#16: Fritz Lang

- "“Each picture has some sort of rhythm which only the director can give it. He has to be like the captain of a ship.”

Everyone reading this will likely agree that if Fritz Lang never came to the United States in 1936, his output in his native Germany alone would have still been strong enough to warrant placement in a countdown of this scope. Indeed, when you see my ranking of his films below, the top three all come from Lang’s pre-Hollywood days. But I am guessing that most people reading this are also similar to me in that they first came to Lang through his much more widely-available – and arguably more accessible – Hollywood films. Once I made my way through those that were easier to come by, it was inevitable to move on to his more critically acclaimed early days and see how the Lang legend was built. It was surprisingly difficult for me to try and compare and rank the films from these two distinct periods in Lang’s work, particularly when factoring in the fables and tales that have grown concerning the production of many of Lang’s early films. In terms of that hard-to-define quality of “greatness,” few if any of Lang’s American movies can trump those from Germany. Even so, I do love Lang’s American work, almost as much as his earlier German period, and in terms of favorites I place the best of his American work quite high.

These two separate phases make Lang’s complete body of work all the more fascinating, in my opinion, as it is interesting to observe the similarities and differences between them. In visual terms, there is no question that the more experimental and interesting work was done in Germany, as the cinematography and camera work in masterpieces like Metropolis and Destiny are still a marvel to behold almost a century later. His pictures of the 1920s display flair and style that almost immediately identify them as Fritz Lang films. I acknowledge that Metropolis is the greater and better film, but I have recently fallen in love with Destiny and am amazed at how beautifully eerie the cinematography is in that one. It is absolutely brilliant.

His best work on the western side of the Atlantic unquestionably centered on highly skilled crime dramas. Focusing less on technical artistry and experimentation, dark narratives and storytelling characterize these films. Taking a cue from what I consider the best movie he ever made – 1931’s M – Lang became a master at tackling dark subject matter, and even more impressively dark characters. The leading men and women in Lang movies like Fury, You Only Live Once, Scarlet Street, The Big Heat, and others seem like people predestined to hardship and suffering. Even the most hardened, bitter characters are rendered at least somewhat sympathetic in the way that Lang and his collaborators portray them. This ability is a main reason why Lang is one of the few men of the era who can stake a legitimate claim to being the greatest director of film noir. I don’t quite personally give him that mantle, but he is very close.

The sheer number of outstanding films in his total filmography might be the most impressive thing. I have ranked 20, which is nowhere near his entire output, and there honestly is not a bad movie in the entire list. Not all of them are M or Metropolis, and not all of them would be considered favorites, but all are enjoyable and worth seeking out.

1. M (1931)
2. Metropolis (1927)
3. Destiny (1921)
4. Scarlet Street (1945)
5. The Big Heat (1953)
6. While the City Sleeps (1956)
7. Die Nibelungen (1924)
8. Spies (1928)
9. Testament of Dr. Mabuse (1933)
10. Clash by Night (1952)
11. House by the River (1950)
12. Dr. Mabuse the Gambler (1922)
13. You Only Live Once (1937)
14. The Blue Gardenia (1953)
15. The Woman in the Window (1944)
16. Hangmen Also Die! (1943)
17. Fury (1936)
18. Western Union (1941)
19. Man Hunt (1941)
20. Secret Beyond the Door (1948)

Up next: We go BLIND! Now things will be like countdowns of the past. Folks making submitting their own lists will not suffer, as I am highly unlikely to roll out a director that people are completely unfamiliar with. Plus, with two days for each entry, there is plenty of time. So the tension mounts! (LOL)

#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.

#22: The Big Heat (Fritz Lang, 1953)

Released:October 14, 1953

Director: Fritz Lang; Screenplay: Sydney Boehm based on a story by William P. McGivern; Cinematography: Charles Lang; Music: Henry Vars; Producer: Robert Arthur; Studio: Columbia Pictures

Cast: Glenn Ford (Det. Sgt. Dave Bannion), Gloria Grahame (Debby Marsh), Lee Marvin (Vince Stone), Jeanette Nolan (Bertha Duncan), Alexander Scourby (Mike Lagana), Jocelyn Brando (Katie Bannion), Adam Williams (Larry), Kathryn Eames (Bannion’s Sister-in-law), Chris Alcaide (George Rose), Peter Whitney (Tierney), Willis Bouchey (Lt. Ted Wilks), Robert Burton (Det. Gus Burke), Howard Wendell (Police Commissioner Holmes), Michael Granger (Hugo), Dorothy Green (Lucy Chapman), Carolyn Jones (Doris), Ric Roman (Baldy), Dan Seymour (Mr. Atkins), Edeith Evanson (Selma Parker)

