Dark Candy in Your Stocking: 25 Christmas Noirs

Robert Montgomery, “Lady in the Lake” (1946), an odd seasonal thriller.

By Paul Parcellin

Sometimes you need relief from the hectic days that close out the year. From Thanksgiving ’til New Year’s Day we live with a sense of renewed optimism and anticipation as the new year approaches — well, some of us do, anyway. Chances are you’ll desire a break from the season of cheer, something to counter-balance the joyful spirit that the holidays demand. For that, you might take in a few films noir. 

What’s especially fitting at this time of year are dark tales with a seasonal theme, the ones that take special delight in dishing out gritty violence and bad will toward men amid the ribbons,  wreaths and mistletoe. Tinsel and colorful twinkling lights contrast brutally with noir’s undisguised onscreen malevolence, highlighting the grim corruption and heart wrenching tragedy that is modern society.

So pour yourself a slug of rye and get comfortable. Here are 25 noirs that are an antidote for this physically exhausting, stress inducing, hyper-joyous season:

Edmond O’Brien, Viveca Lindfors, “Backfire.”

“Backfire” (1950)

While recuperating from wartime back injuries, veteran Bob Corey (Gordon MacRae) is visited on Christmas Eve by a woman carrying alarming news. He hopes to go into business with a wartime buddy, but a major roadblock stands in the way.

“Beware, My Lovely” (1952)

A mentally disturbed handyman (Robert Ryan) on the run, for reasons even he doesn't understand, takes a job at the house of a lonely war widow (Ida Lupino) in 1918. The story takes place over the holiday season, and the warmth associated with Christmas sharply contrasts with the film’s dark elements. 

“Blast of Silence” (1961)

It’s the holidays, and a hired killer from Cleveland (Allen Baron) is in New York City, his hometown, to rub out a gangster. It should be a piece of cake, but his return to the old neighborhood brings on some unexpected complications.

“Cash on Demand” (1961)

A charming but ruthless criminal (André Morell) holds the family of a bank manager (Peter Cushing) hostage as part of a cold-blooded plan to steal a small fortune. The holiday setting stirs up the emotions we feel for the family being held against their will.

“Christmas Holiday” (1944)

The title suggests a light, whimsical storyline, but it’s nothing of the kind. A young woman (Deanna Durbin) realizes that the man she married (Gene Kelly) is not who she thought he was. In flashback we learn of her troubled past as she spends Christmas in New Orleans. The film explores themes of betrayal, guilt and loss.

“Cover Up” (1949)

There’s nothing like a small Midwestern town bedecked in holiday splendor to put us in the Christmas mood — but not this town. An insurance company investigator (Dennis O’Keefe) tackles a case of supposed suicide. But the locals are unhelpful and even hostile. Could this be a case of foul play?

Lawrence Tierney, Anne Jeffreys, “Dillinger.” 

“Dillinger” (1945)

Legendary bank robber John Dillinger (Lawrence Tierney) begins his life of crime as a petty thief, meets his future gang in prison and eventually masterminds a series of daring robberies. Turns out, Christmas ornaments provide an exciting, colorful backdrop for stickup men.

“Flame of the Islands” (1955)

A café singer (Yvonne De Carlo) buys a gambling casino, and a number of men fall in love with her (Howard Duff, Zachary Scott). Set in the tropics, it’s not an overtly Christmas themed flick, but the holiday provides a seasonal context. 

“I Wouldn't Be in Your Shoes” (1948)

A dancer (Don Castle) is the focus of a murder investigation after his shoe prints are found at the scene of the crime. His wife (Elyse Knox) follows the trail of clues to the genuine killer. The film’s holiday setting makes the wrongly accused man’s plight all the more tragic.

Elisha Cook Jr., “I, the Jury.” 

“I, the Jury” (1953)

Detective Mike Hammer (Biff Elliot) is determined to catch and kill the person who shot his close friend dead, so he follows clues that lead to a beautiful, seductive woman (Peggie Castle). Nothing says Christmastime quite like Mickey Spillane’s creation, the violence prone Hammer.

“In Bruges” (2008)

Christmas in Bruges, Belgium, is postcard perfect. Two hitmen (Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson) are sent there and told to await orders from their cold-blooded boss. When instructions finally arrive the story takes a decidedly surprising and dour turn.

“Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang” (2005)

A New York burglar (Robert Downey Jr.) does some after-hours Christmas Eve shopping in a closed toy store and nearly gets busted. He stumbles into a film audition, is mistaken for an actor and is sent to Hollywood to train under a private eye (Val Kilmer) for a potential movie role. From there, the story only gets weirder. 

“L.A. Confidential” (1997).

“L.A. Confidential” (1997)

The film opens outside a house bedecked in holiday lights and a decorative Santa and his sleigh on the roof. Inside, a man beats his wife and detective Bud White (Russell Crowe) and his partner arrive on the scene. The violence contrasts with the season of cheer and goodwill and sets the stage for a tale of corruption and routine underworld brutality in 1950s Los Angeles.

“Lady in the Lake” (1946)

Robert Montgomery directs and stars as Phillip Marlowe, who soon finds himself smack in the middle of a murder. It takes place at Christmastime and a chorus of seasonal carols offer a sardonic counterpoint to the grimmest action on the screen. Opening credits are printed on Christmas cards, to boot. It’s oddly appealing that this may be the most unChristmas-like Christmas film ever made.

“Lady on a Train” (1945)

It’s Christmastime in New York, and a woman (Deanna Durbin) who witnesses a killing seeks the aid of a crime novelist (Bruce David) to solve the murder. The film’s lighthearted holiday atmosphere starkly contrasts with the dark crime witnessed from a train window.  

John Payne, “Larceny.”

“Larceny” (1948)

The veneer of holiday cheer lingers in the background as a con man (John Payne) sets out to swindle a widow (Joan Caulfield). He aims to grab money she received to build a memorial to her war hero husband. But the swindler winds up falling in love with her instead.

“Mr. Soft Touch” (1949)

When he learns that a gangster has taken over his nightclub and murdered his partner, returning World War II hero Joe Miracle (Glenn Ford) steals the money from the club's safe and hides in a settlement home, while the mob is on his tail. Themes such as charity, goodwill and second chances are explored amid the yuletide season.

“No Man of Her Own” (1950)

A pregnant woman (Barbara Stanwyck) adopts the identity of a railroad-crash victim and starts a new life with the woman's wealthy in-laws. But her devious ex blackmails her. The Christmastime setting helps underline the woman’s longing for family stability and belonging.

Louis Hayward, Joan Leslie, “Repeat Performance.”

