Whiteout Noir: 6 Films With Cold Blooded Crimes In Wintery Places

Ward Bond, Robert Ryan, "On Dangerous Ground" (1951).

Murder has a different look atop a crisp blanket of snow

By Paul Parcellin

Winter is upon us, and in many places snow has either fallen or soon will. So it’s time to consider noirs that feature arctic blasts of frigid air and piles of the white stuff. Can’t think of any? Understandable — there aren’t a lot of them.

Snowfall plays a dramatic role in a handful noirs and it’s a surprisingly natural fit. The arresting beauty of a snowy landscape is a natural foil for manmade concrete and steel jungles where noirs are typically set. 

But with beauty comes danger. Those frozen vistas and iced over waterways can be deceptively peaceful settings for robbery, kidnapping and homicide. Thickets of unspoiled nature are apt havens for villains on the lam from crimes committed in the big city. 

What’s more, expanses of wilderness blanketed in deep, heavy snowpack can be as isolating and barren as the sands of the Sahara.

Here are six noirs that feature wintry squalls, the aftermath of punishing blizzards and miles of soft white powder. Tread carefully, and don’t forget to bring warm clothes, good boots and maybe a revolver, too:

Robert Ryan, Ward Bond, Ida Lupino, “On Dangerous Ground.”

“On Dangerous Ground” (1951)

Police detective Jim Wilson is an isolated, rage-filled outsider. He struggles to hold back his contempt for most others and is prone toward violence. Wilson can’t stomach the public’s disrespect for law officers, and as we meet him he’s edging close to an emotional breakdown. 

He regularly pummels suspects held in custody and roughs up anyone on the street who looks remotely guilty of a crime.  His superiors and colleagues notice his mental deterioration and send him away to a small upstate town where he’s to help with a murder investigation. 

The murder case is that of a young girl killed while walking through a lonely field. Her grieving, infuriated father is, understandably, in much greater emotional distress than hot headed Wilson. The shotgun toting dad wants vigilante justice and he takes an instant dislike to Wilson, the big city cop.

Wilson is extraordinarily out of place in this hick town, never more so than when, in pursuit of a suspect, he races through snow covered woodlands in his wing tips, fedora and overcoat. The snow is itself an antagonist that bogs down the city guy. When pursuing a suspect in a car chase over icy, treacherous roads, he slows the vehicle and the other driver gets away, further enraging the bereaved father.

He meets a blind woman, Mary Malden, who lives a fairly isolated life, but unlike Wilson, she’s not lonely. When we see the two together it’s clear that Wilson’s isolation fueled rage just might melt before the snow does. A cop doesn’t trust anyone, he tells Mary. She, on the other hand, must trust everyone.

 For a while it looks like the two of them will get together, but things change when Wilson discovers the identity of the fugitive from justice. Then all bets are off. 

Brian Keith, Aldo Ray, “Nightfall.”

“Nightfall” (1956)

Jim Vanning tries to look inconspicuous as he walks the pavement on Hollywood Boulevard. As the film opens we get a gander at 1950s Hollywood in shots that are like time capsules. When twilight falls the boulevard is aglow with neon and lined with well known nightspots: Musso & Frank, Miceli’s and Firefly, among others. This is about as far removed from a snow covered vista as you can get. Or so you’d think. 

An unplanned and involuntary trip to the putrid Venice Beach oil fields lies in store for Vanning. Then, in a flashback, we’re transported from that industrialized wasteland to a snowy Wyoming campground. The idyllic spot is nestled on the bank of a dazzling frozen lake surrounded by powder covered peaks.

Vanning and a buddy are winter camping when two thugs, running from the law, careen over an embankment and wreck their car. Their very presence despoils the dramatically beautiful landscape. That transgressive acts should take place in such a pristine setting seems to violate the laws of man and nature. 

It’s amid the rolling, snow covered hills of Wyoming that this story of greed, violence and narrow getaways concludes — against a stark white backdrop, far from Hollywood Boulevard and the Venice oil fields.

James Mason, F.J. McCormick, “Odd Man Out.”

“Odd Man Out” (1947)

Snowfall only makes a bad situation worse for Irish Nationalist Johnny McQueen. He’s on the run through the streets of Belfast, dodging police who are after him for a robbery and murder.  He and some allies heisted cash meant to fund further Nationalist endeavors. Johnny suffered a bullet wound and a broken arm. 

Heavy rains pound the streets as he dodges police and seeks shelter. Then the rain turns to snow. If inclement weather isn’t punishment enough, some whom he meets in his Odyssey toward safety offer sympathy and sometimes a bit of help, while others scheme to use him for their own gain. 

He’s the leader of the local “organization” and well known in the community. Many of those who’d like to help him fear retribution. His love, Kathleen Ryan, is one of the few who selflessly provides aid. But it’s a losing battle; Johnny’s wounds make it hard to run and he’s losing blood by the minute.  

Snowfall covers the grimy streets and makes the city beautiful — ironic that the freedom fighter should suffer greatly as the brick and cobblestones are painted a brilliant, angelic white. 

Eugene Pallette, Belita, Barry Sullivan, “Suspense.”

“Suspense” (1946)

This one could have been called “Noir on Ice.” Joe Morgan breezes into L.A. looking like he’s been sleeping under bridges since leaving New York. He gets a job at the ice show, first as a peanut vendor, then he quickly climbs the ladder to a management position. A love triangle develops with him, the ice show star Roberta, and Max, who runs the operation.

The action switches to a hunting lodge in the snow covered High Sierras, which is to say, a soundstage with painted backdrops of snow drifts and icicles. (Yes, it’s a bit cheesy, but this Monogram film looks like a big budget production by Poverty Row standards.) 