It is universally accepted that the most important films in the career of legendary director Fritz Lang came in his native Germany. Working for nearly fifteen years in German cinema, Lang mastered silent cinema and early forays into talking pictures. The classics in his filmography from this era alone are enough to make a cineaste salivate – Metropolis, Spione, Die Nibelunge, the Dr. Mabuse films, M, to name just a handful. Historically speaking, by the time that he made it to Hollywood in 1936, his legacy was already so well-established that anything else he did would be the proverbial icing on the cake. Even without any English-speaking films, he would be remembered as an all-time great. Fortunately for noir junkies like myself (and likely everyone else reading this), Lang did not simply live off of his reputation. His influence hangs over nearly all of the genre or style that we know as film noir, and a number of his movies in the 40s and 50s remain part of the noir canon. If, as many contend, he did not approach the greatness of his best German pictures, at the very least it has to be said that he still made a number of outstanding dramas and crime films. And The Big Heat just might be the best film that he ever made in Hollywood. If it isn’t, it is at the very least #2.


The Big Heat is a movie that begins at full-speed and never lets off the throttle. The action starts right away, as within the opening minutes a cop named Duncan blows his brains out in his front parlor. As a parting gift to the world, he leaves behind a note that details the payoff money that he and other officers have been receiving from crime boss Mike Lagana (Alexander Scourby). But Duncan’s wife (Jeanette Nolan) finds the note and before contacting authorities about her husband’s suicide, she calls minions of Lagana to try and parlay the incriminating note into a personal payoff. None of this is known to homicide detective Dave Bannion (Glenn Ford) and he begins an investigation that he believes will be a routine suicide. But something doesn’t feel right to him about it all and despite warnings from his superiors to leave it alone, Bannion keeps digging. Soon he uncovers a girlfriend of Duncan’s and continues his inquiry. When the girlfriend (Dorothy Green) turns up murdered soon after speaking with Bannion, he becomes even more suspicious. He wants to pursue things even further but is continually held back by superiors in the police department. When clues begin to point him toward Lagana, Bannion amps up the pressure and confronts the gangster face-to-face. In response, Lagana plants a car bomb intended to kill the detective. Instead, the bomb kills Bannion’s wife (Jocelyn Brando) and sets Det. Bannion off on the ultimate vendetta. Removed from the police force, Bannion pursues Lagana and his minions like Vince Stone (Lee Marvin) for personal vengeance. Eventually teaming with Lagana-Stone gun moll Debby Marsh (Gloria Grahame), Bannion remains determined to play things out to the dangerous conclusion.

Few directors handled the theme of revenge as well as did Fritz Lang. Both in Germany and in Hollywood, many of his greatest films dealt specifically with characters seeking vengeance. In The Big Heat, though, the obvious question becomes when does a quest for vengeance go too far? Dave Bannion has been hurt as no man should ever be hurt. His wife is murdered, his young daughter left to grow up without a mother. He is justifiably looking to get even. No one could blame him for going on his bloody campaign. But the collateral damage that accumulates in the process is extensive – other lives are lost, for which Bannion seems to have little regard. What makes Bannion’s actions all the more ambiguous is the fact that everyone else in the city appears capable of equal callousness and violence. Does this, in turn, justify whatever Bannion has to do to Lagana and his gang? It seems admirable to dismantle the Lagana organization, but it seems odd for a former by-the-book investigator to suddenly turn into a ruthless vigilante. And perhaps that is what is to be taken from the tale. In The Big Heat, Lang creates a world in which a very thin line separates the honorable and principled in society from the most ruthless. They are all connected in some way. Even more importantly, Lang shows how quickly one can appear to move from one side of that line to the other. Bannion, once a hard-working detective, quickly transfers that same doggedness and determination to his vendetta.


