This is part of a series of articles reviewing the American Film Institute's Top 100 Films, as unveiled in 2007. Why am I doing this? Because the damned cinemas are closed and I have to review something.
(PG) ★★★★★
Director: Billy Wilder.
Cast: Fred MacMurray, Barbara Stanwyck, Edward G. Robinson, Porter Hall, Jean Heather, Tom Powers, Byron Barr, Richard Gaines.
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| Intrigue among the paracetamol. |
At the risk of sounding like a best man's speech, Encyclopaedia Britannica defines Double Indemnity as an "American film noir... considered the quintessential movie of its genre". Hard to argue with an encyclopaedia.
Defining film noir and its origin point is somewhat trickier - Fritz Lang's stunning 1931 film M has to go close to being the first movie of the genre, although contemporary assessment's often point to the otherwise forgotten Stranger On The Third Floor (1940) as the first "true" film noir. The Maltese Falcon (1941) also helped set the "rules of the style" (some argue film noir isn't a genre).
But it's 1944's Double Indemnity that consolidated everything; the femme fatale, the shadowy cinematography, the ill-fated crims, the double-crosses, the bleakness, the hard-boiled dialogue, the narration, the moral corruption. Despite lacking a fedora-wearing, hard-drinking detective in a trench coat, Double Indemnity "is the archetypal film noir," writes Kim Newman in 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die - "the tale of a desperate dame and a greedy man, of murder for sordid profit, and sudden violent betrayal".
Based on James M Cain's novel, and scripted by Wilder and pulp specialist Raymond Chandler, the film has some neat tricks to it that don't seem archetypal. For starters, the focus is not on the nominal "good guy" but rather the silly sap whose male gaze and hubris are his undoing. The story's real hero is actually third-billed Robinson's insurance-claims investigator Barton Keyes. Keyes is a far-from-glamourous character - he's a dogged do-gooder who's too noble to be working in the shifty world of insurance, and who gets indigestion when something ain't right.
Instead the story follows the more unpleasant heel Walter Neff (an against-type MacMurray). A sucker for a set of legs and an ankle bracelet, he fools himself into believing he's the brains in a perfect insurance scam that involves knocking off the husband of the owner of the aforementioned legs (Stanwyck). Too late he realises, via wonderfully orchestrated narration and flashback, that he was in over his head all along.
It's a momentous moment in Hollywood that we take for granted. As Otto Penzler noted in his book 101 Greatest Films Of Mystery & Suspense, "for the first time, audiences saw a murder planned and carried out as the two protagonists risked everything for greed and lust". The Hayes Code officials initially said it couldn't be made. Wilder wouldn't take "no" for an answer.
The film boasts an ingenious set-up, similar to another of Wilder's noirs - the Hollywood takedown Sunset Boulevard. Where Sunset Boulevard starts with a dead man recapping how he wound up floating face down in a swimming pool, Double Indemnity opens with a dying man similarly running through his own impending demise. It's a great device, probably ripped straight from the pages of a pulp pot-boiler, that pulls you through the story.
Film noirs are filled with stoic loners who think they're a step ahead of the game, and gullible saps who'll do anything for a dame. As is often the case, Neff is both, which makes for a fascinating character and a great plot. We know he's doomed from the intro, where he dictates his "not a confession" while nursing a bullet wound. But seeing how he got there is brilliant, even though he's a sleazy chauvinist who has no problem hitting on a married woman. This is actually part of the appeal - we know this slimy insurance salesman is going to get his comeuppance, so we're happy to follow him on his journey into the heart of darkness.
The Oscar-nominated script was the result of a fractious but fruitful relationship between Wilder and Chandler, and is a beautiful example of combined strengths. Chandler had an ear for hardboiled dialogue, and brought the necessary cynicism and wit to the words of the characters, while Wilder knew how to build a screenplay beat by beat. Wilder already had three Oscar noms for best screenplay or story prior to Double Indemnity, though it would be his next film - The Lost Weekend - before he won one. But for all the best laid plains, some of the tensest moments - most notably a car not starting and the film's ultimate ending - were last-minute decisions from Wilder.
(In case you didn't realise, Wilder was a genius - I've already reviewed two other films of his on this list. If you've got time, this is the first part of a three-hour doco on his greatness.)
Hidden beneath its murder and Hayes Code-testing moral degradation, is a surprisingly tender heart in the shape of the relationship between Neff and Keyes. Their friendship, built on a fondness borne of familiarity, is gradually revealed to be deeper than even Neff realises. When he states Keyes "couldn't figure this one … because the guy you were looking for was too close – right across the desk from you", Keyes replies, with pain in his eyes: "Closer than that, Walter." It's a beautiful coda that rewards repeat viewings, drawing the audience's eye away from Phyllis (Stanwyck) and Neff, and on to Keyes and Neff.
The trio of Stanwyck, MacMurray and Robinson is as brilliant as it is unlikely. MacMurray was best-known for fluffy roles in comedies, Stanwyck typically played leading ladies in rom-coms and screwball comedies, while Robinson's star was on the decline. They were still box office attractions, but none of them play to type here. It's a marvel of casting, and the trio give great performances, particularly Stanwyck, whose turn is far more subtle than her hideous wig. It's tempting to point out her New York accent doesn't match her character's supposed Californian upbringing, but maybe that's part of the charade - Phyllis is duplicitous and it's more than likely her entire backstory is fabricated.
One of the forgotten heroes of the film, and indeed the genre of film noir, is cinematographer John Seitz. His work on Double Indemnity made him a go-to guy for these kinds of movies. Wilder would collaborate with him again on The Lost Weekend and Sunset Boulevard, and in between he would lend his abilities to noirs such as The Unseen, Calcutta, and Chicago Deadline. Each of those films wanted what he brought to Double Indemnity, with its Venetian-blind lighting, subtly looming shadows, moody mansions, and growing darkness. He stood on the shoulders of giants, such as Arthur Edeson's brilliant work on Casablanca, The Maltese Falcon, and even Frankenstein, and German cinematographer Fritz Arno Wagner (M, Nosferatu, The Testament Of Dr Mabuse), but there's no doubting Seitz's contributions to film's visual language, in particular to film noir. Coupled with Wilder's growing confidence (this was just his fourth film as director), it really is a landmark moment in moviemaking.
Film noir casts a long shadow through Hollywood that lasts to this day, and Double Indemnity has a lot to do with that. But even shorn of its noirish stylings and daring censor-baiting, it's a cracking tale of a man's descent into darkness, told with plenty wit, wisdom, and world-weary cynicism.
