If you can get through the first 15 minutes or so of this film, you're in for a real treat. Once the film gets going, its quite enjoyable, with scenes shot in Washington DC, Times Square, and most notably, the Empire State Building back when it was the tallest skyscraper in the world. The scenes on the 88th floor are beautifully shot, an then we get to travel higher to the 102nd floor and beyond. Anyone who loves New York will love this stuff. As a film, the gimmick of no dialogue works fairly well, though there are some scenes where it just doesn't seem natural that nobody would say anything (Milland's encounter with Gam at the flophouse screams for dialogue). But Milland carries it off for the most part and makes "The Thief" well worth a look.
42 Reviews
Top Cold War spy drama, with an interesting twist.
sol-kay2 October 2003
Tense dark drama made in 1952 at the height of the Cold War about the shadowy world of espionage without a word of dialog makes "The Thief" a one-of-a-kind film.
Dr. Allan Fields, Ray Milland, has been spying for the Soviets by passing top secret documents from his position as a scientist at the Atomic Energy Commission, the AEC, to them. One afternoon in New York City one of Field's contacts is struck by a car and killed while he had in his possession a tin canister of microfilmed documents that Fields had given him. When the FBI finds out that the documents came from the AEC in Washington D.C they start to check out all those that are employed there and Fields seeing that the noose was closing in on him becomes a man on the run.
Good acting and great photography of Washington D.C and New York City with a dramatic and heart thumping action chase scene on top of the Empire State Building and the 86th floor observation deck that rivals the final moments of the movie "King Kong". The film also has something that was lacking in most spy movies at that time; a believable ending that wasn't overly contrived. Ray Milland showed in "The Thief" that he was as good a silent actor as a speaking one.
Dr. Allan Fields, Ray Milland, has been spying for the Soviets by passing top secret documents from his position as a scientist at the Atomic Energy Commission, the AEC, to them. One afternoon in New York City one of Field's contacts is struck by a car and killed while he had in his possession a tin canister of microfilmed documents that Fields had given him. When the FBI finds out that the documents came from the AEC in Washington D.C they start to check out all those that are employed there and Fields seeing that the noose was closing in on him becomes a man on the run.
Good acting and great photography of Washington D.C and New York City with a dramatic and heart thumping action chase scene on top of the Empire State Building and the 86th floor observation deck that rivals the final moments of the movie "King Kong". The film also has something that was lacking in most spy movies at that time; a believable ending that wasn't overly contrived. Ray Milland showed in "The Thief" that he was as good a silent actor as a speaking one.
A Small-Scale Masterpiece
mackjay28 December 2006
Warning: Spoilers
Don't' be put off by the 'gimmick' of a dialog-free movie. THE THIEF is an engrossing, extremely well-made movie. Right off the bat we can expect quality with Ray Milland in the lead: the man could act. And THE THIEF is a graphic demonstration of how acting requires much, much more than good line-reading. Milland immerses himself in the drama from the word go, and we almost never think of him as an actor until the end, when the impact of the film really hits. This is a powerful performance, in the league of some of the best from the silent era (only more realistic in style). Russell Rouse presents us with a story that bristles with suspense in some scenes. First time around, it may be a slight challenge to know what's going on, but it's soon clear that exact details are not important. We only need to know that Milland plays a Washington D.C. scientist who is microfilming top-secret government documents and passing them on to agents who remain obscure. His main contact is played very nicely by Martin Gabel, an actor with a face perfect for sinister, wordless intrigue.
Just as important as the acting and directing is the music score. Hershel Burke Gilbert must have outdone himself for this project. This is an excellent score. Never obtrusive, always supportive of the action; pleasing, but never calling attention to itself. The music really makes the film work. An example of how intelligent the approach to the scoring is comes at the film's climax when Milland is followed to the very top of the Empire State Building, the music stops completely for about ten minutes. The effect is downright Hitchcockian -- an extremely effective sequence.
Also worthy of mention is the persistent use of locations: D.C and New York in 1952 are almost characters unto themselves. This is another superb film that document the bygone look of some great urban locations. Very highly recommended.
Just as important as the acting and directing is the music score. Hershel Burke Gilbert must have outdone himself for this project. This is an excellent score. Never obtrusive, always supportive of the action; pleasing, but never calling attention to itself. The music really makes the film work. An example of how intelligent the approach to the scoring is comes at the film's climax when Milland is followed to the very top of the Empire State Building, the music stops completely for about ten minutes. The effect is downright Hitchcockian -- an extremely effective sequence.
Also worthy of mention is the persistent use of locations: D.C and New York in 1952 are almost characters unto themselves. This is another superb film that document the bygone look of some great urban locations. Very highly recommended.
Open your mind to something new!
Zen Bones16 July 2002
This is a pretty ambitious noir film that dared to tell its story without a single line of dialogue. It's plot is a bit hokey: a nuclear scientist who had agreed to pass on information to a fiendish band of communists (are there any other kind?) has second thoughts and must allude himself from their grasp. The film combines a wonderful mix of claustrophobic scenes of tension where our (anti)hero holes himself up in a small room while the phone rings menacingly (conjuring memories of Milland's brush with fear and paranoia in THE LOST WEEKEND), and terrific cat-and-mouse chase scenes that are truly Hitchcockian, including a climax on the top of the Empire State Building (how come Hitch never came up with that one?). Ray Milland does a terrific job as usual: one can almost hear his thoughts. And the cinematography is some of the most innovative you'll ever see outside an Orson Welles film. Don't get caught up in the idea that this is a 'gimmick' film. This is an innovative film, much in the same vein as some of the most inventive shows in THE TWILIGHT ZONE series. Try to open your mind to a fresh perspective and you won't be disappointed.
Wordless espionage drama an interesting experiment, but...
bmacv27 August 2001
The noir cycle generated many curios but none odder than this. Russell Rouse (who had just done D.O.A.) decided to direct an espionage drama that falls just short of 90 minutes without containing a single word of dialogue. It's not silent, however: footsteps echo on the cobblestones of Georgetown and the floors of the Library of Congress, cameras click over hush-hush documents at the Atomic Energy Commission, telephones ring (but are never answered). There's also a good score. The espionage concerns thermonuclear secrets, so this film would fall into the sub-category of the Anti-Commie propaganda film, except for the fact that the lack of words allows for no preaching; the skullduggery is all but abstract. And the silence can be seen as expressing the deep, deep underground of the cold-war spy. Questions remain: Ray Milland always does well with this sort of recessive, basically self-loathing character, but why engage an actor with such a distinctive voice to keep his trap shut? And Rita Gam, in her screen debut, has little to do but strike any number of provocative poses and suck sultrily on her cigarette (the "temptation" she poses to Milland is never resolved). The Thief has enough going for it to keep one's attention, but it's an experiment that would have been more welcome had 15 or 20 minutes been shorn off its running time.
Mute.
rmax3048237 July 2013
Warning: Spoilers
Interesting exercise in style. Ray Milland is a physicist and a communist spy who passes secret information to his contacts. The FBI sniffs him out and the Party provides him with a new identity and passport to Cairo for his getaway. After accidentally causing the death of an FBI agent who has been following him, he makes it to the ship but then tears up his fake passport and turns himself in.
