#93: He Walked by Night (Alfred L. Werker, 1948)

Released: November 24, 1948

Director: Alfred L. Werker, Anthony Mann (uncredited); Screenplay: John C. Higgins and Crane Wilbur based on a story by Wilbur; Cinematography: John Alton; Music: Leonid Raab; Producers: Bryan Foy and Robert Kane; Studio: Eagle-Lion Films

Cast: Richard Basehart (Roy Martin/Roy Morgan), Scott Brady (Sgt. Marty Brennan), Roy Roberts (Captain Breen), Whit Bissell (Paul Reeves), James Cardwell (Sgt. Chuck Jones), Jack Webb (Lee)

The countdown now hits Poverty Row with a release from the B-movie specialists at Eagle-Lion Films. It is also can be argued that He Walked By Night marks the first appearance in this countdown by renowned noir and western director Anthony Mann. Although Alfred L. Werker is the director of credit here, and Mann is not officially given recognition for any particular role, it is commonly reported that Mann was ultimately brought in to take over the film after the project was started under Werker’s control. Almost all classic movie guides and books on the history of noir repeat the assertion Mann was the true guiding force. I am not personally knowledgeable enough to point out precisely which sections are the work of Werker and which are Mann's. Looking at other work from around this period, though, makes it obvious that Anthony Mann played a significant role.


I say this because the focus on minute police procedural details and the showcasing of what at the time would have been cutting edge law enforcement technology is similar to Mann’s 1947 T-Men. The semi-documentary police narrative used here is very similar to that superior film, leading one to reasonably conclude that Mann must have been the hand behind both. This theory is also lent credence by knowing how well that Mann and longtime collaborator John Alton worked together. They had already teamed up for T-Men and Raw Deal (also released in 1948), resulting in films that are today still esteemed as prototypes of the “film noir look.” Alton shines in all three of the films mentioned here, but as good as his work in the two Mann-credited films, I think a strong case can be made the he is just as good, if not better, in He Walked By Night. Without question, it is Alton’s photography that is the highlight of the entire movie. The most celebrated sequence of the entire film is the climactic chase through the sewers of Los Angeles. Alton’s use of contrast and shadows was never better than in these scenes. And one has to wonder, if this sequence had any influence on the more well-known chase through drains that Carol Reed used a year later in The Third Man?

The deficiencies of the film are significant though, as character development is almost nonexistent. Richard Basehart is Ray Morgan, a thief who specializes in burglarizing high-tech electronic equipment. When a policeman witnesses him trying to break into an electronics store, Morgan turns his gun on the officer and kills him. This sets off a massive manhunt, leading to the police working to lay a trap for the unknown burglar they are hunting. The way that the story is told, focusing on the progress of the police investigation, means that we never get to really know any of the principles – be it the killer or the officers chasing him. The cat-and-mouse game remains tense the entire way through, however, which makes you forget about such flaws while watching it.


Beyond the qualities of the movie itself, He Walked By Night was also hugely influential in what it spawned. Jack Webb played a minor role as a lab technician in this film, but was inspired by the story to create the hugely popular Dragnet series. Perhaps that is the greatest legacy of the entire project, but this remains a film that is valuable in its own right. You might not get to intimately know the characters, but the story is told so well that at the very least you become interested in seeing what happens to them.

#94: The Hitch-Hiker (Ida Lupino, 1953)

Released: April 29, 1953

Director: Ida Lupino; Screenplay: Collier Young (screenplay), Ida Lupino (screenplay), Robert L. Joseph (adaptation) based on a story by Daniel Mainwaring (uncredited); Cinematography: Nicholas Musuraca; Music: Leith Stevens; Producer: Collier Young; Studio: RKO

Cast: Edmond O’Brien (Roy Collins), Frank Lovejoy (Gilbert Brown), William Talman (Emmett Myers), Jose Torvay (Captain Alvarado), Wendell Niles (himself), Jean Del Val (Inspector General)

- "I had a watch like this once when I was 17. Nobody gave it to me. I just took it."

