This Sunday, if you haven’t already seen it on the big screen, TCM and Fathom Events will be partnering yet again to show Double Indemnity on the big screen around the country (check this page from Fathom to find out where). I highly recommend it. Having seen it on the big screen, as well as multitudes of other classics, I can assure you that there is something quite special to seeing a classic movie presented the way it was supposed to be presented: Big. Don’t listen to that jibber-jab about how only certain movies “must be seen” on the big screen because they have great special effects, as if that’s the only reason to see a movie on the big screen. No, the reason to see a movie on the big screen is because of the nuance you pick up in the expressions, the details you see around the edges, and the atmosphere of a darkened space that you may or may not be sharing with more than a few strangers. Movies work great on a big screen at home, too, don’t get me wrong but there’s something primal about seeing them in a theater on the big screen. Something about seeing them in their native environment that means more. But all that aside, there are plenty of other reasons to see Double Indemnity, big screen or not. Here are just a few.
Number One: The dialogue. Is there a noir out there with more stylized banter? For Exhibit A, let’s look at this exchange between Phyllis Dietrichson (Barbara Stanwyck) and Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray).
Phyllis: Mr. Neff, why don’t you drop by tomorrow evening about eight-thirty. He’ll be in then.
Walter: Who?
Phyllis: My husband. You were anxious to talk to him weren’t you?
Walter: Yeah, I was, but I’m sort of getting over the idea, if you know what I mean.
Phyllis: There’s a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. Forty-five miles an hour.
Walter: How fast was I going, officer?
Phyllis: I’d say around ninety.
Walter: Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket.
Phyllis: Suppose I let you off with a warning this time.
Walter: Suppose it doesn’t take.
Phyllis: Suppose I have to whack you over the knuckles.
Walter: Suppose I bust out crying and put my head on your shoulder.
Phyllis: Suppose you try putting it on my husband’s shoulder.
Walter: That tears it.
Ha! Who in the hell talks like that? No one. And thank the movie gods that no one cared no one talked like that and put the dialogue in anyway. And they don’t just speak those lines, they fire them at each other like they were in speed-talking contest, each line delivered with enough escape velocity to enter into orbit. And let’s remember, Walter Neff is telling this whole story into a Dictaphone for his boss to hear later. Neff seems to think quite a lot of himself and it wouldn’t surprise me if none of it went down exactly the way he says it did. For all we know, in reality, he stumbled through a tortured, awkward come-on, got laughingly rebuffed and then Phyllis figured she could play this schmuck for a fool. Which she did. But as Walter remembers it, he was a smooth talker all the way.
Number Two: Barbara Stanwyck and Fred MacMurray together. These are two actors who gave dozens of great performances in their careers but together, they’ve never been better. That is to say, of all the film noir pairings I’ve come across, including Bogie and Bacall in The Big Sleep and Robert Mitchum and Jane Greer in Out of the Past, this is the one that works the best. There’s a perfect synchronicity between Stanwyck and MacMurray in this movie, a shared sense of timing, not only with the lines but the looks, the movements, that works together better than any other two actors have ever worked together. Obviously, that’s a matter for some serious and involved argumentation (one could bring up Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn in Woman of the Year as an immediate rebuttal) but, for me, this is the movie I’d point to if someone asked me, “What do you think was the best timed, coordinated performance between two actors in Hollywood history?”
Number Three: Edward G. Robinson. Man, oh man, how I love Edward G. Robinson in this movie. I mean, I love the guy in pretty much any movie but this is my favorite Robinson character by far. Barton Keyes is just so smart, so persistent, so perceptive. The moment he walks into Neff’s apartment and asks Neff why Dietrichson didn’t file a claim on his broken leg, Neff knows the jig is up. The audience knows it, too. The reason we all know it is because of the confidence we have in Keyes, a character we haven’t known for long but so perfectly drawn by Robinson that after only a couple of scenes we know Keyes will eventually figure it all out. Neff was a fool to ever think he wouldn’t.
Number Four: John F. Seitz. Who? The cinematographer, dummy. Seitz did a lot of Wilder movies, including The Lost Weekend and Sunset Boulevard, but it’s hard to think of better camera work on a noir than this one. The way he shoots Stanwyck’s face as she drives her husband to his death. The way Stanwyck and MacMurray play the entire climactic showdown drenched in shadow. The classic two shot in the grocery store, both looking forward, framed from the other side of the aisle. There’s passion behind every shot. The passion of an artist who knew what the story was and framed it accordingly. Believe me, there are plenty of movies in cinema history that had a Director of Photography who didn’t quite get that.
Number Five: The final scene. Well, if you haven’t seen the movie, skip this part (SPOILERS). The final scene between Keyes and Neff is pretty damn extraordinary. Both actors play the scene perfectly. Robinson with a real sadness that his friend turned out to be a murderer and MacMurray trying to hide the shame and disappointment of letting Keyes down. The dialogue between them is wonderful.
Walter: “Now, I suppose I get the big speech, the one with all the two dollar words in it. Let’s have it, Keyes.”
Keyes: “Walter, you’re all washed up.”
Walter: “Thanks, Keyes, it was short anyway.”
Then their final moment together that closes out the movie. As Keyes calls for an ambulance, and the police, Neff tries to leave and make his way to the elevator so he can leave the building and cross the Mexican border. He collapses and he and Keyes have a final exchange.
Keyes: “How you doing, Walter?”
Walter: “Fine. Somebody moved the elevator a couple of miles away.”
Keyes: “They’re on the way.”
Walter: “Know why you couldn’t figure this one, Keyes? I’ll tell you. Because the guy you were looking for was too close. Right across the desk from you.”
Keyes: “Closer than that, Walter.”
Walter: [lets out short laugh] “I love you, too.”
Then Keyes lights Walter’s cigarette for him, fade to black, the end. What a great, great ending. That exchange stands right alongside “Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” The movie does, too. (END SPOILERS)
So let’s just say it: It’s Billy Wilder’s best film. That’s right, I’m saying it’s Wilder’s best film knowing full well he made Sunset Boulevard, Some Like it Hot, and The Apartment. I fully agree those are some damn great movies and plenty of his other efforts, from The Lost Weekend to Stalag 17 to Ace in the Hole are good to great, too, but nothing quite compares to Double Indemnity. Now, of course, an argument could be made for almost any of those other ones as being his best and I fully expect there to be some disagreement on this (though I secretly hope not) but, for me, Wilder was never in better form, for all of the reasons I give above. Double Indemnity hits the big screen again this weekend. If you’ve never seen it on the big screen, don’t miss this opportunity. If you’ve never seen it, period, you have no excuse. You won’t be disappointed.