Milland is in just about every shot and the whole exercise depends on him. He pretty much pulls it off. We very rarely get to read any written messages, but his expressions tells us much of what we need to know. He's tortured with guilt throughout. He sweats profusely, not from the heat but from the cupidity. And there are closeups of his face, so that the slightest change in his facial muscles registers on the Richter scale. The extreme closeups are sometimes odd -- a telephone receiver pressed against an ear -- but they tend to break up the sometimes irritating visual flow of figures coming and going without ever speaking. The director also breaks up the stream of traditional shot with some overhead angles.
One of those figures doesn't have to speak. Rita Gam, as his provocative neighbor, slinking around in her loosely tied dressing gown, is astonishing sexy and extraordinarily attractive in an Arabic kind of way, an houri out of scripture, looking a little like a plump-lipped Cher. I don't know why Milland, before tearing up his fake identity, didn't move in with Rita Gam for a while. After all, the guy is in for a long stretch in the slams and maybe the hot seat. Might as well have one last fling. Looks like it would have been sufficiently memorable to last him a lifetime.
But the film raises a question. Why make a film with no dialog? That is, what's the purpose behind imposing such a stricture on the production? Vladimir Nabokov once speculated on how successful a novel would be that avoided the use of the letter "e". It probably wouldn't be successful because the experiment would be pointless.
Self-imposed limitations sometimes work. Hitchcock used only a lifeboat in the movie of the same name, but it generated a palpable sense of isolation and despair. But his experiments with long takes were pointless in "Rope" and "Under Capricorn." So-called concrete poetry strikes me as equally absurd -- poetry written in the shape of a rhomboid or a parallelogram. I have doubts about haiku in English as well, a form devised for use in a foreign language whose "syllables" don't correspond to English.
In any case, the silence here is a little distracting, to be honest, but the story -- simple as it is -- is engaging enough to keep a viewer from being bored. And it took guts to make the movie.
Milland is in just about every shot and the whole exercise depends on him. He pretty much pulls it off. We very rarely get to read any written messages, but his expressions tells us much of what we need to know. He's tortured with guilt throughout. He sweats profusely, not from the heat but from the cupidity. And there are closeups of his face, so that the slightest change in his facial muscles registers on the Richter scale. The extreme closeups are sometimes odd -- a telephone receiver pressed against an ear -- but they tend to break up the sometimes irritating visual flow of figures coming and going without ever speaking. The director also breaks up the stream of traditional shot with some overhead angles.
One of those figures doesn't have to speak. Rita Gam, as his provocative neighbor, slinking around in her loosely tied dressing gown, is astonishing sexy and extraordinarily attractive in an Arabic kind of way, an houri out of scripture, looking a little like a plump-lipped Cher. I don't know why Milland, before tearing up his fake identity, didn't move in with Rita Gam for a while. After all, the guy is in for a long stretch in the slams and maybe the hot seat. Might as well have one last fling. Looks like it would have been sufficiently memorable to last him a lifetime.
But the film raises a question. Why make a film with no dialog? That is, what's the purpose behind imposing such a stricture on the production? Vladimir Nabokov once speculated on how successful a novel would be that avoided the use of the letter "e". It probably wouldn't be successful because the experiment would be pointless.
Self-imposed limitations sometimes work. Hitchcock used only a lifeboat in the movie of the same name, but it generated a palpable sense of isolation and despair. But his experiments with long takes were pointless in "Rope" and "Under Capricorn." So-called concrete poetry strikes me as equally absurd -- poetry written in the shape of a rhomboid or a parallelogram. I have doubts about haiku in English as well, a form devised for use in a foreign language whose "syllables" don't correspond to English.
In any case, the silence here is a little distracting, to be honest, but the story -- simple as it is -- is engaging enough to keep a viewer from being bored. And it took guts to make the movie.
The Silent Thief
JLRMovieReviews14 May 2012
Ray Milland is a nuclear physicist who's been selling top secret material to the Russians. His story is told here without dialogue in this very ambitious and rewarding little film. His performance and the film score work well together and keep the viewer's interest. It's amazing how so much can be told without the mechanics of speaking. And, for as many films as I've seen, the chase sequence is one of the most intense I've ever seen, primarily by its use of silence and Ray's intensity. If you've never seen this very unusual film, then you are missing one of the best examples of film noir, buoyed by its distinction of no dialogue, but well makes up for it with its grade-A treatment of the story and its ability to use its surroundings as part of the story. Another Ray Milland winner!
Silent information
ackstasis12 July 2009
Warning: Spoilers
'The Thief (1952)' sets itself apart from other Cold War-era thrillers – and, indeed, from most films released after 1930 – because it unfolds entirely without dialogue. Directed by Russell Rouse, the film uses its deliberate silence, not merely as an unusual gimmick, but as a legitimate storytelling device, to internalise the guilt, fear and frustration of its protagonist. In most films, characters get worries off their chests simply by talking to others – but to whom can Allan Fields talk? Not to his fellow Communist spies, who must never be seen in his company, and whose convictions he doesn't necessarily share. Certainly not to friends or family, whose way-of-life he is betraying to the enemy. Lonely and segregated, Fields (Ray Milland) simply goes about his painful duties, his inner torment consistently repressed behind a strained pretense of nonchalance. Only when he murders a young FBI agent does his anguish spill forth into physical and verbal form, in a pitiful outpouring of grief and emotion.
Despite a slow first half, in which Fields' typical espionage duties are introduced via a lot of silent waiting, 'The Thief' picks up substantially once the American authorities catch wind of his crimes. Rouse cultivates some truly thumping suspense sequences, including a magnificent stairway pursuit up the then-tallest building in the world, the Empire State. This breathless flight from the 88th floor observatory to the 102nd floor, and beyond, serves as a convenient allegory for Fields' Communist involvement. As an FBI agent rushes in pursuit, Milland's character tries repeatedly to escape through service doors on each floor, only to find them locked each time. Throughout the film, despite wishing to abandon his treasonous practices, Fields consistently finds his path to freedom blocked, his only option to continue what he's been doing, further implicating himself with each staircase he ascends. When inevitably cornered high above New York City, ironically defenseless at the pinnacle of human achievement, Fields desperately lashes out at his aggressor, and does the unthinkable.
In spite of my reservations that only a low-budget film could get away with such an anachronistic style, 'The Thief' does, in fact, boast excellent production values. Sam Leavitt's cinematography is graceful but with an edge of documentary-realism. I particularly enjoyed the lurid confusion of Fields' nervous breakdown (perhaps a nod to Wilder's 'The Lost Weekend (1945)'), with an increasingly-claustrophobic Milland filmed from above like an insignificant pawn, as specks of blood appear to permeate the walls. Despite his Oscar, Ray Milland is one of his generation's most underrated leading men, and he handles an exceedingly difficult role with poise and empathy: just watch Fields' pang of guilt every time he glances at the Capitol Dome, a symbol of American nationalism. Despite its sympathetic portrayal of a Commie spy, the film is nevertheless patriotic, as it must have been at this time. Indeed, Fields' ultimate decision to confess everything to the FBI comes not with the realisation that he is a bad person, but the realisation that he is a bad American.
