#2: Billy Wilder

- “A director must be a policeman, a midwife, a psychoanalyst, a sycophant and a bastard.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kebqj_grGC0

I love this video and when I saw it for the first time about a month ago while searching for the video I included in the Ernst Lubitsch entry in this series, I vowed that I had to include it in the inevitable Billy Wilder post. For whatever reason, it won't allow emedding, but I encourage everyone to go watch it. It is a great example of that innate gift of storytelling that Wilder possessed – just watch him here, recounting this experience, building it to a climax, but doing so completely off the cuff as if he is just having a conversation with someone. He did the same thing in his screenwriting, effortlessly spinning tales – however believable or not – that are perfectly paced, flawlessly executed and invariably deliver a payoff to live up to any expectations.

While not quite as diverse as the resume of Howard Hawks, Wilder is another classic Hollywood director who tried his hand in a number of genres and hit it out of the park in many different stadiums, so to speak (Hey, the Reds are winning, why not use the baseball metaphor?!). And I don’t mean that he simply made outstanding films in a number of areas, I mean that he helmed movies that are routinely cited as being the best of their kind ever made. Look at the praise they have received. Some Like It Hot was voted the greatest American comedy ever made by the AFI in the year 2000. Double Indemnity is routinely cited as one of the finest films noir ever made. Sunset Boulevard is another classic noir, but transcends such genre classification and is rightly acknowledged as one of the finest movies ever made in Hollywood. With The Apartment, Wilder created not only one of the funniest films of the sound era, but the romantic comedy that countless big budget productions and popular television sitcoms have been mimicking ever since. I could go on with further examples, but anyone familiar with Wilder’s work already knows the score. The man could craft a story in any style or genre and not just make it work, but make it spectacular.

Similar to what I did say for Hawks, though, is that Wilder brought a cohesive vision to each unique project, essentially stamping his own imprint in each genre. Everything Wilder did, no matter how serious, always seems to have been done a bit tongue-in-cheek. Even as Walter and Phyllis were plotting murder in Double Indemnity, the breakneck speed and cadence of the dialog can’t help but make one grin. Ditto for Sunset Boulevard, which at times plays like a black comedy. The outlook that Wilder adopted for much of his work is actually a rather dark, pessimistic one. His films might eventually wind their way to more optimistic territory, but for most of the proceedings Wilder puts on display the sleazy side of human nature. Trysting couples plotting murder for profit. A reporter keeping a man trapped in a cave in order to further is his own career. An insurance man fishing for a promotion by opening his own apartment to company higher-ups to conduct affairs. A down on his luck writer who strings out the money and affection of an ex-star. Initially, these are not immediately likable characters. Yet, Wilder’s wit is enough to keep any of his films from being completely dark. The dialog is so crisp, the situations so entertaining, that eventually you find yourself being won over or rooting for any of them. This of course doesn’t apply to all of his films, but is applicable in many of them.

It must have been easy to impart these themes and views in each of his films, as Wilder co-wrote every film he ever directed. In fact, even after he became one of the most celebrated directors in Hollywood, Wilder was still known to view himself primarily as a writer. Just look at his tombstone, which can easily be seen by doing a simple Google search. The only inscription reads: “BILLY WILDER – I’M A WRITER BUT THEN NOBODY’S PERFECT.” Legend has it that Wilder fully threw himself into directing only because he didn’t want to have to hand over his scripts to those that might butcher them. It is thus no coincidence that he co-wrote every film he ever directed. So it is also worth applauding his writing partners I.A.L Diamond and Charles Brackett who worked perfectly with Billy. Even so, while his focus may have been more on the writing process, Wilder was wily enough to team with technical geniuses, resulting in strikingly memorable visuals. Working with legends like John Seitz, Joseph LaShelle, Charles Lang and others meant that all of his films are wonderful to look at. His directorial technique may not have been groundbreaking, but the results were still spectacular.

I still have a way to go before I have made my way through Billy Wilder’s entire filmography. But I can honestly say that I don’t dislike a single one of the nineteen films listed below, which makes me even more excited to finally get to those that I am missing.