Tensions rise when Joe unexpectedly drops in on lovebirds Max and Roberta as they relax at the mountain hideaway. It’s all too much for Max, and he decides to put an end to the flirtations between Roberta and Joe. 

His actions seem to backfire, and here we see what lots of snow cascading down a mountainside can do. But lest you think that those messy little affairs of the heart have been covered up in tons of the white stuff, think again. In noir, there’s always the danger that the past will come back to haunt the guilty. 

Gregory Peck, Ingrid Bergman, “Spellbound.”

“Spellbound” (1945)

Don’t mess with the table linens when Dr. Anthony Edwardes is around. The young psychoanalyst, who happens to be the newly appointed director of a Vermont psychiatric hospital, will be upset. 

Edwardes’s colleague marks a white tablecloth with the tines of a fork and the parallel lines remind him of ski tracks left in the snow. Suddenly, a repressed memory bobs to the surface and Edwardes freaks out. 

Dr. Constance Petersen, a psychiatrist at the facility, notices that Edwardes shows a number of troubling signs, and she suspects the worst. The problem is, she and he have become an item, and things may get … awkward. 

This is a story of deep seated psychological wounds that, irony upon irony, are apt to be misinterpreted by the psychiatric hospital staff. There’s even identity confusion, and as the story progresses we’re less sure of who is who and what thoughts are lodged in the deeper recesses of the staff’s minds. Alfred Hitchcock directs. 

Cornel Wilde, David Stollery, “Storm Fear.”

“Storm Fear” (1955)

Let’s say unexpected company drops by and a heavy snowfall traps you all under the same roof. It might be fun, sort of. Not so for the Blake clan. Fred, the missus and their young son find themselves penned in with Fred’s brother, Charlie, and a couple of his associates. 

Seems Charlie and his friends just robbed a bank, need a place to hide out and won’t leave. The Blakes’ mountain cabin, under siege, becomes a stage where where family squabbles, resentments and betrayals play out. 

Fred, a struggling writer, is jealous of the close bond between David, his son, and the family’s hired hand, Hank. Charlie seems to develop the same rapport with David. To make matters worse, Fred senses an attraction between his wife, Elizabeth, and Charlie — they were once a couple. 

Benjie, Charlie’s mentally unstable, violent cohort, wants to run off with the bank loot. Tensions rise when the trio of robbers, guided by young David, snowshoe over the mountain and try to make their escape. But a snow covered peak can be a mighty obstacle to conquer, and most city folk aren’t up to the challenge.

Pulp Into Pictures: 21 Cornell Woolrich Stories That Made It To the Big Screen; Plus “Never Open That Door”

Ángel Magana in "Never Open That Door" (1952).

Bedarkened, beshadowed Argentinian film noir

treated to a stunning restoration, disc release  

By Paul Parcellin

“Never Open That Door” (1952) Blu-ray and DVD, Flicker Alley (158 minutes) 

A lot of movies never quite get author Cornell Woolrich’s tone right, especially the films made in Hollywood. Their forced upbeat endings just don’t do justice to the pitch black darkness of his novels and short stories.

That’s not the case with the Argentinian produced “Never Open That Door,” a two part adaptation of two Woolrich stories. A beautifully restored Blu-ray and DVD edition of the film was released in June 2024.

Part One, "Someone is on the Phone,” is the story of a man trying to help his sister resolve her gambling debts and get rid of a blackmailer. He takes action, and as is often the case in Woolrich’s universe, misreads the signals, resulting in a tragic outcome.

In Part Two, “The Hummingbird Comes Home,” a blind woman living with her niece is visited by her son, who has been serving a prison sentence. The woman holds out hope that he’s still dedicated to her although all signs point in the opposite direction. 

Both stories pull no punches and end in darkness that’s true to Woolrich’s texts. 

A third part, “If I Should Die Before I Wake” is also included in the disc. It was originally intended to round out a trilogy, but was cut from the lineup and fleshed out into a single, stand-alone feature film. In it, a boy knows that a serial killer is preying on his classmates but can’t get anyone to listen to him, even his police inspector father.

Themes that run through all three are loyalty, honor and duty. In each of the trio a deep abiding sense of dedication to ones ideals leads to tragic outcomes. The brother who avenges his sister’s suicide in "Someone is on the Phone” is overbearing and hot tempered. His brand of loyalty masks his need to dominate and control his younger sibling. As the story begins we assume that he’s a jealous husband looking after his straying wife. That they are siblings comes as a revelation and hints at the man’s deeply repressed incestuous impulses. His need to get even with an anonymous third party speaks more of the need to sure up his bruised ego and his family’s honor, and less of finding justice for his sister. 

The blind woman in “The Hummingbird Comes Home” is unprepared for the man her son has become when he returns home, the police on his tail. Despite his insensitive behavior toward her, she clings to the hope that he’s still a good boy, until he proves her wrong.

Loyalty and honor, as interpreted by the young boy in “If I Should Die Before I Wake,” is put to the test. He promises to not breathe a word to anyone about the nice man who gives free candy and colorful sticks of chalk to little girls. Like the protagonists in the other two stories, he is, at first, unable to comprehend the hell that results when blind devotion to ideals, family and friends opens the door to evil.

Directed by Carlos Hugo Christensen, the film was preserved by the Film Noir Foundation in 2013 and stunningly restored through UCLA Film & Television Archive.  

Here are some of the films adapted from Cornell Woolrich’s short stories and novels. A number of them were written under one of his pseudonyms, William Irish:

Kevin McCarthy, Gage Clarke, "Nightmare."

“Nightmare” (1956). Based on a novel of the same title. A musician dreams he killed a man, then awakens to find evidence linking him to his imagined crime. His brother-in-law, a police detective, doesn’t believe the story. With Edward G. Robinson, Kevin McCarthy and Connie Russell. 