Despite a slow first half, in which Fields' typical espionage duties are introduced via a lot of silent waiting, 'The Thief' picks up substantially once the American authorities catch wind of his crimes. Rouse cultivates some truly thumping suspense sequences, including a magnificent stairway pursuit up the then-tallest building in the world, the Empire State. This breathless flight from the 88th floor observatory to the 102nd floor, and beyond, serves as a convenient allegory for Fields' Communist involvement. As an FBI agent rushes in pursuit, Milland's character tries repeatedly to escape through service doors on each floor, only to find them locked each time. Throughout the film, despite wishing to abandon his treasonous practices, Fields consistently finds his path to freedom blocked, his only option to continue what he's been doing, further implicating himself with each staircase he ascends. When inevitably cornered high above New York City, ironically defenseless at the pinnacle of human achievement, Fields desperately lashes out at his aggressor, and does the unthinkable.
In spite of my reservations that only a low-budget film could get away with such an anachronistic style, 'The Thief' does, in fact, boast excellent production values. Sam Leavitt's cinematography is graceful but with an edge of documentary-realism. I particularly enjoyed the lurid confusion of Fields' nervous breakdown (perhaps a nod to Wilder's 'The Lost Weekend (1945)'), with an increasingly-claustrophobic Milland filmed from above like an insignificant pawn, as specks of blood appear to permeate the walls. Despite his Oscar, Ray Milland is one of his generation's most underrated leading men, and he handles an exceedingly difficult role with poise and empathy: just watch Fields' pang of guilt every time he glances at the Capitol Dome, a symbol of American nationalism. Despite its sympathetic portrayal of a Commie spy, the film is nevertheless patriotic, as it must have been at this time. Indeed, Fields' ultimate decision to confess everything to the FBI comes not with the realisation that he is a bad person, but the realisation that he is a bad American.
Steal This Movie
spelvini8 October 2007
The Thief stands as the first American Film since Charlie Chaplin's City Lights without any spoken dialogue.
Directed by Russell Rouse this 1952 noir is a propaganda film without any of the leaden anti-Communist dialogue that other films of this type contain. In fact the film has no dialogue! It's funny how first impressions stay with you. When I first saw The Thief it was at a Film Noir series at the Film Forum Theater in New York.
The Thief stands out for its special way of objectifying the isolation of the central character with film elements such as mood-inducing lighting, scripting, and especially music.
The lack of dialogue and Ray Milland's marvelous performance visually communicating the angst and secretive nature of the lead character is something to see to appreciate.
What stands out in this film is the lack of dialogue. At the outset this motivates us to watch more closely than if we were given dialogue to help drive the action along.
With its blast of a raining phone in the very first frame of the film as the camera moves over to show us the anxious Allen Fields lying fully dressed on his bed waiting, we understand that sound and sight over spoken language is what will be the currency of this film.
Hats off to Ray Milland and the wonderful score because just as in the early films of the silent period all the plot points of the film are understood trough purely visual means, pushing the film to the level of pure cinema.
The musical score for the film that Herschel Burke Gilbert composed says volumes about the character Allen Fields, and his emotional state.
Gilbert received an Academy Award nomination for his music score for the film and one watching will tell you why. Gilbert creates swells and moods to support the facial expressions and other physical language that Milland utilizes to show us what is happening with Fields and his eroding state of mind.
The dialogue-less film is definitely a stylistic approach to this subject matter. It is very unusual but primarily because we are used to a dialogue-driven plotted film style.
The technique does begin to seem forced into the second half of the film especially in exterior scenes where one would normally hear people talking as ambient sound.
The scenes with the FBI would have some sort of dialogue, especially in those where agents are being prepped on who to investigate.
Once the viewer gets with the approach that the filmmaker is taking though, the lack of dialogue can be understood as part of the overall theme of he voice-less nature of the Spy character in films.
Some things are left unexplained though and this could have been added to create more depth in the story line. We never learn why Fields is stealing secrets for the enemy. Is he being paid? Is there a wife being held captive? These pieces of the puzzle may help. Without them the story feels poetic without substance.
Ray Milland gets extra credit for creating such a memorable performance. His Allen Fields seems cut from the same cloth as his character from The Lost Weekend, angst-driven without solution.
No one can drink whiskey or smoke a cigarette quite like Ray Milland, with his sense of exclusive attitude while simultaneously embroiled in some deep emotional turbulence.
For anyone interested in Film Noir styling taken to exceptionally expressive levels this film will show you things you may not have seen before.
The night exteriors are textbook noir examples of lighting and camera. In this case the ambient sounds of the Washington D. C. locations are contrasted well with those of the New York City locations, especially the wide shot of Milland's Allen Fields arriving in the beautiful Pennsylvania Train Station before it was demolished.
Although the interiors are stage sets there is attention paid to creating surroundings that support the 'silence' of spy Allen Fields especially the cage-like apartment where Fields waits for his final phone call.
Directed by Russell Rouse this 1952 noir is a propaganda film without any of the leaden anti-Communist dialogue that other films of this type contain. In fact the film has no dialogue! It's funny how first impressions stay with you. When I first saw The Thief it was at a Film Noir series at the Film Forum Theater in New York.
The Thief stands out for its special way of objectifying the isolation of the central character with film elements such as mood-inducing lighting, scripting, and especially music.
The lack of dialogue and Ray Milland's marvelous performance visually communicating the angst and secretive nature of the lead character is something to see to appreciate.
What stands out in this film is the lack of dialogue. At the outset this motivates us to watch more closely than if we were given dialogue to help drive the action along.
With its blast of a raining phone in the very first frame of the film as the camera moves over to show us the anxious Allen Fields lying fully dressed on his bed waiting, we understand that sound and sight over spoken language is what will be the currency of this film.
Hats off to Ray Milland and the wonderful score because just as in the early films of the silent period all the plot points of the film are understood trough purely visual means, pushing the film to the level of pure cinema.
The musical score for the film that Herschel Burke Gilbert composed says volumes about the character Allen Fields, and his emotional state.
Gilbert received an Academy Award nomination for his music score for the film and one watching will tell you why. Gilbert creates swells and moods to support the facial expressions and other physical language that Milland utilizes to show us what is happening with Fields and his eroding state of mind.
The dialogue-less film is definitely a stylistic approach to this subject matter. It is very unusual but primarily because we are used to a dialogue-driven plotted film style.
The technique does begin to seem forced into the second half of the film especially in exterior scenes where one would normally hear people talking as ambient sound.
The scenes with the FBI would have some sort of dialogue, especially in those where agents are being prepped on who to investigate.
Once the viewer gets with the approach that the filmmaker is taking though, the lack of dialogue can be understood as part of the overall theme of he voice-less nature of the Spy character in films.
Some things are left unexplained though and this could have been added to create more depth in the story line. We never learn why Fields is stealing secrets for the enemy. Is he being paid? Is there a wife being held captive? These pieces of the puzzle may help. Without them the story feels poetic without substance.
