Fallen Angel (1945)

More impressive as the noir tale of an amoral con-man that dominates the first half than the more traditional murder mystery in it’s second, but either way it’s dark and riveting. Preminger lives for the details here, whether it’s the jukebox song, the homicide detective’s white glove, the interrogation where the cop loudly clangs into radiators as he paces the room, the fact that for the first 10 minutes of the film you’re constantly made aware of exactly how much money is in Dana Andrew’s wallet…it’s a cornucopia of pleasures. It turns out that a man arriving into a random California town with nothing but a buck (95 cents, after his coffe) and his wits to survive on is the most compelling context for a con artist story, because the same ingenuity and deceit that makes you root for him as he worms his way into a spiritualist’s business (another great touch, giving Universal Horror stalwart John Carradine the role as a con-artist of a decidedly different sort) makes you grimace when it’s directed at a vulnerable naive heiress.

But the final twist of the film feels like a cop-out, less because it’s abrupt and graceless (because what film noir doesn’t have an abrupt and graceless plot-twist?) and more because it seats Dana Andrews in the hero position without ever really earning it. It’s a compelling idea that the man who spends the whole movie using anyone who can help him get ahead gets away scot-free, married to his rich wife, but the film plays it as more of a straight happy ending than perhaps it should, as if his sob story in the hotel the night before were 100% true and evidence of a complete shift in his morality. Still, every scene is good and most of them are great and, as Howard Hawkes said, that’s what great movies are made of. B+

Laura (1944)

It helps me understand the genesis of De Palma a little better at least, but as someone whose largely unfamiliar with film noir, I have to posit that perhaps the genre’s nonsensical plot twists and lack of character logic render it kind of opaque to me. I can admire a film as idiosyncratic as this (especially when it’s so beautifully shot) but it’s hard for me to be invested in it in any way. It chews through plot twists, double and triple crosses, plots, cover-ups and accusations with such speed that none of it really registers. Perhaps to some the dreamy logic is thrilling in itself, but it’s not surreal enough to really work for me on that level. But I’m also the guy who didn’t like Vertigo, so perhaps I have some kind of mental block when it comes to films like this. Or I’m just dumb. C+

Sweet Smell of Success (1957)

As dark and compelling a tale of a man losing his soul as I’ve ever seen told. Tony Curtis portrays Falco like a trapped animal, fast-moving, fast-talking, but vulnerable and constantly on the edge. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a moral struggle portrayed in a more brilliantly dramatic way, with Falco alternating between the lows of defeat and the highs of victory, able to ignore the destruction in his wake as long as he thinks he’s on the winning team. He’s brilliant and talented, but he’s a small fish in a big ocean of people more talented and brilliant than he, which keeps the danger and tension of his politicking in the red zone in nearly every scene.

And yet, it’s Burt Lancaster who walks away with the film. Lancaster gets one of the all-time great character introductions in a scene where he destroys a senator, Falco, an ingenue, her manager, and unseen people on the phone, all as casually as he was exhaling. That the film later can credibly subvert such a powerful character is a testament to the script which, along with featuring a classic line of dialogue every ten seconds, is a marvel of carefully constructed moving parts. Easily one of my new all-time favorite films. A+