“Obsession” (1954). Based on the short story "Silent as the Grave" (as William Irish).  A circus trapeze artist is injured and is replaced by the performer’s former partner. The replacement is murdered and another man is accused of the crime. But some suspect the trapeze artist is to blame. With Michèle Morgan and Raf Vallone. 

“Rear Window” (1954) based on the story “It Had to Be Murder.” A recuperating news photographer watches his neighbors as his leg heals. Odd things occur in one apartment. It looks a lot like murder. With James Stewart, Grace Kelly and Raymond Burr. 




“Never Open That Door” (1952). Based on the stories “Somebody on the Phone” and “Humming Bird Comes Home” (as William Irish). In the first segment a man tries to avenge the death of his sister, who commits suicide over gambling debts. In the second, A former inmate returns home where he is expected by his blind mother, who believes he has reformed. With Ángel Magaña, Renée Dumas, Roberto Escalada and Ilde Pirovano. 

Néstor Zavarce, "If I Should Die Before I Wake."

“If I Should Die Before I Wake” (1952), based on a story with the same title (as William Irish). A young boy’s dad is a policeman investigating serial killings of local children. The boy befriends  a girl who tells him of a man who gives her free lollipops. She makes the boy vow never to tell anyone. With Néstor Zavarce, Blanca del Prado, Floren Delbene. 




“No Man of Her Own” (1950). Based on the novel “I Married a Dead Man” (as William Irish). A pregnant woman takes on the identity of a railroad-crash victim, but her ex-husband traps her in a blackmail scheme. With Barbara Stanwyck, Lyle Bettger and John Lund. 

“The Window” (1949). Based on the story “The Boy Cried Murder” (also known as “The Boy Who Cried Wolf”). A young boy witnesses a murder but struggles to convince anyone of what he’s seen. With Bobby Driscoll, Barbara Hale and Arthur Kennedy. 

“Night Has a Thousand Eyes” (1948). Based on the novel of the same title.

A fake mind reader develops real supernatural powers, but he soon finds that his gift brings more trouble than it’s are worth. With Edward G. Robinson, John Lund and Gail Russell. 

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

A tap dancer throws his shoes out the window to silence howling cats. When a neighbor turns up dead, the hoofer’s footprints are found at the crime scene. With Don Castle, Elyse Knox and Regis Toomey. 




“The Return of the Whistler” (1948). Based on the story “All at Once, No Alice.” A man's fiancée vanishes, and he hires a private detective to find her. But the case proves much more complex than he could have imagined. With Lenore Aubert and Michael Duane. 

“The Guilty” (1947). Based on the story “He Looked Like Murder.” Two roommates meet twin girls and one of the sisters gets murdered. That puts her boyfriend on the spot. With Bonita Granville and Don Castle.

Leo Penn, Teala Loring, "Fall Guy."

“Fall Guy” (1947). Based on the short story “Cocaine.” A man recalls meeting someone in a bar and going to a party. The rest is a blur. But there’s big trouble when a murdered girl’s body is discovered. With Robert Armstrong, Teala Loring and Leo Penn.

“Fear in the Night” (1946), adapted from the short story "Nightmare" (as William Irish). A musician dreams he killed a man, then finds evidence that he did commit the crime. With Kevin McCarthy and Edward G. Robinson.

“The Chase” (1946), based on the novel “The Black Path of Fear.” A down and out veteran is hired as chauffeur to a gangster, but the vet gets too involved with the his boss’s wife. With Michèle Morgan, Steve Cochran and Robert Cummings. 

Peter Lorre, "Black Angel."

"Black Angel" (1946). Based on the novel of the same title. An alcoholic pianist investigates his ex-wife's murder. With Peter Lorre, Dan Duryea, Constance Dowling and June Vincent. 

“Deadline at Dawn” (1946), based on the novel (as William Irish). A sailor and a dance-hall girl try to solve a murder. He’s got the victim’s cash and only has until daybreak to figure it all out. With Bill Williams and Susan Hayward.  

“The Mark of the Whistler” (1944), based on the radio drama “The Whistler,” (as William Irish). A drifter claims the money in a dormant bank account, but others come to claim it. With Paul Guilfoyle, John Calvert, Janis Carter, Richard Dix, and Porter Hall.

Ella Raines, Alan Curtis, "Phantom Lady."

“Phantom Lady” (1944), based on the novel “Phantom Lady” (as William Irish). A woman races against time to clear a friend wrongfully accused of murder. With Franchot Tone, Ella Raines, Aurora Miranda and Alan Curtis. 

“The Leopard Man” (1943). From the novel "Black Alibi.” A seemingly-tame leopard used for a publicity stunt escapes and kills a young girl. With Margo and Dennis O’Keefe.

“Street of Chance” (1942), Based on the novel “The Black Curtain.” A man with amnesia uncovers his involvement in a murder. With Burgess Meredith and Claire Trevor.

Rita Hayworth, Doreen MacGregor, "Convicted."

“Convicted” (1938). Based on the story “Face Work” ( as William Irish). A police detective helps a night-club singer track down a killer. The singer’s brother has been sentenced to die in the electric chair. With Rita Hayworth, Marc Lawrence and Charles Quigley.

Why did Lee Marvin Give the Cops the Finger?

Lee Marvin, as Charlie Strom, a man in a quandary.

One of hitman Charlie Strom's victims didn't try to run and save his own life, and Charlie needs to get to the bottom of it

(Contains spoilers)

By Paul Parcellin

If you’ve seen “The Killers” (1964) starring Lee Marvin and Clu Gulager you might have an unsettling feeling about the film’s ending. I sure did. 

The 1964 movie has little in common with the Ernest Hemingway story upon which it’s based except for the title. Screenwriter Gene Coon insisted that the script should not quote any Hemingway dialog or include any scenes from the 1946 film adaptation starring Burt Lancaster. Director Don Siegel wholeheartedly agreed with Coon’s vision. He wanted to ignore the earlier screen adaptation and create a fresh, original take on the material. 

