"Think nothing of it", goes the refrain of a supporting character throughout this film, but the protagonist can do nothing but think - such a clever line to have repeated for a film about self-induced paranoia. W. Lee Wilders 1947 noir thriller concerns a plot that seems ridiculous on the face of it, but is executed with such stylistic aplomb and sheer tension that we buy each step along the way. "Think nothing of it", Fingers will keep on saying, but this is a deeply cerebral, internal film, one that hinges on the concepts of fear, confusion and psychosis within one mans unravelling mind. There is even a character in the third act brought in to try and analyse our lead, but this does not end well.
The film was directed by the lesser known Wilder, much more of a genre chasing producer than his legendary director brother Billy, and the previously alluded to outlandish plot is one where embezzling financial advisor Kenneth Holden (played by Albert Decker) is using his beautiful and most wealthy client's (Catherine Craig) private accounts to fund his own extravagances. When it looks like she is going to marry, and as a result potentially cut off his financial access to her wealth, he orchestrates a hit on the unknown fiance via portly gangster Korrin (Alan Carney, great playing a violent mob boss whilst also playing him as almost as a comic relief). However, the original betrothal is abruptly cancelled, only for Decker to replace the groom at the last minute. Therefore, he has put a hit out on himself. To add further to this improbability, the gangster who he has hired to do to arrange the killing is suddenly assassinated himself, so there is no one around to call off the hit.
This reads a little too ridiculous to take seriously, but the film is directed with style and suspense that invests the time to build such tension and make it believable. One example of this brooding flair is the score, which is not the classic blaring noirish beat, but a more haunting, horrifying theremin-led wail that sounds like it's from a science-fiction/horror rather than a crime thriller. This may be due to Wilders roots, or at least his finding most lasting success, in B-movie sci-fi schlock rather than film noir (see such films as The Man without a Body, Killers from Space etc). It's a lot of plot for something under 70 mins, and we have not even discussed such impactful side characters as the disgruntled moll that kicks off the main trouble of the story, but it works because the film's focus is not on the twisting plot, but on the internal terror within Holden's soul.
The film works hard in keeping the procedural logic of Holden being unable to cancel the hit. The beauty of the plot is that this could all be over in one phone call - the previously mentioned Fingers is Korrins second in command, only when he takes over the franchise he abandons his unflattering moniker to become the more respectable-sounding Murdoch. There is a quick scene where Murdoch expresses his desire to no longer be known as fingers to an underling who through force of habit says "okay, Fingers" that plays as comic in the moment but is sound setup for the confusion about to come. Holden is looking for Fingers to cancel the assassination, but cannot find him. Fingers-now-Murdoch is looking for Holden to pass on a message from his departed boss Korrin, but Decker is too afraid to take the call from an unknown name lest it be his assassin. Detailing this on paper may sound silly but it is effortless in the moment, canny writing hidden as character development.
So as we start to find the plot plausible, the focus remains very much on the internal despair that is tearing Holden apart. Helped ably by the fact that Holden is played wonderfully by Albert Decker. Usually a supporting player, including in some of our most beloved noirs (The Killers, Kiss me Deadly) and often the dry antagonist, Decker's performance here is anything but glib. The film opens with the character of Decker being quite flippant, nonchalant regarding his thievery and machinations, and only when his life is in danger does he start to unravel, Decker investing each scene with a mournful panic, a stoic desperation. Each scene of his is tinged with a great fear, and he does a great job of building it incrementally, praise also going to the two credited editors, Asa Boyd Clark and John Link Snr. Holden is not a dynamic character, often reactive and never really manage to crack the underworld in the way that he needs to. He is dismissed, or laughed out of the room, seen as a middle-class snob - and probably a policeman, anyway.
It makes perfect sense within the logic of the movie that Holden does not take the calls that could resolve his issue. He is petrified, he does not want to give away his location, he's not part of this crooked world. The slow unravelling becomes more and more tragic as he locks himself in his room, scared to eat anything that does not come out of a tin or to go on a walk with his new wife. Amidst all this is his wife, who has grown to love him. Catherine Craig is fine as Claire Worthington, the worried spouse (but the better female role belongs to Linda Sterling, Korrin’s killer). Even if, at first, theirs was a marriage of convenience, Claire's compassion is genuine and she really tries to seek out help for him. She can see something is wrong. He continually fires the help so that no stranger can enter the house, and so that he won't have to eat anything he hasn't checked. He's shifty, and she's worried. But his fear is bottled up inside, and the film is so internal that it doesn't have him lash out or play histrionics, but rather retreat, get smaller as he sinks into himself.
This brings up the films piece de resistance, the work of its cinematographer, John Alton. A fantastic cinematographer who has previously been discussed on this blog (see Canon City, 1948 https://noirdustmemories.substack.com/p/canon-city-1948), who gets a particular chance to shine when we are invited into Holden's internal monologues. The edges of the screen grow dark, and we pan into Deckers wide, mournful eyes. The world is shut out and we are undoubtedly in his head. This is usually followed by Holden's thoughts as voice over, often simply mantras being chanted to himself in a desperate effort to stay alive, reassurances to himself or panicked directions as to what to do next to survive. Alton gets great use out of Venetian blinds and other methods that present shafts of light amid darkness.
This is a noir where the battles and dark shadows are mostly internal, The only murder we see has nothing to do with the main players of the production, but the result of a convenient side story that creates the suspense at hand. It is rather interesting that Holden does not seem a remorseful character unless that regret lays in the fact that he will be killed. We do not really know if his marriage to Worthington is so that he can have access to her money or because he has genuine affection for her, but it certainly seems like the former at first. Furthermore, he is quick to hire a contract killer that will dispense of his problem and the spiralling of his mind can be read as that of a man without a conscience. Even at the end, where Holden is manic and suicidal, he seems convinced there is a way out if only he does a particular thing. He seems to think that there is a way out that doesn't necessarily involve him admitting grave mistakes or confessing to his terrible acts. It's the blind logic of the sick mind, the film suggests and rather than arc towards redemption, it veers over a broken bridge of nihilism.
There is, really, little hope here. The protagonist is not looking for a way out other than to save his own neck, and I hope it's not spoiling anything to say he's not successful. His wife, who has been nothing but kind and loyal, has been scammed out of thousands and left with a dead husband for her troubles. And all of this for a hit that never was, a beautifully dark refrain ringing out as the final line, "think nothing of it". Or maybe this is also a command to us, to think nothing of this rather ludicrous plot which relies on convenience and happenstance, as taking a macro view may lessen ones embracing of what really is a powerful and brooding thriller.
More likely and most cynically (cynicism a known quantity of the Wilder arsenal) it's a comment on how thinking has led to such destruction. Holden's wily machinations end in disaster, his cunning ploy leads only to fear and tragedy. Korrin plans to clear up the messy situation around Holden's contract, but his rational planning can't account for the indiscriminate passion that leads to his murder. Holden continually tries to rationalise himself out of the mess, but talks himself out of taking a phone call that would end it all. All that desperate monologuing shot so starkly by Alton is, well, thinking about it. Maybe we should all listen to Fingers - sorry, Murdoch.