“Repeat Performance” (1947)

On New Year's Eve 1946, Sheila Page (Joan Leslie) kills her husband, Barney (Louis Hayward). She wishes that she could relive 1946 and avoid the mistakes that she made throughout the year. Her wish comes true but cheating fate proves more difficult than she anticipated. It’s primarily a New Year’s Eve story, but Christmas elements, such as reflection and renewal, are folded into the mix.

“The Man I Love” (1946)

A homesick, no-nonsense lounge singer (Ida Lupino) decides to leave New York City and visit her sisters and brother on the West Coast. Eventually she falls in love with a down-and-out ex-jazz pianist (Bruce Bennett). More romantic drama than a pure noir, the film’s scenes with Christmas decorations add just a touch of holiday ambiance to the story.

“The Night of the Hunter.”

“The Night of the Hunter” (1955)

A self-proclaimed preacher (Robert Mitchum) marries a gullible widow (Shelley Winters) whose young children are reluctant to tell him where their real dad hid the $10,000 he'd stolen in a robbery. Pastoral winter scenes, exploration of themes such as good and evil and children singing “Silent Night” add to the subtle Christmastime atmosphere.

“The Reckless Moment” (1949)

After discovering the dead body of her teenage daughter's lover, a housewife (Joan Bennett) takes desperate measures to protect her family from scandal. The holiday setting and themes such as family responsibility and criminal intent offer dramatic contrasts that propel the story.

“The Roaring Twenties” (1939)

After returning home from fighting together in World War I, three men (Humphrey Bogart, James Cagney, Jeffrey Lynn) try to make a killing during Prohibition. A Christmas Eve speech by one of the trio (Cagney) reflects themes of loss, regret and nostalgia. 

“The Silent Partner.” 

“The Silent Partner” (1978)

A timid bank teller (Elliott Gould) anticipates a robbery and steals the money himself before the crook arrives. When the sadistic crook (Christopher Plummer) realizes he's been duped, he tracks down the teller and chases him for the cash. Much of the action takes place in a shopping mall decorated for Christmas.

“The Story of Molly X” (1949)

After gang leader Rick is killed, his wife Molly (June Havoc) takes over his gang, but a robbery goes wrong. Molly finds herself in jail where she undergoes a personal transformation.

Although there are no direct Christmas references here, themes such as hope, forgiveness and second chances reflect the spirit of Christmas — heartwarming stuff for the holidays.

Riding an Express Train to Hell: In Noir and Thrillers, Passengers Embark on Dark Journeys Aboard Shadowy Railroad Cars Hurtling Toward Uncertain Destinations

Charles McGraw, Don Haggerty, Marie Windsor, Don Beddoe,
“The Narrow Margin” (1952).

This article contains spoilers

By Paul Parcellin

Rail travel is a throwback to the days of neckties, breast pocket handkerchiefs and fedoras, so naturally it pops up often in films noir. It’s safe to say that if you’re watching a black and white film with a handcuffed criminal being shuffled aboard a pullman car, you just might be watching noir.

Trains are not only the popular mode of transportation in noir, they’re often a stage where dramatic scenes play out. They’re a location where solo travelers can meld into the crowd or escape to a sealed overnight compartment. Night trains are often dimly lit, even shadowy. It’s the kind of environment where transgressive behavior can take place undetected. People hop a train to run away from danger or the law, or to find a missing person or purloined object. They’re an escape vehicle, a sanctuary and sometimes they’re the perfect setting to perpetrate a crime.

Theft, kidnapping and murder are all possible under the murky illumination inside a railroad car as it speeds through sparsely populated territories and cityscapes. Passengers, lost in reverie, are oblivious to disturbing events unfolding around them. 

Ditto for railroad stations, which are often packed with anonymous faces, many of whom are too distracted to pay close attention to their surroundings. Train stations are a transitional area for travelers, a place that passengers would prefer to leave as soon as possible. They’re fertile ground for pickpockets, petty thieves and conmen preying on distracted, weary travelers whose thoughts are fixed on where they’re bound for as they endure the tedium of getting there. They’re a place where cigar stand cashiers mutter inside info to cops and hoods alike, and fugitives grab a tabloid from the newsstand to find out what’s what.

Rail travel echos many of film noir’s tenets, including loneliness and isolation. Trains are inherently claustrophobic, with their narrow corridors, compartments, dining cars and baggage areas. In short, they’re perfect fodder for the movies. Try to imagine how hard it would be to stage a credible chase scene aboard a plane or a bus, but a train is tailor made for it. 

Trains are more than mere staging areas for action sequences. The sense of confinement one feels mirrors the moral and emotional entrapment characters are experiencing. The train becomes a microcosm of the noir world, where people are trapped in a place that mirrors their internal conflicts.

Film noir is notorious for its dimly lit streets and alleys that create an atmosphere of uncertainty and danger. Train travel often occurs at night, emphasizing the characters’ descent into darkness and their moral ambiguity. The rhythmic clatter of the train’s wheels amplifies the tension, intensifying the noir experience. In short, the confined interiors of train cars provide an ideal spot for things to happen, the kinds of things that happen in noir.


Here a handful of films noir, crime films and thrillers in which trains play a critical role:

Fred MacMurray, Barbara Stanwyck, “Double Indemnity” (1944).

“Double Indemnity” (1944)

A train can be part of a murder plot as well as a tool of deception. In “Double Indemnity,” insurance salesman Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray), cooks up a murder plot that includes train travel and a sophisticated maneuver that makes it look like an accident. He and Phyllis Dietrichson plan to bump off her husband to collect his accident insurance payout — she and Neff have recently begun an affair and they plan to go away together with the spoils of their deadly scheme. 

With some sleight of hand Neff gets the unsuspecting hubby to sign off on a fat policy with Phyllis as the beneficiary. The corker is that if Mr. Dietrichson dies aboard a train the payout is double the face amount of the policy — double indemnity. It takes a fair amount of maneuvering and creative planning to set the wheels of deception in motion, but they do it. 

Neff strangles the husband and, dressing like Mr. Dietrichson, boards the train pretending to be the unfortunate chap. At a given location, Neff will hop off the rear car and he and Phyllis will place the body at the spot where he jumped. People will think that Dietrichson accidentally fell off, putting Phyllis in line for a big payday. 

Aboard the train, Neff makes his way to the observation platform at the rear of the last car. He steps into the open compartment, the darkness serves as a metaphoric backdrop for the morally corrupt acts he’s carrying out. But lo’ and behold, he’s not alone. Another passenger, the chatty Mr. Jackson (Porter Hall), is enjoying the night air amid the clatter of steel wheels on tracks. Neff did not anticipate this and it could be disastrous for him and Phyllis since there’s only a brief window of opportunity for him to take the leap. Neff makes up an excuse to get Jackson to leave the observation car and go fetch cigars Neff claims he left in his compartment. 

