188 reviews
The tale concerns about a lengthy flashback where the protagonist (Edmond O'Brien) after leaving his girlfriend (Pamela Britton ) goes to San Francisco . There is given an extremely slow-action poison . The starring relates his own murder and becomes himself in detective , spending his ending moments trying to uncover his hit men . As his time runs out , he has only hours to identify , he desperately seeks to discover who is responsible his death . The search for the suspect is further complicated by thrilling facts , numerous intrigues , deceits and confrontation against mobsters (Luther Adler , Neville Brand) .
It's an exciting B-thriller of vibrating pace that unites various elements as the fatalism , cynicism , corruption with a noir vision of America from the time . The original title belongs the notes about the deceased person . Magnificent interpretation by usually secondary Edmond O'Brien as when he is frantically running by San Francisco streets . The scene in which he runs in panic through the streets after learning he has been poisoned was a stolen shot . The pedestrians had no idea a movie was being made and no warning that Edmond O'Brien would be plowing through them . Nice secondary cast , being film debut of Beverly Garland and Neville Brand . The film gets a good black and white (though available colorized) cinematography with some excellent close-ups (the jazzmen) by Ernest Lazslo . Atmospheric music by the classic Dimitri Tiomkin . The movie is well done by Rudolph Mate , a famous and habitual cameraman . It's followed by inferior remakes as ¨Color me dead¨ (1969) with Tom Tryon and 1988 version with Dennis Quaid and Meg Ryan . The motion picture will appeal to dark noir movies fans . Rating : Notable and well worth seeing.
It's an exciting B-thriller of vibrating pace that unites various elements as the fatalism , cynicism , corruption with a noir vision of America from the time . The original title belongs the notes about the deceased person . Magnificent interpretation by usually secondary Edmond O'Brien as when he is frantically running by San Francisco streets . The scene in which he runs in panic through the streets after learning he has been poisoned was a stolen shot . The pedestrians had no idea a movie was being made and no warning that Edmond O'Brien would be plowing through them . Nice secondary cast , being film debut of Beverly Garland and Neville Brand . The film gets a good black and white (though available colorized) cinematography with some excellent close-ups (the jazzmen) by Ernest Lazslo . Atmospheric music by the classic Dimitri Tiomkin . The movie is well done by Rudolph Mate , a famous and habitual cameraman . It's followed by inferior remakes as ¨Color me dead¨ (1969) with Tom Tryon and 1988 version with Dennis Quaid and Meg Ryan . The motion picture will appeal to dark noir movies fans . Rating : Notable and well worth seeing.
Great B-movie film noir, played as if his life depended on it (and it does) by Edmond O'Brien as a small-town notary who pays a big price for signing the wrong document at the wrong time, turning what should have been a pleasure trip to the west coast into a murderous affair altogether.
It starts with a bang, O'Brien staggering into the local homicide unit to tell the cops that there's been a murder - his, before launching into the massive flash-back which takes up pretty much the rest of the movie. The action from there on is hectic and as convoluted as all the best noirs are as O'Brien, infected by a deadly poison, races against the clock to track down his own killer and the reason behind it.
The film makes fine use of actual San Francisco and Los Angeles locations as well as authentically depicting the hot and steamy atmosphere at a Frisco jazz club. O'Brien is great as the doomed Bigelow, racing, often literally, against the clock, stopping only to palm off his adoring secretary girl-friend, Pamela Britten, who of course doesn't find out what's wrong with him until too late.
The pacing is almost non-stop once it gathers momentum, unfortunately when it does, some of the scene-writing gets over-ripe and correspondingly over-acted as O'Brien and his girl pour out their hearts somewhat unnecessarily. The film ends bravely though with a downbeat conclusion, delivering what the title says it must and at least tying up all the loose ends by that time.
It starts with a bang, O'Brien staggering into the local homicide unit to tell the cops that there's been a murder - his, before launching into the massive flash-back which takes up pretty much the rest of the movie. The action from there on is hectic and as convoluted as all the best noirs are as O'Brien, infected by a deadly poison, races against the clock to track down his own killer and the reason behind it.
The film makes fine use of actual San Francisco and Los Angeles locations as well as authentically depicting the hot and steamy atmosphere at a Frisco jazz club. O'Brien is great as the doomed Bigelow, racing, often literally, against the clock, stopping only to palm off his adoring secretary girl-friend, Pamela Britten, who of course doesn't find out what's wrong with him until too late.
The pacing is almost non-stop once it gathers momentum, unfortunately when it does, some of the scene-writing gets over-ripe and correspondingly over-acted as O'Brien and his girl pour out their hearts somewhat unnecessarily. The film ends bravely though with a downbeat conclusion, delivering what the title says it must and at least tying up all the loose ends by that time.
**SPOILERS** Staggering into a L.A police station barely alive Frank Bigelow, Edmound O'Brien, has a story to tell about a murder that he witnessed, his own! It all happened two days ago when Bigelow was straying in San Francisco on vacation from his job as a tax accountant during Market Week. At the Fisherman Club Bigelow got a bit juiced up and during drinks he was slipped a dose of luminous toxin in his glass. It's that toxin that's now on the verge of killing him. The reason that he was poisoned had to do with him notarizing a bill of sale for a shipment of iridium that was stolen and could put the person who shipped it behind bars for at least five years!
It took a while for Bigelow to realize that he had a fatal dose of luminous toxin in his system and by the time he did it was too late to save his life. But it wasn't too late for Bigelow to track down and find the person or persons who had him poisoned. And it's during the rest of the movie, in flashback, that's exactly what he did! And did it with an unrelenting fury as if his life depended on it!
In what is undoubtedly Edmound O'Brien's best role as Frank "Biggie" Bigeow the film "D.O.A" has him move heaven and earth to find the person who eventually murdered him. From San Francisco to Los Angeles as well as parts in between Bigelow finally track him down to the Philips Inport-Export office at the Bradbury Building in downtown L.A. It in fact was Philips who was murdered, by being thrown to his death, because of the illegal iridium shipment that he later realized he was tricked into handling. With Philips dead the only person who could connect both his murderer and the person whom he shipped the iridium for is Frank Bigelow who handled, by notarizing the bill of sale, the shipment!
Non stop action thriller as a dying, or murdered, man turns L.A upside down in trying to find his killer and exact punishment on him before he himself expires! Bigelow also gets involved with L.A mobster Majak, Luther Adler, whom the illegal iridium was delivered for. In knowing about Majak's involvement in it had Bigelow targeted by him and his sadistic and unstable hit man Chester, Naville Brand, for immediate termination. That's if the luminous toxin doesn't kill him first!
