--Phyllis Dietrichson
Here is a film about a rotten person who does rotten things that behold for them rotten consequences. One, a textbook sociopath, another fool-heartedly in love, another just doing there job. These three never saw the ending coming the way it does, who could have? For when the smoke clears and the blood starts to run into the fabric of the characters, all we're left with is confessions and remorse.
Leave it to Billy Wilder to grab a hold of us no matter what the material is, the genre, the actors. With a particular potent talent for manipulating the best of any actress he wields in front of his lens. For the love a women, maybe the sex in-itself a muse all it's own for him. Some say this is one of the most important Film Noirs around. Having a secure amount of knowledge and expertise in the genre: I wholeheartedly agree.
We watch as Macmurray sells to Stanwyck's Phyllis and then it turn, as she sells right back to him. Clear and cut like a crystal the decadent actions that have taken place. But then, slowly, we see the fog roll over ore eyes as the motivations of the those action become less and less clear. And now, Macmurray doesn't know who or where to turn. Or who he can trust. Which brilliantly leads us ultimately back to his Dictaphone confession that book-ends Wilder's fascinating film.
One night, bruised, bleeding and emotionally broken, Macmurray's Walter Neff stumbles into an office at the Pacific All Risk building and yanks out a Dictaphone. After a moment he begins a terrible series of confessions through a wild tale to his boss, Edward G. Robinson's Barton Keyes played to a heartfelt success that only a man of his stature and acting deftness could provide us. And so the story goes through flashback. . .
