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user\nWhere the Sidewalk Ends (1950)
Where One Ends, Another Begins
This is a prototypical film noir, and as such, pretty flawless, from both style and content points of view. The photography and night settings are first rate (cinematographer Joseph LaShelle lets the drama ooze in scene after scene), and the close-ups on faces pure expressionism. I can watch this kind of film for the visuals alone, even when the actors struggle and the plot stinks.
But the acting is first rate here, and the plot features what I consider the core of most noir films, the alienated male lead (representing the many men returning home to a changed United States after the war and feeling lost themselves). In fact, not only is Dana Andrews really convincing as the troubled, loner detective, he has a small but important counterpart in the film, the lead female's (first) husband, an decorated ex-GI fallen onto hard times and booze. The fact the one man kills the other might be of monumental significance, overall-- the regular guy struggling through his inner problems to success while the medal-wearing soldier slips into an accidental death with a silver plate in his head. The woman transitions from one to the other--we assume they marry and have children as suggested earlier in the movie. Even if this is pushing an interpretation onto it after the fact, we can still see the path of one man with some psychological baggage careening through a crisis to the highest kind of moral order--turning himself in for a small crime just at the point he has actually gotten away with it.
This movie belongs to Andrews. He plays a far more restrained and moving type than Kirk Douglas plays in a similar role in William Wyler's Detective Story made just one year later, and Andrews certainly is less theatrical. You could easily see both movies side by side for a textbook compare and contrast session. The fact that Andrews as Detective Dixon is morally struggling through it all, and Douglas as Detective McLeod is not, might explain why one man gets his girl and the other doesn't. Gene Tierney pulls off a hugely sympathetic, demurring, and ultimately conventional and \"pretty\" type of woman--not just a cardboard desirable, but someone you want Dixon to actually marry.
The criminal plot is really secondary to the main drama, but is effective enough in its play with types and clichés. The bit parts are kept snappy, the small details (like the portable craps table) nice touches, far from the character actors or the glamour of gambling in Casablanca. But then, Curtiz's great movie is iconic even in the details--it makes no effort to be subtle and real and penetrating, but instead is sweeping and memorable and inspiring. They come at opposite ends of the war, and represent opposite possibilities for their leading men. Bogart is beginning his active duty, Dixon, and the man Dixon has killed, are all through. Through, thoroughly, but not washed up.
It's no accident that many, possibly most, film noirs have what you would call \"happy\" endings. The man overcomes his adversaries and transforms his inner self, and the moviegoer, then and now, understands just how beautiful that must feel.
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