Charles McGraw was not the typical film noir sap. Shrewd, decisive, granite-jawed and gravel-voiced; his fall into darkness is sometimes hard to stomach - it's more like a plunge. He's disgusted with himself for having the same lousy weaknesses as all the shlubs he's investigated. And when his transformation is complete and his every thought and action is ruled by his mushrooming greed and lust, his hitting rock bottom is like a small earthquake. You wait for the aftershocks.
This is a modest crime film that comes at the tail end of the noir cycle (and it was undoubtedly shrugged off by audiences at the time) but viewing it today 50 years after its release allows one to judge it with fresher eyes. It's brisk, surprisingly well-plotted and boasts that signature blunt dialogue that's like boxers exchanging jabs. As the femme fatale, Joan Dixon does little more than purse her lips and act icily alluring, but that's enough. As a big-time racketeer, Lowell Gilmore is ironically (or intentionally?) so unthreatening and personable that his eventual fate seems richly undeserved. And as in many of the best noir films, there is an almost choreographed pivotal moment (like a complicated dance step) where the star-crossed lovers both shift gears, switch course and unwittingly cement their fates.
Plainly and efficiently directed by Harold Daniels, there are a couple rough transitions and slip-ups where information that should be being conveyed between characters isn't (partially undermining final dramatic showdowns) but still a fine B picture. And what noir film would be complete without someone shouting a line like "You haven't got a chance! You've been in this business long enough to know that!"
This is a modest crime film that comes at the tail end of the noir cycle (and it was undoubtedly shrugged off by audiences at the time) but viewing it today 50 years after its release allows one to judge it with fresher eyes. It's brisk, surprisingly well-plotted and boasts that signature blunt dialogue that's like boxers exchanging jabs. As the femme fatale, Joan Dixon does little more than purse her lips and act icily alluring, but that's enough. As a big-time racketeer, Lowell Gilmore is ironically (or intentionally?) so unthreatening and personable that his eventual fate seems richly undeserved. And as in many of the best noir films, there is an almost choreographed pivotal moment (like a complicated dance step) where the star-crossed lovers both shift gears, switch course and unwittingly cement their fates.
Plainly and efficiently directed by Harold Daniels, there are a couple rough transitions and slip-ups where information that should be being conveyed between characters isn't (partially undermining final dramatic showdowns) but still a fine B picture. And what noir film would be complete without someone shouting a line like "You haven't got a chance! You've been in this business long enough to know that!"