Earlier in the week, I admitted that Glenn Ford was not the strongest actor of his day, but Dave Bannion is probably his most exemplary performance. He gives Bannion the right amount of menacing attitude without going too over the top. The real standout performances come from those on the other side of the law, meaning Lee Marvin and especially Gloria Grahame. Marvin is the tough guy who thinks he will do anything to prove his worth to Mr. Lagana, although when he comes face-to-face with Bannion he sheepishlky backs down. Grahame, meanwhile, is a wisecracking dame who stays with boyfriend Vince because it allows her to drink and shop nonstop. Grahame steals every scene that she is in, and in my opinion, manages to turn Debby into the hero of the film.

#66: Clash by Night (Fritz Lang, 1952)

Released: June 18, 1952

Director: Fritz Lang; Screenplay: Alfred Hayes based on the play by Clifford Odets; Cinematography: Nicholas Musuraca; Music: Roy Webb; Producers: Jerry Wald and Norman Krasna; Studio: RKO

Cast: Barbara Stanwyck (Mae Doyle D’Amato), Paul Douglas (Jerry D’Amato), Robert Ryan (Earl Pfeiffer), Marilyn Monroe (Peggy), Keith Andes (Joe Doyle), Silvio Minciotti (Papa D’Amato), J. Carrol Naish (Uncle Vince),

- “Listen to me, blondie. The woman I marry, she don't take me on a wait and see basis. I ain't a dress she's bringin' home from the store to see if it fits and if it don't, back it goes. In my book marriage is a two-way proposition - you're just as much responsible as I am. So, that little eye is gonna roam... if what you think is Joe's alright until somethin' better comes along... honey, you better take another streetcar.”

A fitting film for Valentine's Day, no? (If you could see my face now, you would see a sly grin...)

At any rate, I have the same reaction to Fritz Lang’s Clash by Night almost every time I watch it. I tend to come away from each viewing with a positive memory of the film, meaning that each time I re-watch it I go in with the idea that it is undoubtedly among the best American films Lang ever made. Then, about midway through, I start to wonder what kind of fumes I’ve been sniffing, as I start to question how I could be placing this in company with Scarlet Street and The Big Heat. And then, with about 30 minutes to go in the film, I do yet another about-face and return to my original position that Clash by Night really is outstanding work from a master. Its placement in the countdown should make clear that my ultimate judgment comes down closer to masterwork than middling, but I stop a bit short of classifying it as top-flight Lang. As strong as that final half hour is, I have to admit to finding myself wandering at times through the middle.

But… Wow, what a potent conclusion, like a runaway train that you’re watching steaming straight for the end of the tracks. It might not actually go completely over that edge, but it comes distressingly close.


This is yet another noir based on a play, this time with the source material being written by the great Clifford Odets, who himself would write a few classic Hollywood screenplays. The storyline is deceptively simple: Mae Doyle (Barbara Stanwyck) returns to her hometown fishing village after a failed marriage in the big city, staying with her brother Joe (Keith Andes) and his fiancée Peggy (Marilyn Monroe). World weary and cynical, Mae surprisingly falls for naïve fishing boat owner Jerry D’Amato (Paul Douglas). The two are married, have a child, and appear to living the ideal small town life. But that façade is shattered when Mae shockingly becomes involved in an affair with Jerry’s longtime friend – and sometimes patronizing companion – Earl (Robert Ryan). Having been a softy his entire life, akin to a big lovable teddy bear, Jerry suddenly snaps when he learns of the affair. Fearing he might due something awful, such as kill Earl, he opts instead to leave with his child.

The themes and implications of the film have been written about by far more astute analysts and scholars than me. For a great analysis, I’ll go ahead and direct people to a review from Tony D’Ambra at FilmsNoir.net. Tony is spot on in his reading of the themes, particularly regarding the finale. Clash by Night is, most of all, about redemption, particularly for Mae. Again, check out Tony’s review, as any further analysis by me would mirror the thoughts that he has already penned.


Instead, I just have some general observations that came to me while watching this for the third or fourth time (I’m not sure which). First, it validated the theory I put forth in the entry for On Dangerous Ground, where I wondered if maybe my lukewarm feelings toward Robert Ryan are more a reflection of the characters he played than antipathy toward him as an actor. Earl Pfeiffer is a movie character that I genuinely hate. Even before the affair is revealed, he’s the kind of guy that comes off as absolutely insufferable – always complaining, throwing out backhanded compliments with a smug smile on his face. I know that there are noir villains who do much worse things than him – the usual murders and whatnot that populate noir – but I can’t think of a single one I dislike more than Earl Pfeiffer. Second, that short monologue that is at the beginning of this article is one of great slices of dialog I’ve yet come across. It’s delivered by Joe Doyle (Keith Andes) to Peggy (Marilyn Monroe) right after Mae has left to run off with Earl. Perfectly written, perfectly delivered, it makes an otherwise routine performance from Keith Andes stick out to me. Third, and finally, if anyone needed any further proof that Marilyn Monroe could act, I think that her supporting, albeit minor, performance here should do the job.