1. The Apartment (1960)
2. Double Indemnity (1944)
3. Sunset Boulevard (1950)
4. Five Graves to Cairo (1943)
5. One, Two, Three (1961)
6. Ace in the Hole (1951)
7. A Foreign Affair (1948)
8. Stalag 17 (1953)
9. Kiss Me Stupid (1964)
10. Some Like It Hot (1959)
11. Witness for the Prosecution (1957)
12. The Seven Year Itch (1955)
13. Avanti! (1972)
14. The Fortune Cookie (1966)
15. Sabrina (1954)
16. The Lost Weekend (1945)
17. Irma La Douce (1963)
18. The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes (1970)
19. The Spirit of St. Louis (1957)

#7: Double Indemnity (Billy Wilder, 1944)

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

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

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

As is the case with other films that I have already written extensively about (or at least what I consider to be extensive, meaning in terms of blog posts), I don’t feel it necessary to write completely new takes on such movies. I easily chose Double Indemnity as my #1 for 1944 and it is a no-brainer to place it comfortably within the Top 10 for the noir countdown. Still, I think that there needs to be something additional added onto these pieces, at the very least to show that I’m not piggybacking on past work at this point. And so I made a point to re-watch each of the movies in the Top 10, to bring some new thoughts to each entry.

Watching Double Indemnity for the umpteenth time, there is one thing that drew all of my attention: the work of John Seitz. Since seeing Double Indemnity for the first time, I have never been able to look at venetian blinds the same again. I’m not kidding – anytime I see shadows or light slithering through the slits in such blinds I am reminded of this movie. I have praised Seitz’s work throughout the countdown, particularly in regard to his work in yesterday’s Billy Wilder entry Sunset Boulevard, and all of it is more than deserved. His photography is distinctive. It doesn’t have the grittiness of the work of John Alton. Instead, Seitz’s work is what I like to call stylishly dark. It has smoothness to it, yet never sacrifices the darkness. My realization of just how great Seitz was remains one of the biggest eye-openers of this whole series. I knew he was great, but I didn't fully appreciated the consistent excellence of his work until recently.

My other thoughts on the film are well captured in the piece below. I’ll just add that I go back and forth concerning my favorite Billy Wilder noir. Sometimes it is Double Indemnity, sometimes it is Sunset Boulevard. The fact that they ended up back-to-back in the countdown was not planned, and in fact they only ended up in those positions very late in the process. For now, Double Indemnity wears the crown, but it’s a tough call between such classics.
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- "I killed him for money and for a woman. I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it?"

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

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


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

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

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

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


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

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

#8: Sunset Boulevard (Billy Wilder, 1950)

Released: August 4, 1950

a.k.a.: Sunset Blvd.

Director: Billy Wilder; Screenplay: Billy Wilder, Charles Brackett and D.M. Marshman Jr.; Cinematography: John F. Seitz; Music: Franz Waxman; Producer: Charles Brackett; Studio: Paramount Pictures

Cast: William Holden (Joe Gillis), Gloria Swanson (Norma Desmond), Erich von Stroheim (Max von Mayerling), Nancy Olson (Betty Schaefer), Fred Clark (Sheldrake), Lloyd Gough (Marino), Jack Webb (Artie Green), Franklyn Farnum (Undertaker), Larry J. Blake (Finance Man #1), Charles Dayton (Finance Man #2), Cecil B. DeMille (Himself), Hedda Hopper (Herself), Buster Keaton (Himself), Anna Q. Nilsson (Herself), H.B. Warner (Himself), Ray Evans (Himself), Jay Livingston (Himself)

- “I _am_ big… it’s the pictures that got small…”

Man, would I give anything to be able to hop into a time machine and go back to see firsthand the incensed reactions of entertainment insiders when they initially encountered Billy Wilder’s Sunset Boulevard. In one of the crowning achievements of his career, the accomplished Wilder turned his bitingly cynical perspective and wit on the very industry that he had become a leading figure in. The apocryphal stories that exist about some of the reactions from Hollywood players are not only hilarious to recount, but telling of how close to home the biting script hit for many of the city’s powerbrokers. Louis B. Mayer was said to have become so incensed after watching the film at Paramount’s initial screening that he approached Wilder and berated him, heatedly asking how he could make such a mockery of the industry that had made him. When these pleas failed to get through, Mayer was rumored to have tried to pool funds from other studio heads to purchase the film negatives and destroy them before they were released. Some contemporaries of star Gloria Swanson’s silent days were offended by the portrayal, thinking that it cast them all in a ridiculous light. Looking at things now, sixty years removed from its initial release, it is possible admit that the biting script Wilder authored with Charles Brackett and D.M. Marshman falls short of indicting everything about Hollywood, as was initially accused. But it comes very close to doing so, pointing out, as only Billy Wilder could, how unmerciful the movie industry could be.


Is it a depressing drama? Is it a comedy? A complete farce? Is it even a film noir? In all honesty, as are the best Wilder films, it’s probably a little bit of all these things. Whatever labels you apply to it, though, there’s no denying its greatness. Everything about it – from writing, to directing, to acting, to photography – is damn near flawless. The reason this one is not #1 is purely because of personal preference – I love it, but I slightly prefer a few others – because this might be the best made film in the entire countdown.

