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).

 

One American Author’s Writings Inspired Multiple Films Noir, Yet His Name Is Less Well Known Than Other Top Noir Storytellers of His Generation

Edward G. Robinson, “Night Has a Thousand Eyes” (1948).

By Paul Parcellin

By any measure, Cornell Woolrich was a virtual human writing machine who cranked out fiction at a feverish pace. He’s credited with 22 novels under his name, 17 more under the pseudonym William Irish, two more as George Hopley (including one of the most memorable, “Night Has a Thousand Eyes”), hundreds of stories and scores of scripts for film, TV and radio.

An American author of crime fiction, suspense, horror novels and short stories, Woolrich is best known for his work in the noir genre, and his stories have been adapted into films such as “Rear Window,” “The Leopard Man,” and “Black Angel.” It’s a quirk of fate that such a prolific, influential writer should dwell in the shadows, behind authors such as Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammett and Erle Stanley Gardner. But Woolrich’s life and career were unlike those of his literary peers.

Cornell George Hopley Woolrich was born in New York City in 1903. He was an only child and his parents separated when he was young. He lived for a time in Mexico with his father before returning to New York to live with his mother, Claire Attalie Woolrich. He showed an early interest in writing and began submitting stories to magazines while in high school.

After graduation he worked as a journalist and advertising copywriter. He attended Columbia University but left in 1926 without graduating when his first novel, “Cover Charge,” one of his six jazz-age novels, was published. 

A short story, “Children of the Ritz,” won Woolrich a $10,000 first prize in a competition organized by College Humor and First National Pictures, which led to screenwriting work in Hollywood for First National. But during his tenure there he never managed to get any screen credits. He decided to pick up where he left off as an author, and he and his mother returned to New York. 

When he couldn’t find a publisher for his seventh jazz-age novel he transformed himself into a pulp writer. He began writing novels and short stories under the pen names William Irish and George Hopley. His stories were published in magazines such as Black Mask and Thrilling Mystery, and he also began to publish novels.  

His work was often dark and atmospheric and he explored themes of alienation, guilt and obsession. A sense of dread permeates his work. Some of his heroes suffer amnesia and find themselves in an alien world. A recurring theme is the hero’s quest to discover his true identity. Often what he finds would have been better left unexplored. 

Some are falsely accused of murder but are terrifyingly unsure of their innocence. Most live in a nightmarish world where they struggle for truth while dodging a cloud of persecution hovering over them. At times, paranoid delusions control their very being. The air is rife with elaborate conspiracies in which they’ve somehow become entangled. Surprise plot twists lead to radical shifts in a story’s direction. 

Woolrich was unafraid to hug the line between plausibility and untenable fantasy. His novels and short stories have been called among the finest examples of suspense writing by any American author. The obsessive exploration of dark psychological themes in Woolrich’s work has prompted some to call him the Edgar Allan Poe of the 20th century.

By the 1930s, Hollywood was again interested in his work, resulting in the romantic comedy “Manhattan Love Song” (1934) based on a Woolrich novel, and action film “Convicted” (1938), adapted from a short story. But it would be his pulp crime work that became his hottest properties and the stories for which he’d be most remembered. 

Cornell Woolrich. 

Woolrich began to receive wider recognition in the 1940s. Some of his most famous works from this period include “The Black Alibi,” “Deadline at Dawn,” and “Phantom Lady.”

In later years his writing made him wealthy, but he and his mother lived in a series of seedy hotel rooms, including the squalid Hotel Marseilles apartment building in Harlem, among a group of thieves, prostitutes and lowlifes that would not be out of place in Woolrich's dark fictional world. They lived there until his mother's death on Oct. 6, 1957, which prompted his move to the slightly more upscale Hotel Franconia, 20 West 72nd Street near Central Park.

Of his 58 IMDB credits for films based on his writings, Alfred Hitchcock’s “Rear Window” (1954), adapted from Woolrich’s “It Had to Be Murder,” is probably the most celebrated. Other films based on his work include “The Leopard Man” (1943), “Phantom Lady” (1944) and Francois Truffaut’s “The Bride Wore Black” (1968). 

Top actors of the day played roles in those films. Burgess Meredith in “Street Of Chance” (1942), based on Woolrich’s “Black Curtain”; Edward G. Robinson in “Night Has A Thousand Eyes” (1948), and Jimmy Stewart and Grace Kelly in “Rear Window” (1954).

Despite his success, life for him was far from ideal. After his mother died in 1957, Woolrich went into a sharp physical and mental decline. A reclusive figure, his personal life was often troubled — he dedicated "The Bride Wore Black," which he wrote under the pseudonym William Irish, to his Remington Portable typewriter. 

After years of depression he’d let a minor foot injury turn into gangrene and had to have the leg amputated. Wheelchair bound and shrunk to 89 pounds, he was found dead in his room at the Sheraton-Russell on Park Ave. on Sept. 25, 1968. He’s buried along with his mother at Ferncliff Cemetery and Mausoleum in Hartsdale, N.Y.

Here is a sampling of films noir and mysteries based on Woolrich’s writing:

Burgess Meredith, “Street of Chance” (1942).

Street of Chance (1942), based on the novel “The Black Curtain”

Frank Thompson (Burgess Meredith) awakens to find that he's lost his memory. He slowly puts the pieces of his life together and discovers that he has a second identity, and that he's been accused of a murder that he can't remember committing.

Phantom Lady (1944) based on the novel of the same title. 

It's a no-no to be seen in public wearing the same accessory as another. Identical chapeaus roil the waters in “Phantom Lady" (1944), a story of murder, gaslighting and fashion faux pas. The film also boasts one of noir's wildest jazz band scenes, to boot.

The Mark of the Whistler (1944) based on a short story. 

A drifter claims the money in an old bank account by impersonating someone else with the same name. Soon he finds himself the target of a man with ties to the impersonated man.