Ray Milland gets extra credit for creating such a memorable performance. His Allen Fields seems cut from the same cloth as his character from The Lost Weekend, angst-driven without solution.
No one can drink whiskey or smoke a cigarette quite like Ray Milland, with his sense of exclusive attitude while simultaneously embroiled in some deep emotional turbulence.
For anyone interested in Film Noir styling taken to exceptionally expressive levels this film will show you things you may not have seen before.
The night exteriors are textbook noir examples of lighting and camera. In this case the ambient sounds of the Washington D. C. locations are contrasted well with those of the New York City locations, especially the wide shot of Milland's Allen Fields arriving in the beautiful Pennsylvania Train Station before it was demolished.
Although the interiors are stage sets there is attention paid to creating surroundings that support the 'silence' of spy Allen Fields especially the cage-like apartment where Fields waits for his final phone call.
Cold War espionage
blanche-214 July 2021
I knew the gimmick in "The Thief" because the actress "introduced" in the film, the gorgeous Rita Gam, was a friend of mine.
This is an interesting film because it's silent all the way through. Milland plays Dr. Allan Fields, a scientist with the Atomic Energy Commission, who has been selling secrets to the Russians. We see Milland photographing documents and slipping the film to someone who slips it to someone else, etc.
Fields doesn't seem particularly happy to be doing this, so one wonders why he is - and a poster came up with a brilliant thought which I'll get into later. Anyway, Fields' phone rings constantly but he never answers it. Is it a coded message or doesn't he want to talk to these people? We don't know.
One day, one of the messengers with the film is hit by a car. The police retrieve the film, and soon, the FBI is investigating everyone from the Atomic Energy Commission in Washington.
Fields goes to a safe house of sorts, where he receives a passport and clothes, but he must wait for a signal and instructions. In the meantime, he meets one of his neighbors, a leggy brunette (Gam) who, even in silence, makes it very clear that she'd like a good time.
The theory one reviewer had is that the Russians are blackmailing the Milland character because he's gay. The proof for the reviewer is that he doesn't seem to want Gam. No way of knowing - he could have been wary of any involvement as well.
This was a feature film that ran 86 minutes, so I suppose they really couldn't cut it. But it does get a little tiring, with Fields going in and out of his apartment, passing film around, etc.
Martin Gabel plays one of the messengers. Rita Gam is positively stunning, very similar to Ava Gardner - I believe she was hired by MGM as a threat to Gardner. Hollywood really wasn't for her. She eventually returned to her theater roots, and later became a producer and an author of several books.
Certainly worth checking out. A very good performance by Milland, who seems as beaten down as he did in The Lost Weekend, and walking the same New York streets. The locations for those of us from New York City are fun to see.
This is an interesting film because it's silent all the way through. Milland plays Dr. Allan Fields, a scientist with the Atomic Energy Commission, who has been selling secrets to the Russians. We see Milland photographing documents and slipping the film to someone who slips it to someone else, etc.
Fields doesn't seem particularly happy to be doing this, so one wonders why he is - and a poster came up with a brilliant thought which I'll get into later. Anyway, Fields' phone rings constantly but he never answers it. Is it a coded message or doesn't he want to talk to these people? We don't know.
One day, one of the messengers with the film is hit by a car. The police retrieve the film, and soon, the FBI is investigating everyone from the Atomic Energy Commission in Washington.
Fields goes to a safe house of sorts, where he receives a passport and clothes, but he must wait for a signal and instructions. In the meantime, he meets one of his neighbors, a leggy brunette (Gam) who, even in silence, makes it very clear that she'd like a good time.
The theory one reviewer had is that the Russians are blackmailing the Milland character because he's gay. The proof for the reviewer is that he doesn't seem to want Gam. No way of knowing - he could have been wary of any involvement as well.
This was a feature film that ran 86 minutes, so I suppose they really couldn't cut it. But it does get a little tiring, with Fields going in and out of his apartment, passing film around, etc.
Martin Gabel plays one of the messengers. Rita Gam is positively stunning, very similar to Ava Gardner - I believe she was hired by MGM as a threat to Gardner. Hollywood really wasn't for her. She eventually returned to her theater roots, and later became a producer and an author of several books.
Certainly worth checking out. A very good performance by Milland, who seems as beaten down as he did in The Lost Weekend, and walking the same New York streets. The locations for those of us from New York City are fun to see.
Ray Milland having to act his socks off - and succeeding
robinakaaly9 April 2011
Warning: Spoilers
This was a fascinating film, very much of its time (ie the Rosenbergs and other atom spies), and cleverly done, being wordless. Ray Milland is an eminent nuclear scientist working in Washington, where his laboratory consists of a few retorts and a fractionating column more suited to distilling bootleg liquor. From time to time he gets requests for information, photographs documents with a Minox camera (what else), and passes to film to his contact, usually in the Library of Congress. We see the film being passed from contact to contact, before one boards a plane for Lisbon, Madrid, Paris and Cairo(!) Slowly the strain takes its toll, especially when a colleague is arrested for his spying activities. The contact is killed in a road accident with a roll of incriminating film and the FBI are soon on the case. Milland is sent up to New York where he is told to lie low while a false passport is provided. In his tenement apartment, the chequered wallpaper soon becomes the bars of a prison. He cannot even succumb to the obvious and proffered charms of his neighbour, the very attractive Rita Gam. A meeting is arranged at the top of the Empire State Building, but the FBI are on the case. Interestingly the roof of the Empire State looked exactly the same as when I was there a few years ago, down to the security fencing and the binoculars. The contact agent gets killed in one accident, and Milland only escapes by causing the death of the FBI agent. Dressed as a seaman he goes down to the docks and is about to board a ship to escape. However, he has contrasted the bright lights and gaiety of New York with the grim awfulness of a tramp steamer. He turns round at the foot of the gang plank and heads back to the city. This was of course before the Rosenbergs were electrocuted. The way the tension was built up and the stress put on Milland were very well portrayed. However, the ease with which he was able to steal secrets was rather alarming.
hush hush
MartinTeller7 June 2011
One of the fun things about noir is few of its defining characteristics are prerequisites. There are perfectly good noirs without a femme fatale, or without chiaroscuro lighting, or outside of an urban setting. And not all noirs have the trademark snappy dialogue... the crisp lines, distinctive lingo, backbiting remarks. So why not a noir with NO dialogue? Not a word is uttered in this look at a nuclear physicist selling secrets to an unknown enemy. We see him (Ray Millard, in a bravura performance) smuggling out photos, we see the convoluted machinations of the spy ring, the procedures of the authorities trying to catch him, and we see him wrestle with fear, doubt, conscience. When dealing with a gimmick film, several questions come up. Is the gimmick pulled off well? For the most part, yes. There is one "cheat" where we see a teletype of police communication, but other than that it stays true to the conceit without seeming forced. There isn't a moment where you think "This scene really needs some dialogue." Is the gimmick distracting? Yes and no. I was always aware of it in the back of the mind, but it wasn't annoying me or anything. Would the film be better without the gimmick? I don't think so. Again, there wasn't a scene where I felt dialogue was essential. We're spared the gung-ho narration of a docudrama like House on 92nd Street, and there's a refreshing ambiguity in that we have no idea (nor do we really care) who this enemy is, or how Milland got involved with them. These unanswered questions are rare in noir, or in any movie of the period. And putting aside the lack of dialogue, it's a nice, tight thriller with a mighty fine chase scene, psychological tension, great location work, and a very good score (which becomes especially important in this case).