Even though the movie is a scant 83 minutes long it packs enough action to fill some half dozen films of it's type: Film Noir Thrillers. Frank Bigelow is a man who knows that he hasn't long to live and therefore throws caution to the wind in trying to find his killer before the curtain comes down on him. It was in fact that almost suicidal determination on Bigelow's part that in the end brought him results!
It took a while for Bigelow to realize that he had a fatal dose of luminous toxin in his system and by the time he did it was too late to save his life. But it wasn't too late for Bigelow to track down and find the person or persons who had him poisoned. And it's during the rest of the movie, in flashback, that's exactly what he did! And did it with an unrelenting fury as if his life depended on it!
In what is undoubtedly Edmound O'Brien's best role as Frank "Biggie" Bigeow the film "D.O.A" has him move heaven and earth to find the person who eventually murdered him. From San Francisco to Los Angeles as well as parts in between Bigelow finally track him down to the Philips Inport-Export office at the Bradbury Building in downtown L.A. It in fact was Philips who was murdered, by being thrown to his death, because of the illegal iridium shipment that he later realized he was tricked into handling. With Philips dead the only person who could connect both his murderer and the person whom he shipped the iridium for is Frank Bigelow who handled, by notarizing the bill of sale, the shipment!
Non stop action thriller as a dying, or murdered, man turns L.A upside down in trying to find his killer and exact punishment on him before he himself expires! Bigelow also gets involved with L.A mobster Majak, Luther Adler, whom the illegal iridium was delivered for. In knowing about Majak's involvement in it had Bigelow targeted by him and his sadistic and unstable hit man Chester, Naville Brand, for immediate termination. That's if the luminous toxin doesn't kill him first!
Even though the movie is a scant 83 minutes long it packs enough action to fill some half dozen films of it's type: Film Noir Thrillers. Frank Bigelow is a man who knows that he hasn't long to live and therefore throws caution to the wind in trying to find his killer before the curtain comes down on him. It was in fact that almost suicidal determination on Bigelow's part that in the end brought him results!
I hate formal film evaluation lists that ostentatiously rate the relative value of certain films, such as Citizen Kane for example. I do think Citizen Kane is a great film. But I also think that about fifteen or twenty other films I could quickly name are every bit as good as Kane in their own way. (Almost any Richard Gere movie, for example. Just kidding.)
This brings me to D.O.A., directed by Rudolf Maté. D.O.A. in my book is the Citizen Kane of the noirs. It's so good that I often wonder about how it got made in the first place. Since many of the people who were involved in its production are now no longer with us, I may never learn anything about its origins. That's a frustration, of course, but the more important thing is that I can recognize a great noir when I see it.
Why, you ask, is D.O.A. a great noir? The most obvious reason is its plot. A guy goes out for a night on the town and someone, a total stranger, slips him a mickey in a bar-a lethal mickey. But it doesn't kill him instantly. It kills him slowly, so slowly that he's given the chance to find out who did this terrible thing to him, and why.
Second, the film is exceptionally well made in every other respect. Okay, the Pamela Britton character is one dimensional and embarrassing, we all agree on that, but who really cares when everything else in the film is so good? Edmond O'Brien had one of the best roles of his career in D.O.A., and he took full advantage, though few critics give his performance much credit for the film's success.
O'Brien, a classically trained actor, plays a small-time Southern California businessman living his ordinary little life, minding his own business, regularly boffing his secretary (this was implied rather than made explicit; after all, this was 1949), and avoiding her whiney entreaties that they tie the knot, as he's been promising her he would do for ever so long.
You can't help liking O'Brien in part precisely because of his human flaws. He's basically decent, but harassed, overworked, and stretched to the limit by the pressure put on him by Britton. What adult male couldn't identify with this man, or at least sympathize? His very insignificance as one more human ant on the planet Earth, and the terrible thing that's about to happen to him, are the essence of great film noir. (Detour, although by no means a favorite noir of mine, is nevertheless another perfect example of an ordinary man, a small-timer, minding his own business and unexpectedly colliding with Fate and all that it has in store for him.) We resonate to D.O.A. because fate and contingency have been the fundamental conditions of life on the planet earth since before the beginning of history. Our time on Earth is brief and our lives but little scraps of paper blown about by the wind toward endings we know not. We live noir lives.
The film's particulars are wonderful. From the sunny hick town of Banning, the movie switches quickly to San Francisco. If ever there were a noir town, it's Frisco. (Hitchcock picked up on that real quick; watch Vertigo again to see how he saw the eerie side to that town, with its creepy deserted streets, little ghostlike fog-blown urban hills, and other abandoned places suggestive of loneliness and soullessness.)
From here one great noir scene follows another in astonishing succession: the smoky, crowded jazz bar where the sweaty black musicians are blowing up a storm (to an all-white 1949 audience of course), while a murder is silently committed with a switched drink. The doctor holding the eerily glowing glass tube of luminescent poison and informing O'Brien, "You've been murdered." O'Brien running through the crowded downtown streets like a madman, as if velocity could help him escape his fate. O'Brien, after being shot at, a gun now in his own hand, looking for his killer in the abandoned processing plant. His encounter with Luther Adler's insane, sadistic henchman played by Neville Brand. Brand, speaking softly, glints of spittle in the corners of his mouth, nutty little eyes lighting up with anticipated pleasure: "I'm gonna give it to you in the belly. You're soft in the belly, aren't'cha? " Then the fantastic night scene in the crowded Los Angeles drugstore with Brand stalking him among oblivious customers-till shots ring out, then screams, followed by death. Finally, again at night, O'Brien's confrontation with his killer, which (inevitably) occurs in the Bradbury Building, that great architectural shrine to noir, scene of so many other noir films.
Let's stop for a moment and go back to an earlier part of the film. Fatally poisoned, still not quite believing what has happened to him, exhausted and uncertain of anything, O'Brien has run for block after block, but now his energy has finally petered out and he finds himself alone near the docks. Utterly depleted, all hope lost, he wearily leans against the side of an old wooden newsstand in an otherwise bleak, abandoned area. Eyes glazing over, he's terrified, trying to catch his breath. During a medium close-up we briefly study him, then notice something to his left, a single long vertical row of magazines, all identical covers, arranged down the side of the kiosk just half a hand away from him. He isn't looking at them, isn't really aware of them, but we are. For just a few seconds we see: Life, Life, Life, Life, Life, Life, Life. Then the film quickly moves on and goes about its business, as if we had been shown nothing of importance.
You tell me this isn't a great film noir.
This brings me to D.O.A., directed by Rudolf Maté. D.O.A. in my book is the Citizen Kane of the noirs. It's so good that I often wonder about how it got made in the first place. Since many of the people who were involved in its production are now no longer with us, I may never learn anything about its origins. That's a frustration, of course, but the more important thing is that I can recognize a great noir when I see it.