Ida Lupino is a unique figure among Hollywood personalities. She is rightly acknowledged as an outstanding actress, leading to her persona during the 1930s and 40s as the B-movie equivalent of Bette Davis. She is a prominent figure in a number of outstanding film noirs – ones that will be featured later in this countdown – with versatility to play vulnerable, compassionate characters or an unabashed temptress. But her greatest legacy remains her pioneering efforts as a female director. While by no means the first woman to become interested in directing, she was unique in film noir, a type of film normally identified with hardened, masculine characters and gritty storylines. Not only was Lupino undaunted by such characteristics, but as John Greco points out in his excellent review of this film, she proved herself to be every bit the equal of tough directors like her mentor Raoul Walsh in handling the violent themes seen in The Hitch-Hiker.


It is a simple story, told in simple fashion, but the straightforwardness of the production is what allows the movie to be so tense. A good majority of the film is actually little more than two weekend fishermen, Roy Collins (Edmond O’Brien) and Gilbert Bowen (Frank Lovejoy), driving their car while the crazed hitchhiker they graciously picked up, Emmett Meyers (William Talman), sits in the back seat intimidating them into compliance. Teamed with legendary cinematographer Nicholas Musuraca, Lupino’s decision to keep key sequences at close quarters creates a sinister feeling that keeps what would otherwise be mundane situations quite interesting. The scenes of the trio driving, Roy and Gilbert nervously sitting in the front, and the demented Meyers shrouded in shadows in the backseat are akin to something you would see in a horror movie of the era. With the exception of John Alton, I don’t know that any directors of photography of this era were more skilled than Musuraca at using shadows to such great effect. The images of the fisherman staring straight through the windshield, nervous about their trip, and the killer peering through the dark to keep them in line are the most memorable of the entire film.


O’Brien is a veteran noir actor, underappreciated by the public at large, but well known to all that enjoy films of the era. But the true virtuoso performance of this film comes from William Talman. Emmett Meyers has affectations that could come across as very camp or kitsch, so credit goes to Talman in having the ability to make Meyers a truly menacing character. Things like the inability to close one of his eyes, allowing him to keep his hostages guessing as to whether he is ever truly sleeping, might seem ludicrous to some. But when watching the film, after seeing the look that Talman is able to maintain, it gives one pause as to whether Roy and Gilbert should be attempting to make a run for it.

This film is routinely cited as being the first film noir directed by a woman. I have no way of verifying that, but to my mind that is an unnecessary descriptor. Lupino made The Hitch-Hiker with just as much grit, brutality, and cynicism as any male director could have. If not for losing a bit steam at the end, when things branch out from the close quarters of the car, this one would be much higher on the countdown. As it stands, it’s still an excellent noir thriller that has visual stylistics to give it the proper look.

#95: Call Northside 777 (Henry Hathaway, 1948)

Released: February 1, 1948

Director: Henry Hathaway; Screenplay: Jerome Cady (screenplay), Jay Dratler (screenplay), Leonard Hoffman (adaptation), Quentin Reynolds (adaptation) based on articles by James P. McGuire and Jack McPhaul; Cinematography: Joseph MacDonald; Music: Alfred Newman; Producer: Otto Lang; Studio: 20th Century Fox

Cast: James Stewart (P.J. McNeal), Richard Conte (Frank Wiecek), Lee J. Cobb (Brian Kelly), Helen Walker (Laura McNeal), Betty Garde (Wanda Skutnik), Percy Helton (Mailman), George Tyne (Tomek Zaleska), Kasia Orzazewski (Tillie Wiecek), Paul Harvey (Martin Burns), John McIntire (Sam Faxon), Howard I. Smith (Palmer), E.G. Marshall (Rayska)

- “That's the trouble with being innocent… you don't know what really happened.”

After venturing to postwar Tokyo yesterday, the countdown returns to the traditional urban settings of noir crime dramas. Although, we do so with a movie that some will argue is not truly a film noir. There is no femme fatale or the expected flawed central character scrambling to self-created obstacles. I stand by the contention that this is definitely a noir, possibly the preeminent example of the “newspaper noir” subset that I have seen, and that the cynicism that pervades the best noirs is displayed here, it is just that it is seen in different places.

