The Sniper

"High among police problems is that of the sex criminal, responsible last year alone for offences which victimised 31,175 women. Adequate and understanding laws do not exist. Law enforcement is helpless. Here in terms of one case, is the story of a man whose enemy was womankind"

Produced by Stanley Kramer, directed by Edward Dmytryk and photographed by Burnett Guffey. Those three things were enough to make me positively desperate to see this film at the earliest opportunity, what I hadn't counted on, and what a true surprise it was too, was just what a taut and tightly scripted picture it is. Written by Edward and Edna Anhalt, who were academy award nominated for their efforts, The Sniper has an edgy griminess to it that itches away at the skin. It's not that the violence is particularly harsh, because it isn't and it's simply executed, it's that our protagonist Edward 'Eddie' Miller is on the surface a normal every day Joe, someone who may be living in our respective neighbourhoods.

This is one of those films that, and I disagree with some of my fellow reviewers on the net, is as relevant today as it was back in 1952. Problems of not recognising psychotic tendencies do still way lay our respective societies, the police and medical staff do still have problems nipping in the bud potential street walking maniacs from being in our midst. Here we get Arthur Franz ("Sands of Iwo Jima" & "The Caine Mutiny") as Miller brilliantly essaying a mind fragmenting by the day, his hatred of women born from some dark place long back in his childhood. Even little girls on the street bring him out in a sweat, as a mother slaps her child, Miller feels the burn on his very own face as well. Some scenes linger once the film has long since finished, a chimney stack shooting or a fair ground sequence as Miller's built up frenzy rises to the surface, all brilliantly put together by Dmytryk and Guffey, with the latter's work in and around San Francisco very impressive. Fleshing out the cast with impacting results is Adolphe Menjou, Gerald Mohr, Marie Windsor, Frank Faylen & Richard Kiley.

It's a fabulous character study that also excellently brings notice to the plight of police procedural matters on a case such as this. No this film isn't some sex maniac shocker that defined a genre, it is however an important film in many ways. The themes that it highlights are not to be ignored, and for 1952 this film to me has to be seen as a landmark of sorts, certainly its influence can be found in many a similar films that followed further on down the line. Finally, because it's largely unseen, it's now available on DVD (excellent print), so hopefully more people can get to see this highly recommended film. A film that may be beautiful to look at, but most assuredly is very very dark in thematics. 8/10

Someone previously has mentioned the value in this sort of location- driven film noir. As 60% of THE SNIPER was filmed on the 1951 streets of San Francisco, we and our descendants will benefit from these wonderful glimpses into the past. The story itself, perhaps somewhat naive as an earlier reporter comments, is intense and strangely current. Richard Wiley's psychiatrist makes a long,and not a little tedious, call for better treatment for sexual predators. Society is still unable to provide early diagnosis not to mention sufficient resources for treatment. As a film noir thriller, we are drawn into the sniper's pathetic personal pain. As a cautionary note, one might well choose to learn from the missteps of victims in this film and stay home and never take unnecessary risks such as meeting new people or expressing any public views that might set someone off on a killing spree. Fortunately we are garrulous beings for the most part and likely won't hibernate our lives away. Still, this film captures the randomness of psychotic death dealers fairly efficiently. The cast is uniformly excellent. I wonder if Adolf Menjou watched NAKED CITY and picked up a few disheveled pointers from Barry Fitzgerald. As a final note, I have to wonder why this excellent little film, like so many. has been hidden from us. Surely I'm not one of so few who love these gems?

The trouble is Eddie Miller (Arthur Franz) just can't keep himself from shooting women. Plus, he does it from a distance with a sniper's rifle which makes him doubly hard to catch. Today, the sex angle would likely be played up, turning him into a serial rapist. Here, however, his sick motivation looks more like pure rage than sexual desire. Everywhere he goes, he's either humiliated or rejected by women. He's attractive enough (probably too much so to be credible), but he has a personality problem. In short, Eddie simply can't accept himself as a deliveryman; instead, he builds himself up with obvious exaggerations to impress strangers, such that when pretty barfly May Nelson approaches, he ends up offending her with wild stories. Like Psycho's Norman Bates, the problem probably goes all the way back to Mom.