Motivation
bkoganbing29 July 2012
This rather curious and open ended film was something that no major studio back then would have taken a chance on. It fell to Ray Milland and independent producer Harry Popkin to get this project finished and released by United Artists.
Without dialog other elements in the film have to carry the story along and two of them are there. The facial expressions of Ray Milland who is on screen for about 90% of the film are marvelous. The second is the Oscar nominated score from Herschel Burke Gilbert. But the third for silent films are those all important titles inserted where needed so you followed the story where the writer and director wanted to go.
Those titles might have explained Milland's motivations for what he was doing as a scientist who is doubling as a spy. Whatever they were the anguish on Milland's face told you this was not something he was doing willingly. As The Thief was made in 1952 at the height of the Cold War there were certain parameters in how the story had to end and they were followed.
Some things need no dialog however. Rita Gam made her film debut as a slinky and sexy woman in the next apartment. Those looks she gives to Milland and that sexy body language need no words.
The Thief is an interesting and somewhat entertaining film from Milland which while it doesn't succeed totally is still something to be checked out.
Without dialog other elements in the film have to carry the story along and two of them are there. The facial expressions of Ray Milland who is on screen for about 90% of the film are marvelous. The second is the Oscar nominated score from Herschel Burke Gilbert. But the third for silent films are those all important titles inserted where needed so you followed the story where the writer and director wanted to go.
Those titles might have explained Milland's motivations for what he was doing as a scientist who is doubling as a spy. Whatever they were the anguish on Milland's face told you this was not something he was doing willingly. As The Thief was made in 1952 at the height of the Cold War there were certain parameters in how the story had to end and they were followed.
Some things need no dialog however. Rita Gam made her film debut as a slinky and sexy woman in the next apartment. Those looks she gives to Milland and that sexy body language need no words.
The Thief is an interesting and somewhat entertaining film from Milland which while it doesn't succeed totally is still something to be checked out.
Ray Milland and Martin Gabel
marthawilcox183127 June 2014
Having watched Ray Milland in Alfred Hitchcock's 'Dial M For Murder', I wanted to learn more about his track record by watching this film. Don't waste your time on this poorly made effort. The reason why it fails to entertain is because it robs both Ray Milland and Martin Gabel of their voices. It is Ray Milland's dialogue and delivery that you remember from 'Dial M For Murder' in addition to his acting. Take away his voice then you're going to need a very good score to carry the story. This film fails to provide a good score. Jerry Goldsmith did a great job of 'The Invaders' in the second season of 'The Twilight Zone' series where there was no dialogue until the end. That was visual perfection, but this offering doesn't even come close to that quality. This is not a movie, it is an experiment that fails.
Astounding piece of pure cinema
jlundstrom31 August 2001
Why haven't I heard of this movie before? Not a single word spoken, yet every detail of the mental torture that Ray Milland endures as a seemingly unwilling Soviet spy is conveyed by his features and demeanor. Film review books call it tame, pretentious, uninspired. I suspect those reviewers (this means you, Lenny Maltin) have never actually watched "The Thief."
No talking in the library
F Gwynplaine MacIntyre28 May 2004
Warning: Spoilers
'The Thief' is a gimmick film, and the gimmick is more interesting than the film itself. Without the gimmick, this movie is a fairly banal Cold War drama. The central character is an American nuclear physicist (played by Ray Milland) who, at regular intervals, gives classified information to spies for a foreign power. (The enemy nation is never identified, but surely it's either the Soviet Union or a Soviet satellite nation acting as intermediary for the Kremlin.) Eventually the physicist's guilt and his latent patriotism overcome his other motivations, and he turns himself in.
The gimmick is that this feature-length film tells its story without any dialogue. I've seen at least one reference book which lists 'The Thief' as a silent film. That's incorrect; 'The Thief' has a soundtrack, with conventional ambient sound throughout the film, and occasional human noises such as grunts and screams ... but no coherent dialogue.
The gimmick is an interesting one, but it becomes wearying. On at least three occasions in this movie, Milland's character is home alone when his contact man rings him up. We see Milland staring in horror at the 'phone as it rings. And it rings. And it rings some more. Once we realise that there's never going to be any dialogue in this movie, we also realise that Milland isn't going to pick up the 'phone. It's not quite clear what's happening here. Is Milland allowing the 'phone to ring, unanswered, because the number of rings constitutes some sort of signal between Milland and his contact man? Or is Milland supposed to answer the 'phone, but he's too gutless to pick it up? Anyway, each time the ring-ring routine commences, it always ends the same way: eventually the scene fades out (with the 'phone still ringing), and then we fade in to Milland on his way to the next rendezvous. At several other points in the film, the narrative gets bent out of shape to enable the action to proceed without dialogue, in a situation where plausibility makes dialogue essential. (By the way, I *really* dislike any movie in which a 'phone keeps ringing or a baby keeps crying, and we're forced to listen to this because nobody on screen responds to the situation.)
'The Thief' benefits from some extremely realistic locations, notably in one sequence in which Milland drops off his microfilm by sticking it in a drawer of a card catalogue in a reference library. Dozens of people are present, and none of them notice what he's doing. (Also, the hushed atmosphere of the library makes the movie's no-dialogue gimmick - in this particular scene, at least - very plausible.) The contact man in this scene is played by Martin Gabel, an American actor who affected a crisp mid-Atlantic accent; it's interesting to see Gabel here in a role that doesn't rely on his distinctive speaking voice. There's also a suspenseful sequence in which Milland must climb an outdoor stairway to deal with a 'tail' who's been surveilling him.
On the negative side of the ledger, we get that old atom-bomb cliché which has afflicted other movies better than this one, including 'Torn Curtain' and 'Pickup on South Street': namely, that a mathematical formula is somehow so powerful that spies will want to steal it. That's nonsense, that is. The atomic-bomb secrets which were bandied about by Rudolf Abel and Julius Rosenberg were specific engineering schematics of military ordnance. In 'The Thief', Milland is just peddling algebraic equations ... and we're expected to believe that these fiddly bits of maths can somehow change the balance of power.
The basic implausibility of this film's premise, strained even farther by the no-talking gimmick, is made a lot more bearable by the documentary-style cinema-verite techniques used throughout. Not one shot in this film looks like a studio set-up. At one point, one of Milland's contacts (who has just picked up the latest microfilm) steps into a crossing and blunders into the path of an uncoming vehicle. A woman pedestrian sees this, and she reacts. Because of the no-dialogue gimmick, which makes this seem like a silent film with dubbed-in sound effects, I expected her to react silently. Impressively, she screams; the movie would have lost all remaining plausibility had she not done so.