Also, Siegel had a bitter history with the earlier project. Producer Mark Hellinger asked him to direct the 1946 film, but studio boss Jack Warner forbid the rookie director from helming the project and veteran director Robert Siodmak was hired instead. 

Clu Gulager, as Strom’s fellow hitman, Lee.

Without question, the 1964 version is miles apart from the earlier flick. For starters, it’s in color, unlike Siodmak’s earlier black and white film. But mainly, Siegel’s film is told from one of the two hitmen’s point of view while the 1946 adaptation is seen through the eyes of an insurance investigator played by Edmund O’Brien.

Plus, Siegel’s film focuses on a question that gnaws at hitman Charlie Strom ( Marvin): Why didn’t the victim try to run and save his life? It’s an existential quandary that Strom carries with him and only bubbles up to the surface at the film’s end.

Strom is the consummate professional, in contrast with his less disciplined partner in crime, Lee (Gulager). Strom, the older of the two, maintains his focused demeanor and makes no mistakes until greed enters the picture and clouds his vision.

Angie Dickinson, as femme fatale Sheila Farr.

Surrounded by cops, Strom tries to escape, even though he’s trapped and certain to be captured. He ends up unarmed, so instead of blasting his way out he pulls his hand out of his pocket, aiming his fingers like a pistol and is immediately shot dead. It’s a brutally overpowering ending and it leaves us with another puzzle that flips his question about the victim of the hit, race car driver Johnny North (John Cassavetes):  Why does Strom not only allow but actually invite the police to shoot him?

In a short commentary included with the disc’s special features, critic Stuart M. Kaminsky says that the finger-gun move was a reflex action, but I beg to differ.

Strom is too cool a customer to make a fatal mistake like that. His final dramatic gesture is rooted in the riddle he needed to solve. He wonders why North didn’t try to avoid the angel of death when he and Lee shot him.

John Cassavetes, as race car driver Johnny North.

It’s rumored that North was in on a million dollar heist, and Strom decides to follow the money and perhaps get a piece of it. That sends him and Lee on a quest to find and question those closely associated with the victim. But underneath it all is that troubling question, and beyond the possibility of a big score, finding the answer to it is what most intrigues him.

After untangling North’s backstory, Strom finds the answer he’s looking for.

“The only man who’s not afraid to die is the one who’s dead already,” Strom tells femme fatale Sheila Farr (Angie Dickinson). “You killed him four years ago.” Not literally, of course, but her double dealing crushed him and set him up for murder. She and North planned to double-cross gang leader Jack Browning (Ronald Reagan) and make off with a cache of loot. It’s no wonder Browning hired Strom and Lee to kill North — or did he? Sheila might have had a hand in that.

Ronald Reagan, as gangster Jack Browning. 

As Strom begins to understand Johnny North’s predicament, his time on earth grows shorter. Why did the question get under Strom’s skin? Perhaps he saw something of himself in the victim. 

Strom is a dark, brooding, steely professional. He seems to have no family or friends, save from his fellow hitman. His professional function as a killer is his life and nothing else seems to exists for him. He’s as dead inside as the murdered race car driver and the money is all he cares about. But the nagging question about North’s death won’t let him go. 

Strom traces the money to Browning, and he plans to grab it from him, but it all goes wrong. He’s caught in a shootout at Browning’s residence and all of his avenues of escape are cut off. He’s wounded — earlier, Browning shot him and killed Lee — and tries to get away, but police surround him. His sudden, impulsive move with his hand pointed like a gun draws fire and Strom is taken down, still gripping the money. It could be a suicide by police, or simply an act of defiance. 

Like North, he accepts or maybe even welcomes his fate. Rather than put up his hands and go to prison he chooses to go out in a blaze of gunfire. What does it matter when you’re already dead?

Amnesia Noir: 30 Films Worth Remembering

Alan Ladd, William Bendix, “The Blue Dahlia” (1946).

When Returning War Vets and Others
Suffer Memory Blackouts, Murder is Often Afoot

By Paul Parcellin

Total amnesia, the kind that wipes out memories like a damp sponge on a chalkboard, probably happens more often in movies and television than in real life. Rare as it may be, it’s a frequent problem in cinema — some call it the common cold of film noir. 

Movies about battle scarred GIs returning from overseas, disengaged from their past and unsure of their place in post-war society must have struck a chord with soldiers coming home from the battlefield — why else would Hollywood have told and retold that story in so many films? On a symbolic level, the amnesiac in films may have resonated with many a veteran who would have preferred to forget much of what he’d seen and heard in combat.

John Hodiak, Nancy Guild,
"Somewhere in the Night" (1946).

In the movies, those unlucky enough to suffer from extreme cases of amnesia are remarkably isolated. Unable to recollect any family ties or friends that could connect them to their past, they search for details that will flesh out their identity. They must navigate through a peacetime world fraught with dangerous characters while dodging the consequences of previous events blotted out of their memories. 

Rather than seek out familiar faces — for them, there are none — they haunt their old stomping grounds, hoping that someone will recognize them and help fill in the blanks. But that’s risky business and they’re often sitting ducks for foes posing as friends.

As a rule, the amnesiac was not an accountant, plumber or any other kind of humdrum wage slave in their pre-amnesia state. Many were involved in, or adjacent to, criminal activity. Consequently, a spate of old enemies looking to settle scores crouch in the shadows, ready to pounce. Sometimes it’s underworld figures, other times it’s the police, either of which could spell doom for the ones with no past.