Deadline at Dawn (1946) based on the novel. 

Sailor Alex Winkley (Bill Williams) and dance-hall girl June Goffe (Susan Hayward) spend a long night trying to solve a murder. He woke up with a pocketful of cash he received from the victim. Now he's only got until daybreak to figure it out.

Dan Duryea, June Vincent, Peter Lorre, “Black Angel” (1946).

Black Angel (1946), based on a novel of the same title.

Alcoholic pianist Martin Blair (Dan Duryea) is convinced that a heart-shaped brooch is a crucial clue in the investigation of his ex-wife's murder. Suspicion builds around dodgy nightclub owner Mr. Marko (Peter Lorre). But darker truths emerge.

The Chase (1946), based on the novel “The Black Path of Fear.”

Chuck Scott (Robert Cummings) gets a job as chauffeur to tough guy Eddie Roman (Steve Cochran), but Chuck's involvement with Eddie's fearful wife, Lorna (Michèle Morgan) becomes the stuff of nightmares.

Fall Guy (1947) based on the story “Cocaine.”

Tom Cochrane (Leo Penn'), full of dope (cocaine) and covered with blood, is picked up by the police. Tom only recalls meeting a man in a bar and going to a party. But when the body of a murdered girl turns up, Tom must act fast to clear his name.

The Guilty (1947) based on the story “He Looked Like Murder.”

Two guys sharing an apartment meet twin girls (both Bonita Granville). One's sweet, the other — not so much so. The nice one is murdered and her boyfriend is accused of the crime.

Robert Emmett Keane, DeForest Kelley, “Fear in the Night” (1946). 

Fear in the Night (1947) based on the story “Nightmare.”

Bank teller Vince Grayson (DeForest Kelley) dreams of murdering a man in a room full of mirrors. He investigates and finds that there's ample evidence that he did commit murder. But there may be a shadowy figure lurking behind the scenes.

The Return of the Whistler (1948) based on the story “All at Once, No Alice.”

On the eve of his marriage, a young man's fiancée disappears. He hires a private detective to help him track her down, but soon finds himself entangled in a web of lies, intrigue and murder revolving around his fiancée's dead ex-husband and his wealthy, corrupt family.

I Wouldn't Be in Your Shoes (1948) based on a story of the same title.

Vaudeville hoofer Tom Quinn (Don Castle) chucks his shoes at a noisy alley cat. But when his cash laden neighbor turns up dead, Tom's footprints are at the crime scene. A police detective (Clint Judd) tries to find the real killer.


Night Has a Thousand Eyes (1948) based on the novel of the same title.

Phony mentalist John Triton (Edward G. Robinson) discovers one night that he has developed real supernatural powers, but they bring about little more than misery and alienation from the people he cares about most.

The Window (1949) based on a short story. 

Young Tommy Woodry (Bobby Driscoll) witnesses his neighbors kill a drunken sailor, but no one believes him. When Tommy is left home alone the murderous neighbors pay him a visit. They aim to silence him for good, and he's left to fend for himself.

No Man of Her Own (1950) based on the novel “I Married a Dead Man.”

A pregnant woman adopts the identity of a railroad-crash victim and starts a new life with the woman's wealthy in-laws, but is soon blackmailed by her devious ex.

The Earring (1951) based on the story “The Death Stone.”

When a woman goes to see an ex-boyfriend who blackmails her, she leaves behind an earring and when she returns to retrieve it, she finds that he has been murdered.

The Trace of Some Lips (“La huella de unos labios”) (1952) based on the story “Collared).”

When her father dies mysteriously, a young woman is protected by an acquaintance of his, who takes her to live in his house, where she suffers the abuse of his niece.

If I Should Die Before I Wake (1952), based on a story of the same title.

Young Lucio Santana’s (Néstor Zavarce) dad is a detective working on the serial killings of local children. Lucho makes friends with a girl who tells him that a man gives her free lollipops. She makes Lucho vow never to tell anyone. But then that vow is tested. 

Don’t Ever Open That Door (1952) based on the stories “Somebody on the Phone” and “Humming Bird Comes Home.”

Two separate episodes that have in common the door that separates good from evil. In the first segment, "Alguien al teléfono,” Ángel Magaña tries to avenge the death of his sister, a girl who commits suicide over gambling debts. In the second, "El pájaro cantor vuelve al hogar,” Roberto Escalada is a former inmate who whistles when commits crimes and returns home where he is expected by his blind mother, who believes he has reformed.

Rear Window (1954) based on the story “It Had to Be Murder.”

Recuperating photographer L. B. “Jeff" Jefferies (James Stewart) has nothing to do but watch his neighbors across the courtyard as his leg mends. He notices odd things occurring in Lars Thorwald’s (Raymond Burr) apartment. Sinister things.


Obsession (1954) based on short story “Silent as the Grave.”

Helene and Aldo are trapeze artists in a circus. Aldo is injured and has to be replaced by Alex, his former partner who knows too much about him. Alex is murdered and Helen is convinced that her husband, Aldo, committed the crime. But another man is accused of the crime.

Nightmare (1956) based on a short story.

Clarinetist Stan Grayson (Kevin McCarthy) dreams he killed a man, then awakens to find evidence linking him to his imagined crime. His brother-in-law, New Orleans police detective Rene Bressard (Edward G. Robinson) is skeptical of Stan's story.

Femmes Fatale Are Deceptively Charming, Dangerous and Often Lethal; But One Among Them Tips the Scales When It Comes to Evil Doings — And She’s Probably Not The One You’re Thinking Of

Elisha Cook Jr., Marie Windsor, “The Killing” (1956).

By Paul Parcellin

Be forewarned: Many spoilers are included throughout the text below.