It’s a close call, but he’s is able to jump off the train at the precise point where Phyllis waits in the family car with the still warm body of her husband. Director Billy Wilder is masterful in his creation of tense moments on film, and he doubles down on the pressure once the body is planted on the tracks. 

Neff and Phyllis are about to make a clean getaway — then the car won’t start. Such are the problems of a murderous pair who seek to defraud an insurance company and get rid of a husband who’s overstayed his usefulness. 

Farley Granger, Robert Walker, “Strangers on a Train” (1951).

“Strangers on a Train” (1951)

When you board a train you never know who you might sit across from. Clean-cut tennis pro Guy Haines (Farley Granger) has the misfortune of planting himself opposite unhinged gadabout Bruno Antony (Robert Walker). Bruno recognizes Guy from seeing his picture on the sports page, and knows far too much about the tennis player’s personal life. Guy is mildly annoyed, but soon the two of them are lunching in Bruno’s compartment, although clearly Guy would prefer to lose the eccentric busybody.

Bruno rambles on about some harebrained schemes he’s been thinking about and Guy humors him. But then Bruno’s conversation turns perversely dark. He’s dreamed up a way to commit the perfect murder: two people who each want someone dead would commit each other’s murders. Guy laughs off the suggestion, although he’s got a troublesome wife who won’t give him a divorce. Bruno has a father who understandably threatens to have him committed. 

Guy never gives the wacky scheme a second thought, but Bruno is deadly serious and he mistakenly thinks that Guy is on board with him. It’s a great setup for a thriller and in Alfred Hitchcock’s hands the film is a tantalizing melange of dark humor and tense moments. 

Here, train travel is the catalyst for a chance meeting that sets the story in motion and reminds us that random events can trigger unsavory actions. The journey brings about the entwined destinies of two very different characters. As we eavesdrop on their conversation we get an inkling of the deep moral complexities that Guy will soon face. 

Bruno’s scheme requires two people with no discernible connection between them who share a common interest. Unfortunately for Bruno, Guy has no intention of being anyone’s partner in crime, but he didn’t make that sufficiently clear to Bruno. Much to Guy’s horror, Bruno goes ahead with his side of the imagined bargain and kills Guy’s wife. Guy is, of course, a suspect. 

His alibi, that he was on a train at the time of the murder, won’t hold water. He spoke with a soused college professor who happened to be sitting across from him on the train, but the now sober educator cannot remember a thing from the night before. Guy is once again an anonymous person on a train, and this is one time that he wishes someone would have recognized him.

Charles McGraw, Jacqueline White, Peter Virgo, “The Narrow Margin” (1952). 

“The Narrow Margin” (1952)

L.A. Police Det. Walter Brown (Charles McGraw) must escort a key witness for the state, Mrs. Frankie Neall (Marie Windsor), from Chicago to Los Angeles. She’s the widow of crime boss Neall and has critical information the authorities want, but the mob is determined to stop her from talking. She narrowly escapes death when a gunman pays her a home visit, but instead Brown’s partner takes a fatal bullet.  

Brown is less than thrilled to be assigned to this dangerous mission, and the lady is annoyed about the long train journey ahead. Before long she and Brown get on each other’s nerves, but that’s the least of their worries — a group of thugs who are out to kill her have boarded the train. 

Most of the movie takes place in the compartments, corridors and dining car, and it’s the perfect claustrophobic setting for this drama of paranoia and frayed nerves. Brown is the one taking it the hardest. He feels responsible for his partner’s death and the guilt weighs heavily on him. 

He’s restless, has trouble sleeping and can’t eat, but Mrs. Neall remains calm and has to be reminded to hide herself from the marauding killers. 

Her one advantage is that the bad guys don’t know what she looks like. But they know Brown, and they lie in wait until the detective tips his hand and leads them to her. The train’s narrow corridors make it almost impossible prevent Brown from crossing paths with the hitmen as they glare at each other, waiting to see who makes the first move. 

When violence finally erupts the confined space makes for intense chases and dramatic struggles over firearms. A side note: Given the danger Brown and the lady face, it’s a wonder that he doesn’t wire ahead for reinforcements and simply get off the train. But then there wouldn’t be a movie.

William Holden, Nancy Olson, “Union Station” (1950). 

“Union Station” (1950)

Train travel is part of the “Union Station” plot, but the station itself is where the action takes place. Sharp eyed passenger Joyce Willecombe (Nancy Olson) spots a couple of shady characters on her trip to Chicago. Police Lt. Bill Calhoun (William Holden) tails the pair, who turn out to be gun-toting bad guys.

He watches as they stash a suitcase in a locker at the station. The suitcase is retrieved and Joyce identifies the contents as the belongings of Lorna Murchison (Allene Roberts), the blind daughter of wealthy Henry Murchison (Herbert Heyes ), who coincidentally happens to be Joyce’s boss. Lorna has been kidnapped but Mr. Murchison doesn’t want police interference which might endanger Lorna’s life. But he does agree to let Calhoun do some low-profile investigating. 

A ransom drop off at the station is arranged, and a small army of plain clothes detectives swarm the area. The upshot is a handful of petty criminals plying their trade in the crowded station get scooped up — a suitcase thief here, a con man there — business as usual at this Midwestern crossroads. The station itself — Los Angeles’s Union Station standing in for Union Station Chicago — is like a character in the story. Long corridors, waiting area and various crannies are useful to both cops and crooks who want to blend into the background. 

More intimidating is the tunnels beneath the station where the action eventually moves. There are small service cars for workers that run on tracks and are electrically powered, kind of a mini railroad beneath the railroad. 

That makes the tunnels all the more treacherous. One false step and you might land on a live power line. It’s an awful place, especially for a blind girl scared out of her wits.

Wesley Addy, “Time Table” (1956). 

"Time Table” (1956)

The distinguished Dr. Paul Brucker (Wesley Addy) responds to an urgent call for aid. A man aboard the train on which he’s traveling is having a medical emergency. The doctor examines the patient and concludes the stricken man suffers from polio. He directs the train crew to make an unscheduled stop so that the ailing man can be transferred to a hospital. 

An ambulance meets the doctor and patient at an otherwise deserted train depot and the afflicted individual is taken away. But that’s hardly the most unusual event occurring on the train this night. 

While the medical emergency is under way, unbeknownst to the crew a lone robber breaches the train’s locked baggage compartment where a large quantity of cash is secured in a safe. This has the trademark a well-trained band of robbers with lots of insider information and a knack for misdirection. 