Call Northside 777 is loosely based on the true story of a skeptical Chicago reporter that worked to prove the innocence of a man convicted of murdering a police officer. The reporter, P.J. McNeal (based on real-life reporter James P. McGuire), is portrayed by the incomparable Jimmy Stewart, an excellent casting choice. When you see Jimmy Stewart, you know that the character is someone that will fight for the “good side” all the way to the end. In this tale, he is assigned to the story after his newspaper superiors come across a classified ad taken out by an aging woman (Kasia Orzazewski) that offers $5,000 to anyone that can provide evidence to exonerate her convicted son. Frank Wiecek (Richard Conte) was picked out of a lineup by a witness to a grocery store robbery (Betty Garde) and sentenced to life imprisonment. At the time of his meeting with McNeal, Frank had already served eleven years. Disbelieving at first, McNeal gradually comes to believe that Wiecek’s professions of innocence are the truth. The newspaper then picks up the story as a crusade to free an innocent man, with McNeal leading the charge. When the paper bales on the campaign, McNeal refuses to give up and continues the search throughout the city of Chicago.


It is this trip through 1940s Chicago and the Polish neighborhoods of the Wiecek family and other first and second generation immigrants that add color to a familiar storyline. The tight-knit quality of these communities comes through strongly as McNeal navigates through the tenements, bars, and back allies of the area. The storytelling is done in documentary style, relying heavily on the nature of the work of reporters. The camera simply follows McNeal as he pounds the pavement, chasing down every possible lead, interviewing personalities as he finds them, and continually pouring over stock files and photos, hoping to unearth a detail that had previously been overlooked.


The skepticism is found here in the realization that almost everyone that McNeal encounters is at least somewhat cautious in their responses. Whether true or not, it appears to McNeal – and, by extension, the viewer – that people are being guarded in everything that they do. People are not necessarily downright “dirty” or deceptive, but they are certainly reluctant to admit wrongdoing. So we see things like the police believing that justice has been served when Wiecek is originally convicted, but then becoming unwilling to admit to wrongdoing or assist McNeal in his investigation when evidence begins to turn up showing that they may have jailed the wrong man. Similarly, it is never suggested that Wanda Skutnik maliciously intended to identify an innocent man. The procedure used by the police was flawed, allowing Skutnik’s faulty identification. But her obstinacy in admitting her mistake means that the innocent man will continue to sit in prison. And so we actually do see the dynamic of a single character fighting to overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Perhaps they do not arise out of his flawed nature, but they are there all the same.

#96: House of Bamboo (Samuel Fuller, 1955)

Released: July 1, 1955

Director: Samuel Fuller; Screenplay: Harry Kleiner and Samuel Fuller; Cinematography: Joseph MacDonald; Music: Leigh Harline; Producer: Buddy Adler; Studio: 20th Century Fox

Cast: Robert Ryan (Sandy Dawson), Robert Stack (Eddie Kenner/Spanier), Shirley Yamaguchi (Mariko), Cameron Mitchell (Griff), Brad Dexter (Capt. Hanson), Sessue Hayakawa (Inspector Kito), DeForest Kelley (Charlie), Biff Elliot (Webber), Sandro Giglio (Ceram)

I know, I was shocked too when I found out that Robert Stack did something other than creep out young kids with his chilling narration and startling persona on Unsolved Mysteries…

I’m kidding of course, as his greatest fame is undoubtedly as Eliot Ness in The Untouchables. But to those of my generation, he will almost always be identified as that scary guy who hosted Unsolved Mysteries. Here, though, he is paired with a director that is perfectly suited for an actor that can capably exude a tough guy persona. Stack is not only capable, but shines as this type of character, playing Eddie Kenner as a tough guy that feels very authentic. In many noir and gangster pictures of this era, the macho tough guys come across as caricatures or imitations of past celluloid hoods. Stack as Kenner, on the other hand, feels real, as does Robert Ryan for that matter, lending the key dynamic of the film a sincerity that elevates the film. Aside from the visuals, this is what sticks with me most from House of Bamboo – the genuinely brutal nature of principal characters. It doesn’t feel like fictionally created bravado, but rather the callousness that would be necessary to truly dominate a criminal empire.


This is a loose remake of 1948’s The Street With No Name, another classic-era film noir that (drum roll please…) I’ll go ahead and reveal will also be seen in this countdown. So I obviously enjoy the original a bit more. Still, it has to be acknowledged that the theme of an ex-con being used by the police to infiltrate a gang is not exclusive to The Street With No Name. The connection between the two is made even stronger, though, by the fact that both screenplays were written by Harry Kleiner, so there is no denying the direct inspiration and influence of the 1948 film. Fortunately, this remake is distinctive enough to stand on its own, due to both its production and its unique setting.