Ray Milland (a seriously underrated actor, despite his Oscar) gives a strong performance in a role which allows him only a very limited emotional range and no dialogue at all. 'The Thief' would have been much more plausible if it had skipped the no-dialogue gimmick and told this movie conventionally. But without the gimmick, this would be a much less interesting film: the gimmick is much more compelling than anything else that's on offer here. I'll rate 'The Thief' 6 points out of 10.
The gimmick is that this feature-length film tells its story without any dialogue. I've seen at least one reference book which lists 'The Thief' as a silent film. That's incorrect; 'The Thief' has a soundtrack, with conventional ambient sound throughout the film, and occasional human noises such as grunts and screams ... but no coherent dialogue.
The gimmick is an interesting one, but it becomes wearying. On at least three occasions in this movie, Milland's character is home alone when his contact man rings him up. We see Milland staring in horror at the 'phone as it rings. And it rings. And it rings some more. Once we realise that there's never going to be any dialogue in this movie, we also realise that Milland isn't going to pick up the 'phone. It's not quite clear what's happening here. Is Milland allowing the 'phone to ring, unanswered, because the number of rings constitutes some sort of signal between Milland and his contact man? Or is Milland supposed to answer the 'phone, but he's too gutless to pick it up? Anyway, each time the ring-ring routine commences, it always ends the same way: eventually the scene fades out (with the 'phone still ringing), and then we fade in to Milland on his way to the next rendezvous. At several other points in the film, the narrative gets bent out of shape to enable the action to proceed without dialogue, in a situation where plausibility makes dialogue essential. (By the way, I *really* dislike any movie in which a 'phone keeps ringing or a baby keeps crying, and we're forced to listen to this because nobody on screen responds to the situation.)
'The Thief' benefits from some extremely realistic locations, notably in one sequence in which Milland drops off his microfilm by sticking it in a drawer of a card catalogue in a reference library. Dozens of people are present, and none of them notice what he's doing. (Also, the hushed atmosphere of the library makes the movie's no-dialogue gimmick - in this particular scene, at least - very plausible.) The contact man in this scene is played by Martin Gabel, an American actor who affected a crisp mid-Atlantic accent; it's interesting to see Gabel here in a role that doesn't rely on his distinctive speaking voice. There's also a suspenseful sequence in which Milland must climb an outdoor stairway to deal with a 'tail' who's been surveilling him.
On the negative side of the ledger, we get that old atom-bomb cliché which has afflicted other movies better than this one, including 'Torn Curtain' and 'Pickup on South Street': namely, that a mathematical formula is somehow so powerful that spies will want to steal it. That's nonsense, that is. The atomic-bomb secrets which were bandied about by Rudolf Abel and Julius Rosenberg were specific engineering schematics of military ordnance. In 'The Thief', Milland is just peddling algebraic equations ... and we're expected to believe that these fiddly bits of maths can somehow change the balance of power.
The basic implausibility of this film's premise, strained even farther by the no-talking gimmick, is made a lot more bearable by the documentary-style cinema-verite techniques used throughout. Not one shot in this film looks like a studio set-up. At one point, one of Milland's contacts (who has just picked up the latest microfilm) steps into a crossing and blunders into the path of an uncoming vehicle. A woman pedestrian sees this, and she reacts. Because of the no-dialogue gimmick, which makes this seem like a silent film with dubbed-in sound effects, I expected her to react silently. Impressively, she screams; the movie would have lost all remaining plausibility had she not done so.
Ray Milland (a seriously underrated actor, despite his Oscar) gives a strong performance in a role which allows him only a very limited emotional range and no dialogue at all. 'The Thief' would have been much more plausible if it had skipped the no-dialogue gimmick and told this movie conventionally. But without the gimmick, this would be a much less interesting film: the gimmick is much more compelling than anything else that's on offer here. I'll rate 'The Thief' 6 points out of 10.
Entertaining Silent Film from 1952 - The Thief
arthur_tafero12 December 2021
Unlike most silent films (even the recent revival "The Artist", this silent film has no dialogue boxes! How can a film run for well over an hour without any spoken dialogue or dialogue boxes? It would seem like an impossible task, but Russell Rouse accomplished it, as well as the courageous Ray Milland, who deserves kudos for taking this challenging role. I first saw this film as a child, and I thought it was a bit boring because I did not understand things like spies, science and a guilty conscience. We already know the film code will make Milland pay for his actions, but we do not know exactly how this will be accomplished; and that is the fun of this film. Don't miss it.
the power of image
espumoso55-129 July 2011
Warning: Spoilers
This movie really shows how powerful and captivating can the image be. I don't understand why this movie is seldom mentioned for the big public. Nobody has doubts that Casablanca or Citizen Kane or so many others are great movies, but this movie can also be enjoyed by many people and means something very innovative at the moment it was shot. I got astonished when, after 20 minutes I hadn't heard any voice; I didn't know in advance that the movie had no dialogues. However, the story was intriguing enough and the situations had so much suspense that I watched it without missing dialogues. Of course, the spies were communists and it's a produce of the cold war time, but this fact does not impact on the quality of the script. Ray Milland was an actor so remarkable that his acting makes the film believable. He shows the anguish and fear of a man who is doing something very grave (treason) and is being shadowed. He was so good actor that at the end of the movie, when he's about to go aboard, one can read his mind and guess his final decision. After all, he is not a crook or a murderer, but rather a man of science and not violent, so, the reasons that lead him to the final decision have to do with his conscience (an innocent man is being accused of something that he did and another man was killed by him) The cinematography is superb, I enjoyed specially the way it shows the streets and buildings of the cities. The script is subtle and full of brilliant details. The music is very good and well sync. Really a masterwork. Maybe the long silent scenes that Jean-Pierre Melville or Jules Dassin had in their movies could've been inspired by this film? Very recommended.
Bold and unusual but effective
russjones-8088728 May 2020
A US nuclear physicist is also a spy working for an foreign power. When a courier is killed in an accident the FBI start to investigate the source of the leak and he soon becomes the prime suspect.
Interesting film without dialogue, relying on the Academy Award nominated score by Herschel Burke Gilbert and the acting of Ray Milland as the scientist, on a par with his alcoholic in Lost Weekend. Best enjoyed if you keep your eyes on the screen!
Interesting film without dialogue, relying on the Academy Award nominated score by Herschel Burke Gilbert and the acting of Ray Milland as the scientist, on a par with his alcoholic in Lost Weekend. Best enjoyed if you keep your eyes on the screen!
Interesting little film
TheLittleSongbird1 April 2011
While no classic, The Thief was quite an interesting little film. Although the story is on the hokey side with a plot line that is quite familiar in a way, and I think The Thief could have been shorter to make Allan Field's character's motivation clearer perhaps, the film does have its fair share of tense and suspenseful moments and has a clever little twist as well.
What makes The Thief so interesting is that instead of dialogue, The Thief relies on its narration, sound effects, creation of ambiance and intelligence of the audience to convey its point. All of this is done in an intelligent way, with the narration well-written and clear and the sound effects well-judged with none of them feeling out of place to spoil the mood.