Why, you ask, is D.O.A. a great noir? The most obvious reason is its plot. A guy goes out for a night on the town and someone, a total stranger, slips him a mickey in a bar-a lethal mickey. But it doesn't kill him instantly. It kills him slowly, so slowly that he's given the chance to find out who did this terrible thing to him, and why.
Second, the film is exceptionally well made in every other respect. Okay, the Pamela Britton character is one dimensional and embarrassing, we all agree on that, but who really cares when everything else in the film is so good? Edmond O'Brien had one of the best roles of his career in D.O.A., and he took full advantage, though few critics give his performance much credit for the film's success.
O'Brien, a classically trained actor, plays a small-time Southern California businessman living his ordinary little life, minding his own business, regularly boffing his secretary (this was implied rather than made explicit; after all, this was 1949), and avoiding her whiney entreaties that they tie the knot, as he's been promising her he would do for ever so long.
You can't help liking O'Brien in part precisely because of his human flaws. He's basically decent, but harassed, overworked, and stretched to the limit by the pressure put on him by Britton. What adult male couldn't identify with this man, or at least sympathize? His very insignificance as one more human ant on the planet Earth, and the terrible thing that's about to happen to him, are the essence of great film noir. (Detour, although by no means a favorite noir of mine, is nevertheless another perfect example of an ordinary man, a small-timer, minding his own business and unexpectedly colliding with Fate and all that it has in store for him.) We resonate to D.O.A. because fate and contingency have been the fundamental conditions of life on the planet earth since before the beginning of history. Our time on Earth is brief and our lives but little scraps of paper blown about by the wind toward endings we know not. We live noir lives.
The film's particulars are wonderful. From the sunny hick town of Banning, the movie switches quickly to San Francisco. If ever there were a noir town, it's Frisco. (Hitchcock picked up on that real quick; watch Vertigo again to see how he saw the eerie side to that town, with its creepy deserted streets, little ghostlike fog-blown urban hills, and other abandoned places suggestive of loneliness and soullessness.)
From here one great noir scene follows another in astonishing succession: the smoky, crowded jazz bar where the sweaty black musicians are blowing up a storm (to an all-white 1949 audience of course), while a murder is silently committed with a switched drink. The doctor holding the eerily glowing glass tube of luminescent poison and informing O'Brien, "You've been murdered." O'Brien running through the crowded downtown streets like a madman, as if velocity could help him escape his fate. O'Brien, after being shot at, a gun now in his own hand, looking for his killer in the abandoned processing plant. His encounter with Luther Adler's insane, sadistic henchman played by Neville Brand. Brand, speaking softly, glints of spittle in the corners of his mouth, nutty little eyes lighting up with anticipated pleasure: "I'm gonna give it to you in the belly. You're soft in the belly, aren't'cha? " Then the fantastic night scene in the crowded Los Angeles drugstore with Brand stalking him among oblivious customers-till shots ring out, then screams, followed by death. Finally, again at night, O'Brien's confrontation with his killer, which (inevitably) occurs in the Bradbury Building, that great architectural shrine to noir, scene of so many other noir films.
Let's stop for a moment and go back to an earlier part of the film. Fatally poisoned, still not quite believing what has happened to him, exhausted and uncertain of anything, O'Brien has run for block after block, but now his energy has finally petered out and he finds himself alone near the docks. Utterly depleted, all hope lost, he wearily leans against the side of an old wooden newsstand in an otherwise bleak, abandoned area. Eyes glazing over, he's terrified, trying to catch his breath. During a medium close-up we briefly study him, then notice something to his left, a single long vertical row of magazines, all identical covers, arranged down the side of the kiosk just half a hand away from him. He isn't looking at them, isn't really aware of them, but we are. For just a few seconds we see: Life, Life, Life, Life, Life, Life, Life. Then the film quickly moves on and goes about its business, as if we had been shown nothing of importance.
You tell me this isn't a great film noir.
- burgbob975
- May 26, 2002
- Permalink
Fans of film noir should see this one, as this film is up there with the best.
It's a story about how a simple act can lead to disaster in this case, death. If you've not seen it, I'm not about to tell you much except this: it has perhaps the most imaginative beginning for any murder mystery ever devised as Frank Bigelow (Edmond O'Brien) fronts up to the Homicide Bureau in Los Angeles to report a murder his own! Thereafter, the story traces Frank's attempts to find out who is trying to kill him, and why. One of the best pieces of irony is when, having learnt that he will die soon, Frank runs and runs until he's out of breath and stops, panting, beside a newsstand where there are multiple copies of Life magazine hanging there, just beside him. The director, Rudolph Mate, had a real insider joke with that shot.
And that long tracking shot, by the way, was an excellent example of how to use fast camera work and great editing.
On another level, the movie very much fits the times vis-à-vis the portrayal of evil and where it leads: retribution is always just around the corner for those who transgress society, even if you think you're justified. When you see this movie, you'll know what I mean.
And, for the times, the acting was good, with a standout performance from Edmond O'Brien, and ably supported by the ever-competent Luther Adler (as Majak, the sharp dealer in stolen goods), and Neville Brand, as the psychopathic Chester. The rest of the cast was adequate. The only jarring note (no pun intended) are the peculiar and bizarre wolf-whistles (inserted by some demented sound engineer?) that accompany Frank Bigelow as he looks at women in his hotel at San Francisco. What was the director thinking of...?
That aside, it's a good, fast-paced action mystery that helped to keep the film noir genre very much alive. Have a go...
It's a story about how a simple act can lead to disaster in this case, death. If you've not seen it, I'm not about to tell you much except this: it has perhaps the most imaginative beginning for any murder mystery ever devised as Frank Bigelow (Edmond O'Brien) fronts up to the Homicide Bureau in Los Angeles to report a murder his own! Thereafter, the story traces Frank's attempts to find out who is trying to kill him, and why. One of the best pieces of irony is when, having learnt that he will die soon, Frank runs and runs until he's out of breath and stops, panting, beside a newsstand where there are multiple copies of Life magazine hanging there, just beside him. The director, Rudolph Mate, had a real insider joke with that shot.
And that long tracking shot, by the way, was an excellent example of how to use fast camera work and great editing.
On another level, the movie very much fits the times vis-à-vis the portrayal of evil and where it leads: retribution is always just around the corner for those who transgress society, even if you think you're justified. When you see this movie, you'll know what I mean.
And, for the times, the acting was good, with a standout performance from Edmond O'Brien, and ably supported by the ever-competent Luther Adler (as Majak, the sharp dealer in stolen goods), and Neville Brand, as the psychopathic Chester. The rest of the cast was adequate. The only jarring note (no pun intended) are the peculiar and bizarre wolf-whistles (inserted by some demented sound engineer?) that accompany Frank Bigelow as he looks at women in his hotel at San Francisco. What was the director thinking of...?