The most obvious change is the fact that Fuller’s film is shot in color and CinemaScope, which in the minds of some traditionalists goes against the true nature of noir. And while I’ll concede that I like to see the stark blacks and whites of the classic era, I disagree. In fact, the cinematography in this film is outstanding. It is also aided by being one of the first movies shot in postwar Tokyo. The nature of the locales has an exotic flavor, highlighting unknown entities like pachinko parlors, Buddha statues, the unique houses and buildings frequented by the various characters. Even though everything is shot in color, these Tokyo streets and parlors retain the gritty feel of underworlds across the globe. The outdoor scenes are beautiful as well, particularly the opening train robbery sequence in which Fuller and cinematographer Joseph MacDonald make full use of CinemaScope to highlight the wide open scenery of the Japanese countryside. The image of the train moving across an overpass, with the towering Mount Fuji in the background, is exquisite stuff.


It aspires to be something more than a simple cat-and-mouse crime story, but what holds it back slightly is the fact that it never elevates to that level. There seems to be a statement being made concerning the clash of the American and Japanese cultures, but the Japanese female lead tended to drag the story. It works best as the brutal crime film it truly is, allowing Fuller to craft that tough guy characters that he loved to work with.

#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!

#98: Phantom Lady (Robert Siodmak, 1944)

Released: February 17, 1944

Director: Robert Siodmak; Screenplay: Bernard C. Schoenfeld based on the novel by “William Irish” (Cornell Woolrich); Cinematography: Woody Bredell; Music: Jans J. Salter; Producer: Joan Harrison; Studio: Universal

Cast: Franchot Tone (Jack Marlow), Ella Raines (Carol “Kansas” Richman), Alan Curtis (Scott Henderson), Aurora Miranda (Estela Monteiro), Thomas Gomez (Inspector Burgess), Fay Helm (Ann Terry), Elisa Cook, Jr. (Cliff Milburn)

It is amazing to consider that although he never actually penned a screenplay himself, the writer Cornell Woolrich remains one of the towering figures of film noir – and really of noir in general, including pulp novels and mysteries. The list of classic films based on Woolrich short stories or novels is staggering and a number of them will be featured in this noir countdown. In the case of Phantom Lady, which Woolrich penned under the pseudonym William Irish, it is truly a meeting of noir masters, as the legendary writer’s source material is directed by German refugee Robert Siodmak. Siodmak would go on to become one of the most recognizable artists in the genre, but with Phantom Lady he made his first foray into noir while finding himself in the new Hollywood setting. And find his way he did, transforming a story with significant plot obstacles and establishing a stylistic template that helped define the look of future noirs.

The story itself is over the top and, in all honesty, pulpy to the point of being barely believable. It is a familiar setup, as Scott Henderson (Alan Curtis), a highly successful businessman, leaves home after a fight with his wife and finds himself alone in a bar with a just one other patron – a well-dressed, beautiful young lady (Ann Terry). Not wanting to become entangled in a relationship, the two agree to remain anonymous and not so much as reveal their names to each other. Returning home, Scott discovers that his wife has been strangled. Admitting to the fight earlier in the evening, Scott quickly becomes the prime suspect. His alibi to prove his innocence is that he spent the night with the phantom lady, but not knowing so much as her name he is unable to produce her. Retracing his footsteps, every potential witness that can validate his presence at the bar, night show and other stops claim to have never seen Scott with the mysterious woman. Either the entire affair is a figment of Scott’s imagination or someone has gotten to the witnesses. Charged with the murder, he is convicted and scheduled for execution. His loyal secretary Carol “Kansas” Richman (Ella Raines), who has never believed the accusations, works feverishly to prove his innocence. With the help of a detective, she scrambles to try and find the phantom lady before it is too late.

Siodmak has a number of noirs to his credit that I think are absolute, undisputed masterpieces. This is not one of them – the story is just too limiting. It is, however, an interesting experience precisely because Siodmak is in the director’s chair. Siodmak signed a seven-year contract with Universal Studios when he came to Hollywood in 1943 and Phantom Lady was his third film in the United States. And this would his first box office success, giving his career a significant jumpstart. Siodmak came to the States well-schooled in the German Expressionist style of filmmaking, and with another German expatriate Fritz Lang, would help define the overall look of the noir era.