The Thief is very well made. Its use of camera work and editing is quite innovative in the use of angles, while the lighting and scenery/sets are quite striking. The music is outstanding and appropriately moody, conveying the titular character's state of mind wonderfully and in a somewhat unnerving way, while Russell Rouse directs very well and makes interesting use of the film's gimmick, which on the whole I think does work. The acting is very good, even without dialogue the facial expressions, gestures and eye contact of Ray Milland in the lead and the likes of Martin Gabel, Harry Bronson and Rita Gam speak volumes.
In conclusion, while not entirely succeeding at what it set out to do, The Thief is an altogether interesting little movie. 8/10 Bethany Cox
What makes The Thief so interesting is that instead of dialogue, The Thief relies on its narration, sound effects, creation of ambiance and intelligence of the audience to convey its point. All of this is done in an intelligent way, with the narration well-written and clear and the sound effects well-judged with none of them feeling out of place to spoil the mood.
The Thief is very well made. Its use of camera work and editing is quite innovative in the use of angles, while the lighting and scenery/sets are quite striking. The music is outstanding and appropriately moody, conveying the titular character's state of mind wonderfully and in a somewhat unnerving way, while Russell Rouse directs very well and makes interesting use of the film's gimmick, which on the whole I think does work. The acting is very good, even without dialogue the facial expressions, gestures and eye contact of Ray Milland in the lead and the likes of Martin Gabel, Harry Bronson and Rita Gam speak volumes.
In conclusion, while not entirely succeeding at what it set out to do, The Thief is an altogether interesting little movie. 8/10 Bethany Cox
" "
skallisjr4 May 2005
Warning: Spoilers
This film came out before Mr. Hulot's Holiday, but it employs the same concept: the protagonist never utters a word. But whereas "Hulot" was a comedy, this one's rather noirish.
MAJOR Spoiler follows: The ending of the film is a little fantastic. Suddenly, the protagonist, who's on the run, gets nostalgic about New York City. Seeing as his crimes, given the era, were capital offenses, I don't see any advantage in his action.
Also, there was a cheat: when he was walking through Grand Central terminal, the PA system was broadcasting an unintelligible announcement. Deliberately unintelligible, I suppose, so that "not a word is spoken"; that is unnecessary.
Not bad, but not classic.
MAJOR Spoiler follows: The ending of the film is a little fantastic. Suddenly, the protagonist, who's on the run, gets nostalgic about New York City. Seeing as his crimes, given the era, were capital offenses, I don't see any advantage in his action.
Also, there was a cheat: when he was walking through Grand Central terminal, the PA system was broadcasting an unintelligible announcement. Deliberately unintelligible, I suppose, so that "not a word is spoken"; that is unnecessary.
Not bad, but not classic.
Short History of the Avant-Garde
mrdonleone14 January 2020
Very few times a movie annoys me. I mean an old movie. I have respect for them in some sort of superior way, that is, them to me. In general watching an old movie is like having a foreign affairs: you have more chance to be lucky if you play once on all the jackpots, not just spoiling your money/talent on one machine/love/nationality/present year. It is thereby logic old movies in general have more quality than modern ones, that's like choosing between wisdom and srupidity. One of the sidetracks in the genre I like are the experimental movies from the 1960s-1970s, they always know how to refreshen the old standard and thereby how to increase upon movie values; however, this was exactly what I did not like about The Thief. Here we have an early precursor on experimental values with a special taate: the taste of avant-garde acquired by a single unsuspected viewing is simply not present, rather presents you with an overload of cynicism and cigarettes instead, best fathomable in bright yellow raincoats to avoid depression. The absence of volume works so much against the experience of this movie that it leaves you totally cold what would happen to its main character and thereby this movie is a flop.
Silence is golden.
brogmiller24 November 2020
Actions certainly speak louder than words in this Cold War espionage drama produced by 'B' studio Eagle-Lion, directed by Russell Rouse and starring Ray Milland. Should you be counting the minutes until somebody actually speaks you will be disappointed.
Physicist Allan Fields, who works for the Atomic Energy Commission, is handing over top secret documents to enemy agents. We never discover his motives or what sort of hold they have over him but it does not take us long to realise that his heart is not in it. Through a freak accident involving one of the agents the ring is discovered by the FBI and Fields, now under constant surveillance, is obliged to flee the country. The tension becomes almost unbearable and the sequence on the Empire State Building is spellbinding.
The film is so technically proficient and its leading man so outstanding that after a while the absence of dialogue ceases to matter. Film, after all, is a visual medium. Rouse's taut direction, Sam Leavitt's cinematography, Chester Schaeffer's editing, Herschel Burke Gilbert's score and Ray Milland's performance combine to make this an intriguing and mesmerising experience. Milland is called upon to register so many emotions here and his expression when setting eyes on Rita Gam across the hallway is priceless. Who needs words? For this viewer at any rate the word that immediately springs to mind is: 'Phwoar!'
Physicist Allan Fields, who works for the Atomic Energy Commission, is handing over top secret documents to enemy agents. We never discover his motives or what sort of hold they have over him but it does not take us long to realise that his heart is not in it. Through a freak accident involving one of the agents the ring is discovered by the FBI and Fields, now under constant surveillance, is obliged to flee the country. The tension becomes almost unbearable and the sequence on the Empire State Building is spellbinding.
The film is so technically proficient and its leading man so outstanding that after a while the absence of dialogue ceases to matter. Film, after all, is a visual medium. Rouse's taut direction, Sam Leavitt's cinematography, Chester Schaeffer's editing, Herschel Burke Gilbert's score and Ray Milland's performance combine to make this an intriguing and mesmerising experience. Milland is called upon to register so many emotions here and his expression when setting eyes on Rita Gam across the hallway is priceless. Who needs words? For this viewer at any rate the word that immediately springs to mind is: 'Phwoar!'
THE THIEF (Russell Rouse, 1952) **1/2
Bunuel19767 February 2011
This Cold War suspenser is chiefly notable today for being completely dialogue-free for its entire 86-minute duration; this was very rare for a Hollywood product of its time, even if independent (1953's DEMENTIA) or foreign (1961's THE NAKED ISLAND) examples would eventually follow. While it certainly makes for a striking contrast with the relentlessly talky fare typical of the same genre like, say, Martin Ritt's THE SPY WHO CAME IN FROM THE COLD (1965), the gimmick does prove tiresome long before the end.
Although one might expect a traitor to generally keep to himself and feel isolated, and spies to perform their devious acts in complete silence (in a public library) and convene in abandoned places (on a deserted street), there is no real reason why the few strangers they come across, while going about their business, must also do likewise (especially during a crowded day atop the Empire State Building!). The film-makers cleverly make use of unanswered telephone rings for the secret code of communication between the spies but this repeated contrivance ultimately becomes silly.
Ray Milland was nominated for a Golden Globe (one of the film's 5 nods) and is practically the whole show here as a renowned research scientist who, for reasons clearly unexplained, sells trade secrets to the other side by photographing evidently important documents. Privately, he is showing signs of being tormented by his conscience for what he has been doing to his country and, after fatally disposing of a pursuing agent (a surprisingly bloody scene), he suffers a nervous breakdown and, instead of defecting as planned, gives himself up to the F.B.I. in the film's very closing shot!