The bona fides of Lang and cinematographer Nicholas Musuraca are known by everyone reading this, so there really is little need go into detail on their work. I will just acknowledge that they capture the feel of a small fishing town quite well, particularly in the opening sequences of the film. You really get the sense that everything in the town centers on fishing, canning, and everything that goes with it, contributing a unique atmosphere.

#97: The Blue Gardenia (Fritz Lang, 1953)

Released: March 23, 1953

Director: Fritz Lang; Screenplay: Charles Hoffman based on a story by Vera Caspary; Cinematography: Nicholas Musuraca; Music: Raoul Kraushaar; Producer: Alex Gottlieb; Studio: Warner Brothers

Cast: Anne Baxter (Norah Larkin), Richard Conte (Casey Mayo), Ann Sothern (Crystal Carpenter), Raymond Burr (Harry Prebble), George Reeves (Capt. Sam Haynes), Jeff Donnell (Sally Ellis), Richard Erdman (Al), Ruth Storey (Rose Miller), Ray Walker (Homer), Nat “King” Cole (Himself)

-“If you want your picture in the paper, you’ll have to go out and kill somebody first.”

Released the same year as the legendary The Big Heat, it is not surprising that The Blue Gardenia remains an afterthought in the filmography of Fritz Lang. And deservedly so, as it is overshadowed by other noir gems like the aforementioned The Big Heat, Clash By Night and more (but we’ll get to those in due time…). To most people, this may indeed be the most minor of Fritz Lang films, and they may be shocked to see it ranked above more-acclaimed efforts like The Woman in the Window. I’ve always felt it to be underrated, although far from being a flawless noir.

Knowing the principals involved, the thing that has always struck me about The Blue Gardenia is that everyone had previously done better work, or would do so shortly thereafter. As discussed in the opening paragraph, Lang had already made masterpieces on two continents and by this point was approaching the twilight of his career. Anne Baxter's career-defining performance in All About Eve was behind her and she would never approach those heights. Richard Conte was a noir veteran and while his career was not declining, his banner performances would come elsewhere. If Raymond Burr is not immediately recognized as Perry Mason, then it is likely that he is remembered as Thorwald the murderer in Hitchcock’s Rear Window. Nicholas Musuraca previously served as director of photography on legendary noirs like Out of the Past, The Spiral Staircase and others. Even Vera Caspary, author of the source story, achieved greater heights with Laura. With this outlook, then The Blue Gardenia could justifiably be relegated to second-tier status. But I think such a designation speaks more to the level of accomplishments of everyone involved than to the inferiority of the film.


The familiar theme of one misguided decision snowballing into ever-expanding problems is the key to this story. After receiving a letter from her fiancé in Korea that ends their relationship, Norah Larkin (Anne Baxter) feels depressed. When someone calls for a blind date with her roommate, the lonely Norah instead accepts the invitation and meets the dominant Harry Prebble (Raymond Burr) at The Blue Gardenia nightclub. Drinking her sorrows away, Norah gets completely hammered and is easily lured back to Prebble’s apartment. When Harry begins making unwelcome advances, Norah strikes him over the head and then blacks out. The next morning, out of the apartment, she shockingly learns that Harry has been found dead. When energetic reporter Casey Mayo (Richard Conte) takes up the case, publishing a letter calling for the murderers to come forward, Norah makes contact with him. Offering to use the newspaper to protect her, Casey gets Norah to open up to him. Eventually, she is arrested anyway and Casey then begins to fight to prove her innocence.


