#21: Robert Siodmak

In case my counting down my 100 favorite films noir did not give it away, I’ll reiterate the fact that I am a film noir junkie. I try and see anything and everything resembling a noir that I possibly can. I have seen a lot in the short amount of time that I have been obsessed and feel like I have a pretty good handle on the greatest stylists in the genre/style. A number of the finest directors to ever work in United States at some point dabbled in noir – Wilder, Lang, Hawks, Tourneur, Ray, Huston, Welles, the list could go on. Some of these names will be, and already have been, featured in this favorite directors series. And even with such giants of cinema, if exclusively considering true noirs produced by such directors, I don’t think that I would choose any of them as my personal favorite handlers of noir. If forced to make such a selection, I’d actually have to go with this man: Robert Siodmak. He made two of the finest noirs of all time, a handful of others of high quality, and was instrumental in developing the template that others followed throughout the classic noir period.

Born to Polish Jewish parents in Germany at the turn of the century, Siodmak was successful in German cinema in the 1920s before the Nazi rise to power. For obvious reasons, he was not a favorite of the Party. Unfortunately, I have not seen any of the work he produced in his native country, but when Universal Studios signed Siodmak to a seven-year contract in 1943, he quickly developed the distinctive style that he has come to be identified with. The horror picture Son of Dracula features expressionistic lighting and visual style that Siodmak would perfect a few years later, allowing him to take a rather standard B-movie storyline and give it a noir feeling. By 1944, Siodmak would embark on a string of noirs and noirish thrillers that matches up favorably with any of his contemporaries – The Suspect, The Spiral Staircase, The Killers, The Dark Mirror, Cry of the City, Criss Cross, and The File on Thelma Jordan all in a five-year period.

Clearly, he did not _only_ make noirs. The Spiral Staircase, The Suspect, Son of Dracula, even The Dark Mirror all contain elements similar to noir, but are not fully enmeshed in the style/genre. So to call him a one-trick pony would be an overstatement. His horror work is just as superlative, with a masterwork like The Spiral Staircase arguably being an even greater visual achievement than his best noirs. Just thinking of the movie the word “black” comes to mind. Dark, dark black. Black to the point of zero visibility. The kind of shadowy, dark black sets that only could be achieved on a sound stage in the classic studio system. It really has to be seen to be appreciated.

Even so, there is a reason that the zenith of Siodmak’s days in Hollywood came at the height of the classic noir cycle. By the mid-1950s, his career was already on a downward path. But watching the movies produced during the decade-long burst of creativity that contains Siodmak’s finest work, it should be quite obvious why I think so highly of him. His use of lighting and shadows is like a textbook in noir. His depiction of anguished characters, carrying baggage from past lives or relationships, is always compelling. Siodmak is certainly not underrated by those that have any familiarity with his work, but his name remains one that deserves to be more well-known. I rank him a master director.

1. Criss Cross (1949)
2. The Killers (1946)
3. Cry of the City (1948)
4. The Spiral Staircase (1945)
5. The Suspect (1945)
6. The File on Thelma Jordan (1950)
7. Phantom Lady (1944)
8. Christmas Holiday (1944)
9. The Dark Mirror (1946)
10. Son of Dracula (1943)
11. Custer of the West (1967)

Next in the countdown is a contemporary of Siodmak's and another man with multiple great noirs (among others) to credit: John Huston.

#4: Criss Cross (Robert Siodmak, 1949)

Released: January 12, 1949

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

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

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

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

Film noir at its finest…

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There has already been a Siodmak-Lancaster collaboration included in this countdown, as Lancaster’s screen debut The Killers was selected at #5 in the series. My love for that film hopefully came through in my review, making clear that I consider it to be among the best noirs that I have ever seen. Going against conventional wisdom, I actually think that in this follow-up effort the two combined to make an even better film. While The Killers may contain more iconic scenes and is routinely cited as being influential on later crime films, Criss Cross remains in my mind as Siodmak’s best film.

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


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

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


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

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

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

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

#5: The Killers (Robert Siodmak, 1946)

Released: August 28, 1946

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

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

After rereading my entry in the annual countdown for 1946, I feel very satisfied and proud of the entry. There isn’t a whole lot that I feel like I can add without getting repetitive. Instead, my thoughts once again turn to the fact that Robert Siodmak is, in my opinion, the most underrated director of the 1940s. He seems to routinely be pigeonholed – The Spiral Staircase is a great horror movie, The Killers is a great noir – but is never talked about in the same breath with the likes of Welles, Ford, Hawks, and others. Certainly the bulk of his work in this period took place in noir, but his greatest movies transcend genre classification. The Killers, Criss Cross, The Spiral Staircase are flat-out great movies. No qualifier needed.

But… since this is a countdown devoted exclusively to film noir, I will go out on a limb and make another bold statement. Robert Siodmak, in my opinion, can make the greatest case to being the finest director to ever work in the genre/style/whatever you want to call it. His best work is of that high of quality.

So I re-post my original review here and once again marvel at how that opening diner scene never ceases to give me goosebumps each time I watch it.