Here are 30 films about returning soldiers, and civilians, too, in which crime and memory loss cross paths. Sometimes, a memory is erased by battle wounds or combat fatigue. For others, a night of heavy drinking, drugs, or a violent encounter create the same mental fog. Either way, each is lost and unable to trust anyone, including themselves:

“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. He suffers from memory lapses and extreme mood swings. Soon, she’s a prisoner in her own house.

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

“Black Angel” (1946)

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.

“Blackout” (1954)

A broke American in London (Dane Clark) meets a woman (Belinda Lee) who offers to pay him for a marriage of convenience. He agrees, but awakens bloodied in a strange place, having unknowingly become entangled in her father's murder.

“The Blue Dahlia” (1946)


Ex-bomber pilot Johnny Morrison (Alan Ladd) is suspected of murdering his unfaithful wife. His shell-shocked pal, Buzz Wanchek (William Bendix), suffers memory lapses. He may or may not have committed the murder.

“The Blue Gardenia” (1953)


A telephone operator (Anne Baxter) ends up drunk and at the mercy of a cad (Raymond Burr). The next morning she wakes up with a hangover and the terrible fear she may have committed murder.

“Brott i sol” (1947)

After having spent six years in an asylum, Harry (Birger Malmsten) returns home. He soon remembers what happened six years ago. He had five of his friends over and one of them, Raoul (Curt Masreliez), was murdered. In order to find out which of them is the murderer, he invites them over to reconstruct the crime.

Jimmy Lydon, Claudia Barrett, “Chain of Evidence.”

“Chain of Evidence” (1957)

Paroled inmate Steve Nordstrom (Jimmy Lydon) is viciously assaulted, leaving him an amnesiac. He aimlessly wanders until he’s used as a patsy by an adulterous wife and her lover who aim to kill her rich husband.

“The Chase” (1946)

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 a nightmare. To make matters worse, a recurring war malady causes Scott to lose his mental focus just when he needs to be at his sharpest.

Bill Williams, Frank Wilcox, “The Clay Pigeon.”

“The Clay Pigeon” (1949)

It’s quite a bringdown to awaken from a coma only to discover that you’re suspected of murder. Jim Fletcher (Bill Williams) is in a U.S. Naval hospital and about to be court marshalled for a crime he cannot remember committing. To make matters worse, everyone seems to think he’s traitorous scum.

“Crack-Up” (1946)

Art curator George Steele (Pat O’Brien) has a mental breakdown and thinks he was in a train wreck. Is he cracking up, or the victim of a wicked plot?

“Crime Doctor” (1943)

Amnesia victim Robert Ordway (Warner Baxter) becomes the country's leading criminal psychologist. After he is hit on the head by someone from his past, he suddenly remembers his previous life as a criminal.

John Payne, “The Crooked Way.”

“The Crooked Way” (1949)

Eddie Rice (John Payne) is such an upright, good natured sort that we can scarcely believe that he committed dastardly acts before the war. A chunk of shrapnel is permanently lodged in his brain and he’s suffering from amnesia. But his ex-wife, Nina Martin (Ellen Drew) and gangster Vince Alexander (Sonny Tufts), are more than willing to refresh his memory.

“Crossroads” (1942)

French diplomat David Talbot (William Powell) is blackmailed for crimes that he committed before he lost his memory. The blackmailer alleges the diplomat committed a bank robbery and murder. Talbot was long ago treated for amnesia as the result of a physical trauma.

Bill Williams, Earle Hodgins, “Deadline at Dawn.”

“Deadline at Dawn” (1946) 

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

“Derailed” (1942)

An uptown girl (Illona Wieselmann) loses her memory after getting a disturbing message from her doctor. She ends up in the wrong part of town among criminals and prostitutes. She falls in love with the tough guy (Ebbe Rode), who recently got out of prison.

“Fall Guy” (1947)

Joe Fraser (Elisha Cook Jr.) meets Tom Cochrane (Leo Penn) at a bar, seemingly by accident, and brings him to a party filled with seedy characters and drugs. Before the evening’s out a sexy blonde slips Tom a Mickey. He awakens on the sidewalk, stained with blood, a bloody knife by his side. He has no memory of what went on the previous evening but vaguely remembers finding the body of a murdered girl stuffed in the closet.

“Fear in the Night” (1947)

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. 

“Female Fiends” (1958) (a.k.a. “The Strange Awakening”)

Peter Chance (Lex Barker), is attacked by a hitchhiker he picked up and is left unconscious. He awakens in a strange room with no memory. The homeowner, Selena Friend (Carole Mathews), tells him he is her son and is heir to millions.

“Hangover Square” (1945)

Composer George Harvey Bone (Laird Cregar) is under stress, which causes him to blackout whenever he hears dissonances. Strange gaps in his memory are troubling signs, especially after a murder occurs.

“High Wall” (1947)

After a brain-damaged war veteran Steven Kenet (Robert Taylor) confesses to murdering his wife and is sent to a psychiatric hospital, Dr. Ann Lorrison (Audrey Totter) tries to lead him to recover his memory of events as he begins to question his guilt.

“Key Witness” (1947)

With his wife out of town, unsuccessful inventor Milton Higby (John Beal) parties with a friend and two girls they meet. When he awakens from a drunken stupor, he finds the girl he was with has been shot and killed, and he is suspected of the murder.

Anthony Quinn, “The Long Wait.”

“The Long Wait” (1954)

Hitchhiker Johnny McBride (Anthony Quinn) is badly hurt and loses his memory when the car he’s riding in crashes. Two years later, a clue leads him to his old home town, where he finds he is a murder suspect. Johnny tries to discover the truth about the murder, while pursued by gangsters and several seductive women.

“Man in the Dark” (1953) 

Unlucky Steve (Edmond O'Brien), a convicted felon, is released from prison after undergoing an experimental procedure that erases from his brain all criminal impulses — the side effect being permanent memory loss. 

