Review of Double Indemnity (1944) by Roland S — 11 Jun 2010

DOUBLE INDEMNITY is classic film noir in so many ways, it's hard to discuss without rambling on about its praises. All its elements conjoin with such attitude and panache that it's probably one of the few films where style drips from every frame without overwhelming the equally engaging substance. If any movie were the ultimate crime film, it's DOUBLE INDEMNITY.

For those who unfamiliar with film noir, it's a genre characterized by the strategic use of black and white film to emphasize the negativity of the human condition. Few noir characters are moral, even fewer are likable. But the look of film noir seems to work some sort of magic wherever it's employed; by its very nature, however, the genre takes itself so seriously that it becomes tough to do without veering into overstatement or parody. When it's done right, the result is DOUBLE INDEMNITY; when it's done wrong, you get Frank Miller's THE SPIRIT. DOUBLE INDEMNITY succeeds because it avoids all the genre pitfalls and doesn't pull any punches, delivering a sly, gritty, and sinister morality tale about sexual temptations and forbidden fruit.

Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray) is a stoic, morally ambiguous, and fast talking insurance salesman. When we first meet him, he's also practically dead. Bleeding profusely from a bullet wound in the shoulder, he lumbers weakly into his boss' office and prepares to record a confession of double murder. How and why is what the rest of the film answers, as in the best of noir traditions, our "protagonist" must retell his story in first person. And what a story... lust, sex, murder, fraud, and then of course, the inevitable brush with the law. Turns out he was seduced by Phyllis, a sultry femme fatale (Barbara Stanwyck) who wanted his help to kill her husband and cash in a major life insurance policy. Foolish average joe that he is, Neff falls for her totally, raising the suspicions of his insurance boss (Edward G. Robinson). What follows is a taut thriller about seedy and sordid murderers who by today's standards might seem tame, but whose snappy, pointed dialogue is loaded with frank double entendres that will still raise your eyebrows if you're really paying attention. In 1944, the Hays Code stipulated that one couldn't use profanity or sexual references overtly, but that just meant Raymond Chandler and Billy Wilder had to find creative ways to say just as much in subtler ways. Furthermore, while color films were growing in popularity, DOUBLE INDEMNITY's black and white photography was not only a stylistic choice but also a symbolic one; the controlled range of contrasts symbolizes the charactersâ?? literally shady morality. They commit a crime in a black and white world, but we see the moral gray area. Shadows arc high on apartment walls, and in some parts you'll swear there's no way they could fit anymore darkness into the frame. The silhouettes of window shades end up looking like prison bars on the walls, and the smoky haze created by characters' cigarettes never lets us forget that these people are up to no good. It's expertly shot, and anyone seeking to make a crime thriller of any type should school themselves in this film almost exclusively.

Since it was one of the first films to legitimize crime drama, DOUBLE INDEMNITY originally caused quite a controversy. Like many film noirs, it hinges on adultery; its characters are inherently alluring because theyâ??re tempted by sex. Second, theyâ??re murderers, and the plot explains how to commit a crime for money. These were HUGE red flags in 1944, but with a certain amount of artistry, one could get away with them. So things like the double entendre dialogue passed the censors, but audiences still got it. Plus, it's worth noting that we never see the murder; in fact, the script never even includes the word "murder" in connection to the crime. Instead, we see Stanwyckâ??s face. Her husbandâ??s being killed right next to her, but we see only her smile; it's a restrained shot for dramatic effect that makes the reality feel worse. (Thatâ??s noir.) Even smaller details abound, as when MacMurray walks down a street and canâ??t hear his footsteps on the pavement, like heâ??s a dead man. It's a chilling moment that heightens the suspense and foreshadowing. Finally, there's only one moment of moral goodwill in the film--whenever Neff lights boss Edward G. Robinson's cigars for him. Itâ??s reversed by the end of the film because one good turn deserves another, but that provides the only emotional core of the picture. Once that happens, itâ??s over. As with most noirs, there are no clear-cut "good guys" in DOUBLE INDEMNITY. Maybe that's why its style doesn't overwhelm us, because its characters have real, flawed, and honest substance. It's refreshing to see a film that can comment on the depravity of humankind while reinforcing our moral sensibilities and looking amazingly moody while doing it. So do yourself a favor; give in and watch the film.