Review of Touch of Evil (1958) by Gareth J — 20 Jul 2015

Orson Welles has always been one of those rare cinematic icons to whom I've frequently given a wide birth. After watching his supposed masterpiece Citizen Kane (a film which better suited the format of TV mini-series) I came to regard Mr. Welles as yet another edition to the list of over-rated screen innovators to which the established industry pay excessive lip service. My interest in Welles had all but totally slipped from memory until just recently when I discovered that mixed up in the 39 Disc Hitchcock boxset that my parents had bought me for Xmas was a copy of film noir classic Touch of Evil: the only Welles film in which I held any prolonged interest other than Citizen Kane.

It is no secret that Robert Roderiguez took much cinematic inspiration from Touch of Evil when he directed Sin City and finally watching the film in its entirity it's easy to see why. The film, like so many of all-time, is light-years ahead of its time. Throwing Hitchcock style suspense together with classic horror grotesquery, and mixing comic-book pulp with the on-going political problem of USA/Mexico border security, Welles crafts a defining piece of cinematic history which greatly exceeds that of its more accomplished predicessor. The actor/director exhibits a special talent for creaing a sense of menace. Be they through the darkened streets or desheveled boudoirs of the film's border town setting, even the minor villains terrify in ways usually reserved for only Hitchcock's more memorable baddies. These are topped only by a selection of truly horrific reveals which shall not be mentioned here but which are still capable of making even the most harden genre veterans jump out of their skin.

The last great element of the film is that the perfomances almost foreshadow performances which they would later become known for. Late NRA Gun-nut Charlton Heston is in full "damn dirty ape" mode, confident and cocky one minute then wild and crazy the next. A similar description can be made of Janet Leigh, exuding the same understated golden age sexuality that she would ooze in Hitchcock's Psycho two years later. Whilst Welles himself is nothing to shout about, one cannot deny that his performance and character have vision. Before he donned the hat and cane of Captain Hank Quinlan, the idea of the detective as bad guy was otherwise unheard of in cinema but through Welles all the previously unspoken corruption and bigotry hidden behind the badge is laid bare for all too see. Pathetic one minute and detestable the next, Quinlan is the embodiment of man's struggle between the law and his own prejudices. Saint and Sinner in one fat, croaky impotent package.

Couple these elements with shadowy streets and the same masterful mise-en-shot displayed in Citizen Kane and it becomes clear as crystal why so many audiences quote Touch of Evil as Orson Welles' greatest achievement, suprassing Kane on so many levels. Had this been viewed as his magnum opus, perhaps the thespionic director would have recieved more attention and be seen as the foremost film maker of his generation. Instead, Touch of Evil stands as an ugly understated gem which proves that, contrary to popular belief, Orson Welles was far from the one hit wonder which many detractors claimed him to be.