All of the noir staples are in evidence here. The sharp, striking contrast between light and dark, to the point that characters are completely silhouetted and their movements can be followed by nothing but shadows. The dim, menacing New York City streets, exuding the impression that potential evil waits at every street corner. Jazz music heard playing throughout. These are elements that would become stock tools of other noir directors, but here Siodmak is like an alchemist trying to find the correct formula. Teaming with cinematographer Woody Bredell – who he would also work with on 1946’s The Killers – Siodmak uses lighting and camera positioning to manufacture very tense, and not to mention sexy, scenes. One in particular, as Kansas tries to seduce a drummer (Elisha Cook, Jr.) in order to get information, is as steamy as I can imagine the Hays Code allowing to slip through.

Clunky dialogue and plot holes aside, this is a noir that needs to be seen by all enthusiasts. Not only is it visually interesting, but it allows you to see the first full-fledged noir from a director who would shortly thereafter emerge as one of the preeminent practitioners. It is Siodmak’s show throughout, and when viewed as a warm-up for the great things that he and Woody Bredell would do together two years later, it is also an intriguing historical document.

#99: Act of Violence (Fred Zinnemann, 1948)

Released: December 21, 1948

Director: Fred Zinnemann; Screenplay: Robert L. Richards based on a story by Collier Young; Cinematography: Robert Surtees; Music: Bronislau Kaper; Producer: William H. Wright; Studio: MGM

Cast: Van Heflin (Frank R. Enley), Robert Ryan (Joe Parkson), Janet Leigh (Edith Enley), Mary Astor (Pat), Phyllis Thaxter (Ann Sturges), Berry Kroeger (Johnny), Taylor Holmes (Gavery), Harry Antrim (Fred Finney), Connie Gilchrist (Martha Finney), Will Wright (Boat Owner)

- "You'd better check with your husband... I don't think he'd like that."

Here is another movie early in this countdown that I rate a bit lower than most other observers, but still an outstanding noir, coming from a director not normally associated with this type of film. It is an obvious precursor to classics like Cape Fear, and for the first thirty minutes or so it is every bit the equal of the later Mitchum-led film. Ultimately, it fails to maintain the tension created in the opening third, but the entire way through it is a feast for the eyes and a textbook in noir cinematography.

Possibly the high point of the entire film comes in the opening, wordless sequence. Cinematographer Robert Surtees employs the traditional darkness and shadows of the noir world to film a man limping past a nearby harbor. The camera follows him as he enters an apartment, methodically retrieves a revolver and picks up a suitcase. He then proceeds to a bus depot and hops a Greyhound for Los Angeles. The man, we come to learn, is Joe Parkson (Robert Ryan), a World War II veteran who survived years in a Nazi POW camp. He is trekking cross-country in order to confront a former WWII comrade who was housed in the camp with him. Joe is convinced that Frank Enley (Van Heflin) was the cause for the massacre of a number of inmates as they tried to escape from the camp. Joe was only wounded in the shootout, but the experience leaves him determined to get even with Enley. So he begins to stalk him like a lion does its prey, terrorizing Enley and his young wife Edith (Janet Leigh). His late-nights visits terrorize the couple, to the point that Enley has to physically retreat from his own home. After years of trying to bury his traitorous act, Enley is clueless as to how to respond to the reappearance of his former pal.


The lead performances are solid enough. I have to be honest that Robert Ryan has never been a personal favorite of mine, so if a movie depends upon him exclusively to carry a film, it’s probably going to fall short for me. Van Heflin fits the role of the ideal husband and businessman craftily hiding a dark secret. But the true stars remain Zinnemann and director of photography Robert Surtees – and in all honesty, I’m going to focus on Surtees, a man whose name should be more well-known than it is. Those that don’t immediately recognize his name will certainly be familiar with his credits – King Solomon’s Mines, Ben-Hur, Mutiny on the Bounty, The Graduate, The Last Picture Show, and The Sting just to name a few. What is the best cinematography that he produced in his career? That’s a highly debatable topic, but I would argue that The Last Picture Show is the only one that might outdo his work in Act of Violence. Surtees and Zinnemann combine to produce some of the most iconic shots in all of film noir. Just look at the screencap below, of Enley running out of a tunnel as if being pursued by some inescapable horror. That, to me, is a perfect summation of this entire style and era of films.


