#4: Criss Cross (Robert Siodmak, 1949)

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)

That closing shot continues to stick with me. The screen cap that closes this write-up really says it all. It not only reinforces what a visual stylist that Robert Siodmak could be, but it sums up what film noir is all about. When I think of noir and the doomed relationships that populate its greatest films, that image epitomizes it.

If there was a dark horse for the number one slot in the countdown, this would have been it. I couldn’t quite bring myself to move it to that level, over unmitigated cinematic classics that occupy the top three spots, but I was certainly tempted. I consider it to be the crowning achievement of Siodmak’s career, even if it is often overshadowed by earlier efforts like The Killers and The Spiral Staircase. What stuck with me most in this latest viewing was how unsettled the feelings of Steve are throughout the story. He continually refers to how something “was in the cards” and how fate seems to have dealt him a rotten hand, yet at other moments he tells people that he will “make his own decisions.” It’s as if he knows that his own wrong choices are leading him down this path, yet he wants to believe that it is destiny.

Film noir at its finest…

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There has already been a Siodmak-Lancaster collaboration included in this countdown, as Lancaster’s screen debut The Killers was selected at #5 in the series. 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.

#20: Scarlet Street (Fritz Lang, 1945)

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)

Going with what I did for the entry for White Heat, I so no reason to craft a completely new essay for this entry in the countdown, Fritz Lang’s Scarlet Street, when I already feel like I firmly laid out my thoughts on the film in my annual countdown. So, I repost that write-up here. My feelings have not changed since it was first published. In terms of the countdown, I originally slotted Scarlet Street closer to the Top 15, but subsequent re-watches of other films pushed it only slightly lower in the list. It’s no matter though, as the Top 20 is still very lofty praise. I personally rank it as not only the best noir, but the best film of any kind, that Lang ever made outside of Germany.

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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.

#31: Too Late for Tears (Byron Haskin, 1949)

Released: August 13, 1949

Director: Byron Haskin; Screenplay: Roy Huggins; Cinematography: William C. Mellor; Music: R. Dale Butts; Producer: Hunt Stromberg; Studio: Hunt Stromberg Productions

Cast: Lizabeth Scott (Jane Palmer), Don DeFore (Don Blake), Dan Duryea (Danny Fuller), Arthur Kennedy (Alan Palmer), Kristine Miller (Kathy Palmer), Barry Kelley (Lt. Breach), David Clarke (Sharber)

- “You haven’t anything to hide, have you?”

To me, Byron Haskin’s Too Late for Tears is the quintessential underappreciated B-noir of the 1940s. Boasting much of the low-budget splendor that Detour is often praised for, Too Late for Tears takes shoddy production, an over-the-top pulpy script, and direction and set design aiming to make things as dark as possible, and ends up producing one of my all-time favorite noirs. In terms of low budget masterpieces, it ranks among the very best of the genre, only slightly behind more celebrated classics like the previously mentioned Detour.

The story is another instance of one coincidence leading to unforeseeable ramifications for those involved. When Alan Palmer (Arthur Kennedy) and his wife Jane (Lizabeth Scott) are driving through Hollywood on their way to the party of a business acquaintance, they have a spat over the host’s wife. As a result of their argument, the car swerves to the side of the road and its lights begin flashing. The flashing lights are mistaken by an oncoming car as a signal, so as that car passes it tosses a bag of cash into the Palmer’s backseat and keeps going. Opening the bag, the couple discover that it is stuffed full of cash. Before they have time to think, the car that was actually supposed to receive the money emerges. Acting quickly, Jane jumps into the driver’s seat and takes off. When they make it home safely, Alan argues that they should turn the money over to the police immediately, realizing the potential trouble that they could find themselves in. Jane, on the other hand, argues that they should hold onto the cash. She manages to sweet talk her husband into holding onto the money for at least a few days and they stash the bag in a Union Station locker.

Thinking that they are only keeping the money until they decide what to do with it, Alan is shocked to learn that while he is away his wife is going on lavish spending sprees. Still, Jane manages to keep Alan at bay concerning the money, but her machinations are complicated when corrupt police detective Danny Fuller (Dan Duryea) pays her a visit and makes it clear that he knows she has the money. Not wanting to be completely cut out from the score, Jane cuts a deal with Fuller – she’ll split the money with him. Eventually, not even this will appease the rapacious Jane, as she knows that Alan will never consent to such a deal. So rather than drop everything, she instead conspires with Fuller to murder her husband and ultimately end up with all the money for herself.