Sure, Phyllis Dietrichson (Barbara Stanwyck), the husband liquidating murderess of “Double Indemnity” (1944) might be your go-to gal whenever the term “femme fatale” is mentioned. She’s as coolly detached and methodical as a hangman, and wily enough to nudge her fall-guy, insurance salesman Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray), into killing her husband, and she even makes him think that the whole thing was his idea.

Cunning shapeshifter Brigid O’Shaughnessy (Mary Astor), who almost puts one over on private eye Sam Spade (Humphrey Bogart) in “The Maltese Falcon” (1941), is skilled at stitching together tissues of lies that disarm and misdirect the circle of men who orbit her. She’s after a prized jewel-encrusted falcon statue and will use lethal means to get it. We’re not sure until the very end of the film whether or not Spade, the role model for filmdom’s hard boiled shamuses, is buying her act. Anyone would be well advised to do so at his or her own risk. 

Speaking of trench-coated private dicks, in “Out of the Past” (1947) Jeff Bailey (Robert Mitchum) tries to leave behind his checkered past. He used to snoop for crime kingpin Whit Sterling (Kirk Douglas). The mobster’s henchman drags him back into the life he’s tried to shake off. Jeff’s former lady friend, who happens to be Whit’s current squeeze, Kathie Moffat (Jane Greer), is expert in playing both men as pawns, even as Whit tries to frame Jeff for a murder. It doesn’t occur to the erstwhile detective exactly how deadly Kathie can be until he finally sees he at her worst. And by then it’s too late.

In “The Killing” (1956), George Peatty (Elisha Cook Jr.) makes the costly error of telling his unfaithful wife Sherry (Marie Windsor) about a big score he’s in on. George is supposed to keep his lips zipped, but he tries to impress the drifting Sherry in a futile attempt to keep her from wandering. Trouble is, she’s got a boyfriend, and the two of them decide to grab a piece of the loot George and his partners aim to snatch in a racetrack stickup. George, the milquetoast racetrack cashier, is unaware of the evil steps Sherry will take to stuff her pockets with greenbacks and blow this crummy town — the femme fatale’s credo if there ever was one.

Gloria Grahame, “The Big Heat” (1953).

Many others deserve honorable mention for their underhanded onscreen efforts. This is hardly an exhaustive list, just a few of my favorites, including Peggy Cummins, the bank robbing sharpshooter of “Gun Crazy” (1950); Lana Turner, who, with John Garfield, deep-sixes her husband in “The Postman Always Rings Twice” (1946); Gloria Grahame enters a tempestuous romance with Bogie in “In a Lonely Place” (1950), and was gangster Vince Stone’s (Lee Marvin) moll in “The Big Heat” (1953) — it has the scene where Vince serves her a faceful of scalding coffee. Grahame’s other noir performances include “Crossfire” (1947), “Macao” (1952), “Sudden Fear” (1952), “Human Desire” (1954) and “Odds Against Tomorrow” (1959); Joan Bennett tormented Edward G. Robinson in two Fritz Lang films, “The Woman in the Window” (1944) and “Scarlet Street” (1945). In both, she conspires with Dan Duryea to fleece him for all that he’s worth. Other noirs she also appeared in include “The Scar” (1948) and “The Reckless Moment” (1949).

I’d be remiss to leave out Lizabeth Scott, Joan Crawford, Marilyn Monroe, Rita Hayworth, Gene Tierney, and especially Ann Savage, the spitfire hitchhiker in “Detour” (1945) whom Tom Neal wishes he never met. (For an in-depth look at the women of noir, check out an excellent book, “Femme Noir: Bad Girls of Film Noir,” by Karen Burroughs Hannsberry.)

But among the high priestesses of noir there must be one who reigns supreme. She may not be portrayed by the most accomplished actress, yet she makes others pale in comparison. The top femme fatale — my personal favorite — displays breathtaking wickedness. She has no redeeming qualities — none. Her maniacal quest for dirty loot and her Arctic-cold acts of pure mayhem are so over the top I laughed out loud the first time I saw her American screen debut. 

The worst of the worst femmes fatale simply must be Margot Shelby (Jean Gillie), the cold-blooded double crosser of “Decoy” (1946). Other murderous dames offer stiff competition, but for sheer cruelty and her outsized zest for sadism, Margot stands out among noir’s most treacherous females. Others may leave a greater number of stiffs in their wake. Some even look their paramour, boyfriend or husband in the eye and coolly pull the trigger. 

Edward Norris, Jean Gillie, Herbert Rudley, “Decoy” (1946).

But there are three reasons why the others cannot hold a candle to the “Decoy” star:

1) She pulls off a murder that is as hideous as any committed by woman or man onscreen at the time. In her crazed pursuit of a $400,000 stash of loot, she disposes of an accomplice in a most chilling of manners. Motoring toward the site where the money is allegedly hidden, their car gets a flat. One of the two men riding with her changes the tire. As he lowers the jack beneath the front bumper, Margot slams the car into forward gear and runs over the unsuspecting sap, who happens to be a cold-blooded killer, himself. She hops out, rifles through the dead man’s pockets, grabs the tire changing tools and gets back behind the wheel …

2) Once she's in the driver’s seat, Dr. Craig (Herbert Rudley), who has been hoodwinked into aiding in Margot’s scheme, sits shell-shocked in the passenger seat. He mutters to her, “I’d like to kill you.” Without hesitation, she hands him a loaded revolver. He points the weapon at her — Hippocratic Oath be damned — but can’t summon the moxie to pull the trigger. She takes back the gun and they drive off. Margot knows that Craig is a broken man and likely would not shoot. But she wants to demonstrate her dominance over the hapless physician. It’s a sizable gamble on her part, but she willingly risks her life just to rub his nose in the dirt, which leads us to …

3) The last and perhaps most badass gesture on Margot’s part, assuring her top placement in the Legion of Film Noir Femmes Fatale: She’s been shot and is on her death bed. Police Sgt. Portugal (Sheldon Leonard), who has been trailing Margot and her hoodlum associates for a while, stands over her. She asks him to come down to her level. It’s an odd request, but he crouches down to oblige, bringing his face closer to her’s. We expect an intimate, soul-baring moment. She’s about to unburden herself and express regret for all she has done, we think. But the mood is abruptly dashed. With her dying breath she cackles hysterically in his face. A ring of police officers looks on as Portugal blushes, realizing he’s been had. She uses her last gasp to con a policeman and leave him humiliated in front of his peers. She can now leave this mortal coil, warmed by the fact that she’s had the last laugh at another in a long line of suckers. With her rotten-to-the core exit, Margot is the very model of a film noir femme fatale.

