In some cases, severely dated vernacular can hold up really well. Colin Clive’s insane, Victorian-inspired ramblings in “Frankenstein” still sound relatively intimidating and chill-inducing today. Meanwhile, I defy anyone to keep a straight face while listening to Wally tell the Beaver “You gooney kid, dad is gonna be sore at you!” Billy Wilder’s “Double Indemnity” suffers from the latter kind of grammatical handicaps. Fred MacMurray’s constant “Supposing you”s and “Heya Baby”s are the stuff of modern-day parody and I’m relatively sure aren’t even a good representation of the way old-timers used to talk. Removing the language from the equation though, “Double Indemnity” holds up remarkably well- and I believe the ability to stand the test of time is one of the very finest qualities a film can posses.
As I’ve said many times before, I tend to inhabit the darker side of the human condition- so a film about murder, adultery and betrayal is in no way, shape or form a turnoff for me the way that it might be for others. “Double Indemnity” is not only a great piece of film noir but it is every bit as suspenseful as a well-crafted murder mystery. Several films back (“The Apartment”) I commented on how bizarre it was for me to see Fred MacMurray portray anything other than the dad on “My Three Sons.” While I thought his character in “The Apartment” was a departure from that character, his performance as Walter Neff in “Double Indemnity” is a complete 180 degree turn.
The film begins with Neff recklessly driving down the streets of LA before stumbling into his office where he is an insurance salesman. He appears to either be drunk or injured; the confusion of his state is only enhanced when he begins recording an audio confession into an old-time Dictaphone. This sets up a flashback narrative where we see Neff only a short while ago living a relatively mundane life at his pedestrian job. He arrives at the Dietrichson residence to talk about renewing the family car insurance policy. The maid informs him that Mr. Dietrichson is away so Walter must speak with his wife Phyllis (Barbara Stanwyck) whose exaggerated movements, appearance and dress (she is wearing a towel the first time he sees her) all indicate that she is something of a Jezebel.
She begins flirting with Walter very un-subtly (first on the initial visit and later when he returns thinking Mr. Dietrichson will be there) which Walter first seems uncomfortable with but soon starts reciprocating. However his conscience gets the better of him, not when he realizes he is hitting on a married woman, but rather when she brazenly declares she intends to take a life insurance policy out on Mr. Dietrichson without him knowing it. Neff snaps out of his little crush when he realizes the implications of what they are discussing and abruptly leaves. The dialogue in this sequence is some of the most commendable in the film, as the lewdness of Phyllis’ come-ons manage to amplify her whorishness while still remaining well within the strict “moral code” of Hollywood dialogue at the time.
Phyllis stalks Walter at his apartment and again tries to butter him up. She even goes so far as to imply that her husband is abusing her, attempting to win Walter’s sympathy. The metaphoric imagery that is occurring in this scene is particularly noteworthy. As Phyllis cries about her confinement in her marriage, she is sitting in Walter’s tiny confining apartment on a small couch with him. She claims to envy his independence though his own residence is depicted as lonely and very bachelor-like. Not run down or dingy, just very lonely; clearly not the kind of lifestyle she would seriously consider entering into, especially when compared to her wide open, well lit palatial home in the LA suburbs.
Walter and Phyllis trick Mr. Dietrichson into signing an accident insurance policy which contains a “double indemnity” clause; meaning that if he were to die in some sort of freak accident the insurance company would pay double on the policy. That same night Walter strikes up a sort of mentor-like relationship with Mr. Dietrichson’s daughter from a previous marriage, Lola. She confides in him that she is dating Nino, an Italian boy her father doesn’t approve of. Her surprising openness with Walter not only resurfaces again later as an important plot device but also helps cement Walter’s character as a bona-fide creep as he is willing to speak casually with the daughter of the man he is preparing to kill.