For me, the story at times falters, and there were certain episodes that had me scratching my head. For instance, I understand Enley’s need to just get away from the situation when Joe suddenly appears, but just running off by himself and leaving his wife to fend for herself seemed… bizarre. Little things like that, which probably did not bother others, but that stick with me. Stylistically, though, Act of Violence is top-flight noir, worth viewing if for no other reason than to marvel at the aforementioned opening sequence and the well-paced finale in which Frank makes peace with his past.

#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.

Update and a Decade List

The update on the noir countdown is pretty simple: everything is ready to roll for the start on Monday. Not a whole lot more needs to be said, but hopefully everyone is looking forward to it.

I mainly wanted to have a post to be use as an excuse to post my own Best of the 2000s list now that the decade has closed. I originally intended to hold off on posting one, and save it for the Wonders in the Dark poll, but I know that my preferences will have changed by then anyway. There are also a number of films from the decade that I still need to see for the first time (like The White Ribbon, which I've been meaning to get to for weeks, and many more) and those that I need to revisit (such as Inglorious Basterds). So I'm not exactly giving things away by posting a list now. Anyway, here goes with a Top 20, based on nothing but personal preference at this moment, along with some quick blurbs for each film:

1. The New World (Terrence Malick, 2005): I've already written about this one at length in the Year's Best Countdown, so I'll refer any interested to that essay, which I thought was my best of the entire series. I will add, though, that not only do I consider this the best of the last decade, but among the best of any decade.
2. The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (Andrew Dominik, 2007): I suppose that it's not an incredible compliment to call this the best western since Eastwood's Unforgiven. After all, the competition wasn't spectacular during that span of fifteen years. What is a great compliment is saying that I think that The Assassination of Jesse James is at the same level as Unforgiven and one of the best westerns that I have ever seen.
3. Mulholland Dr. (David Lynch, 2001): I will always cherish the memory of watching this for the first time. It still remains fascinating and is far and away my favorite thing that David Lynch has ever done.
4. Lost in Translation (Sofia Coppola, 2003): It still amazes me to think that since the 1979 release of Apocalypse Now the best film involving anyone in the Coppola family would come from the one who was best known for blowing the role of Michael Corleone's daughter. For me, Bill Murray has never been better.
5. Zodiac (David Fincher, 2007): I have never been a huge David Fincher fan. I like a lot of his films, but until this, I never loved one. I already knew the ending, I knew a lot of the details that are highlighted in the investigation, and yet everything remained unbelievably thrilling and intense. Great direction from Fincher, great use of pop music of the era, and just an all-around well-made mystery. I would argue this to be one of the most underrated movies of the decade -- many acknowledge that it's a good film, but I don't see many ranking it as highly as I do.
6. Downfall (Oliver Hirschbiegel, 2004): This one has continued to get better on successive viewings. Originally, it was being captivated solely by the performance of Bruno Ganz as Hitler, but each time I realize that there is so many fascinating elements to the story. It's a grueling, depressing tale, creating conflicts as to how one should feel about the characters.
7. Fellowship of the Ring (Peter Jackson, 2001): I included only one Lord of the Rings films in this Top 20, because in all honesty I have trouble separating them. I'm not exactly an advocate of viewing them as one movie, but I seem to respond just about equally to each of them. But the best overall experience I had from them was seeing Fellowship of the Ring. A great way to start a classic trilogy.
8. Flame & Citron (Ole Christian Madsen, 2008): A movie that more people need to see. It is a hybrid WWII thriller and film noir, with enough psychological nuance to keep people thinking and action to keep them exhilarated.
9. The Lives of Others (Florian Henckel von Donnerskmarck, 2006): I'll admit that on repeat viewings, it has become obvious to me that the ending could have been made just a bit more understated and been just as, if not more, effective. Still, a wonderful slow-moving thriller that has moments of incredible white-knuckle tension.
10. United 93 (Paul Greengrass, 2006): When the movie world was buzzing and fawning over Scorsese's The Departed, I remained confused why there wasn't even greater recognition for this Greengrass film. I can understand the initial reticence to see a movie that could have been a cashing-in on a national tragedy. It is far, far from that. What sticks with me most is the feeling of immediacy to everything that is happening. The events of that day are condensed down to around two hours, but it feels like it is all happening in real-time.
