Double Indemnity - 1944
Directed by Billy Wilder
Written by Raymond Chandler & Billy Wilder
Based on a novel by James M. Cain
Starring Fred MacMurray, Barbara Stanwyck, Edward G. Robinson
Jean Heather & Byron Barr
Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money - and a woman - and I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it?
It was that time of night. Free and easy time. Time to kick back. Time to watch a picture. But which picture? I needed a picture that had everything. Murder. A gorgeous girl. Betrayal. Money. A Billy Wilder picture.
Double Indemnity. And baby, that picture purred like a kitten. It hit like a champ. It had all the bells and whistles and rang a blew them to Sunday and back. That's as good a time as any to segue into some kind of normality here (as opposed to Raymond Chandler-inspired dialogue) and say that
Double Indemnity is a classic that still packs a punch today, and is every bit as enjoyable as another Wilder classic I love -
Sunset Boulevard. These films did more than inspire countless other film noir classics, they helped to define the genre itself and stand as a testament to the man's filmmaking ability. They're my kind of film noir - never becoming needlessly convoluted or complex. Films that have a perfect balance between the visual, auditory and story aspects of what they have to offer.
Double Indemnity starts with Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray) staggering in to his insurance company offices and confessing into a dictaphone - admitting that a recent accident claim involved no accident, but murder, and addressing his close friend and coworker Barton Keyes (Edward G. Robinson). The confession takes us back to Neff visiting the Dietrichsons to try and renew an automobile policy for a Mr. Dietrichson (Tom Powers) but coming into contact with his wife, Phyllis Dietrichson (Barbara Stanwyck) instead. Phyllis is dressed only in a towel, and immediately there's sexual chemistry between them - on subsequent visits Neff learns how disaffected Phyllis is with her marriage, and he finds a real world outlet for something that's often on his mind - a way to cheat his own insurance company on a phony claim for life insurance. He thinks he knows it all, and also knows the mind of his friend Keyes well enough to pull it off. He decides taking out a double indemnity clause on Mrs. Dietrichson's husband would benefit them further, and that he can arrange an "accident" on a train that'll pay off double. Neff and Phyllis pull off the murder, but Nef later learns something from his lover's daughter, Lola (Jean Heather) that leaves him with the uncomfortable feeling that he's been played for a fool.
The twists and turns in
Double Indemnity are hard to lay out neatly, but when measured up they do fit ever so neatly together. It's one of those very rare movies that I can only sum up as being perfect - inasmuch as there is not one small criticism I can level at it. Every aspect of the film distinguishes itself in a way that's perfect for the other parts, and defined the newly emerging genre of film noir. From the very start, the film confronts us visually with dark shadows and foreboding blackness seeping from every corner. As soon as we hear MacMurray's Neff talk into the dictaphone we notice that his dialogue is crisp, clever and has an edgy wit about it that became common to the genre and was a trademark of screenwriter Raymond Chandler. From the opening credits we get to hear the powerful main theme from Miklós Rózsa's score. The story, adapted from a James M. Cain novel, is hard-boiled and murderously sordid and dark. Director Billy Wilder, in the meantime, was as perceptive and ingenious as ever. Fred MacMurray (playing against type), Barbara Stanwyck and Edward G. Robinson give performances that are close to their very best. It all adds up to a film that has become one of the great classics.
To help produce the optic style of this early noir film, Wilder had the best cinematographer at Paramount to help him. John F. Seitz pushed the film's obsession with dark shadows to it's limits, and included interesting touches such as the shadows of venetian blinds often falling across our characters like prison bars, and simulating visible dust particles in beams of light by using small filings of aluminum that would show up clearly on film. They both wanted to push the film towards a kind of German Expressionistic style, with light and shadow playing a prominent part in many shots. Although Wilder was often a director who preferred simplicity in his shots, there is some nice work here - for example, the shot at the beginning of the film where we follow Stanwyck's Phyllis down the stairs, catch sight of her ankle bracelet which had been mentioned earlier, and follow her around the corner to Neff where we see both characters in a mirror. The shots are full of sharp camera angles. The blocking is interesting, and notable (
Citizen Kane and
The Rules of the Game coming just a few years previously) is the deep focus used at times - for example in a scene at Neff's apartment where both Phyllis and Keyes appear, Neff trying to hide the former. All of this cinematography is wonderful to watch, even nearly 80 years after the production.
Adding to that is a score from Miklós Rózsa which I absolutely loved - and when it comes to films from this era, I'm often a little overwhelmed and distracted by film scores. This is one that stays with us, in perfect rhythm, and feels like a real musical representation of what's happening. There are the usual cues, but all of them feel right (take the one where Neff opens a door to see Keyes standing when he's expecting Phyllis - there's a momentary, split-second instrumental reaction that feels like it originates in our own mind.) In the meantime, we keep returning to that great main theme which keeps at us relentlessly through the whole film, but always sounds different depending on what's happening. Parts have been adapted from Cesar Franck's 'Symphony in D' - composed in 1888 - a piece of music that sounds like a film score for a noir movie in itself. All of this makes for an edgy, moody score that has a great amount of power behind it when it needs to have it. It's one of the best scores I've heard from this period of cinema, and works with the other aspects of this film in perfect unison.
