Because there is no doubt that this is a classic film noir. The
Swede’s backstory ticks all the boxes you would expect of the genre. Of course,
all his troubles are rooted in a Femme Fatale (needless to say his former girlfriend is a saint). There’s a heist gone wrong,
double crossing gangsters, a dedicated investigator and a range of locations
from seedy nightclubs to rundown hotel rooms. The Swede (Burt Lancaster) is an
easily-led handsome man, duped by a beautiful woman. Of course, it all finally
leads to a series of shoot-outs, where the wicked are punished for their
crimes. In many ways, the script (by Anthony Veillor, heavily polished by John
Huston) simply turns the short-story into a familiar piece of genre work. What
makes it work is the freshness with which it’s told.
Siodmark is not the biggest name director out there. But he’s
a skilled professional and he elevates the material into something with deeper
meaning. Perhaps it’s the Hemingway in its DNA, but this story plays like a
Greek Tragedy. Fate intervenes at frequent moments, with chance and minor
decisions circling back to reveal all. The Swede is a sympathetic heavy, out-of-his-depth,
with the fateful flaw of being too trusting. Even the villains are vulnerable
figures, while the femme fatale is only doing what she must to try and survive.
It’s a neat structure.
And Siodmark shoots it with a beautiful, unobtrusive and
pacey smoothness. Nothing in the film draws overt attention to itself, but
every moment beautifully combines with those around it to create an absorbing
whole. The pace works perfectly, and the film’s structure works very well.
Throwing us essentially into the middle of the story increases the mystery –
and also means that as we hear the story of each person who knew The Swede, we
are constantly invited to rethink and reappraise events and characters we have
already met.
It’s a film about the lasting impact of disappointment and
disillusionment. Why doesn’t the Swede run a mile when he hears there are
killers after him? Because its clear he died inside years ago – the bullet is
just a formality. There is a rather touching romanticism to this. This strangely
gentle boxer turned thug, who is so smitten by Kitty Collins that he can’t take
his eyes off her during their first meeting. Who willing serves jail time for
the stolen necklace she’s wearing. Who trashes his hotel and nearly flings
himself out of a window when she leaves him. This is a shell of a man. And its
not just him. Most of the crooks live out lives of disappointment and fear, while
even our investigator seems to have very little in his life beyond chasing down
insurance claims. If there is a message in this film, it’s that life is tough.
A lot of that impact comes from the sad-sack vulnerability
in Burt Lancaster’s eyes. In his film debut here, Lancaster is at times a
little raw. But what he conveys fantastically is the sense of a little boy
lost. The Swede always looks out of his depth, dragged from pillar to post by
other people, constantly unable to control the situations he finds himself in.
No wonder he’s so easily suckered by Ava Gardner’s gloriously
savvy and fiercely determined Kitty – the character with the most drive and
determination in the film. She’s smart enough to fool all the characters at
least once – and ruthless enough to not give a damn about any of them. Gardner’s
performance is spot-on here, with Kitty emerging as possible the most ruthless
femme fatale this side of Double Indemnity – with Lancaster as much her gullible
patsy as Fred MacMurray was. Gardner’s icy cool is so well done, that it adds
even more weight to her performance of a last act switch to desperation, as
events finally spiral out of her control.
Carrying most of the narrative is Edmond O’Brien in the slightly
thankless role of the investigator piecing it all together. O’Brien however plays
the role with a real savvy and drive, as well as with a growing sense of moral outrage
– making his role much more than what it could have been (a feed for other characters).
The rest of the cast is also very strong.
The Killers isn’t overtly flashy or eye-catching in
the way of other films. But it carries with it a large degree of intrigue and
more than a dash of hopeless tragedy. With sharp, efficient direction and some
fine performances, it’s possibly one of the finest film noirs ever made.
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