Ripped From the Headlines, Part III: True Stories About Dangerous Characters, Corrupt Officials and Gangs of Criminals Who Hold the Public at Bay

John Dall, Peggy Cummins, “Gun Crazy” (1950).

By Paul Parcellin

It only takes a couple of desperate, determined outsiders with a gun to start a crime wave. At times, a single perpetrator can do the work of two — or more. That’s what happens in several of the films based on true stories that make up this, the third and final part of the True Crime Noir series. Many more films could have been added to the roundup, and we may look at some of those at a later date. 

Included here, among bonafide noir fare, is a neo-noir. Some might say that the neo-noir movement/genre/style (or what have you) begins in the 1970s — to that sort of hair splitting I say, “Balderdash!” A film’s mood, story and message are the determining factors that tell us if it’s a noir, neo-noir, or something else. Therefore, the last film mentioned in this essay is decidedly noir despite its 1960s pedigree. Besides, it was shot in glorious black and white.

So, here is another handful of films based on true crimes. Some show how politics, corruption and unbridled malevolence conspire to unleash a wave of terror upon an unsuspecting public. And they often leave us with a picture that is unsettling, to say the least.

Some spoilers are scattered throughout, so you might want to see the films before reading the article. 

Peggy Cummins, John Dall, “Gun Crazy.”

“Gun Crazy” (1950)

The film “Gun Crazy” (1950) is not based on a single specific true story, but it is inspired by a number of real-life cases of couples who went on crime sprees.

One of the most famous cases is that of Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow, who were active in the 1930s. The young couple robbed banks and other businesses, and became folk heroes to some. Director Arthur Penn made “Bonnie and Clyde” (1967), a hugely successful adaptation of the larcenous pair’s story that helped open the door to Hollywood’s golden age of the 1970s.

The case of Raymond Fernandez and Martha Beck, known as the "Lonely Hearts Killers" also inspired “Gun Crazy.” The pair met through a lonely hearts club, began a relationship and went on a crime spree, killing several victims. Their story was later made into the film, The Honeymoon Killers (1970).

“Gun Crazy” also draws inspiration from the life of George "Machine Gun" Kelly, a notorious gangster who was active in the 1930s. Kelly was known for his love of guns, and he was eventually arrested and convicted of murder. 

A cautionary tale, “Gun Crazy” warns against the dangers of all-consuming obsession. The trigger-happy Bart Tare (John Dall) and sideshow sharpshooter Annie Laurie Starr (Peggy Cummins) are both obsessed with firearms and are willing to do anything to get their hands on them. The doomed couple’s string of armed robberies leads them to commit murder, and finally, they come to a violent end.

The film is seen by some as a critique of American culture and the glorification of violence and guns. “Gun Crazy” is highly appreciated for the cinematic craft employed to make such an impressive and durable cinematic work that was shot for comparatively little money. One of the standout scenes is that of a holdup. Director Joseph H. Lewis positioned a camera in the back seat of the getaway car and shot a long take of the robbers making their escape. The creative camera placement influenced many directors. Quentin Tarantino has said that “Gun Crazy” is one of his favorite films and has cited it as an influence on his films “Reservoir Dogs” (1992) and “Pulp Fiction” (1994). Martin Scorsese has also cited “Gun Crazy” as an influence, and has said that he was inspired by the film's stylish cinematography and its depiction of violence.

Dana Andrews, “Boomerang!”

“Boomerang!” (1947)

“Boomerang!” is based on the true story of Harold Israel, a 20-year-old army veteran who was accused of the 1924 murder of a priest in Bridgeport, Conn. In the film, Assistant District Attorney Thomas B. Wade (Dana Andrews) is assigned to prosecute Israel, renamed John Waldron (Arthur Kennedy) in the film.

The real case began on the night of Feb. 25, 1924, when the Rev. Hubert Dahme, a popular parish priest, was shot and killed on a busy street corner in downtown Bridgeport. The police quickly arrested Israel, 22, who had a history of petty crime. He confessed to the murder, but later recanted, claiming that he had been coerced by the police.

The prosecution's case against Israel was circumstantial. There were no eyewitnesses to the murder, and the only physical evidence linking Israel to the crime was a gun that was found near the scene of the crime. However, the gun had not been fired, and there was no way to prove that it was the murder weapon. Israel’s confession came after a long police interview. The accused said he confessed because he wanted the grueling interrogation to end.

The defense argued that Israel was innocent and that he had been framed by the police. They pointed out that Israel had no motive for the murder, and that he had no history of violence.

Homer Cummings, state attorney for Fairfield County, said that the case against Israel looked perfect. But on May 27, 1924, just 15 weeks after authorities charged Israel, Cummings walked into a Bridgeport courtroom and shocked everyone present by declaring the murder charges against Israel would be dropped. Cummings, after meticulously reviewing the case against Israel, found it seriously flawed.

In the film, we see the machinations of corruption taking place behind the scenes. Those with political ambitions vigorously sought a conviction. One well-placed official involved in a crooked land deal is desperate to cover that up. A guilty verdict would ensure that the right people stay in power and shield him from prosecution.