The only two other notable members of the cast are Martin Gabel (curiously misspelled Gable in the pictured end credits!) as Milland's bespectacled contact and a debuting Rita Gam (also up for a Globe) as the star's sultry neighbor in the dingy hotel where he lodges once his duplicity is discovered. Sam Leavitt's cinematography and Herschel Burke Gilbert's Oscar-nominated score effortlessly stand out in a movie where there is often very little going on; unfortunately, Russell Rouse is no Orson Welles and one bemoans the lack of the visual virtuosity that the latter might have employed in tackling such a theme.
For the record, I have four more thrillers from this director in my unwatched pile: the real-life human drama THE WELL (1951), the gangland expose' NEW YORK CONFIDENTIAL (1955), the prison-break drama HOUSE OF NUMBERS (1957) and the heist movie (in color this time) THE CAPER OF THE GOLDEN BULLS (1967). It is fair to say that time has not been too kind to this daringly experimental production (perhaps inspired by Hitchcock's one-set restriction in LIFEBOAT [1944], ROPE [1948] and REAR WINDOW [1954]) and what seemed impressive upon its original release feels occasionally interesting but mostly tedious today.
Although one might expect a traitor to generally keep to himself and feel isolated, and spies to perform their devious acts in complete silence (in a public library) and convene in abandoned places (on a deserted street), there is no real reason why the few strangers they come across, while going about their business, must also do likewise (especially during a crowded day atop the Empire State Building!). The film-makers cleverly make use of unanswered telephone rings for the secret code of communication between the spies but this repeated contrivance ultimately becomes silly.
Ray Milland was nominated for a Golden Globe (one of the film's 5 nods) and is practically the whole show here as a renowned research scientist who, for reasons clearly unexplained, sells trade secrets to the other side by photographing evidently important documents. Privately, he is showing signs of being tormented by his conscience for what he has been doing to his country and, after fatally disposing of a pursuing agent (a surprisingly bloody scene), he suffers a nervous breakdown and, instead of defecting as planned, gives himself up to the F.B.I. in the film's very closing shot!
The only two other notable members of the cast are Martin Gabel (curiously misspelled Gable in the pictured end credits!) as Milland's bespectacled contact and a debuting Rita Gam (also up for a Globe) as the star's sultry neighbor in the dingy hotel where he lodges once his duplicity is discovered. Sam Leavitt's cinematography and Herschel Burke Gilbert's Oscar-nominated score effortlessly stand out in a movie where there is often very little going on; unfortunately, Russell Rouse is no Orson Welles and one bemoans the lack of the visual virtuosity that the latter might have employed in tackling such a theme.
For the record, I have four more thrillers from this director in my unwatched pile: the real-life human drama THE WELL (1951), the gangland expose' NEW YORK CONFIDENTIAL (1955), the prison-break drama HOUSE OF NUMBERS (1957) and the heist movie (in color this time) THE CAPER OF THE GOLDEN BULLS (1967). It is fair to say that time has not been too kind to this daringly experimental production (perhaps inspired by Hitchcock's one-set restriction in LIFEBOAT [1944], ROPE [1948] and REAR WINDOW [1954]) and what seemed impressive upon its original release feels occasionally interesting but mostly tedious today.
Weak
daviuquintultimate27 December 2022
Warning: Spoilers
The technical virtuosity of being without dialogues, in this particular case quite damages, rather than working in favour of the film. I say "in that particular case" because we know many examples of movies - in the silent film era - , that, apart from being, of course, without sound (except for the live music in the movie theatres), are also without intertitles: let's think of the German Kammerspielfilm style, and its best directors, like Lupu Pick, just to name one. And those films where, generally speaking, a lot better than The Thief.
Here we sense a sort of discordance between the plot chosen and the "mute" realization, as the two things couldn't go together. The consequences are far-reaching. First of all, the plot itself looks quite over-simplified, and you cannot say what the film is meant to say without constant repetition: a good first half of the film depicts two or three times the same chain of events, which is quite boring, considering that some lines of dialogue could have made the situation clear (he - professor Allan Fields - is a spy for a foreign country - curiously enough, Egypt!? -, that's all) without slowing down the pace. Another glitch deriving by the lack of dialogue, and recurring repeatedly, is the quite annoying ring of his telephone, and he never answering: the call is from a spectacled man that asks him (maybe blackmails him) to photograph secret documents and give them to him. How come that Professor Fields never answers but nonetheless meets regularly the spectacled man and obeys him?
Other weak points of the story are maybe not related with the lack of dialogue, and contribute to make the outline of the plot sometimes quite unclear and contradictory. He gets a telegram requiring an urgent payment, lacking which he will be sued. Is it from the spectacled man? (Why is he called, in many reviews, including IMDb, Mr. Bleek, if no one speaks his name in the movie?). So the spectacled man is really blackmailing him? But at the same time someone provides Allan Fields with a false passport with which he can live the country. But who provides the passport? Could only be Mr. Bleek, but in that case, who blackmails Allan? No answers.
The scenes in the New York apartment, with the beautiful girl, are unrelated to the plot, and those on top of the Empire State Building are quite confusing: a character (the woman of the spy-organization) mysteriously disappears all of a sudden, and another (the FBI man), after having being absent for a long time, likewise mysteriously reappears. At the end Allan gives himself up, and we have been knowing that since the professor's staying at the bottom of the stairs leading to the Egypt-bound ship...
Here we sense a sort of discordance between the plot chosen and the "mute" realization, as the two things couldn't go together. The consequences are far-reaching. First of all, the plot itself looks quite over-simplified, and you cannot say what the film is meant to say without constant repetition: a good first half of the film depicts two or three times the same chain of events, which is quite boring, considering that some lines of dialogue could have made the situation clear (he - professor Allan Fields - is a spy for a foreign country - curiously enough, Egypt!? -, that's all) without slowing down the pace. Another glitch deriving by the lack of dialogue, and recurring repeatedly, is the quite annoying ring of his telephone, and he never answering: the call is from a spectacled man that asks him (maybe blackmails him) to photograph secret documents and give them to him. How come that Professor Fields never answers but nonetheless meets regularly the spectacled man and obeys him?
Other weak points of the story are maybe not related with the lack of dialogue, and contribute to make the outline of the plot sometimes quite unclear and contradictory. He gets a telegram requiring an urgent payment, lacking which he will be sued. Is it from the spectacled man? (Why is he called, in many reviews, including IMDb, Mr. Bleek, if no one speaks his name in the movie?). So the spectacled man is really blackmailing him? But at the same time someone provides Allan Fields with a false passport with which he can live the country. But who provides the passport? Could only be Mr. Bleek, but in that case, who blackmails Allan? No answers.
The scenes in the New York apartment, with the beautiful girl, are unrelated to the plot, and those on top of the Empire State Building are quite confusing: a character (the woman of the spy-organization) mysteriously disappears all of a sudden, and another (the FBI man), after having being absent for a long time, likewise mysteriously reappears. At the end Allan gives himself up, and we have been knowing that since the professor's staying at the bottom of the stairs leading to the Egypt-bound ship...
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