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


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

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


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

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

#19: Cry of the City (Robert Siodmak, 1948)

Released: September 29, 1948

Director: Robert Siodmak; Screenplay: Richard Murphy and Ben Hecht based on the novel “The Chair for Martin Rome” by Henry Edward Helseth; Cinematography: Lloyd Ahern; Music: Alfred Newman; Producer: Sol C. Siegel; Studio: 20th Century Fox

Cast: Victor Mature (Lt. Candella), Richard Conte (Martin Rome), Fred Clark (Lt Collins), Shelley Winters (Brenda Martingale), Betty Garde (Miss Pruett, nurse), Berry Kroeger (W. A. Niles), Tommy Cook (Tony Rome), Debra Paget (Teena Riconti), Hope Emerson (Rose Given), Tito Vuolo (Papa Roma), Mimi Aguglia (Mama Roma), Roland Winters (Ledbetter), Walter Baldwin (Orvy), Howard Freeman (Sullivan), Konstantin Shayne (Dr. Veroff), June Storey (Miss Boone)

There are many films in this countdown that have received no proper DVD release and that require herculean efforts just to be able to see them, let alone have your own personal copy. If there is one film in the series that I would place at the top of a list of movies I want to see receive a proper DVD release it would undoubtedly be Robert Siodmak’s all but forgotten noir treasure Cry of the City. I have personally been reduced to scouring eBay and ordering a release from Brazil that I just hope will play on my Region 1 DVD player. I know that this has happened to many other essential movies throughout the history of cinema, but how a film this great can be so thoroughly ignored by those that own its rights is mindboggling. Robert Siodmak is one of the top directors to ever make noirs and Cry of the City is on the same level as his other recognized treasures – The Killers and Criss Cross included. Those two have outstanding DVD releases, while Cry of the City languishes in relative obscurity. If it wasn’t for the Internet, I never would have seen this one to even consider it for the countdown.

And this is prime era Siodmak noir, situated between the two classics that I just mentioned – two years after The Killers and only one year before Criss Cross. The general plotline is a very familiar one – that of childhood friends, one who makes good in a respectable field and one who turns to a life of crime – which means that it takes considerable skill to make it special. That skill comes in spades from almost everyone involved. Siodmak is a given, but his contribution is matched by the tremendous script from Richard Murphy and Ben Hecht, and two leads that play so well off of each other.


Martin Rome (Richard Conte) is a charismatic and brutal hood who is wounded in a shootout with police officers. Recuperating in a hospital under police surveillance, detectives begin questioning him about a recent jewel robbery. When he is visited by his fiancée Teena (Debra Paget), the police believe that he is meeting with someone else involved in the robbery. Rome refuses to reveal her identity, which in turn heightens their suspicion. The truth is, Rome had nothing to do with the heist. Shortly thereafter a shady defense attorney named Niles (Berry Kroeger), representing the man who is actually responsible for the robbery, approaches Rome to take the rap for that robbery since he will already be going to prison for shooting a cop. He says he will pay Rome $10,000 to do it. But if Rome refuses, he says that he will implicate Teena in the heist and send her to prison. Rome snaps, determined to get out of jail and do what he can to save Teena. After managing a daring prison escape, Rome is determined to get to Niles and, if possible, get his hands on the jewels that everyone thinks he already has. Pursuing him every step of the way is Lt. Candella (Victor Mature), a childhood friend of Martin and someone who was like a son to the Rome family. He obsessively hunts Martin, while at the same time showing a loyalty toward the Rome family. I’ll leave the synopsis here somewhat vague for those that haven’t seen it. It’s not that there are any great spoilers that could be revealed, but it’s always nice to go in relatively fresh.

The first thing that anyone familiar with Siodmak’s work will notice is that he, identified as a prototypical studio director, incorporates location shooting into the film. Siodmak evidently went on record as saying that he never felt entirely comfortable outside of the confines of a studio lot – and who can blame him when you see the spectacular atmospherics he was able to create in films like The Spiral Staircase and his other noirs. He may not have been comfortable, but the results are equally impressive. The streets of Little Italy are not Spiral Staircase-like dark, but look more like there is a constant mist or haze looming over the entire area. Compositions of shots – many of them simple yet so effective – result in a number of unforgettable sequences. Siodmak films the meeting between Martin and Teena in the hospital by positioning the camera to shoot them through the bars of the headboard of the hospital bed. The prison escape may lack in action but it is filmed as only Siodmak could do it to amp up the tension. My personal favorite is the confrontation between Martin and Niles after Martin has escaped from prison. I won’t reveal much about it, but just say that it brings a sly smile to my face each time when I realize how playful Siodmak is in that instance.

The script and acting complement each very well. Richard Murphy and Ben Hecht were both veteran screenwriters and the strength of their writing is a major reason why the routine story remains interesting. Very early in the film, the charisma of Martin Rome, played brilliantly by Richard Conte, radiates off the screen. He lays in a hospital bed, wounded and under arrest for shooting a policeman, and is as cool as if he just woke up from an afternoon nap. Conte plays him so cool that, as a viewer, it’s almost impossible not to root for him. The authorities continually refer to what a brutal criminal Rome is, but none of that seems apparent to the audience. What Murphy and Hecht do is let these evil characteristics slowly begin to emerge as the story progresses. The closer that Candella gets to Rome, the more that Martin’s dark side starts to make him appear repugnant.

Since I don’t know where to direct anyone in order to see this – I’ve never seen it played on TCM, but maybe it will at some point – I say that if you have the opportunity, jump on it. Not only does this top my list of noirs I’m dying to see released on DVD, but it probably tops my list of all films I want put out. It likely won’t do any good, but I will close the write-up with a plea to those who own the rights: Release this film!

#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.

1946: The Killers (Robert Siodmak)

Released: August 28, 1946

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

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

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

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


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

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


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

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

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

Rating: 10/10

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

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

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