Wishing to avoid negative publicity, Bridgeport, Conn., officials refused to let director Elia Kazan film in that city, where the crime took place. Instead, Stamford, Conn., stood in for Bridgeport. The film won two Academy Awards: Best Writing (Original Screenplay) for Richard Murphy and Best Supporting Actor for Karl Malden. 

Frank Lovejoy, William Talman, Edmond O'Brien, “The Hitch-Hiker.”

“The Hitch-Hiker” (1953)

In 1950, Billy Cook murdered a family of five and a traveling salesman, then kidnapped Deputy Sheriff Homer Waldrip from Blythe, Calif. Cook ordered his captive to drive deep into the desert, where he bound him with blanket strips and took his police cruiser, leaving Waldrip to die. Waldrip got loose, however, walked to the main road, and got a ride back to Blythe. Cook also took hostage two men who were on a hunting trip.

“The Hitch-Hiker” is based on that real-life murder spree. The film follows the story of two friends, Roy Collins (Edmond O'Brien) and Gilbert Bowen (Frank Lovejoy), who are on their way to Mexico for a fishing trip. They pick up a hitchhiker, Emmett Myers (William Talman), who turns out to be a dangerous psychopath. Myers forces the men to drive him to Mexico, and along the way, he murders a gas station attendant and a police officer.

The film, a suspenseful thriller, explores themes such as fear, paranoia, and the dark side of human nature. Ida Lupino, one of the few female directors working in Hollywood at the time, helmed this film and co-wrote the screenplay. She brought a unique perspective to the film, exploring the characters’ psychology and the dynamics of the relationship between the two friends.

“The Hitch-Hiker” was a critical and commercial success and it is considered one of the more thrilling and well-crafted noirs. Solid performances by O'Brien, Lovejoy, and Talman, as well as Lupino’s hard-hitting direction make it stand out in the pantheon of American noir.

The film is also notable for its realistic depiction of violence — the murders are graphic and disturbing, and they reflect the brutality of Cook's real-life crimes.

John Larch, Edward Andrews, “The Phenix City Story.”

"The Phenix City Story” (1955) 

True events surrounding the rampant corruption and organized crime that plagued Phenix City, Alabama, during the mid-20th century were inspiration for “The Phenix City Story.”

Set in the 1950s, the film paints a disquieting picture of a town beset by illegal gambling, prostitution, and political corruption. The story follows courageous local attorney Albert Patterson (John McIntire), who stands up to the powerful criminal syndicate that holds Phenix City in a hammerlock. Patterson's resolve to clean up the city and bring justice to the community drives the suspenseful narrative forward.

The real Phenix City was a den of corruption during this era. The town had earned a notorious reputation as a haven for criminal enterprises, attracting a range of illicit activities that were openly operated by the underworld. The film accurately captures the climate of fear and intimidation that pervaded the city, with citizens and officials alike living in constant danger.

The turning point in the true story, as depicted in the film, came with the assassination of Albert Patterson in 1954. His murder shocked the nation and galvanized public opinion against the criminal elements controlling Phenix City. Patterson's tragic death led to a massive outcry for reform and an end to the corruption that had plagued the town for years.

The subsequent events that unfolded closely mirror the events depicted in the film. The Alabama National Guard was brought in to restore order, and a determined effort was made to rout out and prosecute those responsible for the criminal activities. A series of trials resulted in numerous convictions, dealing a significant blow to the criminal syndicate.

Robert Blake, Scott Wilson, “In Cold Blood.”

“In Cold Blood” (1967)

“In Cold Blood” is a fictionalized account of the true story of the Clutter family murders, which took place in Holcomb, Kansas, in 1959. 

The film stars Robert Blake as Perry Smith and Scott Wilson as Richard "Dick" Hickock, two ex-convicts who rob and murder the Clutter family.

The real-life events that inspired the film began on Nov. 15, 1959, when Herb and Bonnie Clutter, their teenage daughter Nancy and their 15-year-old son Kenyon were found brutally murdered in their home. The Clutters had been shot and stabbed to death, and their bodies had been mutilated.

Hickock and Smith had been planning the robbery for months. They believed that the Clutters kept a large amount of cash in their home, and thought that the robbery would be easy. However, murder was not part of the plan. Hickock and Smith killed the Clutters in a fit of rage after they discovered that the family did not have as much money as they had thought.

The murderous duo were eventually arrested and convicted of the homicides. They were both sentenced to death and were executed in 1965.

The film's protagonist, Perry Smith, is a complex and troubled character who is struggling with his own demons. Although he comes off as a sympathetic character, he’s also capable of great violence. In time, we see what circumstances in their younger lives brought the two killers to their fate. We may not sympathize with them, but we understand how they came to follow such a destructive path. In the end, Smith says he wants to apologize for his crimes. Tragically, the victims are all deceased and there’s no one left to hear his words of contrition. 

“In Cold Blood” was praised for its realism and its psychological insights. It also helped raise awareness of issues surrounding crime and violence in America.

The Clutter family murders, one of the most notorious crimes in American history, were the subject of a best-selling non-fiction book by Truman Capote, who spent several years researching the case.

The Richard Brooks directed film was praised for its realism and insight into the killers’ psychological motivations. It serves as a disturbing reminder that those who are driven by their inner demons may be capable of committing acts of unspeakable horror.

You can also read Ripped From the Headlines Part I and Part II. 

Ripped From the Headlines, Part II: A Feast of Murder, Robbery and Exploitation

Cecil Kellaway, John Garfield, Lana Turner,
“The Postman Always Rings Twice” (1946).

By Paul Parcellin

As you’ve probably gathered by now, the 1940s and ’50s saw a bumper crop of sensational tales ready-made for the screen. It was an era when Hollywood greedily harvested stories from news tabloids' front pages.  