That aside, it's a good, fast-paced action mystery that helped to keep the film noir genre very much alive. Have a go...
- RJBurke1942
- Sep 21, 2006
- Permalink
DOA was made on the cusp of Edmond O'Brien's transition from leads to character roles and it may very well be his career part.
It's a cheaply made thriller and it shows in spots. But it more than makes up for it in originality of plot and the performances of a superb cast of players.
DOA involves nothing less than Edmond O'Brien solving his own murder. He's in some kind of business and as a sideline he makes a little extra money as a notary. He notarizes a bill of sale and in doing so is a witness to a piece of evidence that a man who was a party to the sale had no reason to commit suicide.
But the perpetrator doesn't slip O'Brien something fast acting like cyanide. No he gets something called luminescent poisoning which is slow acting, but irreversibly fatal if not caught within a few hours of ingesting. When he learns what happens, O'Brien has nothing to lose in his hunt for his own killer.
Best in the cast of supporting players without a doubt is Neville Brand who invades Lyle Bettger territory in playing a psychopathic thug in Luther Adler's employ. Adler himself is always good as are good girl Pamela Britton and bad girl Beverly Garland.
The film was made on a shoestring, but occasionally those films can prove worthwhile.
It's a cheaply made thriller and it shows in spots. But it more than makes up for it in originality of plot and the performances of a superb cast of players.
DOA involves nothing less than Edmond O'Brien solving his own murder. He's in some kind of business and as a sideline he makes a little extra money as a notary. He notarizes a bill of sale and in doing so is a witness to a piece of evidence that a man who was a party to the sale had no reason to commit suicide.
But the perpetrator doesn't slip O'Brien something fast acting like cyanide. No he gets something called luminescent poisoning which is slow acting, but irreversibly fatal if not caught within a few hours of ingesting. When he learns what happens, O'Brien has nothing to lose in his hunt for his own killer.
Best in the cast of supporting players without a doubt is Neville Brand who invades Lyle Bettger territory in playing a psychopathic thug in Luther Adler's employ. Adler himself is always good as are good girl Pamela Britton and bad girl Beverly Garland.
The film was made on a shoestring, but occasionally those films can prove worthwhile.
- bkoganbing
- Jun 4, 2007
- Permalink
When I started watching all the film noirs I could find, I was a bit disappointed in this. However, after three viewings I now find it decent. It's nothing super, but certainly better than what I though at first. A big help is having a better print of the film. This is one of those movies that always had a poor VHS quality transfer and many times the same on DVD. Finding a good print is hard, although I finally got a decent one with this Killer Classic DVD set that includes this movie.
The story, like the print, is not always easy to follow, either, even though the premise is very simple. A man discovers he has been poisoned and there is no hope for recovery. Before he dies, he retraces his steps to find out who "murdered him" (even though he's still alive when saying that) and why.
The story gets a bit complicated. Like a Sherlock Holmes or Charlie Chan mystery, there are a number of suspects that keep popping up. Many of them are hard to figure.
This is an odd film noir for several quirky things in this movie. The lead character, "Frank Bigelow" (Edmund O'Brien), is strange and kind of stupid in the beginning. There are a half dozen of these dumb whistle-like wolf call sound-effects that come out every time he sees a pretty woman. It just doesn't fit in a tough film noir. Then there is his possessive girlfriend/secretary "Paula," (Pamela Britton) who is constantly calling him and paranoid about his whereabouts. She acts more like an insecure, nagging wife but she obviously cares a great deal about him. But, man, give the poor guy some space!
The dialog in this film ranges from incredibly stupid to very clever and solid film noir material.
We also see one of the most sadistic people I have ever seen on film: "Chester," played by the sadistic-looking Neville Brand. Wow, is this guy sick or what? He reminded me of "Vera" (Ann Savage) in "Detour." Those two would have made an interesting couple! Brand's character is only interested in one thing in life: inflicting pain and the slower and more brutal, the better.
Anyway, if you find a good print, tolerate some of the goofy things in the film, this is an interesting film noir that gets better with each viewing, as you understand the story better.
The story, like the print, is not always easy to follow, either, even though the premise is very simple. A man discovers he has been poisoned and there is no hope for recovery. Before he dies, he retraces his steps to find out who "murdered him" (even though he's still alive when saying that) and why.
The story gets a bit complicated. Like a Sherlock Holmes or Charlie Chan mystery, there are a number of suspects that keep popping up. Many of them are hard to figure.
This is an odd film noir for several quirky things in this movie. The lead character, "Frank Bigelow" (Edmund O'Brien), is strange and kind of stupid in the beginning. There are a half dozen of these dumb whistle-like wolf call sound-effects that come out every time he sees a pretty woman. It just doesn't fit in a tough film noir. Then there is his possessive girlfriend/secretary "Paula," (Pamela Britton) who is constantly calling him and paranoid about his whereabouts. She acts more like an insecure, nagging wife but she obviously cares a great deal about him. But, man, give the poor guy some space!
The dialog in this film ranges from incredibly stupid to very clever and solid film noir material.
We also see one of the most sadistic people I have ever seen on film: "Chester," played by the sadistic-looking Neville Brand. Wow, is this guy sick or what? He reminded me of "Vera" (Ann Savage) in "Detour." Those two would have made an interesting couple! Brand's character is only interested in one thing in life: inflicting pain and the slower and more brutal, the better.
Anyway, if you find a good print, tolerate some of the goofy things in the film, this is an interesting film noir that gets better with each viewing, as you understand the story better.
- ccthemovieman-1
- Oct 27, 2006
- Permalink
My favorite Edmund O'Brien film. What makes him so enjoyable in this is that you can tell he really enjoys acting; he just puts his heart and soul into every part he ever played; the passion and emotion are always there. He loves his craft. I don't think D.O.A. is film noir, as it seems to be almost a parody of film noir (notice how deliberately hard-boiled all the characters are (well, except loving, loyal, sweet Pamela Britton as his true love, though he doesn't know it yet) and call O'Brien's character always by his last name, Bigelow, even the less than diplomatic doctor who, coming out of his lab to confirm luminous poisoning and holding up the vial, says, "Yeah, you got it, Bigelow". So much for bedside manner. I love Luther Adler here; he really is menacing in that Mad Magazine way; remember, fellow Boomers, when Mad ran that piece about how movie villains are somehow always polite and the hero is always rude and hostile? Well, here Adler does that perfectly; after giving him to "Chester", he intones, "Forgive me". Memorable B-movie in every respect; great location shooting, great use of sound.