Although the train seems as secure as an armored car, investigators later realize that the perfectly timed scheme was planned specifically for a train running on this route. What would otherwise be a daunting mission with many drawbacks — the confined space, the well guarded baggage car — are instead advantages that the robbers exploit. 

They’re able to direct attention away from themselves and prevent passengers from catching on to what they’re up to. The train crew is also in the dark — most of them, anyway. Instead of being trapped like lab rats, the thieves get away without a hitch, making this a tough case for insurance investigator Charlie Norman (Mark Stevens) to solve. But, as we might expect, the robbers’ seemingly bullet-proof scheme begins to unravel.

Here are more films that include scenes at Union Station in Los Angeles:

“The Ladykillers" (1955), "5 Against the House" (1955), “Mildred Pierce" (1945). The Driver" (1978), "The Bigamist" (1953), "Criss Cross" (1949), "Too Late for Tears" (1949), "Cry Danger" (1951).

These films feature scenes at Grand Central Station in New York:

“North By Northwest" (1959), "Seconds" (1966), "Midnight Run" (1988), "Spellbound" (1945), "The House on Carroll Street" (1988), "Carlito’s Way" (1993), "Grand Central Murder" (1942).

 

Noir After World War II: Damaged Vets Strain to Re-enter Civilian Life as America Stares Down Fascist Conspiracies and a Seething Nuclear Nightmare

Gaby Rodgers, "Kiss Me Deadly" (1955).

This Post Contains Spoilers

By Paul Parcellin

American films noir changed a lot after the end of World War II. The standard setups — a guy, a girl, a gun, a pile of cash, gave way to new storylines and different kinds of characters. We began to see G.I.s returning home from the war with debilitating physical and psychological wounds that made adjustment to civilian life difficult. Films such as “Crossfire” (1947), “Act of Violence” (1948), “High Wall” (1947) and “The Chase” (1946)  focus on returning servicemen and their tortuous reentry into everyday American life. 

In “The Blue Dahlia” (1946) ex-bomber pilot Johnny Morrison (Alan Ladd) returns from the war to a less than stellar reception. His wife, Helen (Doris Dowling), has been partying and carrying on with another man in Johnny’s absence. In fact, it seems that a significant portion of the civilian population has been on a bender and has little appreciation for the sacrifices service people made to preserve their freedom. 

But the cruelest blow Helen dishes out to him comes when Johnny learns about the death of their child. It wasn’t due to illness as Helen had written him, but as the result of an accident she had while driving drunk. Stunned, Johnny picks up his bag and leaves. Later, Helen is found murdered and Johnny is the prime suspect. But suspicion turns to his service pal Buzz (William Bendix), who has bouts of uncontrollable rage and seizures as the result of a wartime head injury. Early versions of the script had Buzz as the killer, but the U.S. Navy forbid it, saying that portraying a wounded veteran as a psychotic killer was unacceptable, so the script was rewritten. Still, the film conveys a sense of discomfort and outright fear the civilian population experiences with war scarred veterans.

While films along this theme continued to make moving statements in post-war America, particularly William Wyler’s “The Best Years of Our Lives” (1946), the plight of ex-servicemen was overshadowed by events on Aug. 29, 1949, when the Soviet Union detonated its first atomic bomb. Noirs began to reflect the growing hysteria over the prospects of nuclear war. 

In 1950 the country entered the Korean War and the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) investigated alleged disloyalty and subversive activities on the part of private citizens, public employees, and those organizations suspected of having fascist and communist ties.

Some citizens, it was supposed, including war veterans, posed an existential threat to the American way of life. Government censors would paper over any suggestion that a returning veteran might be a deranged killer, but if he was perceived as a communist sympathizer the hammer of justice would strike swiftly. The threat of nuclear war seemed to justify any action deemed necessary.

Here are some films noir made during the Cold War that reflect the mood of the times:

 Janis Carter, John Agar, Thomas Gomez,
"The Woman on Pier 13" (1949).

“The Woman on Pier 13” a.k.a. “I Married a Communist” (1949)

“The Woman on Pier 13” previewed in 1949 with the straightforward but unintentionally silly title, “I Married a Communist.” RKO Pictures changed it after test audiences gave the thumbs down. Even with its new title, “Pier 13” is every bit the melodramatic tabloidesque B-picture that the original title suggests. But it reveals a lot about the country’s mood in that most unsettling era.

While the Soviet Union conducted its first successful atomic test in 1949, the film came together a bit too early to press the nuclear annihilation panic button. Instead, it envisions a conspiracy of homegrown communists driving a wedge between labor and shipping industry management. “Pier 13” uses the communist threat in place of more typical forces of evil we see in noir — organized crime, corrupt politicians, police on the take and the like. 

As the film opens we meet San Francisco shipping executive Brad Collins (Robert Ryan), once, a card-carrying commie who labored as a stevedore in New York during the Depression. Later, he changed his name and fled to the West Coast. A communist no more, he fits comfortably within capitalist society. Brad’s ex-flame, Christine Norman (Janis Carter), who’s secretly working for communist cell leader Vanning (Thomas Gomez), shows up unexpectedly and causes tense moments with Brad and his new bride, Nan (Laraine Day).

Christine’s arrival isn’t a coincidence, she’s helping to put the squeeze on Brad. The local communists hold evidence that could send him to the gas chamber, and they want Brad’s cooperation. These days, “Pier 13” may seem like low comedy or self-parody, but it neatly maps out the hot-button issues still before us, including home-grown and foreign conspirators, infiltration of government institutions, shadow governments seeking to undermine our way of life, while dishing out hefty portions of paranoia-inducing melodrama. The film ends on an optimistic note while serving as a cautionary tale of what might befall us if we aren’t more vigilant. That probably soothed frayed nerves back in 1949. 

Frank Gerstle, Edmond O'Brien, "D.O.A." (1949).


“D.O.A.” (1949)

Above all else, “D.O.A.” is a sobering, paranoid meditation on nuclear radiation’s deadly effects on the human race and the pitfalls of self-absorption and hedonism. Small-town accountant Frank Bigelow (Edmond O’Brien) comes to the big city and by chance meets a bunch of traveling salesmen and their lady companions who are all staying at his hotel. They persuade his to come to a bar, and it turns out to be a hipster scene. Frank, a bit of a square, came to San Francisco to let his hair down before making up his mind whether or not to propose to his sweetheart back home. So he’s tantalized to check out this pre-beatnik era hangout for the bohemian set. 

He mingles with a lady at the bar and makes a date to meet her later that night. All the while a jazz combo is blowing up a storm on the bandstand. The excitement builds until the musicians and the crowd are in a frenzied state. The nightclub practically levitates as both the band and club patrons get caught up in the frenzied beat to the point of madness. 

