Yes, I really liked this one too and I share your sentiments all around. You see the flaws, but there's just something about the movie that makes you forget. Is it just me or is so much in Sorry, Wrong Number ambiguous? The Evans character seems so much more creepy and strange than his version of events makes him out to be (this untrustworthy and ambiguous character of the storytelling is emphasized by the "stuck in bed" framing device), and the husband / wife relationship is peculiar all around. That Lancaster isn't the "man" in the relationship sounds like a whopper of a noir sex cue. In fact, the very idea of Stanwyck doomed for violation while laying in bed doesn't seem too, err... chaste.Sloper wrote:Does anyone share my love for Sorry, Wrong Number (Anatole Litvak, 1948)? God knows it has its flaws: the radio play is opened out and inflated with flashbacks within flashbacks, clunkily spelling everything out in tedious expository dialogue and giving the supporting cast little room to do interesting work. Hence, I guess, the surprisingly dull performance from Burt Lancaster. He only comes to life right at the end. But despite all this, Sol Polito's prowling camera keeps things from getting boring. The photography does a brilliant job of involving us in the protagonist's anxiety and panic, as well as sometimes adopting the position of the unseen killer lurking outside - and, later, inside - the house. There's also a wonderfully eerie sequence set on a beach on Staten Island.
I made a nice weekend of noir viewing. Basil Dearden's Pool of London I liked, but thought the heavies were boring (not a good quality for a noir). Otherwise, great looking movie, though it would compare unfavorably to Night and the City (a top ten for me) in regards to showing the underbelly of London. Rewatching Detour, I found myself enjoying it less because I just cannot think of anyone less interesting to watch and listen to than Tom Neal. Everything else about the film is pitch perfect, but Neal is like a rock in my shoe the whole time. I also made a nice Mann twofer with Desperate and Raw Deal, with the latter definitely getting a nice spot in my list. The second time around it's even better as you start really noticing how important Mann makes time, and the inevitability of the events that unfold, clear (see: clocks). I also thought this might be the best love triangle in noir. Desperate was fun, and somewhat bizarre with the lively Czech wedding thrown in the middle, but ultimately doesn't hold up if the limit is Top 50. Douglas Fowley as the private detective in Desperate reminded me a lot of John Ireland in Raw Deal. They both come off as nihilistic outsiders, smirking at the exploits of their doomed and less knowing cohorts.
A film that was one of the first noirs I ever saw, Sweet Smell of Success, has gotten much better with age, while another old Lancaster favorite, Criss Cross, has lost most of its luster, and comes off as less visually interesting now than I remember. It strikes me as too much of a simplistic morality tale to me now and the femme fatale remains the only interesting character in my eyes (but there isn't much of her to go around). So that was a busy weekend.