- helpless_dancer
- Oct 27, 2001
- Permalink
One of the best film noir flicks of all-time (along with The Killers). DO NOT CONFUSE THIS WITH THE REMAKE!! The film stars our unattractive hero, O'Brien, as the man who has been poisoned and is told he has only 24 hours to live. He has no idea who did it and spends almost the entire film tracking down the dirty rat that done him in. It's amazing how many wonderful noir films O'Brien appeared in over the years.
The pacing is good, acting top-rate and very noir-ish, and it manages to pull so much out of a very simple plot with minimal sets. In other words, it gives a fantastic "bang for the buck" and modern filmmakers would really benefit from learning a lesson or two from DOA.
I just checked the IMDb Top 50 Film Noir films and for some odd reason this film is not listed. How is this possible?
The pacing is good, acting top-rate and very noir-ish, and it manages to pull so much out of a very simple plot with minimal sets. In other words, it gives a fantastic "bang for the buck" and modern filmmakers would really benefit from learning a lesson or two from DOA.
I just checked the IMDb Top 50 Film Noir films and for some odd reason this film is not listed. How is this possible?
- planktonrules
- May 29, 2005
- Permalink
An exceptionally well thought-out and executed film noir. A man who is fatally poisoned with a slow-acting substance wants to discover who killed him -- and why. The answers seem pathetically insignificant compared to their repurcussions. O'Brien provides a solid "everyman" type leading performance that puts Gary Cooper and Glenn Ford's best attempts at the same to utter shame. Bev Garland puts in a good show too as a sort of misunderstood femme fatale in a minor key. Credit should go to director Mate and photographer Laszlo, who match the words and feelings of the story perfectly, neither showing us too much or too little at any time. The narrative force of this story is strong because it is focused on one man, with whom we can identify, who has been placed in an exciting, intriguing, and terrifying situation by events out of his control.
- ShootingShark
- Jul 9, 2010
- Permalink
There's no doubt that "D.O.A." grabs your attention right from the opening scene, as the camera follows Frank Bigelow (Edmond O'Brien) walking into a local police station to report a murder - his own! He's been poisoned, and has only a short time to live, and the movie then becomes a flashback, as Bigelow recounts his story to the police. This is certainly lively, as Bigelow becomes more and more frantic in his effort to discover his killer before he dies, but there were perhaps too many twists and turns in the plot, making it very hard to follow the trail of clues. There was also, it seemed to me at least, a major plot oversight. Simply put, how did his killer know that he was going to go on vacation in San Francisco? His presence in San Francisco is essential to the story, but I just didn't understand that. In addition, there were a number of aspects to the film that I just didn't like.
Am I alone in really not liking Bigelow? The guy essentially decides to go off on vacation and sow his wild oats so to speak with the local ladies, leaving the woman he supposedly loves back home wondering what he's up to. He looks at virtually every woman he sees with lust in his eyes (at least we know what's on his mind!) and the wolf-whistles that sounded every time he looked at a woman were silly and even irritating. We got the message! They really weren't necessary. Even the relationship and repeated conversations between Bigelow and Paula seemed to serve no real purpose in the story. His relationship to Paula had nothing at all to do with his poisoning - so why bother with it? Kudos for that great opening scene which gets you interested. Had it not been for that, I suspect that few people would stick with this. 5/10
Am I alone in really not liking Bigelow? The guy essentially decides to go off on vacation and sow his wild oats so to speak with the local ladies, leaving the woman he supposedly loves back home wondering what he's up to. He looks at virtually every woman he sees with lust in his eyes (at least we know what's on his mind!) and the wolf-whistles that sounded every time he looked at a woman were silly and even irritating. We got the message! They really weren't necessary. Even the relationship and repeated conversations between Bigelow and Paula seemed to serve no real purpose in the story. His relationship to Paula had nothing at all to do with his poisoning - so why bother with it? Kudos for that great opening scene which gets you interested. Had it not been for that, I suspect that few people would stick with this. 5/10
Frank Bigelow: "I want to report a murder." Homicide Captain: "Where was this murder committed?" Frank Bigelow: "San Francisco, last night." Homicide Captain: "Who was murdered?" Frank Bigelow: "I was."
It must be the dream of all directors to open a film with a scene or line which carries great impact and remains in the memory. The opening line in D.O.A must rank among the most dramatically effective and intriguing lines that has ever opened a movie. This is the quintessential film noir. Edmond O'Brien as the tough, hard drinking businessman who has grown tired of the normalcy of his life and the clinging Paula. His holiday in San Francisco is an opportunity to break the shackels. The premise that the hero has been given a slow poison for which there is no cure, and only a day or so to solve his own murder before he dies, is exceptional. We also have an array of sultry "bad girls", a seedy villain and a manic hitman. Rudoph Mate directs brilliantly, not missing a moment to twist and turn the action at a fast pace with no dull moments. Scenes of O'Brien running through city streets after he has learned his fate are superb with incredibly realistic wide shots. The fact that his direction is so effective makes one wonder how he could have allowed the lapses of ridiculous canned "wolf whistles" whenever the hero passed a good looking girl in the early scenes. Although these "wolf whistles" are really out of place and very annoying, the film is so effective that we can forgive the indiscretion. This is a classic example of a brilliant plot superbly told in a way that is still gripping 50 years after it was made. D.O.A. defines Film Noir.
It must be the dream of all directors to open a film with a scene or line which carries great impact and remains in the memory. The opening line in D.O.A must rank among the most dramatically effective and intriguing lines that has ever opened a movie. This is the quintessential film noir. Edmond O'Brien as the tough, hard drinking businessman who has grown tired of the normalcy of his life and the clinging Paula. His holiday in San Francisco is an opportunity to break the shackels. The premise that the hero has been given a slow poison for which there is no cure, and only a day or so to solve his own murder before he dies, is exceptional. We also have an array of sultry "bad girls", a seedy villain and a manic hitman. Rudoph Mate directs brilliantly, not missing a moment to twist and turn the action at a fast pace with no dull moments. Scenes of O'Brien running through city streets after he has learned his fate are superb with incredibly realistic wide shots. The fact that his direction is so effective makes one wonder how he could have allowed the lapses of ridiculous canned "wolf whistles" whenever the hero passed a good looking girl in the early scenes. Although these "wolf whistles" are really out of place and very annoying, the film is so effective that we can forgive the indiscretion. This is a classic example of a brilliant plot superbly told in a way that is still gripping 50 years after it was made. D.O.A. defines Film Noir.
This excellent noir arguably gives burly leading man Edmond O'Brien his best ever role (followed perhaps by that in another little-seen noir, Hubert Cornfield's THE THIRD VOICE [1959]) and it may well also be celebrated cinematographer Mate''s best directorial effort; regrettably, several years ago I passed on a chance of acquiring Mate's previous noir the well-regarded THE DARK PAST (1948) on VHS!