In the last post, we looked at noirs that were inspired by true crime stories, and here’s a second helping of the same — those fact-based films that translated, and perhaps reshaped, crime stories that captured the public’s imagination. 

Murder, grand larceny, police corruption, along with the news media running amok, obsessed with chasing down the latest hot item, are integral parts of the movies listed below. 

Although these noirs tell tawdry tales it doesn’t mean they all came directly from scandal sheets. Fact-based novels are also a frequent source of inspiration for crime films. Movies based on books by celebrated American authors James M. Cain and Theodore Dreiser make the list, as well.

Lana Turner, Leon Ames, John Garfield,
“The Postman Always Rings Twice.”

“The Postman Always Rings Twice” (1946)

In “The Postman Always Rings Twice,” drifter Frank Chambers (John Garfield) falls in love with Cora Smith (Lana Turner), the wife of a middle-aged businessman Nick Smith (Cecil Kellaway). 

Frank has a checkered past. He can be charming and charismatic, but is also impulsive and reckless. Cora is a beautiful and sensual woman who is trapped in a loveless marriage. She’s ambitious and willing to do whatever it takes to escape her situation. Nick, the wealthy businessman, is cold and controlling. He is a possessive husband who is suspicious of Cora's relationship with Frank.

Frank and Cora conspire to kill Nick and collect his insurance money, but their plan goes awry.

The dialogue in “The Postman Always Rings Twice” is sharp and witty. The characters speak in quick, clipped sentences and their words often have double meanings, creating a sense of tension and suspense. The viewer never quite knows what the characters are really thinking or feeling. 

Like the dialog, the title itself is a bit of a poetic riddle. It suggests that fate may play a role in our lives, and that we cannot escape our destiny. Frank and Cora receive delayed punishment for their crimes. The postman, representing justice, rings once and that may be ignored. But fate will step in to ensure that the second will be answered. Just as Frank and Cora are fated to commit murder, their destiny demands that they will pay for their misdeeds. 

Part I of this three-part post talks about “Double Indemnity” (1944), which was adapted from the 1943 James M. Cain novel of the same title. The film “The Postman Always Rings Twice” (1946) was adapted from Cain’s 1934 novel. Both novels used the same true-crime source material, although “Postman” wasn’t based on a single true story, but was inspired by several real-life cases. As a journalist for the Baltimore Sun in the 1920s, Cain covered a number of sensational trials and got a firsthand look at the dark side of human nature. He would later incorporate his observations into his fiction.

The 1927 murder of Albert Snyder by his wife Ruth Brown Snyder and her lover, Judd Gray served as source material for both Cain novels. Snyder and Gray were both convicted of the murder and sentenced to death.

Another possible source of inspiration for the “Postman” novel was the 1932 murder of waitress Agnes LeRoi, 32, by her husband, Albert, a truck driver with a history of violence. He had an assault and battery conviction and Agnes accused him of domestic violence on several occasions.

On the night of the murder, Albert and Agnes were arguing in their Los Angeles home when Albert became enraged and strangled Agnes. In an effort to make it appear to be an accident, he staged the crime scene to look like a robbery. However, police quickly determined that it was a murder and he was arrested.

Albert was convicted of first-degree murder, was sentenced to death and was executed in the gas chamber at San Quentin State Prison in 1933.

Walter Sande, Montgomery Clift, Fred Clark, “A Place in the Sun” (1951).

"A Place in the Sun" (1951)

Based on Theodore Dreiser's novel "An American Tragedy,” the film and book were inspired by the true homicide case of Chester Gillette, who was convicted of murdering Grace Brown in 1906. 

The Gillette case began July 19, 1906, when Brown's body was found floating in Big Moose Lake in New York. Brown had been strangled and her body was weighted down with stones.

Gillette was a 20-year-old factory worker who had been having an affair with Brown. Brown was pregnant with Gillette's child, and Gillette promised to marry her. However, he was also involved with another woman, Eleanor Mills, who was from a wealthy family.

Gillette and Brown went on a boat trip together on Big Moose Lake. During the trip, Gillette strangled Brown and threw her body overboard. Gillette then returned to Mills and told her that Brown had left him.

Gillette was eventually arrested and charged with Brown's murder. He was found guilty, sentenced to death and was executed in the electric chair in 1908.

The film “A Place in the Sun” stars Montgomery Clift as George Eastman, the character based on Gillette. Eastman, a poor young man is entangled with two women: Alice Tripp (Shelley Winters), who works in her wealthy uncle's factory, and the other, beautiful socialite Angela Vickers (Elizabeth Taylor). Eastman murders Tripp, and the film explores the consequences of his actions.

The film was a critical and commercial success and it won six Academy Awards, including Best Picture. George Stevens won the Best Director award for the film.

“A Place in the Sun” takes a hard look at Eastman’s obsession with social mobility and the lengths to which he will go in order to achieve it. In the end, his desperate pursuit of The American Dream brings about his downfall.

Kirk Douglas, “Ace in the Hole” (1951).

"Ace in the Hole" (1951)

“Ace in the Hole” is a fictionalized account of the true story of Floyd Collins, 37, who was trapped inside Sand Cave, Kentucky, following a landslide in 1925.

The real-life events that inspired the film began on Jan. 30, 1925, when Collins was exploring Sand Cave and a rockslide trapped him underground. Collins was only about 150 feet from the cave's entrance, but was unable to free himself.

The news of Collins's plight spread quickly, and soon reporters from all over the country descended on the small town. News hawks camped out near the cave and competed for the most sensational coverage.

Collins's family and friends were hopeful that he would be rescued, but the days turned into weeks, and his chances of survival began to dwindle. Meanwhile, the reporters continued to exploit the story and Collins's plight became a national media circus.

Trapped in Sand Cave for 18 days, Collins died of starvation and exposure on Feb. 16, 1925. His death was a national tragedy, but it also exposed the dark side of a highly exploitive media.