The bartender, inured to the cacophony, shrugs it off. They’re “jive crazy. That means they go for this stuff.”

Frank doesn’t much understand the hipster crowd, but it looks like he’s gotten lucky, and that plus the booze are clouding his better judgment. He’s too distracted to pay much attention to the man slipping something into his drink. He takes a big sip of his tainted cocktail and things start to go sideways. It turns out that Frank has been poisoned with a "luminous toxin” and only has a short while to live. He goes on a mad scramble in an effort to find out who slipped him the deadly mickey and why they did it. 

The poison is a radio active substance whose delayed effect turns Frank into a walking zombie of sorts. He finally tracks down his killer, but the story is almost too convoluted to understand. The short explanation is that Frank just had a stroke of extraordinarily rotten luck. But the message is simple: the nuclear threat is all around us and can be unleashed at any time.


Lee Marvin, Terry Moore, Keenan Wynn,
"Shack Out on 101" (1955).

“Shack Out on 101” (1955)

A humble diner along the Pacific Coast is a hotbed for post war espionage and the proprietor, George (Keenan Wynn), is clueless about the drama that is percolating in his hash house.

Short order cook Leo (Lee Marvin), whom George has sarcastically nicknamed “Slob,” is a rude, obnoxious masher — his sobriquet fits him well. In a rare moment when Slob and George aren’t bickering, they lift weights together and debate who has the mightier physique. In this, a parable of spies and atomic bomb secrets it’s easy take their muscle flexing contest as a sly comment on the arms race. The two together are pure comic relief.

Frequent customer Prof. Sam Bastion (Frank Lovejoy) teaches at the local university and works on top secret defense projects. Slob and George both have eyes for waitress  Kotty (Terry Moore), who the professor is romancing. Odds are that the three Romeos are on a collision course.

In what seems to be an unconventional pairing, Slob and the professor allegedly have a common interest in seashells, and the professor collects ones that Slob, a part-time beachcomber, retrieves. But their hobby is a coverup for darker matters. We don’t begin to see Slob’s true character until he admits to the professor that he wants do something that will make people look up to him. The professor chides him about being a burger flipper and Slob’s comeback is arresting. “Hitler was a paperhanger,” he mutters, suddenly sounding determined and not the dolt he’s been pretending to be. “A man makes his own destiny,” he says. It seems a shadowy figure, Mr. Gregory, has buying nuclear secrets from the professor with Slob as the middle man. 

But there’s more to this underground operation that what first meets the eye. It turns out that the professor is not onboard with Slob’s covert operation after all, and he sums up the burgeoning conspiracy that’s afoot while summarizing the country’s worst fears. “The apes have taken over,” he says. “While we were filling our freezers and watching television they’ve moved in. And what’s worse is they’ve begun to dress like us and pretend to think like us.”

Ruth Roman, "5 Steps to Danger" (1956).

“5 Steps to Danger” (1956)

We know almost nothing about John Emmett’s (Sterling Hayden) background except that he’s driving from California to Texas when his car breaks down. The first time we see him he’s sitting in his car’s driver’s seat, ambling down the highway. As the frame widens it turns out that the car is being pulled be a tow truck. It’s just a preview of the surprising developments that are in store as this road movie picks up speed. His car is in need of heavy repairs so he accepts a lift from Ann Nicholson (Ruth Roman), a woman he meets by chance at the repair shop. Soon, he’s swept up into a web of espionage intrigue. 

We learn about Emmett through his actions, not from anything the taciturn every-man has to say about himself. He isn’t wealthy but won’t accept money as payment for his selfless deeds and insists on sharing travel expenses with Ann. Her life, on the other hand, is fraught with danger and adventure. She’s escaped from Germany with nuclear secrets etched into a pocket mirror. What’s more, at a roadside stop a woman claiming to be Ann’s nurse tells John that Ann is a former mental patient who is still healing from emotional trauma. Emmett sticks with Ann even when she vigorously tries to persuade him to go his own way. 

A mysterious Dr. Simmons (Werner Klemperer), purportedly Ann’s psychiatrist, lurks in the background, and so do CIA and other government agents. The air of high stakes international conspiracies hang in the Southwest desert’s air like buzzards circling a carcass. Ann’s destination is New Mexico where she intends to deliver the nuclear secrets to a Dr. Kissel (Karl Ludwig Lindt) but, as with each new development in this Cold War tale of paranoia, something is off — much like the mood of the country in the dawning days of the nuclear age.  

Willis Bouchey, Murvyn Vye, Thelma Ritter,
"Pickup on South Street" (1953).

“Pickup on South Street” (1953)

In "Pickup on South Street" (1953), pickpocket Skip McCoy (Richard Widmark) swipes microfilm from a spy ring courier. Street peddler Moe (Thelma Ritter) can help G-Men recover top-secret information after she figures out that Skip is their man. But her info ain't free. Moe is savvy enough to cut a better deal when she realizes she’s got insider’s knowledge that the police desperately want. Unfortunately, once involved in this high stakes game she’s in over her head, and the bad guys are a lot less forgiving than the street urchins she’s used to dealing with.

McCoy is the story’s keystone. His smart-talking self-assuredness is at once galling and irresistible. He knows where he stands, living from one purloined wallet to the next, and he’s got no interest in anything beyond the meager living he makes combing through subway strap hangers’ valuables. His world is limited to the city’s street and the shack he inhabits on the waterfront. He’s an unlikely player in this drama that has put the fate of western civilization in his grimy hands.

FBI Agent Zara (Willis Bouchey), who has been trailing him, tries to pressure him into turning over the microfilm he boosted, saying “If you refuse to cooperate you'll be as guilty as the traitors who gave Stalin the A-bomb.”

McCoy smugly retorts, “Are you waving the flag at me?”

The fast-talking pickpocket sums up his ethics when at another point he blurts out, “So you're a Red, who cares? Your money's as good as anybody else’s."

Despite his bluster, McCoy begins to see the light. Strangely enough, he becomes emotionally involved with Candy, the courier from whom he stole the microfilm. Her thuggish boyfriend means to do her in, and against all odds McCoy is then ready to stand up and do the right thing.

Maxine Cooper, Ralph Meeker,
"Kiss Me Deadly" (1955).

“Kiss Me Deadly” (1955)

In "Kiss Me Deadly," Mike Hammer (Ralph Meeker), the private detective hero of Mickey Spillane's pulpy novels, is on the trail of a suitcase full of hot nuclear soup. He's not quite sure what it is, and neither are we, but he knows it packs a bad-ass wallop.