“Murder on Monday” (1952)

Banker David Preston (Ralph Richardson) goes missing for 24 hours and has no memory of the lost time. When he learns that the steward of his local club has implicated him in a robbery and has been found murdered, Preston has no alibi.

Hildegard Knef, Gary Merrill, “Night Without Sleep.”

“Night Without Sleep” (1952)

Awaking one morning after a night of hard drinking, composer Richard Morton (Gary Merrill) can't shake the feeling he has murdered a woman during the night.

“Nightmare” (1956)

New Orleans clarinetist Stan Grayson (Kevin McCarthy) dreams he committed a murder. He recalls from his dream a mirrored room with many doors, and a murder committed with an ice pick. Based on a Cornell Woolrich novel, “And So To Death.”

“Somewhere in the Night” (1946)

George Taylor (John Hodiak) awakens in a military hospital, and to his horror discovers that his memory has been wiped clean by a serious wound he received in the war. He embarks on a mission, believing he may fill the black holes that have replaced his memories. He searches for leads but all he’s got is a letter from a man he doesn’t know, the mysterious Larry Cravat.

Burgess Meredith, “Street of Chance.”

“Street of Chance” (1942)

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. Based on the Cornell Woolrich novel “The Black Curtain”

“Violence” (1947)

Undercover reporter Ann Mason (Nancy Coleman) infiltrates a neo-fascist group that recruits disgruntled veterans, but amnesia prevents her from exposing them.

“Voice in the Wind” (1944)

Concert pianist Jan Volny (Francis Lederer) lost his memory after being tortured by the Nazis during the war. He journeys to the island of Guadeloupe to try to regain his memory and his health. Meanwhile, smugglers Angelo (Alexander Granach) and Luigi (J. Carrol Naish) blame Jan for setting fire to their boat.

'The Killers': Nagging Questions In a Haze of Gunsmoke

Left, Burt Lancaster, “The Killers” (1946).
Right, Lee Marvin, “The Killers” (1964).

In both versions, sports heroes have tragic downfalls and alluring women enter the picture to offer a helping hand — it doesn’t turn out well for the wounded competitors

By Paul Parcellin

“The Killers” (1946) Robert Siodmak (director) — “The Killers” (1964) Don Siegel (director), The Criterion Collection, [Blu-ray]

Why on earth would a man facing the barrel of a gun fail to run away or at least try to evade death? That’s one question raised in both the 1946 version of “The Killers” and the 1964 film of the same title, both adapted from an Ernest Hemingway short story. 

But the main puzzle, the one that drives the action, is who’s in possession of the cash that was swiped in a brazen holdup? 

Criterion’s release offers both versions on a single disc that demands a comparison of the two.

Charles McGraw, William Conrad, Harry Hayden, "The Killers" (1946).

In director Robert Siodmak’s 1946 film, insurance investigator Jim Reardon (Edmond O’Brien) seeks the beneficiary of former prizefighter Ole “Swede” Anderson’s (Burt Lancaster) life insurance policy. The Swede went down for the final count in a shabby rooming house when two gunmen burst in and opened fire. 

Reardon finds the woman who is to receive the policy payout, but in doing so discovers that the Swede lived a complex life. The ex-pugilist fell on hard times and was involved in a heist that netted a big pile of cash that’s still missing. Reardon decides to find and retrieve the loot for the insurance company and get to the bottom of the Swede’s mysterious death.

John Cassavetes

In Don Siegel’s 1964 film, the search is on for the proceeds from another big robbery, but this time the ones doing the investigation are hitmen Charlie Strom (Lee Marvin) and his partner in crime, Lee (Clu Gulager). The duo murder former race car driver Johnny North (John Cassavetes), and are determined to recover loot from a heist that North took part in. Charlie is focused on recovering the money, but he’s also bothered by a question — why did North not try to save himself when the hitmen came calling?

Both victims have the makings of one kind of Hemingway hero, skilled competitors in macho professional sports, and each with a dark side. Lancaster’s Swede sees his prizefighting career fade away as he breaks his right hand in a bout that turns out to be his last match. Cassavetes’s Johnny, the headstrong race car driver, pushes his luck and damages his eyesight in a wreck, leaving him unable to compete. Both he and Swede feel diminished and their excessive pride takes a beating.

Angie Dickinson

Before meeting their unfortunate comedowns, each is smitten with a dangerous girl who’s apparently cozy with a powerful crime boss. After their accidents, they struggle to maintain a hold on their respective aggressively material girls. No longer the cocky, virile competitors they once were, both has-beens struggle for the woman’s love and admiration to revitalize their lives. They remind us a bit of Hemingway’s Jake Barnes in “The Sun Also Rises,” who is left impotent by a wound received in the Great War.

The ladies, Kitty Collins (Ava Gardner), Swede’s love interest, and motorsports groupie Sheila Farr (Angie Dickinson), reel them in and then offer to connect them with some pals who are plotting a big score. Both guys can’t resist the opportunity to win their respective girl by grabbing a pile of loot and showering her with minks and diamonds — or so they think.

The story takes a number of twists as the two fallen heroes submerge into the criminal world. In short, they’re two prideful tough guys eventually broken by femmes fatale. Neither one catches on to the cold truth that the deck is stacked against them until it’s much too late.

Ava Gardner

Anthony Veiller, who adapted Hemingway’s story for Siodmak’s film, also co-wrote “The Stranger” (1946) and was an uncredited collaborator with John Huston and Truman Capote on the screenplay for “Beat the Devil” (1953). His version of the story is structured like “Citizen Kane” (1941), with Reardon chasing down clues and interviewing people who knew Swede. The bulk of the story is told in flashbacks as those closest to the deceased man recount their dealings with him. 