The film “Ace in the Hole,” directed by Billy Wilder, fictionalizes Collins’s grim story. The protagonist, Chuck Tatum (Kirk Douglas), is willing to do anything to get a big story, and in doing so he exploits the plight of the trapped man, renamed Leo Minosa (Richard Benedict) in the film. That Tatum is so deeply concerned with his own personal gain is stunning and almost laughable — he embodies our darkest fears about the news media, showing us he couldn’t care less about Minosa's survival.

The film was a critical and commercial success, and it was praised for its dark humor and sharp social commentary, hitting hard at media exploitation.

Jack Elam, John Payne, “Kansas City Confidential” (1952).

"Kansas City Confidential" (1952)

“Kansas City Confidential” is a fictionalized account of an armored car robbery that took place in Kansas City, Missouri, in 1950. The film stars John Payne as Joe Rolfe, an ordinary man who is framed for the robbery by a group of corrupt cops.

The events that inspired the film began on Feb. 13, 1950, when an armored car was robbed of $1.2 million in cash and bonds in Kansas City. Four men were arrested for the robbery but were all acquitted at trial. The cops who were suspected of being involved in the robbery were never charged. However, there is evidence that they took part in this and other criminal activities.

One of the acquitted men, small-time gambler and hoodlum Tony Romano, claimed that he was framed by the police. He claimed to know the names of the real robbers, but refused to testify against them because he feared for his life.

In the film’s fictionalized account of the story, Joe Rolfe, a mild-mannered delivery driver is framed for the armored car robbery by a group of corrupt cops. Rolfe is eventually cleared of the charges, but he is left with a deep sense of injustice.

The film, directed by Phil Karlson, who created a string of powerful noirs in the 1950s, was praised for its gritty realism and suspenseful plot. The film also helped raise awareness of the issue of corruption in among law enforcement officers.

You can also read Noir True Crimes Part I and Part III.

Ripped From the Headlines: True Crimes Explode onto the Screen in Noir Movies

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

By Paul Parcellin

It’s no wonder that Hollywood in the 1940s and ’50s scooped up lurid true crime stories and made hard-hitting, gritty dramas out of them. Following the war, the public’s appetite for rough textured tales could not be surpassed. Cold, savage murders that bled off the front page of tabloid scandal sheets was the stuff that fueled screen dramas full of deceit, adultery and homicide — in other words, film noir. 

The pulse of noir is driven by morally complex characters who land in deep existential trouble sometimes by accident, other times due to hubris and their own unsavory choices. The line between truth and fiction is not always cut and dried in fact-based noir. But the characters who inhabit the real world often have a lot in common with classic noir anti-heroes. Both live in a shadowy world of crime, mystery and ethical ambiguity. Miscreants caught up in true crime stories and those in fictional film noir fit together like bullets and a revolver.

More compelling still, fact-based noirs may seem more plausible than purely fictional yarns because in the back of our minds we know that the tale we’re watching is, at least in part, objectively truth based. Real people made these choices, acted reprehensibly and perhaps paid for their misdeeds. The weight of that knowledge helps keeps us engaged until the end. We want to see the protagonist’s fate play out even if we already know the “true” facts — will Hollywood’s version agree with the sensational headlines, garish news photos and breathlessly recounted real-life courtroom dramas that the media beamed across the nation for mass consumption? The answer is often yes and no. Exaggerations, embellishments and rewriting of the facts are not unheard of. Usually this is done in the spirit of enhancing dramatic tension and clarifying the story. See if you agree.

Here’s a sample of films based on pulp fact, usually with a chaser of fiction served up on the side — or perhaps it’s the other way around.

Barbara Stanwyck, Fred MacMurray, Edward G. Robinson, “Double Indemnity.”

"Double Indemnity" (1944) 

Claims adjuster Barton Keyes (Edward G. Robinson) has a theory about the murder plot that drives "Double Indemnity” and it fits together like a watch, he says. The same is true of this film. It’s crafted and assembled like the movement of a fine Swiss timepiece. In it, insurance salesman Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray) and femme fatale Phyllis Dietrichson (Barbara Stanwyck) trick Phyllis’s husband into signing an accident insurance policy. They plan to do him in and collect the proceeds, but things don’t go exactly as planned.

The film was adapted from James M. Cain’s novel of the same title, which was loosely based on the 1927 murder of Albert Snyder. The real-life case involved a devious collaboration between Snyder’s wife, Ruth Brown Snyder, and her lover, Judd Gray.

Ruth and Albert’s marriage was on the rocks. She wanted money and financial independence, so she hatched a plot to murder her spouse and claim a big insurance payout. Much like the film in which Phyllis seduces Walter, Ruth manipulated Gray, persuading him to help kill her unwitting husband.

They chloroformed Albert, rendering him unconscious, staged his murder as a burglary gone wrong and positioned the body to mimic an accident. Like Phyllis and Walter, they were after a larger payout allowed by a double indemnity clause in the accident policy.

But the police saw through inconsistencies in Ruth and Gray’s stories. Evidence began piling up against them and the couple was finally arrested.

Unlike the film, they were tried and the proceedings became a media sensation. They were both found guilty and sentenced to death. 

In 1943, director Billy Wilder and writer Raymond Chandler adapted Cain’s novel into a screenplay. The film cleverly intertwines facts from the original case and adds layers of suspense, psychological tension, and intricate character development. Fred MacMurray’s portrayal of Walter Neff and Barbara Stanwyck’s embodiment of Phyllis Dietrichson further immortalized the characters inspired by Ruth and Gray.

The convergence of reality and fiction in “Double Indemnity” made an indelible mark on American filmmaking and helped set the pace for noirs that came after it.

Burt Lancaster, “The Killers.”

"The Killers" (1946)

Based in part on the 1927 short story of the same title by Ernest Hemingway, the film focuses on an insurance detective's investigation into the execution by two professional killers of a former boxer who was unresistant to his own murder.

