Born to Kill (1947)

I am either equipped with a poor taste, or Born to kill (dir. Robert Wise) is a perennial example of good, sleazy film noir. Reno: a gruesome murder has been committed. Right from the start, we know who the killer is. For that reason, Born to kill is no mystery film. The murderer, Sam, is a man who knows himself to be an unstoppable charmer. On a train to San Francisco, he meets a lady, Helen. What he doesn’t know is that the woman on the train, a tough divorcee, was the person who discovered the dead bodies.  Sam clearly fancies an affair with Helen, whom he considers an equal in terms of cynical mentality. There’s something there, all right, but Helen is about to get married. Sam chooses the next good option that comes along and marries Helen’s wealthy sister (which doesn't stop the erotic tension between him and Helen). It soon dawns on Sam & Helen that the murdered girl’s female admirer has hired a private investigator. And so on, and so forth.

So what the heck is so funny about this? Well, I like the no-nonsense energy of the film. There are logical holes in the story, but regardless of that, the film moves on towards its tragic end with a mixture of screwballsy misunderstandings and illicit relationships. The dialogue is of the kind we expect: keep it short, keep it expressive. Born to kill also features some good examples of how the infamous Hayes code was dodged. There are several hints, quite explicit, too, of gay relationships.  As all the good noir films, there is no trace of moralism. What happens, happens. One can interpret the end as the expression of conscience – but just as likely, on can read it in the opposite way. Born to kill is lots of fun in all sorts of ways.

Contemporary critics were appalled by the Vices excercised in this film. God bless films who "pander to the lower levels of taste" and are an "offence to a normal intellect"! I love this film.