Murder, My Sweet (1944)

 "I felt pretty good... like an amputated leg."

I really ought to see far more classic film noirs. All the ones I've seen so far have been uniformly excellent, and this one is no exception.

I have, of course, read the Raymond Chandler novel, along with several others of his, but it's been decades. His novels and the films based on them (The Big Sleep may be a little better than this, purely because of its leads, but let this stand on its own) tend to blur into each other with their similar plots based on femme fatales, men with guns, world weariness, interlinked multiple clients for Philip Marlowe, poetic narration, and doing the right thing, disguised as cynicism, in a harsh yet redeemable world.

This film, with its truly exquisite and mournfully witty script, catches that mood to perfection, and the cast may not quite be top tier but they do their jobs well. What impresses most, though, are the little directorial touches as Marlowe is knocked unconscious with that "black pool" effect.

Telling the story as a flashback works very well, not least because it allows for the possibility of narration, without which any Philip Marlowe story could scarcely be imagined. And the end, with Marlowe knowing damn well that Anne is following him, is a delight.

I've no idea whether this film is rated particularly highly for its genre- the relatively low wattage cast might in fact imply otherwise- but I'm distinctly impressed.

High Noon (1952)

"I've got to.That's the whole thing."

It's been far too long since I did a classic western so, well, here's one. And let's not beat about the bush; it's a superb piece of cinema about one man who chooses to stand and fight even though no one else will. It's been said (interestingly given the story behind it) that this is an allegory for McCarthyism but it stands as a monument to non-conformity of all kinds- as well as those perennial Western values and doing the right thing no matter what the potential cost.

Gary Cooper looks old as Will Kane but, oddly enough, this works; Will is retiring as marshal on the day of his wedding to his young bride (and weddings in the old West seem crap; in the morning, no music, no booze...!) until he hears that a killer he once put away is returning to terrorise the town- and kill him. So Will turns around and the clock starts ticking- literally: we constantly see clocks and the film runs down in near real time until the arrival of the baddie by train at noon. And Gary Cooper looks ever more old, tired, hopeless and sweat-ridden as the minutes go by and the hope drains away. As he admits to a shockingly young Lloyd Bridges, he's scared. But he does the right thing.

And he does so alone; his new wife has seemingly abandoned him and, unexpectedly, the film consists not of action- in fact, until the last few minutes, there isn't much of this, but of slow, desperate debate as Will spends most of the film trying to get someone, anyone, to stand by him as he's stood by them. And no one does- except his wife, at the last minute, after she's had a good talking to. It's a fascinating point both of the moral cowardice of the majority and the nobility of doing the right thing even, indeed especially, if no one else does.

All this is superbly shot with plenty of tension and restrained terror. This film is justly revered and makes me want to see more acclaimed westerns.