Fritz Lang would later dismiss the film as his simply fulfilling a contract, which may be how he approached it. The results are a bit more impressive than that, although the limitations of the screenplay and story mean that no matter how much effort Lang put forth, the movie would only have gone so far. Things are not as suspenseful as the characters seem to believe and the conclusion could have been improved by not being so abrupt. This seems to be a common complaint among reviews that I have read of the film – that for whatever reason, be it money, time or Lang’s effort, the movie is wrapped far too quickly. It’s a criticism I agree with, but not to the point that it invalidates the entire effort. I like the overall atmosphere created in the film, which is different from typical noirs. In fact, an argument can be made that this only marginally qualifies as a film noir. It is a nice snapshot of a time and era, utilizing simple things like the interplay between roommates who live together and long for the return of boyfriends from Korea. We get to see the nightclub environment and hear the melodies of songsters like Nat King Cole. It might not be the dark atmosphere most are accustomed to in film noir, but it is interesting nonetheless. Plus, any excuse to watch Richard Conte in the 40s or 50s should always be taken advantage of!

Conventional wisdom says it's a bit of a stretch to slot The Blue Gardenia higher than such classics as The Woman in the Window or Act of Violence. But that's the beauty of being the one making all the picks - I can go with pure personal preference!

#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.

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.

1931: M (Fritz Lang)

Released: May 11, 1931 (Germany)

Director: Fritz Lang; Screenplay: Fritz Lang, Thea von Harbou, Paul Falkenberg, Adolf Jansen; Cinematography: Fritz Arno Wagner; Studio: Vereinigte Star-Film GmbH; Producer: Seymour Nebenzal

Cast: Peter Lorre (Hans Beckert), Otto Wernicke (Inspector Karl Lohmann), Gustaf Gründgens (Schränker), Theodore Loos (Inspector Groeber)

Released nearly 80 years ago, Fritz Lang’s first foray into talking films is every bit as thrilling as it surely must have been upon its premiere. It is rightfully viewed as the granddaddy of all of the serial killer films that have been made since, but few have even approached the heights reached by this 1931 masterpiece. While Lang skillfully explores the psyche of a seemingly average man who impulsively kills, and the circumstances that have driven him to murder, he manages to navigate his film into territory that its successors never effectively manage. To be sure, M is the story of a serial killer. But the true strength of the film, and what separates it from so many imitators, lies in Lang’s ability to construct an authentic city that is palpably stricken by terror. He allows the audience to witness how different segments of this society – rich and poor, underworld and upper, legal and illegal – respond to this fear and how each attempt to solve the mystery.

Fritz Lang was already a critically-acclaimed director, having made some of the most celebrated silent films of the 1920s. Even now many of his early silents such as Metropolis, Dr. Mabuse the Gambler, and Spies are still considered among the best work in the history of German cinema. Metropolis is even mentioned among the greatest films ever made. After making just two films in his homeland in the 1930s (this and 1933’s The Testament of Dr. Mabuse), Lang would move onto a highly successful career in Hollywood that lasted twenty years and produced classics such as Scarlet Street and The Big Heat. But it is very hard to refute the claim that with M, Lang reached his artistic zenith. It is an exquisite combination of his technical skill and masterly storytelling.

The story is as straightforward as it is chilling. Young girls are going missing in Berlin, creating paranoia through every level of society. The opening scene encapsulates this feeling, as it shows a group of schoolchildren playing a game involving a song about a nasty man who will come and chop them up. The children seem oblivious to the danger, but the fear of the adults is illustrated by a nearby woman scolding them for singing such a song. Very early in the film, we see the killer’s mode of operation, as he approaches a young girl walking home from school. He woos young Elsie Beckmann by complimenting her on the ball that she is playing with and buying her a balloon. When Elsie still has not returned home hours later, her mother becomes frantic. It is in these sequences that Lang demonstrates how he can unnerve an audience without showing a single act of violence. When he shoots Elsie’s ball coming to rest in the dirt and her recently purchased balloon floating into power lines, the message is clear: the killer has claimed another victim.

The murders naturally become the top priority of the police, who have thus far been unable to track the perpetrator. The film incorporates investigative technology that at the time of release would have been seen as quite innovative – procedures such as analyzing notes that the killer has written in hopes of gleaning any useful information or comparing fingerprints. Led by Inspector Karl Lohmann (Otto Wernicke), the police begin to stage full-scale raids on all known underworld establishments. In the hopes of shaking things up and possibly getting someone to talk, the police begin rounding up all known criminals and questioning anyone found in these raided establishments. While the raids fail to turn up the killer, they seriously disturb the business of the underworld. Unable to operate as freely as before, many top criminals in Berlin come together to discuss what can be done about the situation. Realizing that the raids will continue so long as the killer is at large, the gangsters decide to deal with the matter themselves. Under the leadership of gang leader Schränker (Gustaf Gründgens), the hoodlums unleash the full machinery of the underworld, including a beggar’s organization to gather intelligence, in hopes of catching the killer and quickly disposing of him.


