Les tueurs

Some intrepid critics have categorised 'Citizen Kane (1941)' as an early example of film noir, owing largely to its influential cinematography and flashback narrative structure. As though consciously in support of this assertion, Robert Siodmak's 'The Killers (1946)' – expanded from a 1927 short story by Ernest Hermingway – plays out precisely like a noirish retelling of Welles' film. After enigmatic ex-boxer Swede Andersen (Burt Lancaster) is gunned down by hired assassins in a small American town, insurance investigator Jim Reardon (Edmond O'Brien) decides to piece together the man's past using fragmented testimony from those who once knew him. In doing so, he hopes to uncover the meaning behind the dead man's final words, "I did something wrong once." The life that Reardon discovers is one tinged with tragedy, regret and betrayal, revealing details of an audacious factory heist, a treacherous dame, and a double-cross to end all double-crosses. An archetypal noir, 'The Killers' caps an excellent year for Siodmak, who also released the Freudian psycho-thriller 'The Dark Mirror (1946).'

'The Killers' opens with a thrilling prologue that sees two hired thugs (William Conrad and B-noir stalwart Charles McGraw) harass the patrons at a small-town diner on their way to assassinate Swede Andersen. The characters' quickfire exchange of dialogue resembles something that Tarantino or the Coen brothers would have written decades later, only better, because screenwriter Anthony Veiller (with Richard Brooks and John Huston) reproduces the conversation from Hemingway's short story almost verbatim. After Andersen is unresistingly gunned down in his bed, the screenplay then expands upon the foundations laid down by the source material, using flashbacks to fill in the empty spaces at which Hemingway had only hinted. Veiller, whose work before WWII was dominated by romantic dramas, comedies and light mysteries like 'The Ex-Mrs. Bradford (1936),' appears to have been hardened by his work on Frank Capra's "Why We Fight" propaganda series, and the dark, cynical post-War tone he brings to Swede's tragic story is an ideal representation of the noir spirit.

Burt Lancaster shows promise in his screen debut, though the film's narrative structure does keep the audience distant from his character, an issue that Welles somehow avoided in 'Citizen Kane.' As the resident femme fatale, Ava Gardner never quite inspires the collective hatred garnered by Barbara Stanwyck in 'Double Indemnity (1944)' or Jane Greer in 'Out of the Past (1947),' but perhaps that speaks to her charms – that, despite her betrayal, we're still unwilling to treat her with due contempt. Good-guy Edmond O'Brien cheerfully and voyeuristically experiences the wretched life of a gangster through the intermediary flashback device – he ends the film with a cocky grin, like an audience-member emerging from a screening of the latest gangster thriller. Throughout this review, I've been making allusions to 'Citizen Kane,' but there's a very important difference between the two main characters: Charles Foster Kane had all the money in the world and got nothing out of it. Swede Andersen wasn't even that lucky; he didn't even get the money.

You can scan thru many publications and they will tell you that Robert Siodmark's adaptation of Ernest Hemingway's story The Killers is quintessential noir, and whilst I haven't seen enough of the perceived classics to make a sound judgement, I do understand why this one ranks so high.

Perfectly directed by Siodmark because it is washed with a moody ambiance that befits the script, the main players in the piece are bang on form to realise the mood and sombre tempo that makes the film a winner. The story basically revolves around Burt Lancaster's Swede Anderson who upon learning that hired killers are out to fulfil a contract on him, promptly stays horizontal on his bed and awaits his fate. We then follow Edmond O'Brien's insurance investigator Jim Reardon as (thru a series of flashbacks) he reconstructs Swede's life and what caused his demise.

The story encompasses one of film noir's most well known femme fatales in Ava Gardner's foxy Kitty Collins, and it's certainly the film's driving force as we observe her part in Swede's life, for better or worse as it were, but ultimately it's the classy framing of the film that marks it out as essential viewing. It's oppressive, it's almost stifling, and it's certainly story telling of the highest order, but mainly it just looks so fecking gorgeous you feel privileged to have been part of it. 9/10

Using Ernest Hemingway's short story as the foundation for the film, Siodmak and cinematographer Elwood Bredell create a dark, brooding and brilliant looking character study of Ole "The Swede" Andersen (Burt Lancaster), a quiet unassuming man who is hunted and shot by two killers who enter the small town he inhabits. Indeed, the opening shots are textbook examples of how to use shadows and light effectively in film. The central idea behind the short story and Siodmak's film, is the very masculine concept of dignity in the face of death. The fact that "the Swede" apparently knew of his fate but did not try to flee puzzles the insurance investigator (Edmond O'Brien) assigned to the case. He becomes obsessed with resolving this mystery, and through the testimony of people that had various associations with the dead man, facts start illuminating the gray areas but ultimately end up darkening the reality. Lancaster plays the proud, tough, handsome but intellectually limited Olle "the Swede" Anderson convincingly, and Ava Gardner as the sultry femme fatal never looked better.

No need to recap the plot. Lancaster and Gardner may get star billing, but O'Brien gets the screen time. In fact, Lancaster's role is spotty, while Gardner's only big chance comes at the end. Otherwise, she sits around, looking beautiful and sexy, which she's supposed to. Clearly, O'Brien's insurance dick is no Phillip Marlowe. Instead he has to answer to a by-the-numbers boss (MacBride in a surprisingly straight role). Still, Reardon (O'Brien) has the one feature required of all noir private eyes—he's a seeker after truth, come what may. And in this case, it's what's with the suicidal Swede (Lancaster).

Also, get a load of that opening scene—a midnight diner, shadowy figures, an empty street. Noir seldom comes any purer. All that's missing is a lonely train whistle. In fact, I'll take that extended scene as the movie's best. McGraw and Conrad drop enough tough talk on the poor counterman to drown the average fall guy. It's from that tense 15-minutes that the movie gets what grit it has. The story's remainder is more like a metaphysical puzzle, as Reardon tries to piece together a solution to Swede's mysterious death. Trouble is he's got to rely on second-hand sources since Swede's in no condition to talk. Plus the sources from his past are disconnected in the telling, so it's like trying to figure out a jigsaw. Then too, will the pieces all fit since somebody could be lying—maybe the squinty Dumb-Dumb or the cringing Charleston, or even the curiously laid-back Colfax (Dekker).

This is a narrative you have to think about once it's over. Because, like a highway under construction, there're a lot of twists and turns. Curiously, the main part is largely devoid of action or even much violence. Instead, the writers and director Siodmak settle for atmospheric exposition, and I'm not sure if that helps or hinders. But either way, the unraveling is compelling. Then too, that final scene on the staircase is oddly reminiscent— in this case, Mary Astor's elevator going down at the end of The Maltese Falcon (1941) despite her emotional pleas.

Anyway, 40's noir hardly comes any purer, from spider woman to fall guy to $50 lighting bill. So if you don't mind a complex plot-line, this is one to catch.

I absolutely love this film! It's in my favorite genre, film noir, and it ranks among my favorites in that genre along with Out of the Past and Double Indemnity to name a few. Although there are a series of coincidences in the plot that stretch credibility, I believe they were necessary to maintain the pathos. In his first star turn, Burt Lancaster was excellent as the naive hood and Edmond O'Brien is likewise in his portrayal of the insurance investigator. He is almost always in a supporting role but that in no way diminishes his talent. But this movie is really Ava Gardner's. She never again had a role that fully realized her talents as much as Kitty Collins. Her portrayal of the manipulative and seductive but not altogether unsympathetic mistress is one the greatest of its kind. The last scene with her and Colfax shows this type of character in its most ignominous glory. Highest recommendation, 9/10.