In contrast, Siegel’s film proceeds in a more linear fashion with a minimum of flashbacks. For the most part, the story simply follows Charlie and Lee as they chase after a pile of cash and, in true Lee Marvin fashion, wreak havoc on anyone who tries to stop them. The opening sequence is a corker. The two killers track down Johnny in a school for the blind where he teaches auto mechanics and take him out in a roomful of unsighted witnesses.

While both films have similar plots, their look could hardly be more different.

Edmond O’Brien, Sam Levene, “The Killers” (1946).

Veteran cinematographer Elwood “Woody” Bredell photographed Siodmak’s moody black and white noir. His rock-solid crime film credits also include “Phantom Lady” (1944), “Lady on a Train” (1945) and “The Unsuspected” (1947).

Because Siegel’s film was created for TV, Richard L. Rawlings, a cinematographer with extensive television credits was chosen to shoot it, and on the surface it’s as un-noir-like as a film can get. Like most other TV shows of that era, scenes are bombarded with bright light and nary a shadow is in sight. Each shot pops with saturated color — producers felt that TV shows needed to be visually vibrant to compete with household distractions.

Ronald Reagan's last film role
"The Killers" (1964)

That strategy didn’t pay off as expected. Broadcast executives wanted no part of the film’s violent onscreen action. Siegel shopped it around for a while, then decided to release it theatrically. It was not a major box office hit, but stylistically it was influential. Siegel later directed “Dirty Harry” (1971), and “The Killers” helped set the tone for that mega-successful Clint Eastwood film as well as many others throughout the coming decades. 

Oddly enough, Siegel was initially tapped to direct the 1947 version of the film, but studio higher ups put the kibosh on that, citing the young director’s lack of experience. Instead, Siodmak, a veteran behind the camera, was chosen. 

Siegel’s film is perhaps his vengeance for that disappointing incident years before, as he finally caught up with the one that got away.

Like Siegel, hitman Charley Strom finds that patience pays off. Eventually he discovers the answer to his question about Johnny’s meek acceptance of his fate. Nick Adams (Phil Brown), Swede’s young co-worker and friend is left to ponder the same question. When Nick goes to warn him that his life is in peril, Swede doesn’t explain his downfall, but tells him, “I did something wrong, once.” It’s a puzzle that remains an open ended question, but eventually we see the reasons for Swede’s powerlessness to resist the gunmen. He’s been reduced to a shell of himself and death is inevitable — a sad fate for a wounded hero whose life takes a tragically wrong turn.

The Criterion disc features new high-definition digital restorations of both films, plus extras such as a 2002 interview with Clu Gulager, an audio excerpt from Don Siegel's autobiography, “A Siegel Film,” Screen Directors Playhouse radio adaptation from 1949 of the 1946 film, starring Burt Lancaster and Shelley Winters as well as essays by novelist Jonathan Lethem and critic Geoffrey O’Brien. It’s a feature-packed disc that noir fans ought to add to their libraries.

Busted But Not Broken: Greylisted Actor Made Indy Noirs

Virginia Christine, Edward G. Robinson, “Nightmare” (1956).

Edward G. Robinson's testimony before the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) resulted in his being shunned by the major studios. Instead, he appeared in independently produced Poverty Row films

Film Noir: The Dark Side of Cinema XVII [Vice Squad / Black Tuesday / Nightmare] [Blu-ray]

By Paul Parcellin

He’s no matinee idol, but when Edward G. Robinson is on screen we can’t take our eyes off of him. Short in stature and chunky with a bulldog face, it’s hard to explain his magnetism. He’s got that special quality that makes great character actors, and few can rival him for sheer screen presence. Try to imagine “Double Indemnity” without Robinson’s cranky insurance adjustor Barton Keyes, or “Little Caesar” minus his Napoleonic crime boss Caesar Enrico Bandello. Unthinkable.

Robinson’s command of his craft is evident in the three-disc Blu-ray box set from Kino Lorber, “Film Noir: The Dark Side of Cinema XVII,” released just this year. In these films, Robinson plays dramatically different characters effortlessly, or at least makes it seem that way. 

In the many roles he played throughout his career he embodied the characters he portrayed, giving them distinct, memorable personalities, from meek Christopher Cross in “Scarlet Street” (1945) to conniving bully of a crime boss Johnny Rocco in “Key Largo” (1948).

This box set’s trio of films are modestly budgeted crime thrillers, unlike the bigger films he’d made before and during the war. These early to mid 1950s films were made after he was obliged to testify before the House Committee on Un-American Activities (HUAC). The committee was established to root out the alleged communist infiltration of society and the Hollywood film industry in particular. 

In his testimony, Robinson named some of his peers who were associated with the Communist Party. He admitted that he, too, was briefly associated with the party, but claimed that he was duped into participating. His testimony got him greylisted as opposed to blacklisted. The blacklist banned actors from making films in Hollywood. Major studios wished to avoid negative publicity, so they wouldn't hire the greylisted Robinson, either. But he found he could act in theater and make films with the much smaller Poverty Row studios. 

The films listed below were made while Robinson was still under greylist restrictions. Later in the decade he was able to regain his standing and work with the major studios again.

Robinson as Police Capt. “Barnie” Barnaby in “Vice Squad.”

“Vice Squad” (1953) — 88 minutes

There’s relatively little vice in “Vice Squad” despite the title, and it’s not really a noir. It’s more a police procedural, heist movie and tale of suspense all wrapped into one.

Police Capt. “Barnie” Barnaby (Edward G. Robinson) is hardly Dirty Harry, but he isn’t above using blackmail, entrapment, false arrest and unethical if not illegal searches for the greater good. Tactics that would never be tolerated today seem routine in this 1950s crime drama. 