A pair of hitmen, Max (William Conrad) and Al (Charles McGraw), enter a small-town diner in search of ex-prizefighter Ole “Swede” Anderson (Burt Lancaster). They manhandle the locals to squeeze information out of them and finally leave, only to locate their quarry and shoot him dead.

The next day insurance investigator Jim Reardon (Edmund O'Brien) arrives in town to investigate Swede's death. He interviews the diner's patrons and staff and tracks down Swede's girlfriend, Kitty Collins (Ava Gardner), but no one knows much about the murder. Reardon's investigation eventually leads him to mobster "Big Jim" Colfax (Albert Dekker). We learn in flashbacks about a payroll robbery that Swede took part in. When it was time to divide the loot Swede realized that others were trying to grab his share.

Hemingway’s short story, on which the film is based, was modeled after a real-life killing ordered by the Chicago mob. Popular boxer Andre Anderson, who once defeated Jack Dempsey, was the target. His killer, Leo Mongoven, went on the run and was captured following a traffic collision that killed Chicago banker John J. Mitchell and his wife Mary Louise.

Apart from its compelling story and strong performances, “The Killers” is notable for its dark, moody photography — shadows and light create a deep sense of unease and dread. Cinematographer Elwood Bredell, who also shot classic noir “Phantom Lady” (1944), fills the frame with inky black shadows that project a palpable atmosphere of doom. 

In addition to its classic noir status, “The Killers” helped usher in the filmic era of the hitman, echos of which can be heard in films such as “Murder By Contract” (1958), “Murder, Inc.” (1960), “Pulp Fiction” (1994), and many others.

James Stewart, “Call Northside 777.”

"Call Northside 777" (1948)

“Call Northside 777” is a fictionalized account of the true story of Joseph Majczek, who was wrongly convicted of the murder of a Chicago policeman in 1932. 

In the film, crusading reporter P.J. McNeal (James Stewart) risks his life to prove Majczek's innocence — Majczek is renamed Frank Wiecek in the film and is played by Richard Conte. McNeal is at first reluctant to pursue the story, believing that the convicted man probably is a cop killer. But his boss, Chicago Times city editor Brian Kelly (Lee J. Cobb), prods the skeptical McNeal to dig deeper into the case. After chasing down down witnesses and attempting to interview uncooperative police officials, McNeal becomes convinced that the wrong man was imprisoned, and so begins his crusade to undo the injustices suffered by an innocent victim.

Veteran director Henry Hathaway, who previously shot many westerns, action pictures, war movies and thrillers, employed a documentary-style opening sequence for the film, much as he did with “The House on 92nd Street” (1945). Paying great attention to detail, he filmed most of the scenes at or near sites where the true events took place. A side note: the film is credited with being among the first to include the use of a fax machine, cutting edge technology at the time, which plays an important role in the plot.

The real-life events that inspired the film began on Dec. 9, 1932, when Officer William Lundy was shot and killed during a robbery at a delicatessen in Chicago. Two men, Joseph Majczek and Ted Marcinkiewicz, were arrested and convicted of the murder. However, there was significant evidence that pointed to their innocence, including eyewitness testimony that placed them elsewhere at the time of the crime.

Majczek's mother, Tillie, was convinced of her son's innocence and spent years trying to clear his name. In 1944, she placed a classified ad in the Chicago Times offering a $5,000 reward for information about the real killers. The ad caught the attention of Times reporter J. Watson Webb Jr., who began investigating the case and soon uncovered evidence that Majczek and Marcinkiewicz were innocent.

Webb's investigation led to the reopening of the case and in 1946 Majczek and Marcinkiewicz were exonerated. The real-life P.J. McNeal was a major factor in their release, and he was even present in the courtroom when they were finally declared innocent.

“Call Northside 777” was a critical and commercial success and it helped raise awareness of wrongful convictions. The film also earned James Stewart an Academy Award nomination for Best Actor.

James Stewart, John Dall, Farley Granger, “Rope.”

“Rope” (1948) 

“Rope” is a fictionalized account of the Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb case, a cold, senseless murder that took place in Chicago in the early part of the last century. When the perpetrators were caught, a sensational, highly publicized trial followed. 

In the film, philosophy professor Rupert Cadell (James Stewart) is drawn into the world of two wealthy young men, Brandon Shaw (John Dall) and Philip Morgan (Farley Granger), who, unbeknownst to Cadell, have committed the “perfect murder.” The professor is initially fascinated by the two young men but eventually realizes that they are dangerous.

The real-life events that inspired the film began on May 21, 1924, when 14-year-old Bobby Franks was found strangled in a vacant lot in Chicago. Franks had been lured to the lot by Leopold and Loeb, who had planned the murder as an intellectual exercise.

The two were brilliant young men who were fascinated by Nietzsche's philosophy of the Übermensch, or "superman." They believed that they were superior to other people and that they had the right to kill anyone they deemed inferior.

The pair were eventually arrested and convicted of the Franks murder. They were sentenced to life in prison, where they both died.

“Rope” was a critical and commercial success and was praised for its suspenseful plot and its psychological insights. The film was also controversial because it appeared to be filmed in a single take. Director Alfred Hitchcock cleverly choreographed camera movements, which allowed continuous filming of scenes up to 10 minutes in duration. Stage hands silently moved scenery and furnishings during filming to accommodate cast and camera movements. When spliced together the film, which takes place in a single location, appears to unfold in real time, much like the stage play on which it is based. James Stewart acknowledged that few director besides Hitchcock would attempt to shoot such an experimental film, however Stewart said he felt that the continuous-shot concept used in “Rope” didn’t really work. Many would disagree. As with any Hitchcock film there are always elements that make it a worthwhile viewing experience.  

This is Part I of True Crime Noirs. Read Part II and Part III.