it is Sturges’ best film, the “weenie king” scene is as clever as comedy writing gets. The Jacques Tourneur-Val Lewton combination starts off strong with Cat People – that scene in the swimming pool is still chilling! The Magnificent Ambersons is an interesting movie to evaluate, as there are two decidedly opposite camps. One group considers it to be Welles’ true masterpiece and the other finds it completely uninspiring. I’m somewhere in the middle – as the studio cut it and released it, it never manages to reach the heights of Citizen Kane or Touch of Evil for me, but it’s still an interesting story. One can only wonder how Welles himself envisioned the film to be. And finally, while I don’t feel that Michael Curtiz’s Yankee Doodle Dandy is as good a film as the others mentioned, James Cagney’s performance is incredible and deserves to be mentioned. The man was just so multitalented.