The story centers on two people struggling to remain relevant in Hollywood. Joe Gillis (William Holden) is a former newspaperman from Dayton who moves to L.A. in hopes of making a career as a screenwriter. After a few minor successes, his career begins floundering to the point that he is unable to pay the rent or afford the payments on his car, which is in the process of being repoed. The other key figure is Norman Desmond (Gloria Swanson), a former star of silent films that at one time was the most popular actress on the planet. Her films were so successful that studios were built on the proceeds and in the process Norma herself accumulated a small fortune. But when talking pictures came into favor, Norma’s career was completely derailed. With her services no longer wanted, Norma went into seclusion on her Sunset Blvd. estate, living in a fantasy world, having contact with no one but her former director turned servant Max (Erich von Stroheim). The two cross paths when Joe swerves his car onto the Desmond estate while trying to avoid the repo men. When Norma learns that Gillis is a screenwriter, she floats the outlandish idea of the two working on a screenplay for her comeback. Joe plays along, hoping to earn some much needed cash, and stays on the estate rewriting the horrendous script that Norma had worked on for years. Things grow strange when the delusional Desmond develops a bizarre attachment to Joe, keeping him on the premises at all times and leading him to function as her male prostitute of sorts. So when Joe falls for another up-and-coming studio writer Betty Schaefer (Nancy Olson), the already fragile Norma completely loses it.


The authentic atmosphere of it all bears testament to the accomplishment of Wilder as both writer (along with longtime collaborator Charles Brackett) and director. I haven’t the slightest idea if Hollywood of this era was as petty and unforgiving as it is painted in this movie – my impressions of the studio system of this time come from films like Sunset Boulevard. So I have no clue if this is how the industry really treated past stars. What I do know is that Wilder makes me believe it to be true. After watching Sunset Boulevard – and particularly after hearing how people like Louie B. Mayer reacted – make me think that it _has_ to be true. Even with all of the theatrics and over-the-top performances, it is still that convincing. It has long been put forth that the genesis of the project stemmed from the sad tale of one-time titan D.W. Griffith, who by the 1940s was unsuccessfully begging for work in film. Wilder and Brackett saw this and were shocked, wondering what actually did happen to stars that had fallen from grace. This real-word connection, and its inclusion into the actual film, only adds to the authenticity. When you see what Gillis calls “waxworks” in the film played by the likes of Buster Keaton and Anna Q. Nilsson, even if they aren’t necessarily playing themselves, it carries a ring of truth.

The number of memorable scenes that make up the film are almost too countless to name. Is there a more unforgettable opening sequence? Our narrator leads us to his final resting place, letting the audience know that the body they see floating in a pool is his. Norma descending the stars for her close-up. Joe’s first glimpse of the grounds that make up Norma’s mansion is technically flawless, proving once again that the team of Wilder and director of photography John Seitz were among the finest duos in Hollywood history. If John Alton is the greatest cinematographer to ever work in noir, then surely Seitz has to be a shoo-in for the runner-up position. And it’s not just individual scenes that give the film such charm. It’s the minor touches that Wilder and company add to it all. It is things like the organ in Norma’s parlor that howls as the breeze hits its pipes. It’s the wonderful effect of something as simple as turning on the light in Norma’s recently restored pool. Minor details like these stick with you as much as the great individual scenes.



I don’t have the space to properly address the quality of the performances from the principal actors, but fortunately other more accomplished writers have given them their due. What I will say is that the acting is completely on another level in comparison to nearly any other film. Gloria Swanson, whose career mirrored the similar fall of Norma Desmond, gives the performance of a lifetime. The case can be made that it’s the finest performance by an actress in Hollywood history. William Holden is wonderful as well, but the other role that I always fall for is Erich von Stroheim as the loyal Max. He too plays a character whose story mirrors his real-life experiences and does so with equally spectacular results.

Excuse me for the gushing, but it’s a movie that justifies such fawning. I would guess that everyone reading this has seen it, but if you haven’t, stop reading this now and do so immediately. If you realize that you are unsure whether you’re supposed to be laughing or horrified, then you’ll know that you have properly understood the movie.

