Frank Bigelow: What's the matter with him?
Eddie: Ah he's flipped, the music's driving him crazy.
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Frank Bigelow: Who's the blonde?
Eddie: Oh she's one of the chicks that hang around here, she's jive crazy.
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Paula Gibson: I told him I was your confidential secretary, but I guess I didn't sound confidential enough.
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Frank Bigelow: A 1st class trip to Buenos Aires on a model's salary; don't make me laugh!
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Deputy: How shall I make out the report on him, Captain?
Captain: Better make it "dead on arrival."
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Paula Gibson: You're just like any other man, only more so.
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Frank Bigelow: Do you realise what you're saying, you're telling me that I'm dead!
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Frank Bigelow: Forget the bills. You know that coat you want? Get it.
Paula Gibson: You ARE drunk!
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Paula Gibson: What's happening up there that's exciting and different?
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Frank Bigelow: The woman always gets hurt more than the man.
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Majak: He's not afraid. You can tell from a man's eyes when he is afraid. Look at his eyes.
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[first lines]
Homicide Detective: Can I help you?
Frank Bigelow: I'd like to see the man in charge.
Homicide Detective: In here...
Frank Bigelow: I want to report a murder.
Homicide Captain: Sit down. Where was this murder committed?
Frank Bigelow: San Francisco, last night.
Homicide Captain: Who was murdered?
Frank Bigelow: I was.
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Frank Bigelow: I can breathe and I can move, but I'm not alive because I took that poison, and nothing can save me.
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Dr. MacDonald: Of course, I'll have to notify the police. This is a case for Homicide.
Frank Bigelow: Homicide!
Dr. MacDonald: I don't think you fully understand, Bigelow. You've been murdered.
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Chester: That's the way I wanna see you go, Bigelow... nice and slow.
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Stanley Philips: You're certainly not the most diplomatic person in the world, Mr. Bigelow.
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Chester: Don't get cute. I'm just itchin' to work you over.
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Kitty: I've never seen you in here before.
Frank Bigelow: That's because I've never been here.
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Paula Gibson: Frank, I don't know how to say this.
Frank Bigelow: Say what?
Paula Gibson: Well, what I want to say is that there's nothing you can do that you ever have to feel guilty about.
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Frank Bigelow: You're in this right up to your pretty little neck.
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Dave: [Pointing to man on phone] That's his boss, he's been trying for an hour to get his expense account boosted.
Eddie: The way this guy holds onto a dollar you'd think they weren't printing them any more.
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Description
A businessman who has been given a lethal dose of radium by a hired assassin tracks down his killer in a chase through the streets of Los Angeles.
Amazon.com
A faceless figure marches down an endless hallway as dark, driving music underscores his doom. It's stocky, stalwart Edmond O'Brien, who plows through the police detective's office like he's got nothing to lose. "I want to report a murder," he demands, grim and sleepy-eyed. Who was killed? "I was." It's a brilliant opening to a memorable film noir classic. O'Brien is a CPA who flees his dull job and small California town for a wild weekend in San Francisco, only to be poisoned and doomed to certain death. With only days to live, his incredulity morphs into a searing drive to find his killers and stinging regrets for what might have been. O'Brien is a familiar noir face, but he usually plays figures of authority: a cop in White Heat; an investigator in The Killers. He's a little stiff here, but his blunt, unglamorous persona is perfect for the Everyman who is randomly visited by death. Rudolph Maté, a cinematographer turned director, moves from sun-bright day scenes to busy nighttime locations with few visual flourishes, but when he takes the camera into the streets of Los Angeles and San Francisco the film is energized with a gritty, restless vigor. It's one of the most relentlessly dark films noir ever made--taut, edgy, and low budget. Watch for the Bradbury building in the film's climax, made famous by its memorable use decades later in the sci-fi noir classic Blade Runner. --Sean Axmaker
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