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Deception is an operatic rehash of the 1929 film Jealousy. Music teacher Bette Davis–who evidently has a large student pool, judging by the size of her penthouse apartment–is reunited with her cellist lover Paul Henreid, whom she believed to have been killed in the war. Henreid wants to marry Davis, but he is unaware that she has, for the past several years, been the “protege” of composer Claude Rains. Rains agrees to keep quiet about his affair with Davis, but takes sadistic delight in tormenting the woman and working behind the scenes to sabotage Henreid’s career. When Rains tells Bette of his plans to publicly humiliate Henreid, she shoots her ex-lover dead. Henreid agrees to stand by Davis no matter what is in store for her. Director Irving Rapper had originally wanted to treat the hoary plot twists of Deception comically, with the three principals walking off together at the end with a “what the hell?” attitude. He was tersely told to stick to the script; after all, people didn’t pay to see Bette Davis but to see her suffer. Like the 1929 version of Jealousy, Deception was based on a play by Louis Verneuil.

In this Cold War spy classic, Holly Martins (Joseph Cotten), a third-rate American pulp novelist, arrives in postwar Vienna, where he has been promised a job by his old friend Harry Lime (Orson Welles). Upon his arrival, Martins discovers that Lime has been killed in a traffic accident, and that his funeral is taking place immediately. At the graveside, Martins meets outwardly affable Major Calloway (Trevor Howard) and actress Anna Schmidt (Alida Valli), who is weeping copiously. When Calloway tells Martins that the late Harry Lime was a thief and murderer, the loyal Martins is at first outraged. Gradually, he discovers not only that Calloway was right but also that the man lying in the coffin in the film’s early scenes was not Harry Lime at all–and that Lime is still very much alive (he was the mysterious “third man” at the scene of the fatal accident). Thus the stage is set for the movie’s famous climactic confrontation in the sewers of Vienna–and the even more famous final shot, in which Martins pays emotionally for doing “the right thing.” Written by Graham Greene, The Third Man is an essential classic, made even more so by the insistent zither music of Anton Karas. The film is currently available in both an American and British release version; the American print, with an introduction by Joseph Cotten, is slightly shorter than the British version, which is narrated by director Carol Reed. Nominated for several Academy Awards, The Third Man won Best Cinematography for Robert Krasker.

Budd Corliss (Robert Wagner) is an ambitious, poor boy from the wrong-side-of-the-tracks who murders his girlfriend Dorothy (Joanne Woodward) — making the death look like a suicide — when her pregnancy eliminates his chances of being accepted by her wealthy family. Her sister Ellen (Virginia Leith), refusing to believe that Dorothy has committed suicide, begins to investigate on her own. She meets Budd, and ignorant of his prior relationship with Dorothy begins a relationship with him. When Ellen discovers that Budd knew Dorothy, the stage is set for a final, dramatic showdown as Ellen fights to revenge her sister and save her own life. The script, adapted from the novel of the same name written by Ira Levin is excellent and tension-filled. Joanne Woodward is fine in a touching performance as the vulnerable and trusting Dorothy. A wooden performance by Robert Wagner in the pivotal central role mars the film and destroys some of its credibility, as Wagner, though handsome, lacks the charm and charisma necessary to make the character of Budd believable. Also, despite an excellent performance by Mary Astor as Budd’s class-conscious, greedy mother, the film fails to achieve any sympathy for Budd or understanding of the motivations that drove him to do what he did.

L’ingegnere Graham e sua moglie stanno viaggiando attraverso la Turchia. Una notte subiscono un apparente attentato. Il colonnello Haki, capo della polizia segreta turca, consiglia ai due di lasciare immediatamente il paese. Sulla nave su cui sta viaggiando Graham incontra strani e misteriosi personaggi. Sfuggito a vari attentati alla sua vita, sfugge agli agenti nazisti e raggiunge la moglie. Banat, un agente nazista, vorrebbe uccidere l’ingegnere, ma Haki lo salva, lanciando il nazista giù dal cornicione del palazzo dove si sono scontrati all’ultimo sangue.

Regarded by many critics as the ultimate film noir, and by many more as the finest movie adaptation of a book by Mickey Spillane, Kiss Me Deadly stars Ralph Meeker as Spillane’s anti-social private eye Mike Hammer. While driving down a lonely road late one evening, Hammer picks up a beautiful blonde hitchhiker (Cloris Leachman), dressed in nothing but a raincoat. At first, Hammer assumes that the incoherent girl is an escaped lunatic; his mind is changed for him when he and the girl are abducted by two thugs. The men torture the girl to death as the semiconscious Hammer watches helplessly. He himself escapes extermination when the murderers’ car topples off a cliff and he is thrown clear. Seeking vengeance, Hammer tries to discover the secret behind the girl’s murder. Among those who cross his path in the film’s tense, tingling 105 minutes are a slimy gangster (Paul Stewart), a turncoat scientist (Albert Dekker), and the dead woman’s sexy roommate (Gaby Rodgers). All clues lead to a mysterious box — the “Great Whatsit,” as Hammer’s secretary Velda (Maxine Cooper) describes it. Both the box and Velda are stolen by the villains, at which point Hammer discovers that the “Whatsit” contains radioactive material of awesome powers. The apocalyptic climax is doubly devastating because we’re never quite certain if Hammer survives (he doesn’t narrate the story, as was the case in most Mike Hammer films and TV shows). Director Robert Aldrich and scriptwriter Jack Moffit transcend Kiss Me Deadly’s basic genre trappings to produce a one-of-a-kind melodrama for the nuclear age.