The idea of a dying man seeking out his own killers before he expires was very original at the time, but has been much copied since in fact, this film was itself remade twice as COLOR ME DEAD (1969) with Tom Tryon and Carolyn Jones and, again, under its original title in 1988 starring then real-life couple Dennis Quaid and Meg Ryan! The 'murdered' man acting as narrator in a way anticipates Billy Wilder's SUNSET BOULEVARD (1950) as well, and even Akira Kurosawa's RASHOMON (1951)!
Despite their belated entrance, Luther Adler's sleek businessman and Neville Brand's thug are memorably villainous and remind one of Sydney Greenstreet and Elisha Cook Jr. in John Huston's THE MALTESE FALCON (1941). Even so, these two are not really the parties involved in O'Brien's poisoning and, in fact, the plot is a little too convoluted along the way until one gets all the threads sorted out towards the end.
The character of O'Brien's secretary/girlfriend is quite one-dimensional and gets a bit annoying as a result, but it is relevant to the plot nevertheless; besides, the whistling on the soundtrack every time a good-looking girl passed O'Brien by during the early stages of the film was rather corny. However, Dimitri Tiomkin's frenzied score admirably mirrors the agitated state-of-mind of the desperate protagonist while the all-important jive session sequence became something of a noir staple (probably introduced in Robert Siodmak's PHANTOM LADY [1944], which I watched recently for the first time).
The idea of a dying man seeking out his own killers before he expires was very original at the time, but has been much copied since in fact, this film was itself remade twice as COLOR ME DEAD (1969) with Tom Tryon and Carolyn Jones and, again, under its original title in 1988 starring then real-life couple Dennis Quaid and Meg Ryan! The 'murdered' man acting as narrator in a way anticipates Billy Wilder's SUNSET BOULEVARD (1950) as well, and even Akira Kurosawa's RASHOMON (1951)!
Despite their belated entrance, Luther Adler's sleek businessman and Neville Brand's thug are memorably villainous and remind one of Sydney Greenstreet and Elisha Cook Jr. in John Huston's THE MALTESE FALCON (1941). Even so, these two are not really the parties involved in O'Brien's poisoning and, in fact, the plot is a little too convoluted along the way until one gets all the threads sorted out towards the end.
The character of O'Brien's secretary/girlfriend is quite one-dimensional and gets a bit annoying as a result, but it is relevant to the plot nevertheless; besides, the whistling on the soundtrack every time a good-looking girl passed O'Brien by during the early stages of the film was rather corny. However, Dimitri Tiomkin's frenzied score admirably mirrors the agitated state-of-mind of the desperate protagonist while the all-important jive session sequence became something of a noir staple (probably introduced in Robert Siodmak's PHANTOM LADY [1944], which I watched recently for the first time).
- Bunuel1976
- Oct 10, 2007
- Permalink
I am not too sure if DOA should be classed as a forgotten classic. I am a bit of movie buff and I had never heard of it before.
I came across it on the Internet Archive and was quite surprised at how good the movie is. The story itself is quite remarkable. Frank Bigelow (played by Edmund O'Brien) plays a small time accountant / lawyer who travels to San Francisco for time away from his somewhat nagging girlfriend.
While Frank is in San Francisco his drink is spiked with a lethal poison by a mystery person. Frank does not know who the mystery person was, why his drink was spiked and why someone wants to kill him.
Frank does not do what probably most of us would do in a similar situation - sulk, cry, get drunk, etc. Rather he sets out to find out who did this to him and why.
Apart from a fantastic plot, the movie is very memorable for the collection of shady characters who Frank has to deal with in trying to find out who poisoned him, particularly the psychopathic Chester.
One thing to note is that the plot is quite complicated. I found myself having to go back and watch scenes a second time to work out what was going on. So make sure you concentrate when you watch this movie.
This is an excellent movie. Highly recommended.
I came across it on the Internet Archive and was quite surprised at how good the movie is. The story itself is quite remarkable. Frank Bigelow (played by Edmund O'Brien) plays a small time accountant / lawyer who travels to San Francisco for time away from his somewhat nagging girlfriend.
While Frank is in San Francisco his drink is spiked with a lethal poison by a mystery person. Frank does not know who the mystery person was, why his drink was spiked and why someone wants to kill him.
Frank does not do what probably most of us would do in a similar situation - sulk, cry, get drunk, etc. Rather he sets out to find out who did this to him and why.
Apart from a fantastic plot, the movie is very memorable for the collection of shady characters who Frank has to deal with in trying to find out who poisoned him, particularly the psychopathic Chester.
One thing to note is that the plot is quite complicated. I found myself having to go back and watch scenes a second time to work out what was going on. So make sure you concentrate when you watch this movie.
This is an excellent movie. Highly recommended.
- terceiro-2
- Nov 15, 2009
- Permalink
- claudio_carvalho
- Oct 8, 2011
- Permalink
- Cristi_Ciopron
- Jul 6, 2008
- Permalink
"Frank Bigelow" (Edmond O'Brien) is a single man who works in a small town in California as an auditor and also and serves as a notary public as well. Anyway, this film begins with him walking into a Los Angeles police station and telling the chief of police that he would like to report a murder. He then goes on to say that he is the victim. Obviously, wanting to hear more the chief asks him to sit down and once he does Frank begins to tell the story of how he was given a toxic dose of poison while at a nightclub in San Francisco which has eventually led him to where he is. Now as far as the overall movie is concerned I thought that it had all of the elements of a classic film noir from the 40's or 50's--good mystery and plenty of suspense along with some decent acting by both Edmond O'Brien and Pamela Britton (as Frank Bigelow's secretary "Paula Gibson"). In any case, all things considered I rate this film as above average and recommend it to anybody who might be interested in this particular genre.
This film is the kind that doesn't kid itself at all- it knows what it is and is pretty happy to have it that way. It's filled with the classic tough-guy, 'real-to-life' dialog of the thriller, while staying a foot ahead of the audience. This is because the director, Rudolph Matte (the great cinematographer behind many a film-noir and Carl Dreyer's masterpieces) has such a clever hand of the material. One wrong step and it could slip into being too hokey. In fact there is a camp factor in a couple of scenes; the subject matter almost slips into Naked Gun parody before stepping back up for air. But for the fans of mysteries of today would want to check this out, as it provides a twist on the usual logic of the sub-genre (if a genre at all). While not as 'dark' as other film-noir pictures, it still ranks very high in it storytelling, having a potent enough story to tell, and a slew of actors just pushing the limits of the B-movie style.
