The Killers (1946)

Directed by Robert Siodmak; produced by Mark Hellinger

Two strangers (Willian Conrad, Charles McGraw) come to a small town and take the staff and patron of a diner prisoner with the expressed intention of ambushing and killing a resident of the town. When the man (Burt Lancaster) doesn’t show up, they go to find him. Despite being warned, the victim neither flees nor defends himself, and accepts his fate. The insurance investigator (Edmund O’Brien) on the case can’t fathom the dead man’s apathy and, digging further, finds an intricate web of robbery, deceit, obsession and betrayal.

One of the best crime movies from an era that produced the best of that genre, The Killers has everything going for it. Inspired by (rather than based on) the Hemingway story of the same name, the tale is largely told in flashback, the plot laid out for the viewer as O’Brien and Sam Levene, as a police officer interested in the case, uncover it. It is a complex plot, with twists and surprises, and a conclusion rooted in both reason and emotion, as film noir often is. Caper film, mystery, psychological drama; The Killers  works in every way.

The characters are key to the story, especially Lancaster’s; his psyche is important to the story. But everyone’s role is strong and rewarding. O’Brien’s cocksure investigator becomes more likeable as he delves deeper into the mystery, and his team-work with Levene is smooth and enjoyable. Ava Gardner, as the female lead, is fittingly enigmatic, and Albert Dekker is almost sympathetic as the soft-talking villain. Stand-outs, in small roles, are the assassins themselves, Conrad and McGraw: two men who would murder from annoyance as much as for money, and whose frightfulness comes from being so creepily casual in their evil.

The direction is dead on and the cinematography is superb. Check out the opening sequence as the gunmen converge on the diner, arriving at two entrances simultaneously, anonymous (but uncaring if they may be identified to the police). The lighting and pacing is so well conceived that merely walking becomes a sinister premonition of violence and death. The movie demonstrates why film noir worked best in black-and-white.

The acting could of course have ruined everything else, but The Killers excels in this category, as well. It’s hard to believe that this film was Lancaster’s first. He is not on the screen as much as is O’Brien or even Levene, but he dominates every scene he is in. His acceptance of his imminent demise is not unmitigated; the tension and fear he feels, mixed with his motivation, had to be conveyed right; the rest of the movie depended on it. But no one in the cast is unconvincing.

The Killers starts off on a high note and doesn’t drop in quality appreciably at any point during its 103 minutes. Whether a student of the cinema, amateur movie buff, or just someone who likes an excellent time watching film, The Killers will not disappoint.