11. There Will Be Blood (Paul Thomas Anderson, 2007): I earlier admitted that I liked everything David Fincher had done prior to 2007, but didn't love anything of his until Zodiac. With PTA, I really didn't like much of anything that he had done until his release this year. I still don't get the appeal of many of his more critically-acclaimed releases. But this one more than lived up to the hype.
12. City of God (Fernando Meirelles and Katia Lund, 2002): An interesting, unique crime film depicting an environment that those in the United States (if not elsewhere around the world) know very little about. Stylish yet gritty, with excellent cinematography.
13. Mystic River (Clint Eastwood, 2003): This one is draining to watch, a depressing tale that looks as dark as it feels. I personally consider Eastwood to be among the finest American directors and, in my opinion, this is the best film that he has made since Unforgiven.
14. The Proposition (John Hillcoat, 2005): Westerns set in Australia? Who knew... certainly not me. The composition of the film is what is most interesting. It jumps back and forth from brutal to lyrical, from psychedelic to brutally realistic. Another great western from this decade, but not one that everyone has seen. Perhaps the publicity that Hillcoat received with the release of The Road will inspire more people to go back and see this one for the first time (or a second, or third...)
15. Up (Pete Docter and Bob Peterson, 2009): This is one of only a few Pixar films that I have seen. I tend to have absolutely no interest in animation of any kind, so I was more shocked than anyone when I loved this movie. That opening fifteen minute silent sequence is spectacular. The movie could have ended after that and I still would have been satisfied.
16. The Aviator (Martin Scorsese, 2004): Marty finally got his Oscar in 2006 for The Departed, but in my opinion this was his best film of the decade. The production is different from the usual Scorsese film, as he discarded the usual gritty feel of his films and instead went with big, opulent designs. It fits the personality of Howard Hughes and shows that Scorsese is far more than a one-trick pony.
17. Road to Perdition (Sam Mendes, 2002): Perhaps this is here as a result of my recent re-watching and remembering how spectacular the cinematography was. I always knew that, but this time the film was more enjoyable as I no longer felt that the story dragged down the rest of the production. Still, the most impressive feat remains Conrad Hall's dazzling photography. American Beauty is the most obvious choice for the best of Sam Mendes, but I'll continue to prefer Road to Perdition.
18. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (Ang Lee, 2000): In my review for the Year's Best Countdown, I described the fight scenes in this film as reminding me of a well-choreographed dance scene in a classic musical. They're that impressive. And the story, with the perfect mixture of mysticism and exotic (to my American-centric way of life) locales. This is another one that never expected to like as much as I do.
19. Almost Famous (Cameron Crowe, 2000): Anyone who knows my passion for rock n' roll will instantly know why I adore this film. My favorite bands are groups like The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, Led Zeppelin and others, so I have always felt like someone who was born a few generations too late. That's the appeal of this film for me -- it's a story I wish that I had been right in the middle of.
20. The Reader (Stephen Daldry, 2008): I had read wildly differing reviews going into this one, ranging from masterpiece to mere fluff. I lean more toward masterpiece, even if I'll stop a bit short of declaring it as such. A lot of times, "twists" such as the critical detail used here, seem like cheap tricks. Here, I think it's used very well. Kate Winslet certainly deserved her Oscar.

Happy New Year and Update

First off, Happy New Year to everyone! Hopefully everyone had a fun and safe night last night. I'm looking forward to another year of talking movies with everyone in the coming year.

The main reason for my posting though, is to say it looks like it might be best for the countdown if I push back to the start date for one week, to January 11. The reason for this has nothing to do with lack of effort or work on my part, but rather is due to a surgery I had earlier this week. I knew about this surgery for a while, and it was only an outpatient procedure. As I've mentioned on the blog a few times, I'm a little over two years out from chemo treatments for a lymphoma I had, and the surgery on Tuesday was to finally remove the vascular port that I had during that time. So, it actually was a big step in the right direction! The issue is location -- it was right next to my shoulder, meaning that I have stitches on my chest next to my shoulder, in a position to moves whenever my right arm is used. The long and short is, it's a little irritating and difficult to do any typing outside of hunting-and-pecking. It's taken me a number of minutes just to type this paragraph!

So what I am thinking is if I give myself the extra week, the more the shoulder loosens up and allows me more range of movement, I can continue the necessary work for the countdown. I already have some of the reviews done, but would like a sufficient head start to be able to maintain the daily pace. Sound good? Other than the extra week, everything else is ready to go.