Thus, the race is on between the police and the underworld to see who can track the killer fastest. The suspense of the film is entirely the result of this chase, as the identity of the serial killer really is not a mystery. Hans Beckert (Peter Lorre) is seen via his shadow and in profile early in the film with the abduction of Elsie. Less than midway through, there is a perfectly clear shot of Beckert staring at himself in a mirror as he awkwardly contorts his face with his hands. For such an iconic performance, Lorre’s on-screen time is actually sparse. But the reason that the character is so well-remembered is that Lorre makes this limited time count. While it would be a stretch to say that he induces sympathy, what Lorre is able to do is to make the audience at least question why Beckert does such terrible things. Through Lorre’s expressions and body language, we see the anguish that Beckert goes through at the mere sight of a young girl. It appears that he is fighting himself not to act on the urge, but that he simply cannot overcome it. The actions are still reprehensible, but Lorre is able to get the viewer to root for him to at least resist the horrible urge.


The underworld is ultimately the pursuer that catches the killer following an exciting chase in which they are able to track Beckert due to a large chalk “M” being placed on the back of his coat by a local vendor. Realizing that he is about to be convicted before a kangaroo court, Beckert makes an impassioned plea for his life, arguing that he has no control over his urges. It not only might be Lorre’s shining moment in this film, but the shining moment of his entire career.

I’m obviously on record as declaring that I think this is the best film that Fritz Lang ever made. Aside from the compelling plot, it is just an absolutely showcase for all of Lang’s talents as a director. The man could create atmosphere better than anyone. As I said at the beginning of the article, the true strength of the film is in how Lang portrays the response from diverse levels of society. The lower class must continue to go about their routine, working and hoping to avoid the killer. As one of the washerwomen in the first scenes remarks, they only want to be able to hear the voices of their children to know that they are safe. The affluent, meanwhile are more proactive, as Lang demonstrates by showing them waiting outside the school with cars to pick up their children. Both are equally terrified. There is a great scene in which a man innocently approaches a girl on the street and is mistaken for the killer. He did nothing more than speak to the child, but the public became so anxious to apprehend someone that they immediately jump to conclusions and attack.

The parallels between the police and hoodlums are even more fascinating. The police are frantic, trying to figure out ways to develop any clues that could lead to the killer. The gangsters, men who specialize in vice, assert that a man who targets children is despicable even to them – as Schränker declares, “We are not on the level of this murderer.” Both groups want nothing more than to have this man off the street. My favorite sequence in the entire film shows Lang to be a master of editing. He shows both the gangsters and the police engaged in conferences to determine how to go about getting rid of the child murderer. Lang seamlessly cuts back and forth between the two conclaves, sometimes even in mid-sentence, as Inspector Groeber (Theodore Loos) finishes a thought begun by the gangster Schränker. He alternates between suggestions by law enforcement on how to catch the criminal and those from the hoodlums who have the same goal. There are no overly technical tricks involved, just astute editing, but it’s an incredibly fresh way to show the action.

The other thing that struck me is how effectively Lang was able to utilize sound. This was his first film with sound and he wisely used it very efficiently. It is not bogged down by too much dialog. And he used key sounds such as Beckert’s whistling of “In the Hall of the Mountain King” to play an integral part in the direction of the story.

For a film dealing with such weighty issues and despicable crimes, this is one that is surprisingly entertaining to watch. The reason is that it is a joy to see a master like Lang at work. He is in complete control throughout the entire film.

Rating: 10/10

Other Contenders for 1931: I have to admit that there wasn’t much hesitation in making my choice for 1931. It was very clear that this would be my selection. But the ease was the result of M being such a great film, not due to lack of contenders. The seminal gangster film Little Caesar (Mervyn LeRoy) is outstanding and features Edward G. Robinson’s breakout performance as Rico Bandello. Some list Little Caesar as being from 1930, but its official release date was 1931 from every source that I've seen. I’ve previously reviewed The Public Enemy (William A. Wellman) and love Jimmy Cagney as Tom Powers. But the strongest challenge – and the film that I suspect most would choose for 1931 – came from Charlie Chaplin’s City Lights. It’s not my personal favorite Chaplin film (that one will be included later in this countdown), but its greatness is undeniable.