This movie's an all right way to spend 95 minutes. I didn't find it to be great, or any kind of classic.
It's a low-budget, 'b' movie from 1950. It's mostly about a lot of seedy characters in the underbelly of a big city, who mostly seem in a race to see who can stab each other in the back fastest. The lead character, Harry Fabian (Richard Widmark), is particularly unlikable, a hustling, get-rich-quick schemer who, at two low points, robs his own girlfriend's purse to finance his schemes.
I did read in the liner notes the director didn't think much of this film, and I agree. It gets a little too obvious, too many times. Like Widmark. We get the idea he's pretty low the first time he tries to steal from his own gal's purse. Bringing that back a second time feels a little heavy-handed.
I did feel a little bit sorry for Widmark at the end when he knows he's going to die, but not really a lot. I mostly felt relieved for his girlfriend's sake, who is played by Gene Tierney. I wish there were women nowadays who looked like Gene Tierney does here. There's still plenty of women being made; so maybe it's the period clothes or Hollywood cinematography. Or maybe just the way she carries herself, with a certain amount of class, dignity, and respect.
Probably the most believable strain of the story is how she's also getting interest from a decent, and better-looking, guy (Hugh Marlowe), but she sticks with her unlovable rake, Widmark. That's a human trait that's all too recognizable.
Widmark winds up strangled to death and having his corpse dumped in the river, so Tierney can shrug off her lovin' the bad boy chapter and run into Marlowe's arms, who's already running towards her waiting.
If you think you're getting a 'film noir classic' with this, let me warn ya: except for some of the later ones, 'film noir' was definitely a genre after the fact. Some French film critics noticed a group of post-war Hollywood movies had some dark themes, and lighting and direction to match, and started calling them that. Until then, no one involved knew, at the time, they were making a 'film noir.' They tended to be low-budget crime dramas made, as usual, to try to make money. Apparently, the post-World War II audiences wanted something harsher, so movie makers gave it to 'em. It isn't until you get to the later ones called 'film noir,' like Orson Welles "Touch of Evil," that it really seems a conscious genre choice.
It's a low-budget, 'b' movie from 1950. It's mostly about a lot of seedy characters in the underbelly of a big city, who mostly seem in a race to see who can stab each other in the back fastest. The lead character, Harry Fabian (Richard Widmark), is particularly unlikable, a hustling, get-rich-quick schemer who, at two low points, robs his own girlfriend's purse to finance his schemes.
I did read in the liner notes the director didn't think much of this film, and I agree. It gets a little too obvious, too many times. Like Widmark. We get the idea he's pretty low the first time he tries to steal from his own gal's purse. Bringing that back a second time feels a little heavy-handed.
I did feel a little bit sorry for Widmark at the end when he knows he's going to die, but not really a lot. I mostly felt relieved for his girlfriend's sake, who is played by Gene Tierney. I wish there were women nowadays who looked like Gene Tierney does here. There's still plenty of women being made; so maybe it's the period clothes or Hollywood cinematography. Or maybe just the way she carries herself, with a certain amount of class, dignity, and respect.
Probably the most believable strain of the story is how she's also getting interest from a decent, and better-looking, guy (Hugh Marlowe), but she sticks with her unlovable rake, Widmark. That's a human trait that's all too recognizable.
Widmark winds up strangled to death and having his corpse dumped in the river, so Tierney can shrug off her lovin' the bad boy chapter and run into Marlowe's arms, who's already running towards her waiting.
If you think you're getting a 'film noir classic' with this, let me warn ya: except for some of the later ones, 'film noir' was definitely a genre after the fact. Some French film critics noticed a group of post-war Hollywood movies had some dark themes, and lighting and direction to match, and started calling them that. Until then, no one involved knew, at the time, they were making a 'film noir.' They tended to be low-budget crime dramas made, as usual, to try to make money. Apparently, the post-World War II audiences wanted something harsher, so movie makers gave it to 'em. It isn't until you get to the later ones called 'film noir,' like Orson Welles "Touch of Evil," that it really seems a conscious genre choice.