It's certainly a very watchable movie. The San Francisco locations are used to great effect-- the cops surveilling downtown rooftops from on high sets up a marvelous panoramic look at the city. Then too, the smokestack scene with its human fly amounts to pure cinematic magic. A problem in the film lies with too much obviousness where a lighter hand is needed. Thus, when Eddie goes on a little downtown stroll, he doesn't encounter just one woman-caused frustration, but a whole heavy-handed series of them. Too bad, because we get the idea early on that petty annoyances involving women amount to major injuries in Eddie's twisted world. Then there's the let's- hit-you-over-the-head-in-case-you-don't-get-it last scene; it's about as necessary as strip-poker at a nudist colony. Still and all, the movie's heart is in the right place, even if it appears made at times for the slow-witted.

One big benefit for 50's-era fans is cult favorite Marie Windsor in a low-cut evening gown, purring her seductive lines to Eddie even as she exploits him to the hilt. What a great cameo from a really unusual actress.Too bad their scene together comes so early because it's a pip and a movie high point. Speaking of film eras, compare the themes and locations of this movie (1951) with the cinematically similar, Vietnam-era Dirty Harry (1971). Tellingly, the hopeful reformism that Kramer&Co. plead for in Sniper has been replaced by a kind of hopeless vigilantism where Harry (Clint Eastwood) ends up rejecting city hall, killing the sniper, and throwing away his policeman's badge. Mark it down to what you will, but the change-over is pretty stark and startling. Anyway, this little B-film created quite a stir at the time and remains an interesting piece of movie history, well worth thinking about

THE SNIPER reminds me of a more compact, more personal look at a psycho killer than THE NAKED CITY, which it resembles in style and content.

ARTHUR FRANZ gets his big break here, a starring role in a well-written thriller about a serial killer who wishes he could stop killing, if the police would only catch him. The final scene is a summation of that wish, but almost seems like a letdown after all the build-up to what we presume would be a bloody climax (if directed by someone like today's Martin Scorsese).

Franz's trouble is that he looks too much like any clean-cut, normal, handsome young man and his looks work against the grain of the role. He's intense when he has to be, but lacks the intenseness of a James Dean or even a Dane Clark as the man given to sudden outbursts of temper and a psyche that is screaming for help and attention. He's good, but never manages to be better than his material. Think of what someone like DANIEL CRAIG would do with this role today.

MARIE WINDSOR does a nice job as a glamorous night club pianist who has the young man (who works as an errand boy for the local cleaners) as a sort of friend she trusts. Her walk through an almost deserted looking San Francisco at night, down hilly streets on the way to her workplace, is photographed with noir precision and style, as is most of the film. Neat use of San Francisco's hilly environment is a constant point of interest throughout.

ADOLPHE MENJOU is not quite as colorful as Barry Fitzgerald was in THE NAKED CITY, playing a detective determined to catch the serial killer before he strikes again. MABEL PAIGE does a nice job as Franz's landlady who talks to her black and white cat as though it was her own dear child, and GERALD MOHR is briskly efficient as a psychiatrist who thinks the police are going about their search the wrong way.

Wonderfully photographed in B&W shadowy photography, it's a compact and efficient film noir that is perhaps a little too restrained in dealing with frank subject matter but nevertheless gets its points across with chilling clarity, thanks to a tight script and some good suspenseful footage.

Summing up: Stands on its own as a good thriller from the early '50s.

Almost twenty years before San Francisco was terrorized by another sniper in Dirty Harry, this well received B film from Columbia Pictures painted a far less glamorous picture of a mentally ill individual taking his problems out on the world. Arthur Franz got his career role in The Sniper and a pity it didn't elevate him to stardom although he certainly had a distinguished and long career.

Franz paints us a portrayal of a socially challenged man who just can't get anywhere with the opposite sex. He conceives a pathological hatred of all women and an innocent encounter with a nightclub performer played by Marie Windsor finally triggers him off.

After that Franz is on a rampage, killing women almost at random from various San Francisco rooftops. The film was shot on location in San Francisco and The Sniper bears a whole lot of resemblance to The Naked City where Jules Dassin made New York's mean streets as much a star as the human players. Director Edward Dmytryk does the same for San Francisco.

And the cops here are much like Barry Fitzgerald and Don Taylor from that film. Watching the film I wonder how much persuasion it took to get Adolphe Menjou to shave off that famous wax mustache of his, a remnant of fashion from a bygone era. It certainly wouldn't have gone with his role as a homicide cop. But the voice is distinctive and Menjou put it over. Acting as his younger sidekick is Gerald Mohr.

What's ironic in The Sniper is that the whole thing is a desperate cry for help to a world to busy to care. The minor key ending of The Sniper brings that point home quite vividly.

The Sniper is a noir classic, not as glamorous as Dirty Harry Callahan's pursuit of another twisted individual through San Francisco, but a whole lot more realistic.