Great pains are taken in the details of the murder and of course, since Walter knows the insurance industry so well he is the ideal person to formulate the “perfect crime.” He and Phyllis methodically stage a “train accident” where Walter poses as Mr. Dietrichson and fakes falling off the observation car to his death. In reality they have already killed him and simply leave his body on the tracks. The actual murder is one of the most terrifying homicides ever filmed and the action isn’t even shown. Walter lies in the back seat of the Dietrichson family car and emerges to break his neck while Phyllis drives to the train station; the music and struggling noises indicate exactly what is happening. All the while, Phyllis looks straight ahead, smiling into the camera sadistically as her husband dies.
"Murder is never perfect. Always comes apart sooner or later, and when two people are involved it's usually sooner." (Barton Keyes, "Double Indemnity")
Walter’s narration indicates some very grim foreshadowing when he asserts that even though all his bases are covered and has a secure alibi for the murder he still knows that he will be caught. This fear is only enhanced when his co-worker and almost father-figure Barton Keyes (Edward G. Robinson) who is a claims adjuster, declares his determination to prove that there was foul play involved. The house of cards collapses even further when Lola regales Walter with the tale of how Phyllis entered their lives in the first place; she was the nurse of her ailing mother who eventually killed the original Mrs. Dietrichson in order to move in on her husband and marry into financial security.
One of Walter and Lola’s secretive meetings takes place atop the canyons surrounding the Hollywood Bowl. She drops a bombshell on Walter; Nino and Phyllis have been co-conspirators all along and she suspects he was the one who helped kill her father. While she is dead wrong on the murder theory she turns out to be 100% correct in assuming that her stepmother is secretly dating her boyfriend. There is a wonderful amount of human emotion conveyed in this scene; Lola’s deep sobs, Walter’s thoughtful looks of consideration- everything about this scene is pure heart. I may be speaking from bias because of my own cherished memories of concerts at the Hollywood Bowl, but I stick by my adoration for this scene- which also kicks the conclusion into motion.
Walter confronts Phyllis about her crookedness, her manipulation of him and her relationship with Nino. All of which she more or less confirms before attempting to kill Walter- though she injures him he manages to shoot her at point-blank range, killing her instantly. The narrative then goes back to the beginning confession by Walter. It turns out he is recording the admission for Keyes, feeling he owes him at least that. As he is finishing Keyes walks in on him and mentions that he is bleeding all over the place- confirming that he is injured and not drunk as I mentioned earlier. Though there is something of an emotional unspoken reconciliation between the two men as Walter dies practically in his arms, you don’t feel any sympathy for Walter, despite the fact that he is clearly the protagonist. He wasn’t “conned,” he didn’t succumb to loneliness or desperation, he is sleazy and two-faced. He deceives his best friend, he wins the trust of a very sweet young girl and murders her father and he obsesses on creepy fetishes like Phyllis’ anklet and the thrill of the taboo of their scheme.
There is also a subdued cleverness in the fact that Phyllis is always adorned in accessories and jewelry as well as tops that seem to exaggerate her chest and heavy makeup. Everything about her is superficial and fake- which translates into her character flawlessly. As the other “main character” she too is completely unlovable, making this one of very few films I can think of where you really don’t care about any of the primary characters. In fact, the only time you feel truly gutted or empathetic is seeing the disappointment in Keyes’ eyes when he realizes Walter has tricked him.
You can see so many examples of European expressionist films in “Double Indemnity” such as selective lighting on characters to reflect their personalities and an almost reckless willingness to shoot outdoors and in the dark. Also, there are many elements of the film that are almost directly lifted from Tod Browning’s “Freaks.” However, you can also see devices of filmmaking that have since become staples of multiple genres like letting windows influence the lighting in a room and bad-guy main characters as well. “Double Indemnity” is a brilliant representation of its time simply based on the fact that it really was made at about the half-way point of the advent of the motion picture and present day, and there is just enough borrowed influence and first-time creativity to reflect both extremes.
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