Dick Powell stars in this suspenseful melodrama, directed by Robert Parrish. Rocky Mulloy (Powell) has recently returned from prison, after being pardoned from a life sentence when new evidence clears him from a robbery conviction. Delong (Richard Erdman), a crippled Marine veteran who concocted the new evidence that got Mulloy released, thinks that Mulloy will be so grateful that he will cooperate with him and share some of the $100,000 Mulloy supposedly has hidden somewhere from the robbery. But Mulloy has other ideas — instead he wants the use his pardon as a chance to bring the real guilty parties involved in the crime to justice and to help out a needy friend who is still in the penitentiary.

The Narrow Margin is generally considered a “model” B picture; some film buffs go farther than that, labelling this 1952 RKO suspenser as the best low-budget studio production ever made. Nail-hard detective Walter Brown (Charles McGraw) is assigned to protect gangster’s widow Mrs. Neall (Marie Windsor) as she rides the train from Chicago to LA, en route to testifying at a grand jury. There’s no love lost between the ill-tempered Neall and Brown, especially since Brown’s partner (Don Beddoe) was killed by mobsters while shielding Neall from harm. On the train, Brown makes the acquaintance of a likeable woman (Jacqueline White) and her playful young son. He also comes in contact with a rather secretive fat man (Paul Maxey), who may well be a mob assassin. Not long before the train pulls into California, Brown is approached by small-time crook (Peter Brocco), who offers the detective a great deal of money if he’ll permit Neall to be silenced. Brown appears to be tempted, but this is only a smokescreen to throw the crooks off the trail. The Narrow Margin was remade (and unnecessarily padded and attenuated) in 1990.

In the ’30s, three prisoners flee from a state prison farm in Mississippi. Among them is 23-years-young Bowie, who spent the last seven years in prison and now hopes to be able to prove his innocence or retire to a home in the mountains and live in peace together with his new love, Kitty. But his criminal companions persuade him to participate in several heists, and soon the police believe him to be their leader and go after “Bowie the Kid” harder than ever.

Out of the Past is so perfect a film noir that it is considered practically a textbook example of the genre. In his first starring role (it had previously been offered to John Garfield and Dick Powell), Robert Mitchum plays Jeff Bailey, the friendly but secretive proprietor of a mountain-village gas station. As Jeff’s worshipful deaf-mute attendant (Dick Moore) looks on in curious fascination, an unsavory character named Joe (Paul Valentine) pulls up to the station, obviously looking for the owner. Jeff is all too aware of Joe’s identity; he’s been dreading this moment for quite some time, knowing full well that it will mean the end of his semi-idyllic existence, not to mention his engagement to local girl Ann (Virginia Huston). In a lengthy flashback, the audience is apprised of the reasons behind Jeff’s discomfort. Several years earlier, he’d been a private detective, hired by gangster Whit Sterling (Kirk Douglas) to find his mistress Kathie Moffett (Jane Greer), who shot him and ran off with $40,000. Jeff traces Kathie to Mexico, but when he meets her he falls in love and willingly becomes involved in an increasingly complicated web of double-crosses, blackmail, and murder. The flashback over, Jeff agrees to meet Whit face to face in Lake Tahoe. Surprisingly, Whit apparently bears no malice, and even offers Jeff an opportunity to square himself by retrieving Whit’s tax records from mob attorney Eels (Ken Niles). Even more surprisingly, Kathie has returned to Whit on her own volition. When Jeff is taken to Eels’ apartment by the beautiful Meta Carson (Rhonda Fleming), he quickly figures out that he has been set up and tries to clue Eels into the plot, but Eels is later found murdered, and Jeff is accused of the crime. Worse yet, Whit has forced Kathie to sign an affadavit that also pins another murder on him. Crosses, double-crosses and triple-crosses abound for the next few reels, culminating in disaster for the oh-so-clever Whit, who has fatally underestimated the deceitful (and icewater-veined) Kathie. And in the end, it is Jeff who must resort to drastic measures to force Kathie to pay the price for her cold-hearted treachery. Out of the Past was remade in 1984 as Against All Odds, with Jane Greer cast as the mother of her original character.

Behind the locked doors of a mental institution resides crooked politico Judge Drake (Herbert Heyes), free from prosecution so long as he pretends to be crazy. To get the goods on Drake, private detective Ross Stewart (Richard Carlson) has himself committed to the asylum as a patient. Meanwhile, reporter Kathy Lawrence (Lucille Bremer), posing as Stewart’s wife, acts as his liaison to the outside world. But when Drake figures out what’s going on, he pulls strings to have Stewart meet with an “accident” during his stay at the institution. Ralf Harolde, who memorably portrayed a seedy psychiatrist in Murder My Sweet, contributes another excellent performance in Behind Locked Doors as a sympathetic attendant with Something To Hide.

The plot starts in France in the year 1794. Robespierre is sowing panic among his opponents with the only reason to take over the power of the state.

Suddenly is the name of the small town invaded by professional assassin Frank Sinatra and his henchmen. Taking a local family hostage, Sinatra sets up a vigil at the second-story window of the family’s home. From here, he intends to kill the President of the United States when the latter makes a whistle-stop visit. The film’s tension level is enough to induce goose pimples from first scene to last. Sinatra is outstanding as the disgruntled war vet who hopes to become a “somebody” by killing the president. The parallels between his character and Lee Harvey Oswald’s are too close for comfort, so much so that Suddenly was withdrawn from local TV packages for several years after the JFK assassination. Sinatra would claim in later years that he himself engineered the removal of Suddenly from general distribution, though in fact he’d lost whatever rights he’d held on the film when it lapsed into public domain. Be sure and miss the notorious colorized version of this black-and-white thriller, wherein Sinatra is transformed into Ol’ Brown Eyes.