Born to Kill (1947)
7/10
Portrait of amoral psychopaths proves gripping in spite of less than convincing morally good counterparts
26 February 2018
Warning: Spoilers
"When "Born to Kill" was released in 1947, it faced significant criticism from many contemporary reviewers, including Bosley Crowther, the renowned NY Times critic. They were put off by the unflinching portrayal of the two amoral protagonists. However, it is precisely this unapologetic depiction of psychopathic individuals seeking innocent victims that lends the film its merit. "Born to Kill" boldly suggests the existence of such predators in society.

Directed by Robert Wise, who would later gain fame for "The Sound of Music," the film reflects his adherence to the belief that the screenplay holds paramount importance in the filmmaking process. While it lacks the visually striking elements often associated with films of the noir genre and era, Wise demonstrates his skill through subtle touches. For instance, when tough-guy Lawrence Tierney's character, Sam Wilde, murders a couple in a Reno home, Wise strategically cuts to a barking dog, cleverly withholding the final act of violence to heighten suspense.

Lawrence Tierney's casting as the psychopathic Sam Wilde is pitch-perfect. He convincingly portrays a character who commits the heinous crime in the opening ten minutes, subsequently taking the lives of his best friend Marty (the versatile Elisha J. Cook) and the alluring yet chilling femme fatale Helen Brent, portrayed with coolness by Claire Trevor.

Tierney's suitability for the role stems from his real-life volatile temperament, which reportedly damaged his career due to numerous arrests for assaulting fellow actors and ordinary people on the street (including a notorious incident of shoving Quentin Tarantino later in his life on a movie set!).

Helen Brent serves as the perfect complement to Sam's character, both exhibiting street smarts and viciousness, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. Although Helen is a femme fatale, her character diverges from the typical archetype found in film noir (as expertly pointed out by noir specialist Eddie Mueller in the DVD extras). While most femme fatales ultimately bring ruin to their men, Sam's deranged nature renders him immune to Helen's influence.

In fact, Sam proves to be even more malevolent than Helen, unable to control his temper whenever he feels slighted. His philosophy is simplistic: he craves power to exert dominance and intimidate anyone he pleases. Helen, on the other hand, experiences inner conflict. She acknowledges her dark side but balances it with her professed love for her "foster" sister Georgia Staples (played by Audrey Long) and her connection to Fred (Phillip Terry), the wealthy man she intends to marry.

Unfortunately, the film is dragged down by the underdeveloped characters of both Georgia and Fred. Georgia, the daughter of a wealthy newspaper magnate, possesses ample wealth but inexplicably lacks generosity, especially towards a resentful Helen. It is perplexing why a supposedly kind-hearted individual would exhibit such stinginess. Similarly disappointing is her purported irresistible attraction to Sam. While it is understandable that all the women are captivated by him, a normally prudent person would display at least some curiosity about the background of the person they plan to marry. Georgia seems to make no substantial inquiries about Sam's occupation or past before quickly tying the knot. As a character, Georgia is dull, and the screenplay does little to flesh her out.

The same applies to Georgia's counterpart, Fred, who exemplifies the goody two shoes persona. His insipid personality serves as a deliberate contrast to the wickedness of Helen. Once this embodiment of "pure goodness" breaks off his relationship with Helen, we know her fate is sealed.

The film incorporates a subplot featuring the alcoholic Mrs. Kraft, played by the colorful Esther Howard, who owns the boarding house in Reno where her tenant and close friend Laury and her date were murdered by Sam. Mrs. Kraft hires the portly detective Albert Arnett, portrayed by Walter Slezak, to investigate the tragic double homicide.

Apart from the electrifying exchanges between Sam and Helen, the scene where Marty decides to kill Mrs. Kraft at a deserted beach in San Francisco provides a gripping diversion from the main plot and adds to the mounting suspense. This unexpected twist intensifies the complexity of the narrative. When Sam arrives and murders Marty out of jealousy, Mrs. Kraft manages to escape.

Helen fully succumbs to the dark side when she threatens Mrs. Kraft, forbidding her from going to the police. Her infatuation with Sam overrides any remaining rationality, and she is now willing to sacrifice her close relationship with Georgia, who remains under Sam's bewitching spell.

In a powerful scene, Helen shatters Georgia's illusions as she passionately kisses Sam while Georgia hides in a nearby chair, witnessing the betrayal. Naturally, Helen meets her comeuppance by the film's end, as is customary for femme fatales who have led astray.

"Born to Kill" was ahead of its time in portraying two ruthless protagonists who, in the end, deserve each other. If only the characters representing the morally upright side of society were better developed, "Born to Kill" could have been considered a noir masterpiece. Nonetheless, the film remains an intriguing exploration of the dark corners of human nature.
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