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"Film noir" is an overused expression when it comes to describing films. Every crime drama seems to be a "noir". But "Where the Sidewalk Ends" really is a good example of what the genre is all about.
Very briefly, an overzealous detective (Andrews) accidentally kills a no-goodnik who works for the mobsters. The killing is blamed on the father (Tom Tully) of a woman Andrews meets and falls for (Tierney). To save Dad from Old Sparky, Andrews captures the rest of the mob and turns himself in.
The morally guilty cop is driven by impulses from the past. His father was a thief who was killed trying to shoot his way out of jail. But that doesn't excuse his actions after he accidentally offs the no-goodnik in self defense. He immediately goes to the phone to report the incident but he hesitates. He's already in hot water with the department and this could finish his career. Then, at just the wrong moment, the phone rings. It's Andrews' partner and Andrews tells him the suspect they're trailing isn't at home. He hides the body and later disposes of it by slugging a watchman and dumping the body in the river.
What motivates a guy to do something so dumb? Okay. His job was at risk. But now he's committed multiple felonies. At least I think they must be multiple. I counted obstruction of justice, assault, disposing of a body without a permit, littering, first-degree mopery, and bearing false witness against his neighbor.
In the end, we don't know whether to root for Andrews or not. The suspect didn't deserve to die, true, but it was after all an accident because Andrews didn't know he was a war hero and "had a silver plate in his head." Maybe it's that kind of ambiguity that made noir what it was, among other things such as characteristic lighting. If noir involved nothing more than black-and-white photography, murder, criminals, mystery, and suspicious women, then we'd have to include all the Charlie Chan movies under that rubric.
Andrews is pretty good. He's a kind of Mark MacPherson (from "Laura") gone bitter. He never laughs, and rarely smiles, even when seated across a restaurant table from Gene Tierney, a situation likely to prompt smiles in many men. He has no sense of humor at all. His few wisecracks are put-downs. When he shoves a stoolie into a cab and the stoolie says, "Careful. I almost hit my head," Andrews' riposte is, "That's okay. The cab's insured." Andrews could seem kind of wooden at times but this is a role that calls for stubborn and humorless determination and he handles it well. His underplaying is perfect for the part. Little twitches or blinks project his thoughts and emotional states. And I guess the director, Otto Preminger, stopped him from pronouncing bullet as "BOO-let" and police as "POE-lice." Never could make up my mind about Gene Tierney. She does alright in the role of Tom Tully's daughter, a model, but she's like Marilyn Monroe in that you can't separate the adopted mannerisms from the real personality traits. Did Tierney actually have such an innocent, almost saintly persona? When she answered the phone at home, did her voice have the same sing-along quality that it has on screen? Poor Tierney went through some bad psychiatric stuff, before there were any effective meds for bipolar disorder. And Andrews too, nice guy though he appears to have been, slipped into alcoholism before finally recovering and making public service announcements.
The DVD commentary by Peter Muller is unpretentious, informed, and sometimes amusing.
Anyway, this is a good film as well as a good example of film noir. The good guys aren't all good, although the bad guys are all bad. Maybe that ambiguity is what makes it an adult picture instead of a popcorn movie. For the kiddies, only one shot is fired on screen and nobody's head explodes. Sorry.


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