Il colpevole è tra noi

I cannot say that this is one of the better films noir, but it's a good example of the way this kind of film was drifting in the early fifties: away from the studios; toward independent production; more cars, fewer subways; a vaguely documentary air, ala Jack Webb, rather than the more elegant stylization we associate with the forties; more outdoor scenes, fewer cramped rooms; and overall a movement away from the Gothic and toward a more contemporary, which is to say paranoid mood. Having said this, it ain't a bad picture. Edmond O'Brien (who also had a hand behind the camera) plays a basically decent and fair cop who gives in to temptation and steals some money from a bad guy. He pays dearly for his transgression. O'Brien is edgier and tougher than usual; the rest of the cast is okay. This is an extremely watchable film. It involves you more than most police thrillers. I enjoyed it thoroughly.

Unfortunately roles for talented middle-aged actors like Edmond O'Brien and Ida Lupino were drying-up in the mid-1950's, with TV replacing the old black-and-white B-movie. Lupino carried on with a successful career behind the camera, and it appears O'Brien was exploring that option too, by co-directing this independent production. The results however are pretty uneven. O'Brien gets to sweat his usual bucket-load, playing a cop corrupted by the allure of a tract house in burgeoning suburbia. (Now there's a departure!-- in fact, one of the curious attractions is a tour through the well-appointed tract home of the period, something that glitzy Hollywood never had much time for.) There's also some well-staged scenes-- the shoot-out around the public pool is both unusual and well-executed, while the beating in the bar reaches a jarringly brutal pitch that registers on the stricken faces of the patrons and O'Brien's contorted brow.

However, the pacing fails to generate the excitement or intensity a thriller like this needs. Plus the performance level really drops off with English and Agar. Their conversation around the pool, in fact, amounts to a seminar in bad acting. Too bad, O'Brien didn't have the budget to surround himself with a calibre of actors equal to his own. In passing-- the guy playing the deaf-mute really jarred me. He looks so unlike the usual bit-player and is so well cast that the scene in his room with O'Brien comes across as more than just a little poignant. Also, more than just a hint of kink emerges with Carolyn Jones' well-played barfly nympho. She's clearly on her way up the casting ladder. Anyway, there's probably enough compensation here to make up for Agar and English and the listless scenes in the station house, particularly for those curiosity seekers wondering about Better Homes and Gardens 1950's style.

Veteran police Lieutenant Barney Nolan (Edmond O'Brien) murders a bookie and steals $25k from him. A deaf mute neighbor secretly witnesses the event. Nolan stages the crime scene and claims that it was an accident. His Captain reluctantly covers for him and his friend Sergeant Mark Brewster (John Agar) accepts his explanation despite suspicion from the missing money. He plans to use the money to get his girlfriend Patty Winters out of being a sleazy cigarette girl.

This is solid crime noir. It follows the villain and his desperate need for money. It's a descend into hell for a cop turning into a criminal. I like that this is Nolan's story more than Brewster. It would have been interesting to do a full character study on him. This is solid and intriguing.

There are some similarities here with a great B-level film made close to 40 years later "Miami Blues". Both focus on desperate, lawless men with soft spots for a pretty, child-like woman, who abuse the power of a police badge in a violent, supremely ill-advised attempt to settle into a comfortable, anonymous existence in the "paradise" of America's suburbs. And as with "Blues", the last 30 minutes are as frantic and exciting and darkly comic as anything you will see.

The film isn't perfect. There are weak links in the cast: Marla English is unremarkable as the trusting girlfriend, Herb Butterfield doesn't register as a pesky reporter (and John Agar's nagging conscience), and I found snarling Emile Meyer to be a disproportionately cynical police captain consumed with disgust for mankind. But Edmond O'Brien is suitably sweaty and hard-boiled as the corrupt cop (though damn, he is one puffy and bloated leading man), Agar is fine as his conflicted protegee (just before Agar moved into his mostly bad sci-fi phase) and Carolyn Jones spices things up big-time as a spaghetti loving floozy.

Starts off looking sort of cheap and routine but it's one of those films that sneaks up and surprises you. Not bad at all. A little like Richard Gere's "Internal Affairs" too, come to think of it.

One of those B movies of the fifties, while not great, that is always enjoyable. O'Brien plays detective who is sick of struggling and wants some big dough quick and easy. He murders a stoolie who has $25,000 on him. His longtime partner and friend, Agar, doesn't want to believe his friend could commit such a heinous crime, but all evidence points in that direction. Agar is good as frustrated detective. The funniest scene in the film is Akins pursuing O'Brien through school corridors with his head all bandaged up from blows O'Brien inflicted earlier. Marla English is almost Elizabeth Taylorian in her looks as girlfriend of O'Brien, although I'm not sure what his appeal is.