Edmond O'Brien is at his absolute best as the worried Frank Bigelow, worried because he's in a rotten predicament: poisoned by a random drop of 'luminous poison' at a jazz club, with no chances of survival. The one thing to do then is to investigate it, 'his' way, through searching the histories of men like Phillips and Rakubian. One has to pay attention to his story a few times, but after a while everything does come together, adding to the suspense. O'Brien doesn't play him very naturalistically- it's actually quite great at being a simply cinematic performance, with the occasional swagger, roughness, but determination of the best of the doomed heroes of these stories. There's soul in his work, even as he says lines fast or with such vigor to maybe go overboard. But it works, especially because of the other cast around him being so solid. Several are good, and a few are stand-out; Luther Adler as Majack gives some worth in his scenes, and especially a small but very memorable part for a nasty character, Chester, done to a T by Neville Brand (the little dialog scenes between them are as shamelessly pulp as any other film like this, but compelling and very entertaining).
Aside from the merits of most of the cast, and Matte's visual approach (much of the outside running scenes and chase bits are shot right on location, like in a pre-guerrilla style of film-making), there's the aspect of the script. Stories like this are hard to come by now, even ones being almost this simple. At the same time, the screenwriters implement a kind of twisty logic that happens in the course of the film. The sort of MacGuffin lies in the bill of sale (as maybe I missed something) as it's the last thing to worry about. What one looks for in something like D.O.A., is how the written matter can go through the director's visual mind-warp. Under the radar in a sense, the film does some techniques that wouldn't of made it had it been a bigger A-list film. Two examples of this were striking to me, making D.O.A. of some note (this is besides the adept on-location work. One was the mix of shots shown in the jazz club scene, the musicians. This is a great, great little scene, adding a sense of atmosphere that another filmmaker would've passed over. Another was during a short scene when Bigelow arrives at the hostel- women pass by, and with each one a little sound effect comes through. This is whimsy, maybe, or maybe just some un-explainable little joke put into the film, but either way its terrific. When a filmmaker can add a little flavor to the film like that, it elevates the material.
D.O.A. is on a short list of numerous writers regarding the histories of 40's-50's 'film-noir' pictures in America as one of the premiere examples, and it's not far from the truth. It's compact enough to not make Bigelow's strange mix of abrasiveness, confusion, and drops of tenderness to his secretary/love interest Paula, while allowing enough of a story to be told to make it feel complete. And that scene near the end in the hallway...
Edmond O'Brien is at his absolute best as the worried Frank Bigelow, worried because he's in a rotten predicament: poisoned by a random drop of 'luminous poison' at a jazz club, with no chances of survival. The one thing to do then is to investigate it, 'his' way, through searching the histories of men like Phillips and Rakubian. One has to pay attention to his story a few times, but after a while everything does come together, adding to the suspense. O'Brien doesn't play him very naturalistically- it's actually quite great at being a simply cinematic performance, with the occasional swagger, roughness, but determination of the best of the doomed heroes of these stories. There's soul in his work, even as he says lines fast or with such vigor to maybe go overboard. But it works, especially because of the other cast around him being so solid. Several are good, and a few are stand-out; Luther Adler as Majack gives some worth in his scenes, and especially a small but very memorable part for a nasty character, Chester, done to a T by Neville Brand (the little dialog scenes between them are as shamelessly pulp as any other film like this, but compelling and very entertaining).
Aside from the merits of most of the cast, and Matte's visual approach (much of the outside running scenes and chase bits are shot right on location, like in a pre-guerrilla style of film-making), there's the aspect of the script. Stories like this are hard to come by now, even ones being almost this simple. At the same time, the screenwriters implement a kind of twisty logic that happens in the course of the film. The sort of MacGuffin lies in the bill of sale (as maybe I missed something) as it's the last thing to worry about. What one looks for in something like D.O.A., is how the written matter can go through the director's visual mind-warp. Under the radar in a sense, the film does some techniques that wouldn't of made it had it been a bigger A-list film. Two examples of this were striking to me, making D.O.A. of some note (this is besides the adept on-location work. One was the mix of shots shown in the jazz club scene, the musicians. This is a great, great little scene, adding a sense of atmosphere that another filmmaker would've passed over. Another was during a short scene when Bigelow arrives at the hostel- women pass by, and with each one a little sound effect comes through. This is whimsy, maybe, or maybe just some un-explainable little joke put into the film, but either way its terrific. When a filmmaker can add a little flavor to the film like that, it elevates the material.
D.O.A. is on a short list of numerous writers regarding the histories of 40's-50's 'film-noir' pictures in America as one of the premiere examples, and it's not far from the truth. It's compact enough to not make Bigelow's strange mix of abrasiveness, confusion, and drops of tenderness to his secretary/love interest Paula, while allowing enough of a story to be told to make it feel complete. And that scene near the end in the hallway...
- Quinoa1984
- Jan 14, 2006
- Permalink
California accountant Edmond O'Brien (as Frank Bigelow) briskly walks into a Los Angeles police station to declare he has been murdered. This startling accusation turns out to be true because Mr. O'Brien was poisoned earlier, and there is no cure. Neither we nor O'Brien know who administered the poison, or why it happened. Next, we flashback to see O'Brien's story. Two days earlier, he left his office for a vacation in San Francisco. Although he appears to be romantically engaged with blonde secretary Pamela Britton (as Paula Gibson), O'Brien appears to be very interested in some other female companionship. He leaves his hotel door open to listen in on a party and later joins the revelers for a night on the town. At a bar, O'Brien is lured away by a sexy blonde while a mysterious figure prepares his fatal drink...
"D.O.A." (Dead on Arrival) is a strange but entertaining film. Credit should go to director Rudolph Mate and black-and-white photographer Ernest Laszlo for giving it a stylish look. They know how to make the cameras and performers move beautifully. In an early role, Neville Brand (as Chester) is his nasty best. There are a few problems, however. A minor one is the initially unclear and later juvenile relationship between O'Brien and his secretary. A major one is the soundtrack, which is credited to the otherwise esteemed and skillful Dimitri Tiomkin. Most notably, after O'Brien's character goes on vacation, a weird sound effect plays every time he sees an attractive woman. These sound effects are loud, distracting and unnecessary. Someone should have noticed this was not a "Three Stooges" comedy.
******* D.O.A. (4/30/50) Rudolph Mate ~ Edmond O'Brien, Pamela Britton, Luther Adler, Neville Brand
"D.O.A." (Dead on Arrival) is a strange but entertaining film. Credit should go to director Rudolph Mate and black-and-white photographer Ernest Laszlo for giving it a stylish look. They know how to make the cameras and performers move beautifully. In an early role, Neville Brand (as Chester) is his nasty best. There are a few problems, however. A minor one is the initially unclear and later juvenile relationship between O'Brien and his secretary. A major one is the soundtrack, which is credited to the otherwise esteemed and skillful Dimitri Tiomkin. Most notably, after O'Brien's character goes on vacation, a weird sound effect plays every time he sees an attractive woman. These sound effects are loud, distracting and unnecessary. Someone should have noticed this was not a "Three Stooges" comedy.