#42: Ace in the Hole (Billy Wilder, 1951)

Released: July 29, 1951

Director: Billy Wilder; Screenplay: Billy Wilder, Lesser Samuels, Walter Newman and Victor Desny (uncredited); Cinematography: Charles B. Lang, Jr.; Music: Hugo Friedhofer; Producer: Billy Wilder; Studio: Paramount Pictures

Cast: Kirk Douglas (Chuck Tatum), Jan Sterling (Lorraine Minosa), Robert Arthur (Herbie Cook), Porter Hall (Jacob Q. Boot), Frank Cady (Mr. Federber), Richard Benedict (Leo Minosa), Ray Teal (Sheriff Kretzer), Lewis Martin (McCardle), John Berkes (Papa Minosa), Frances Dominguez (Mama Minosa), Frank Jaquet (Sam Smollett), Harry Harvey (Dr. Hilton)

- “I met a lot of hard-boiled eggs in my life, but you… you're twenty minutes.”

I am very pleased to see Billy Wilder finally enter this countdown, as for the last few weeks I have been on a serious Wilder kick. Outside of the regular viewing that I have been doing in re-watching a lot of noirs to map out exact rankings, the majority of my movie watching has been devoted to Wilder, who is quite possibly becoming my favorite director – as in favorite of all time. The merits of Wilder, as both a director and a writer, would fill an entire essay on their own, but for now I’ll just point to his versatility as being the thing that never ceases to fascinate me. Comedies (Some Like it Hot, The Apartment), mysteries (Witness for the Prosecution), and film noir (Double Indemnity) are all areas where Wilder was able to shine with equal proficiency. I go back and forth on which Wilder I like best. Being the noir fanatic that I am, it’s hard to deny the lure of masterpieces like Double Indemnity and Sunset Boulevard. Lately I have been very much into the caustic wit that Wilder is able to infuse into each of his comedies, combining his fantastic writing ability with his obvious directorial skills.

All of which makes Ace in the Hole an interesting film for me, because I look at it as something of a cross between a Wilder noir and a Wilder comedy. Although it is set mostly outdoors on a New Mexico mountain, the noir credentials are solidly established through themes like the distorted American Dream, entrapment, and a woman that – if she is not a true femme fatale – is at the very least hardhearted. By comedy, I don’t mean laugh-out-loud, rollicking humor like Wilder would deliver in later films. The comedy here is the result of a cynical, biting script, the bizarre, out of control scenario, and one-liners and humor so dry that it nearly cracks the celluloid.


Kirk Douglas turns in a whirlwind performance as veteran reporter Chuck Tatum, a onetime big city newsman who is stranded in New Mexico looking for a job. He swallows his pride and signs on at the small town Albuquerque Sun-Bulletin. But he longs to find one popular story that will be his ticket back to the big city dailies. While on assignment for a rattlesnake hunt, Tatum and young photographer Herbie (Robert Arthur) stop at a filling station and hear about a local accident. They learn that a young man named Leo Minosa (Richard Benedict) has recently become trapped in a cave while hunting for Indian artifacts. Seeing the opportunity for a national headline, Tatum moves quickly to begin manipulating the situation to his advantage. He begins to manufacture a national drama out of a local incident, building the story bigger and bigger. Tatum conspires with the local sheriff and lead engineer to leave Leo in the cave for a few days longer than necessary so that the story can continue to swell. He forces Leo’s wife Lorraine (Jan Sterling) to stay in town and play the grieving wife rather than allowing her to leave as she originally planned to do. What results is a media circus that was probably too outrageous to be believed in 1951, but today looks frighteningly prophetic.

The prophetic nature of it all is what is most striking. The idea of people flocking to a remote mountainside in New Mexico, buying souvenirs and concessions as a man is trapped in a mountain sounds ridiculous? Oh, really… how about thousands camping out for days to make fools of themselves on a national television singing competition? Or paparazzi camped out on Los Angeles streets to make sure and document what type of coffee the latest Hollywood star is drinking? Suddenly, it seems less preposterous. But it’s not just the media that Wilder attacks – he lampoons everyone involved. Tatum is the heartless reporter, someone who will let a man die just to get a story and further his career. Herbie, the naïve young journalism school graduate, is powerless to resist Tatum’s planning for career advancement. Even the general public – the audience of the film included – is ridiculed, as Wilder mocks how willingly people enjoy the misery created by people like Tatum. This is Wilder at his most cynical, as everyone is shown to be a buffoon.


This might be Kirk Douglas’s greatest performance. As solid as the supporting performances are, particularly from Jan Sterling as the widow secretly hoping for her husband’s demise, Douglas dominates every scene. He perfectly delivers the sordid comments and observations created by the superb screenwriting team of Wilder, Lesser Samuels and Walter Newman. I might regret not moving this one into the Top 40, but it is no slight to be positioned where it is. This is one of Wilder’s best and absolutely essential for any fan of cinema, not just film noir.

1944: Double Indemnity (Billy Wilder)

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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


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

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


Rating: 9/10

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

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