Fred MacMurray was used pretty much exclusively for lighthearted romantic comedies at the time this was made, and had to be persuaded over a period of time to accept the role - which he thought might be a big mistake for all involved. It is without doubt my favourite MacMurray performance, and has to go down as just about his greatest film. He has all the appearances and sound of being the cool, easy going, stylish insurance salesman who, as the film goes on, gets further and further out of his depth. Barbara Stanwyck, in the meantime, comes to us in an outrageously 'fake' wig, appearing every part the superficial and phoney person who just wants to use people for her own benefit. Often mentioned is the transformation she makes during the last few minutes of her life, when she realises she just might love Neff after all. Her role in this film solidified her as an actress of great ability, and she won an 'alternate' Oscar in Danny Peary's Alternate Oscars book. Jean Heather and Byron Barr are both solid as Lola Dietrichson and Nino Zachette respectively.
It's important to note though, that this film is a love story between two men - MacMurray's Neff and Edward G. Robinson's Keyes, who share a deep and abiding bond working together. At several times during the film Neff declares his love for Keyes, and Keyes admits how close they are during the film's closing moments. It's Neff's constant daydreaming about Keye's ability to sniff out insurance fraud that leads him to become obsessed about how he could possibly be fooled. The entire film is Neff's confession to Keyes, which in hindsight is a sad reflection of a betrayal - but that doesn't alter the fact that the bond between them is probably unbreakable. They share many scenes together, Robinson really getting to the heart of matters with his easy manner. Keyes never suspects Neff, simply because he's too close to him to suspect him. When Neff tells Keyes that he probably never would have suspected someone working just a few feet away from him, Keyes tells him that it was someone, "Closer than that."
Other than all of that, this film has a great many memorable moments, such as the one where, after dumping the body of Mr. Dietrichson on the train tracks, their getaway car fails to start. If that car doesn't start, then they'll be surely caught, so the anxiety builds and builds as they try to start it. This wasn't in the initial script, and only came into the film when, after shooting that very scene, Wilder's car failed to start leaving the studio, after which the idea hit him and they reshot it with that added event. Moments of suspense are commonplace as Neff or Phyllis are nearly caught, whether it be by an unfortunate witness to the action on the train, or by Keyes as he makes an unannounced visit to Neff. Even when Phyllis and Neff meet at a grocery store, we're on edge lest they be discovered talking and conspiring together. When Mr. Dietrichson unknowingly signs the life insurance form Neff could be caught. Or else there's watching Stanwyck's face as her husband is being killed in the car seat next to her. We're always engaged and in suspense.
The original novel has been adapted perfectly, and there has been much changed. In the novel Neff and Phyllis commit suicide together by jumping into shark-infested waters, and Phyllis turns out to be something of a homicidal maniac - having needlessly killed many patients when she was a nurse. In the film she only ever killed the original Mrs. Dietrichson so she could marry her husband. The dialogue has also been greatly reworked, which was key, because the dialogue we get in this adaptation is one of the great things about the film. It was a novel that was at first thought to be unfilmable due to the Hays Office objecting to many of the more sordid elements in it - and it took a number of years before Paramount decided to move ahead despite the Hays Office objecting. It was exactly the right move, with nobody objecting once the film was in production. There were initial worries about the infamous 'towel' scene, and the scene were Mr. Dietrichson's body is dumped on the tracks - but in the end we were thankfully allowed the wonderful film we got.
I was pleasantly surprised when I first watched
Sunset Boulevard, for in spite of that film's solid reputation, I thought it's age and plot might conspire to make it fall short in my own estimation. Instead it turned out to be one of the best I've ever seen. Exactly the same goes for
Double Indemnity, which I thought might have one of those labyrinthine film noir plots - but instead I thought the film was great, and perfect in around about every way. On top of that, I'm a fan of MacMurray, and respond well to Barbara Stanwyck. I find
Double Indemnity to be one of those films that feels as fresh today as it would have back when it was made - and such must surely be a timeless piece of work. I was in a great deal of suspense while watching it, and Billy Wilder had me just where he wanted every audience member to be. I've responded so well to this film that it has me eyeing up film noir as a genre that might be more to my liking than I ever imagined. The film's focus on the love between two male friends and workmates also pleasantly surprised me for how unusual, interesting and satisfying it was. I've had a great time getting to know it, and I can feel that it's going to be a film I can watch time after time - especially to hear that dialogue delivered by all involved. "Pretty, isn't it?"
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I haven't seen The Tenant, not sure if I'd like it, but I do enjoy Shelley Winters' performances.