******* D.O.A. (4/30/50) Rudolph Mate ~ Edmond O'Brien, Pamela Britton, Luther Adler, Neville Brand
- wes-connors
- May 8, 2014
- Permalink
- seymourblack-1
- Aug 6, 2008
- Permalink
- rmax304823
- Jun 20, 2006
- Permalink
I'm generally partial to film noir, and D.O.A. is about as close to pure noir, at least in spirit, as a movie can be. But I don't like it and never did. Both the director and cinematographer have done brilliant work elsewhere, and the film is no no means incompetently made; but it's poorly written, has way too convoluted a plot, and is for the most part very badly acted. There are no likable characters in the film, and no engaging performances. I grant that much of the outdoor photography is excellent, and that the views of postwar California offer a sociologically fascinating and at times aesthetically striking picture of real life at a certain time and in a certain place. But such ancillary pleasures do not a good movie make.
One of my chief problems with the film is its leading actor, Edmond O'Brien. When well cast, O'Brien could be excellent. He had a fine background in the legitimate theater and could play Shakespeare quite proficiently (as his Casca in Julius Caesar attests). But he is a dull hero. In D.O.A. his mere presence makes his hounded character absurd almost from the start. With Bogart, Ladd or even Dick Powell in the role the movie would have worked better, as these actors, whatever their limitations, were bona fide stars, and would have audience empathy just by showing up. O'Brien, while not a loathsome presence, isn't the sort of actor people care for. He is workmanlike as the unfortunate "hero", but there's no spark there, no reason, from a likability standpoint, to identify with him. My greatest concern for O'Brien was for the actor himself. As he was a heavy-set, beefy fellow, his running up and down stairs all the time made me worry that he might have a heart attack. The best thing about O'Brien, and one of the reasons he was never out of work, is that he was, in the parlance of Old Hollywood, a great dialog man. He always spoke clearly, never muffed his lines; and no matter how stupid the things he had to say might sound, he delivery was impeccable.
In a lesser role, Luther Adler makes a tedious, predictable villain. It's the sort of performance Claude Rains, Conrad Veidt or George Macready could have delivered in his sleep. Adler tries hard, but is defeated by the script; and he is badly photographed and directed. There's no menace to him. As his henchman, Neville Brand is so obviously trying to give the kind of "dangerous" performance that put Richard Widmark over in Kiss Of Death a few years earlier, that he's impossible to take seriously. As the years went by he became a capable screen performer, but here his grinning and eye-popping, while fun to watch, just make him look silly. Pamela Britton is a dull love interest, and like O'Brien seems to be in the wrong film.
How this film ever became a cult classic baffles me. I like dark cinema as much as the next guy, but I don't cherish films just because they're dark, or because they have doomed heroes, or are photographed at night, or offer brilliant, dandyish European villains. Such things had become clichés by the time D.O.A. was made anyway, and the formula was wearing thin. Noirs would continue to be made, fitfully, through the next decade, but in a different mode, more realistically than before, with greater subtlety. D.O.A. is caught between two modes. As it came out in 1950, it still has some of the Chandler-Woolrich feeling of the previous decade: dark cities, eccentric secondary characters, evil women, indifferent or corrupt cops, and an air of fatalism. Yet it also reflects the semi-documentaries of the postwar period in its location shooting and in the absence of much studio artifice, which ought, at least in theory, give it an air of hope, of modernity, which alas, its ironclad plot doesn't possess. It would take the talents of, among others, men like Phil Karlson, Don Siegel and Robert Aldrich to move noirs in a contemporary direction more appropriate to the times. Indeed, Aldrich seemed to have learned a thing or two from this film, which his later Kiss Me Deadly, though vastly superior, seems stylistically to be at times an homage to.
One of my chief problems with the film is its leading actor, Edmond O'Brien. When well cast, O'Brien could be excellent. He had a fine background in the legitimate theater and could play Shakespeare quite proficiently (as his Casca in Julius Caesar attests). But he is a dull hero. In D.O.A. his mere presence makes his hounded character absurd almost from the start. With Bogart, Ladd or even Dick Powell in the role the movie would have worked better, as these actors, whatever their limitations, were bona fide stars, and would have audience empathy just by showing up. O'Brien, while not a loathsome presence, isn't the sort of actor people care for. He is workmanlike as the unfortunate "hero", but there's no spark there, no reason, from a likability standpoint, to identify with him. My greatest concern for O'Brien was for the actor himself. As he was a heavy-set, beefy fellow, his running up and down stairs all the time made me worry that he might have a heart attack. The best thing about O'Brien, and one of the reasons he was never out of work, is that he was, in the parlance of Old Hollywood, a great dialog man. He always spoke clearly, never muffed his lines; and no matter how stupid the things he had to say might sound, he delivery was impeccable.
In a lesser role, Luther Adler makes a tedious, predictable villain. It's the sort of performance Claude Rains, Conrad Veidt or George Macready could have delivered in his sleep. Adler tries hard, but is defeated by the script; and he is badly photographed and directed. There's no menace to him. As his henchman, Neville Brand is so obviously trying to give the kind of "dangerous" performance that put Richard Widmark over in Kiss Of Death a few years earlier, that he's impossible to take seriously. As the years went by he became a capable screen performer, but here his grinning and eye-popping, while fun to watch, just make him look silly. Pamela Britton is a dull love interest, and like O'Brien seems to be in the wrong film.
How this film ever became a cult classic baffles me. I like dark cinema as much as the next guy, but I don't cherish films just because they're dark, or because they have doomed heroes, or are photographed at night, or offer brilliant, dandyish European villains. Such things had become clichés by the time D.O.A. was made anyway, and the formula was wearing thin. Noirs would continue to be made, fitfully, through the next decade, but in a different mode, more realistically than before, with greater subtlety. D.O.A. is caught between two modes. As it came out in 1950, it still has some of the Chandler-Woolrich feeling of the previous decade: dark cities, eccentric secondary characters, evil women, indifferent or corrupt cops, and an air of fatalism. Yet it also reflects the semi-documentaries of the postwar period in its location shooting and in the absence of much studio artifice, which ought, at least in theory, give it an air of hope, of modernity, which alas, its ironclad plot doesn't possess. It would take the talents of, among others, men like Phil Karlson, Don Siegel and Robert Aldrich to move noirs in a contemporary direction more appropriate to the times. Indeed, Aldrich seemed to have learned a thing or two from this film, which his later Kiss Me Deadly, though vastly superior, seems stylistically to be at times an homage to.