by Reid Williams, Contributing Writer
When it comes to noir, few films capture the spirit of the style while maintaining top-notch storytelling the way that Double Indemnity does. Even in the nearly eight decades since its original release, Billy Wilder’s tense thriller far outdoes nearly all of its modern competition.
Even more impressive is that this masterpiece was put out by writer-director Billy Wilder very early in his directing career. Having already established himself as a reliable screenwriter in both Europe and America, Wilder officially stepped into a writer-director role in the early 1940s. Double Indemnity is the third film Wilder directed in America, en route to a storied and illustrious career that solidified him as one of the greatest filmmakers of all time.
Wilder is known to be a master of comedy, as evidenced by his classic films such as The Apartment and Some Like it Hot, but I have always been of the opinion that where Wilder truly excelled was in the dark underbelly of society, critiquing it with biting crime fiction instead of with clever humor.
Double Indemnity is a tale told through the narration of insurance salesman Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray), as he is bleeding out from a recent wound. He staggers into his office in the opening scene and begins to record the tale of how he came by such an injury or, in fewer words, a confession. This takes the audience back to Neff’s first meeting with the wife of a client, the beautiful Phyllis Dietrichson (Barbra Stanwyck). From their first meeting, the lady Dietrichson begins to draw Neff into a web of lies, betrayal, and murder that the audience already knows will lead to Neff’s ultimate undoing.
Adding to the drama is Neff’s friend and co-worker, Barton Keyes (played by the brilliant Edward Robinson). Keyes is an investigator, which puts him on a collision course with Neff and Dietrichson. Seemingly the only moral compass of the film, Robinson breathes life into Keyes that makes him a character to root for, even as he plots against the protagonist.
As should be expected from a film created by the great Billy Wilder, the dialogue in the film is some of the best on record. Neff’s cynical voiceover adds crucial flavor to the scenes, and his dialogue with both Keyes and Dietrichson are some of the most quotable and clever to be found in noir, a genre known for its dialogue.
Before going into too many details regarding the developing plot of the film, I want to make my plea to any potential readers who have not yet seen Double Indemnity. In spite of coming out in the 1940s, the film still feels incredibly modern in its pacing and plot, as it was far ahead of its time at its initial release. The film features an incredible anti-hero in Neff, whose moral gray areas end up pushing him farther and farther into the dark side of himself. Beyond Neff, the other two stars add immense layers of depth to the themes, almost serving as a kind of angel and devil on opposing shoulders of the main character. As the plot delves deeper and deeper into the evils that lie within Neff, the choices he makes and the consequences of his actions never fail to be surprising and satisfying, ultimately making this one of my favorite films of all time. I could not recommend it any more highly. With that said, I am officially issuing my spoiler warning.
When talking about the things that make Double Indemnity truly special, it makes sense for me to begin with the opening. Few opening scenes in film have such a tremendous impact on everything that comes after. Many noir films open with something at the end of the film, providing context for the classic voiceover that often structures the narrative. However, the added layers of Neff’s serious injury and admitting that his recording could be dubbed a “confession” gives an aura of dread and guilt that hangs over the rest of the film like a wet blanket. The audience knows where the story is going, and they know that it is nowhere good. Each scene is injected with the sad trajectory that is known to be headed toward, making everything seem bleak and hopeless.
As Neff begins his narrative, the audience is introduced to the ultimate femme fatale: Phyllis Dietrichson. She is introduced at the top of a staircase, staring down at Neff, giving clear signal to the fact that she holds great sway over him. As their conversation progresses, it almost gives the audience hope that this narrator that we’ve been hitched to will be able to stand firm and morally navigate the coming waters. However, it is quickly revealed that this is not the case, as Neff finds himself swept quickly up into her murderous plot to get rid of her husband.
The entire story progresses in a similar fashion as Neff, who begins the story as morally neutral, is drawn into unfathomable evils by a despicable woman. Wilder’s message seems to be clear: given a moral neutrality, mankind will be susceptible to all kinds of horrors. This seems even more deeply resonant given the fact that Wilder, born a Jew, was writing and directing this film in the midst of the Holocaust, which was killing millions in Europe. Wilder’s anthropology shines through, as it does in much of his work, to show that mankind is capable of all kinds of horrible things, if only the right conditions are put in front of him.
While MacMurray does an admirable job of portraying the everyman Neff, who finds himself pulled into the moral darkness, he is outshone by the characters to his right and left. As Phyllis, Stanwyck gives an unforgettable performance as a woman who is bent on having her way, regardless of who she must manipulate to get there. At the climax of the film, it is revealed that she is far more evil than was suspected and that this pattern of behavior began long before she ever met Neff. Stanwyck is hypnotizing as the woman who lures men to their dooms for her own personal gain, and seeing her humanized and finally conquered at the finale is all the more satisfying for it. On the other side of the film’s moral argument is Keyes, who insists on a moral center in the heart of man that must be listened to if one is to do what is right. It is possible that this is what originally told Neff to stay far from the lady Dietrichson, but his neglecting to listen is what ultimately undid him. Using this to peer deeper into Wilder’s message, it appears that men know what is right, but if they are not absolutely determined to do it, evil will prevail.
Finally, the ending scene strikes an amazing and bittersweet chord, well in line with everything that has come before it. Neff finishes up his story only to find Keyes standing behind him, ready to turn him in for his crimes. Neff argues with him in an attempt to arrange his escape, though it is clear to all that his injuries will keep him from ever doing so. As he collapses near the doorway, Keyes bends down to sit with him until his eventual arrest or demise. Here it is seen that the deepest relationship Neff holds was never with the woman who had bewitched him, but with the man who tried to keep him on the straight and narrow. It could be argued that Wilder is making a point that a man’s tendency toward good is nearer to the heart than the tendency toward evil, even when evil seems to be winning the fight. Regardless of the reading of the ending, however, seeing Keyes sit with Neff as he succumbs to his injuries is one of the most hauntingly kind gestures in film history, and solidifies Double Indemnity as a true film for all times.
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