Like"Pickup On South Street," with Richard Widmark as a pickpocket who unknowingly harvests some national security secrets from a mark's handbag, “Kiss Me Deadly” is a mad scramble for some H-bomb secrets that could help decimate the entire country and possibly the world. Director Robert Aldrich effectively conveys the tensions and uncertainty that existed in the Cold War era. Hammer uses bullying tactics — he’s always ready to slap around uncooperative witnesses who have critical information — to get to the bottom of the nuclear "whatsit" he's after. And he must, because the future of the planet is at stake.

The setting is transported from New York, Hammer’s stomping ground in Spillane novels, to the sunny climes of Los Angeles. This is a story without heroes — nearly every character we meet is sleazier than the last, and Hammer himself is far from squeaky clean.

Hammer’s search for Velda, his secretary, who is being held captive at a beach house — the briefcase full of nuclear lava is there, too — brings him face to face with Gabrielle (Gaby Rodgers), who wrests control of the hot stuff. This sets the stage for the film’s most famous scene, when Gabrielle, in a Pandora-like gesture, opens the briefcase despite warnings to the contrary. 

As Hammer and Velda escape, both Gabrielle and the beach house are consumed by flames. Hammer and Velda, who seem in remarkably good health for two who have just experienced a nuclear disaster up close, make their getaway. The rest of us should be so lucky.

Here are some noirs saturated in Cold War paranoia that deserve honorable mention:

“Hangmen Also Die” (1943)

Dr. Frantisek Svoboda (Brian Donlevy) assassinates the notorious "Hangman of Europe" and hides from the Nazis in the home of a history professor and his daughter. But the enemy has a deadly plan aimed at flushing him out to face the consequences.

“Walk a Crooked Mile” (1948)

G-Man Dan O'Hara (Dennis O'Keefe) and Scotland Yard Det. Philip Grayson (Louis Hayward) team up to smash a spy ring infiltrating a So. California atomic research center. Smart money says a scientist at the lab has turned commie fink. 

“The Red Menace” (1949)

A former soldier joins the American Communist party, but soon learns that he’s made a mistake. When he and his lady friend try to leave the party is out for blood.

“The Whip Hand” (1951)

A vacationing journalist stumbles upon a Minnesota lake filled with dead fish. A band of Nazis-turned-Communists have purchased a lodge on the lake and have set up a laboratory there.

“I Was a Communist for the F.B.I.” (1951)

An F.B.I. agent works to bring down the Communist party. Unfortunately, his brothers and his teenage son think he’s a dyed-in-the-wool Red.

“Captain Scarface” (1953)

The Soviets have ship containing an atomic device and they plan to sail it to the locks of the Panama Canal and detonate the bomb.

“A Bullet For Joey” (1955)

A police inspector discovers a plot to kidnap a nuclear physicist. Mobsters, foreign spies, and a blonde seductress, all play a role in the drama.


“I’ll Get You” (1951)

After leading nuclear scientists are kidnapped and smuggled behind the Iron Curtain, an FBI man and a British agent are assigned to catch the kidnappers.




The Wild Man of Hollywood Played Raucous, Rage-Filled Human Steamrollers Onscreen, and His Offscreen Life Was Nearly as Outrageous

Lawrence Tierney, "The Devil Thumbs a Ride" (1947).

By Paul Parcellin

In a career that spanned over 50 years, Lawrence Tierney played mobsters, tough guys and cold blooded killers, among an assortment of other roles. His on-screen persona communicated a sense of unrestrained intimidation behind a dead-eyed stare. The characters he portrayed were capable of stunning, sadistic violence, and his performances were often jagged and crude but were always credible. New York Times film critic David Kehr called him "the hulking Tierney" and "not so much an actor as a frightening force of nature.” Author and poet Barry Gifford went a step further in describing the dark force that seems to propel the actor forward, observing, “There is absolutely no light in his eyes.”

Born in Brooklyn, N.Y., on March 15, 1919, Lawrence Tierney was the son of an Irish-American patrolman with the New York aqueduct police force. A star athlete at Brooklyn's Boys High School, he won a sports scholarship to Manhattan College. He dropped out of school after two years to work as a laborer on the New York Aqueduct, and labored at various odd jobs. His penchant for acting led to him join the Black Friars theatre group and the American-Irish Theatre. A scout for RKO Pictures saw one of his performances and signed him to a contract in 1943. A versatile actor, he appear in films noir, westerns, and crime dramas.

His big break came in 1945 when he starred in “Dillinger,” playing notorious bank robber John Dillinger. Following that he acted in a string of notable film noir roles, including “The Devil Thumbs a Ride” (1947), “Born to Kill” (1947) and “The Hoodlum” (1951).

Offscreen, Tierney showed himself to be as gritty as the roughnecks he played in films, but his reputation began to have a negative effect on his career. A dozen arrests between 1944 and 1951, mostly for public drunkenness and brawling, led to a 90-day stretch in jail and a stay in a sanitarium. By the end of the 1940s he was being offered only supporting roles. 

Tierney in a 1951 arrest.

In the 1950s, his alcoholism and erratic behavior got him blacklisted by Hollywood for a time. But he continued to work in television, including “The Untouchables,” “Gunsmoke" and “The Twilight Zone,” as well as in independent films.

There were occasional roles in feature films, including that of Gena Rowlands' attorney husband in John Cassavetes' "A Child Is Waiting" (1963). But Tierney's continued brushes with the law tested the good will of casting agents and producers. He moved to Europe for a period, where he married and reportedly had several children. He returned to the United States in the late 1960s, only to go back to his old career-killing ways.

In 1973, he was stabbed during a bar fight, and police questioned him about a 1975 incident in which a woman he was visiting leapt to her death from a fourth-floor window. During this period, Tierney made ends meet by working as a bartender and driving a hansom cab in Central Park. 

After swearing off alcohol later in the decade, he played a significant number of characters in films and television, often elderly but still dangerous criminals, cops and other streetwise types. A small role as New York's chief of police in John Huston's "Prizzi's Honor" (1985) kicked off a revival that lasted for over a decade.

In the 1990s, Quentin Tarantino cast Tierney in a film that would become a cult classic, “Reservoir Dogs” (1992). Tierney starred as gang leader Joe Cabot, who masterminds a diamond heist. But what should have been a cake walk toward juicier roles was scuttled by the actor’s on-set behavior. According to Tarantino, Tierney was very antagonistic during the filming and he was not very fond of Tarantino’s conversational screenwriting. Tarantino claimed that directing Tierney was the most challenging part of making the film. 

“Tierney was a complete lunatic," said Tarantino. "He just needed to be sedated.” 

