Laura (1944)

“Murder is my favourite crime.”

As one would expect of a famous film noir from the heyday of the genre, this film is magnificent, indeed close to perfection. The atmosphere, the direction, the cast, the witty script and the delightfully clever unfolding plot... this is not so much a film upon which one passes judgement, as a film to gaze upon in awed amazement. It’s that good.

Ultimately, this is because of the clever, witty, melancholy script and Preminger’s superb direction, but the film is full of extremely real-seeming characters. Gene Tierney is mesmerising as the eponymous murder victim herself, and Dana Andrews strokes the right notes as Detective McPherson. Yet it is Clifton Webb, as the witty, arrogant yet somehow likeable Waldo Lydecker, who truly astounds in what must have been a deeply satisfying role. Then there’s Vincent Price, impossibly young, playing a part totally unlike what he would later be known for.

The film is seventy-six years old as I write. And yet it has a world-weary and deeply intelligent level of psychological perceptiveness that feels somehow more “modern” than most contemporary cinema. Each character feels like a thinking, feeling, self-justifying human being, with real motives. And yet the film also functions perfectly as a clever and gripping whodunit. Everyone must see this film.