I won’t go into any greater specifics, as to do so would detract a bit from the experience of a first-time viewer. If you enjoy a pulpy tale, with plenty of twists to keep the unsuspecting viewer guessing, then you’ll certainly enjoy this story. The actual twists and turns, though, aren’t as important as is the incredibly simple premise I outlined earlier – the idea of how one chance event, and how one responds to it, can be dramatically alter one’s life. Alan’s initial reaction is to turn the bag of money over to the police and be done with it. He spots what a trap the money could be. But for Jane, who hides her aspirations for wealth and affluence under her façade of the happy housewife, the bag being tossed into the backseat is the catalyst that unleashes her fantasies. Her ambition starts out sensible enough, as she pleads with her husband claiming that she simply wants them to enjoy a life without worrying about finances. It seems a reasonable argument. But the minute that her plans are threatened, it becomes obvious that her ambition is completely unbridled. This underlying, gradually building ambition is sold perfectly by Lizabeth Scott. And it’s not an easy role to sell, as Jane is not initially identified as a likely femme fatale. She seems like a traditional postwar homemaker who is simply tempted by a stash of cash. As she morphs into such a ruthless, conniving personality, it is a bit shocking.

Despite the great qualities possessed by the film, it is yet another in the long line of noirs that lacks a proper DVD release. In fact, it is a public domain film that can be watched around the Internet, with the best version I have come across being at Archive.org. It can also be obtained in budget film noir box sets, but the quality of nearly all of these is downright horrible. Because of the level of production at the time of it was filmed, it is a movie – again, similar to something like Detour – that is never going to have pristine quality. Still, it deserves much better exposure than it currently receives. Another tragically under-seen noir that should be required viewing for all film noir fanatics.

#100: The Woman in the Window (Fritz Lang, 1944)

Released: November 3, 1944

Director: Fritz Lang; Screenplay: Nunnally Johnson based on a story by J.H. Wallis; Cinematography: Milton R. Krasner; Music: Arthur Lange; Producer: Nunnally Johnson; Studio: RKO

Cast: Edward G. Robinson (Professor Richard Wanley), Joan Bennett (Alice Reed), Raymond Massey (District Attorney Frank Lalor), Edmund Breon (Dr. Michael Barkstane), Dan Duryea (Heidt/Tim, the Doorman), Thomas E. Jackson (Inspector Jackson), Dorothy Peterson (Mrs. Wanley), Arthur Loft (Claude Mazard/Frank Howard/Charlie the Hatcheck Man)

“I don't want to make trouble for anybody. I can, of course, but I don't want to…”

I don’t believe there could be a more fitting way to open a Top 100 noir countdown than with a movie from the master himself, Fritz Lang. Of all the names one could propose as being the preeminent director of the genre (or style, depending on your definition, but we won’t really get into that), Lang would have to be on any reasonable shortlist. If he’s not the greatest, he’s at least near the top. And so we begin this countdown with a Lang noir that most observers actually rate much higher than me. As a mystery, The Woman in the Window exceeds nearly any other movie in all of film noir – that is, until the conclusion that explains why such a well-made and well-acted film checks in at #100 on this countdown rather than in a much higher position.

It is impossible to discuss the plot of this movie, or analyze it at all, without giving away major spoilers. I will try not to obviously give away everything, but I’m at least giving fair warning right now that it’s possible. The focus here is Professor Richard Wanley (Edward G. Robinson), a middle-aged man, bored with life, whose only excitement seems to come from the philosophical discussions he engages in with friends his swanky social club. When Wanley becomes enamored with a painting of a young girl in a nearby storefront, they chide him about his new fascination with a young lady. Later that night, when Wanley stops to view the painting again, he suddenly sees the woman herself (Joan Bennett) reflected in the storefront glass. Stunned, the married Wanley buys the beautiful girl a drink and then goes back to her apartment. Suddenly, Wanley finds himself in a dire situation, when Alice’s boyfriend storms the apartment and Wanley must kill hims in self defense. Scrambling, they resolve to dump the body, but things do not go smoothly and clues are left behind in the confusion. As the police begin to piece together the clues, Wanley and Alice also must deal with extortion demands from the dead man’s bodyguard (Dan Duryea) who threatens to go the police unless he is paid off.


It is a wonderful set up for a movie that plays like an edge-of-your-seat thriller in parts. Wanley’s exertions to hide the body, and witnessing the clues that he inadvertently leaves for future investigators in the process, lay the groundwork for a fall from grace for the mild-mannered doctor. The paranoia experienced by Wanley as he watches firsthand the murder investigation unfold, is gripping, on par with anything that Alfred Hithcock did. The problem, again, is in the conclusion. Everything is moving inexorably toward Wanley reaching a breaking point, leaving everyone wondering how he will find a way out, and then… the letdown. Lang himself later tried to justify the dream scenario, arguing that the movie was truly about psychology, not necessarily evil. Is that a feasible argument? Perhaps, but it still doesn’t erase the feeling of witnessing a complete copout to end the film.

The story and most of the cast is similar to the far superior Scarlet Street, which Lang released a year later. Perhaps that is why I feel so strongly about the deficiencies of this film – when you compare it to Scarlet Street, it becomes obvious that the happy ending is indefensible. Still, this is a film that deserves a place in a countdown like this because it is such a great ride up until the conclusion. With Fritz Lang, Edward G. Robinson, Joan Bennett, and Dan Duryea, all of the ingredients are there for an all-time classic. And they managed to take the first steps in that direction, but ultimately produced a compromised near-masterwork.

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.

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.