When the actor was arrested for allegedly firing a shotgun at his own nephew at his Hollywood apartment his fate was sealed. In order to continue the production, he was released from jail for a day but by then Tarantino had made up his mind to never work with the actor again.

Even Tierney's manager admitted that at 75, he remained as irascible as he was a decade before when his drinking was at its peak. Similar stories ran throughout Tierney's final years, including his being ejected from the Tarantino-owned New Beverly Cinema for urinating into a soft drink cup during a screening of "Reservoir Dogs," and strong-arming his way into a discussion after a showing of "Born to Kill" at the Egyptian Theatre. 

However, in a strange turn of events, his cantankerous reputation seemed to open the doors to new roles. Between 1995 and 1996 he appeared in 10 projects, including an episode of "The Simpsons" in which he was the voice of a security guard who caught Bart shoplifting a video game. However, Tierney terrorized the show's staff with threats and bizarre behavior, including refusing to say certain lines if he didn't understand the humor. Additionally, there was the now infamous confrontation on the set of "Seinfeld," which cost Tierney a recurring role playing Elaine's father.

Despite the many difficulties he experienced throughout his working life, Tierney's career ended on a high note with an uncredited turn as Bruce Willis' father in the blockbuster "Armageddon" (1998). He made one last screen appearance in "Evicted" (2000), a low-budget drama starring and directed by his nephew, Michael Tierney. 

His tumultuous life came to an end on Feb. 26, 2002, when the 82-year-old Tierney died in his sleep at a Los Angeles area nursing home.

He left behind an impressive list of films and TV programs in which he played a variety of indelible characters. Here are some of the crime films that featured Lawrence Tierney:

Anne Jeffreys, Lawrence Tierney, "Dillinger." 

"Dillinger" (1945)

Tierney portrays notorious bank robber John Dillinger, who is released from prison in 1933 and quickly falls in with a group of hardened criminals who begin a wave of bank robberies. The FBI, led by Melvin Purvis (Brian Donlevy), pursues them. Dillinger is a charismatic and popular figure who becomes a folk hero. The public sees him as a Robin Hood, robbing from the rich and giving to the poor. But he’s also a ruthless killer with several murders under his belt. The film culminates in a shootout between Dillinger and the FBI. Dillinger finally meets his match, but his legend lives on.

“Step by Step” (1946)

Johnny Christopher (Tierney), a former Marine who has just returned from active duty in the Pacific, meets Evelyn Smith  (Anne Jeffreys) at the beach. Evelyn, a secretary to U.S. Sen. Remmy (Lowell Gilmore), is working on a top-secret project that involves monitoring fugitive Nazi spies. Johnny and Evelyn share a mutual, but their relationship is complicated by the fact that Johnny is also involved in the Nazi spy investigation. When Evelyn is kidnapped by the Nazis, Johnny and his dog, Bazuka, come to her rescue. Johnny and Evelyn are then forced to go on the run, with Nazis and police in hot pursuit.

“San Quentin” (1946)

San Quentin Prison Warden John Kelly (Harry Shannon) takes three model prisoners to a press event in San Francisco. One of the prisoners, Nick Taylor (Barton MacLane), is actually a dangerous criminal who is using the prison's Mutual Welfare League to advance his nefarious activities. During the trip to San Francisco, Taylor escapes and kills the warden's driver. The warden then enlists the help of Jim Roland (Lawrence Tierney), a former convict who is now a member of the Mutual Welfare League, to bring Taylor back to justice. Roland tracks Taylor down to a waterfront bar, where he is hiding out with his girlfriend, Betty Richards (Marian Carr). A dramatic showdown ensues.

"The Devil Thumbs a Ride" (1947)

Charming sociopath Steve Morgan (Tierney) robs and kills a bank patron. He hitches a ride to Los Angeles with unsuspecting Jimmy 'Fergie' Ferguson (Ted North). On the way they stop at a filling station and pick up two women. When they run into a roadblock, Morgan persuades the group to spend the night at a vacant beach house — a mistake on their part. "The Devil Thumbs a Ride" is a classic noir and is one of Tierney’s most powerful performances.

Claire Trevor, Elisha Cook Jr., Lawrence Tierney, "Born to Kill" (1947).

"Born to Kill" (1947)

In a fit of jealous rage, Sam Wilde (Tierney) kills the girl he’s attracted to and her boyfriend. San Francisco socialite Helen Brent (Claire Trevor), fresh off a divorce, discovers the bodies in the Reno rooming house where she’s been staying. Rather than report the crimes she boards a train for her home city, where she meets Sam, unaware that he’s the one behind the killings. They share a mutual attraction. But Sam’s hopes of wedding a rich lady are dashed when he finds she’s engaged to a wealthy man she doesn’t love. Instead, he woos Helen’s half sister in an attempt to tap into the family's newfound wealth. And it’s soon apparent that Sam finds it all too easy to kill again.

“Bodyguard” (1948)

Police detective Mike Carter (Tierney) is fired from the LAPD for insubordination. Fred Dysen (John Litel), nephew of meatpacking heiress Gene Dysen (Lane), offers him $2,000 to protect Gene, whose life has been recently threatened. Carter takes the job and investigates the threats against Gene. He soon discovers that there are several people who would benefit from her death, including her ex-husband, her business partner and her own brother. As Carter gets closer to the truth, he finds himself in danger. He is eventually framed for murder and must clear his name and protect Gene before it’s too late.

“Shakedown” (1950)

Unscrupulous newspaper photographer Jack Early (Howard Duff) is sent to take a picture of racketeer Nick Palmer, who doesn't like to be photographed. Palmer takes a liking to Early and asks him to frame his henchman Harry Colton (Tierney), but Early double-crosses Palmer and informs Colton that his boss had planned to frame him. Shortly afterward, Palmer exacts revenge and Early becomes famous for snapping a photo of the event. But the photographer finally discovers that his luck has run out.

“Kill or Be Killed” (1950)

Wrongly accused of murder, Robert Warren (Lawrence Tierney) must elude capture while trying to track down the real killer. Along the way, Warren is assisted by the beautiful Maria Marek (Marissa O'Brien). Her jealous husband (Rudolph Anders) and his henchman (George Coulouris) put Warren in even deeper trouble.

“The Hoodlum” (1951)

Habitual criminal Vincent Lubeck (Tierney) is on parole from prison. He’s a violent and unpredictable man, and he quickly begins to spiral out of control. Lubeck seduces his brother Johnny’s (Edward Tierney) fiancee Rosa (Allene Roberts). He becomes interested in an armored car that makes regular stops across the street from his service station job. It goes without saying that a crime spree ensues.