Barnaby’s more controversial tactics are leavened with humor. The running gag is the arrest and rearrest of dour-faced “undertaker” Jack Hartrampf (Porter Hall). Hartrampf witnesses the murder of a police officer as he’s leaving his mistress’s apartment, so he dummies up lest his name get into the newspapers. Barnaby uses some creative arm twisting, including blackmail, to get the undertaker to spill what he knows. But, Robinson’s avuncular police captain makes it all seem rather harmless, unavoidable and clever.

Barnaby isn’t a hardened, cynical law man, but rather an optimist and a realist who seems to enjoy his work. He tells us he hopes for the best, but realizes that he’s in a position that tends to bring out the worst in everyone.

Paulette Goddard as Mona Ross.

His department always buzzes with activity and several different stories unfold as police search for the murderer. One involves an Italian count who might be a con artist, and another entails an informant’s hot tip about a bank robbery plot. There’s the occasional lineup of petty criminals, and odd characters pop in, such as Mr. Jenner (Percy Helton), who complains about the “shadows that get all over me whenever I walk down the street.” Ever the public servant, Barnaby gives everyone a fair hearing regardless of the plausibility of their story or their grip on reality.

In addition to the highly recognizable Percy Helton, a number of popular character actors fill the cast, including Lee Van Cleef, Barry Kelley, Adam Williams and Edward Binns. Co-star Paulette Goddard plays Mona, a madame who operates an escort service and feeds Barnaby tips on criminal activities. She’s allowed to operate her business on the wrong side of the tracks so long as she provides useful information. It’s just another relationship of many that skirts the edge of ethical propriety, but that’s the way things go in Barnaby’s world.

Robinson as gangster Vincent Canelli in “Black Tuesday.” 

“Black Tuesday” (1954) — 80 minutes

Crime bosses don’t come much meaner than Vince Canelli (Robinson), a gangster who snarls when he speaks. Robinson’s role is close to a reprise of his Johnny Rocco in “Key Largo,” yet, Vince is even less charming and perhaps more evil than Johnny, if that’s possible. Both films have criminals and hostages trapped in buildings with Robinson running the show and barking orders.

Vince has precious little regard for human life other than his own and that of his lady friend, Hattie (Jean Parker). We don’t see how much he really cares for her until the film’s final moments. For a few fleeting seconds we can empathize with the otherwise detestable Vince, but that wears off quickly.

Besides Hattie, everyone else around him is a useful cog in his machine and nothing else. His talent is making cohorts believe that he’ll give them a square deal, but anyone loyal to Vince pays a price for his or her misplaced allegiance.

As the film opens, Vince and his partner in crime, Peter Manning (Peter Graves), along with other condemned inmates, await execution on death row. The film is essentially a two-parter: a prison breakout and then a last stand in a warehouse with escapees and their hostages. The escape is absurdly well planned and executed, highly improbable and fun to watch.

Peter Graves as Peter Manning.

Manning has stashed away loot from a robbery he and Vince committed, in the process of which they killed a police officer. That’s what put them on death row. Manning is keeping his trap shut about the whereabouts of the cash because he knows better than to put his faith in Vince. As their time in captivity ticks by, the hostages learn the hard way that trusting the crime boss is risky at best. Among the detainees are a news reporter, a prison guard’s daughter and a clergyman.

Hattie complains to Vince, “Shouldn’t have brought the priest. Bad luck.” 

“For him,” Vince mutters.

Stunning black and white photography by Stanley Cortez anchors the film to the shadowy domain of noir and makes dramatic use of rather limited sets. Cortez also shot “The Night of the Hunter” (1955) and “The Magnificent Ambersons” (1942).

Eventually, the outside world intervenes and pressure builds, bringing the film to a stormy conclusion.

Kevin McCarthy in “Nightmare.”

“Nightmare” (1956) — 89 minutes

Crimes committed under the influence of hypnotism, alcohol and narcotics are the backbone of many a noir tale, especially in Cornell Woolrich’s dark fiction oeuvre. In “Nightmare,” based on a novel “And So To Death” by Woolrich, New Orleans clarinetist Stan Grayson (Kevin McCarthy) dreams he committed a murder. 

Woolrich’s novel was previously adapted into the film “Fear in the Night” (1947) starring DeForest Kelley, and that film as well as “Nightmare” were written and directed by Maxwell Shane.

As we witness his nightmare, waves of fog waft across the screen, a wailing orchestra plays a dramatic score before the action cuts to Stan jarred awake in his bedroom, clutching evidence from the scene of the imaginary crime. 

He recalls from his dream a mirrored room with lots of doors, and a murder committed with an ice pick.

He discovers thumb prints on his throat as he staggers around his cheap room, the shadow of a rotating ceiling fan hovers above him like a dark angel. 

He’s got scratches and is bloodied,  and he’s clutching an odd shaped key that he’s never seen before. “Was I going insane?” he wonders in voiceover.

These are classic Woolrich story elements: a morning-after hangover, a spotty memory of having done something awful, a guilt racked conscience and unexplained wounds. 

Kevin McCarthy and Robinson
in “Nightmare.”

He confides in his brother-in-law, police detective Rene Bressard (Robinson), who is at first skeptical of Stan’s story, but later begins to see things differently.

When Stan leads Rene and others to a house off the beaten path, it looks a lot like the place Stan described from his dream, and Rene is ready to snap the cuffs on him. A strong undercurrent of mind control from an unknown source flows through the movie, and Stan sinks into a deep depression, certain that his life has been ruined.

Rene has his hands full trying to make sense of the case, and the solution to the mystery stretches credulity to the breaking point. But the cast’s uniformly strong performances make us forget about plot holes in this impossibly tall tale. But, if the story followed a more logical path it wouldn’t be a Woolrich yarn. 

“The Dark Side of Cinema XVII” features informative, well researched commentary tracks by film historians Gary Gerani and Jason A. Ney. The scans all look and sound great. Edward G. Robinson fans and noir appreciators should add this to their library.