“The Steel Cage” (1954)

Ruthless convict Chet Harmon (Tierney) plans a breakout with help from brothers Al (John Ireland) and Frank (Charles Nolte). A gun is planted and Chet is almost successful, taking Warden Duffy (Paul Kelly) hostage, but Al has second thoughts after his brother is seriously wounded.

“Female Jungle” (1955)

Police Det. Sgt. Jack Stevens (Tierney) is called to the scene of a murder. The victim is a young woman who has been strangled. Stevens is immediately suspected of the crime — he was the last person seen with the victim. The investigation leads him to Candy Price (Jayne Mansfield), an artist's mistress, and to gossip columnist Claude Almstead (John Carradine) who was with the victim that night. But is he the real killer?

“Reservoir Dogs” (1992)

Veteran criminal Joe Cabot (Tierney) recruits a gang of hardened criminals to execute an audacious jewel heist. Unbeknownst to the band of thieves, an undercover officer has infiltrated their ranks. More troubling, still, one of Cabot’s recruits is a psychopathic killer, and his hair-trigger reactions will turn the heist into a scene of carnage.

Tierney, "Reservoir Dogs" (1992).

How ‘Dragnet’ Launched a New Era in Crime Television

Ann Robinson, Jack Webb, Ben Alexander in the feature film "Dragnet” (1954)

By Paul Parcellin

Some might quibble over whether or not “Dragnet,” the TV show, movie and radio program, is noir. In fact, the series is as noir as noir can be — but more about that later. 

The story of “Dragnet” begins when the show’s creator and star, Jack Webb, played a police forensic scientist in the feature film “He Walked by Night” (1948) starring Richard Basehart. Inspired by a violent 1946 crime spree, it tells the story of troubled World War II veteran Erwin Walker who was a former Glendale, Calif., police department employee. The film presents the story in a documentary-like style popular in that era and it had a powerful influence on Webb. Many of the film’s elements would later be echoed in “Dragnet": the opening title explaining that the names had been changed to protect the innocent, the use of modern crime-fighting methods, the portrayal of Los Angeles as a vast expanse of urban sprawl. 

During production, Webb met the film's police technical adviser Marty Wynn who was fed up with unrealistic shoot-em-up crime shows. He told Webb that he should make a show that depicts the way the police really crack cases.

Emphasizing modern crime fighting techniques, “Dragnet” episodes are built around the methodical approach to a detective’s job rather than melodramatic police chases ending in shootouts. In contrast, “Dragnet” episodes mostly conclude without violence with the captured perpetrator explaining what led him or her down the path of lawlessness. Often the accused display resignation to their fate and even show remarkable self awareness. 

On radio, “Dragnet” ran from 1949 to ’57 with 314 original episodes. The TV show, shot in black and white, premiered Dec. 14, 1951 and broadcast the last of its 276 episodes on Aug. 23, 1959. In addition, “Dragnet” (1954), a feature film brought Joe Friday to the big screen. It starred Webb, Ben Alexander as Friday’s partner Officer Frank Smith, Ann Robinson as Officer Grace Downey and Richard Boone as Capt. James E. Hamilton. The weekly show was later syndicated as “Badge 714.” 

Ben Alexander and Jack Webb in the 'Dragnet' episode 'The Big Trunk' (1954)

The 1960s saw the series revived with all new episodes shot in color and starring Webb and Harry Morgan as his sidekick. It starts as “Dragnet 1967” and ends with “Dragnet 1970” and has 98 episodes broadcast over four seasons. The 1960s “Dragnet” looks more polished than the one made a decade earlier, but Webb keeps his trademark deadpan throughout both. So dedicated to the idea of maintaining straight-ahead, no-nonsense performances from his actors he had them read dialog from teleprompters to keep an even tempo free of the histrionics typical of crime shows in that era. 

The stories are always told from Friday’s point of view and each episode opens with his voiceover narrative, a pop culture touchstone if ever there was one: “This is the city, Los Angeles, California … “ he intones with gravitas as a montage of location shots within the sprawling metropolis unspool. Weekly repetition of Friday’s words, spoken in unhurried cadence, suggest a man bearing a great weight on his shoulders. Over the years his take on the city burned Los Angeles into our collective consciousness as a modern metropolis; a place of excitement and danger, a vast urban landscape serving as itself a character in each of the show’s half hour episodes.

Friday’s baritone delivery will forever be associated with “Dragnet” and it’s hard to imagine another actor playing the part. But if Webb had gotten his way Lloyd Nolan would have been television’s Friday. Webb’s reluctance to take the role was probably due to the brutal schedule he’d have to keep as star and director — as it turned out he helmed 96 episodes of the 1950s series. But the radio program was a hit and the network demanded that he keep playing the character. 

Jack Webb on the set of 'Dragnet'

Despite a rather limited dramatic range, Webb was able to carry off his role to great effect. Often parodied in pop culture for his stiff delivery, audiences likely looked beyond the surface and saw authenticity and sincerity in his performance. Friday was hardened by experience but not cynical and audiences seemed to connect with his dedication to the greater good. 

A lot has been written about the good public relations that “Dragnet” brought to the Los Angeles Police Department, whose checkered past necessitated all of the positive image building it could get. The program no doubt sanitized troublesome aspects of the department’s history, but was at least successful in conveying the weekly grind that is law enforcement’s onus to bear.

As Allen Glover observed in his book, “Noir TV,” “Week after week, like Sisyphus, Friday returns to roll yet another suspect up the steps of City Hall. The pervasive sense of futility, coupled with the obsessive endeavor to defy it, affirms “Dragnet” as dire a work of noir as any.” The show is taken from the files of the Los Angeles Police Department, many going back to the 1920s and ‘30s, the same Los Angeles that Raymond Chandler and Horace McCoy wrote about.

“The bums, priests, con men, whining housewives, burglars, waitresses, children and bewildered ordinary citizens who people “Dragnet” seem as sorrowfully genuine as old pistols in a hockshop window,” said Time magazine in a 1954 cover story. It’s an apt reflection of Webb’s own childhood, growing up fatherless on Los Angeles’s Bunker Hill, a neighborhood of “epic dereliction … the rot in the heart of the expanding metropolis,” as social historian Mike Davis described it.

In the end, it’s the dark universe that “Dragnet”inhabits that gives the program its noir credentials. We can rest easier when Friday brings the culprit to justice, but he and, through extension, us, are never allowed to relax our guard. Next week and the week after that will bring new pickpockets, bunco artists and killers who will upset our sense of wellbeing. Happy outcomes at the end of each half hour episode are for the most part an illusion. At best they are temporary moments of relief from the onslaught of wrongdoers. Despite Friday’s best efforts, rest assured that any sense of calm will sooner or later be shattered.