It was going so well. And instead I end with a very divided opinion.
As very unassuming as it begins, it doesn't take long for the story to begin to spiral out of control for the characters. One desperate, ill-thought decision opens the door to the remainder of the tale - although, for as untrustworthy as the criminal justice system proves itself to be time and again, maybe it's not so ill-thought after all. Film noir has a very common look and feel, with distinctive elements, and in many regards this may not completely stand out from its brethren. Yet as one should well expect from a master like Fritz Lang, there's an underhanded subtlety to the proceedings that's rich and welcoming, helping 'The woman in the window' to make its own soft mark after all as we sit to watch.
Every component is rife with terrific detail that helps to inculcate significant, lasting suspense. Something as small as a clock seen in the background, showing the passage of time, readily comes to attention, nevermind tactful application of light and shadow. Milton R. Krasner's cinematography is sharp and vivid, warmly enriching the picture with every smart movement; the uneasy, surprisingly varied themes in Arthur Lange's score lend unmistakable ambience, heightening the tension at all times. Alongside Krasner, Lang orchestrates shots and scenes with marvelously delicate visual clues that further the bristling airs all the more. Even the dialogue and scene writing in Nunnally Johnson's screenplay is a twisted combination of smooth, subdued, and pointedly menacing - either with the direct intent of the characters on hand, or with unwitting incidence given the plight of our two chief figures. As the feature climbs toward its climax, still the course of events are kept at a steady boil, letting pressure build and build toward an enormous release. I'd be flatly lying if I said I weren't impressed.
Mind you, superb as all these factors are, it also seems like they're but the framework for the excellent performances of the stars. Edward G. Robinson isn't a name that leaps out to modern viewers like some of his contemporaries, yet he was capable of such tremendous range and nuance, and he bears the nervous disposition of protagonist Richard with an ease that allows him to disappear into the professor. Joan Bennett, likewise, slips into troubled Alice with a depth of poise and personality that's electrifying, to the point that I immediately want to find more of her work to watch. Relegated to a smaller supporting part in the latter half, Dan Duryea nonetheless makes a huge mark as Heidt, entering the scenario with wretched smarm that's instantly repulsing.
All this is well and good, to say nothing of splendid production design, art direction, costume design, hair and makeup, and so on. I was prepared to say that, though this may not be a critical must-see, for anyone who appreciates the genre it's well worth checking out. That's still mostly true - but then comes the ending. That pressure that was building and building doesn't get a release after all; the film just turns off the heat, and the pressure goes away. The tale concludes with the employment of a trope that I hate more than any other in all of storytelling. The resolution could have been utterly gripping, unforgivingly dark, and a major pinnacle of suspense, and instead I found myself yelling in despairing disbelief as the biggest cop-out in fiction, that is very rarely used in a meaningful way, rears its head once again. It almost feels like this was a question of censorship, as though the real, best ending was suppressed for being too bleak, thereby requiring rewrites and reshoots. One can whip up apologetics for the movie As Is, sure, but that doesn't change the fact that the ending frankly just kind of drops the ball.
I was prepared to lavish praise upon 'The woman in the window' for how stupendously it crafts its exquisite absorbing, understated thrills. I certainly still think Lang and all others involved deserve great credit for exactly that. My overall esteem for the film takes a dire hit when it matters most, however, and the lingering taste I have in my mouth is not one I prefer to recall. I suppose this is still deserving and a fine watch if you happen to come across it, but the free-fall in the last minutes, from "perfection" to "oh no," is precipitous. Oh well.
As very unassuming as it begins, it doesn't take long for the story to begin to spiral out of control for the characters. One desperate, ill-thought decision opens the door to the remainder of the tale - although, for as untrustworthy as the criminal justice system proves itself to be time and again, maybe it's not so ill-thought after all. Film noir has a very common look and feel, with distinctive elements, and in many regards this may not completely stand out from its brethren. Yet as one should well expect from a master like Fritz Lang, there's an underhanded subtlety to the proceedings that's rich and welcoming, helping 'The woman in the window' to make its own soft mark after all as we sit to watch.
Every component is rife with terrific detail that helps to inculcate significant, lasting suspense. Something as small as a clock seen in the background, showing the passage of time, readily comes to attention, nevermind tactful application of light and shadow. Milton R. Krasner's cinematography is sharp and vivid, warmly enriching the picture with every smart movement; the uneasy, surprisingly varied themes in Arthur Lange's score lend unmistakable ambience, heightening the tension at all times. Alongside Krasner, Lang orchestrates shots and scenes with marvelously delicate visual clues that further the bristling airs all the more. Even the dialogue and scene writing in Nunnally Johnson's screenplay is a twisted combination of smooth, subdued, and pointedly menacing - either with the direct intent of the characters on hand, or with unwitting incidence given the plight of our two chief figures. As the feature climbs toward its climax, still the course of events are kept at a steady boil, letting pressure build and build toward an enormous release. I'd be flatly lying if I said I weren't impressed.
Mind you, superb as all these factors are, it also seems like they're but the framework for the excellent performances of the stars. Edward G. Robinson isn't a name that leaps out to modern viewers like some of his contemporaries, yet he was capable of such tremendous range and nuance, and he bears the nervous disposition of protagonist Richard with an ease that allows him to disappear into the professor. Joan Bennett, likewise, slips into troubled Alice with a depth of poise and personality that's electrifying, to the point that I immediately want to find more of her work to watch. Relegated to a smaller supporting part in the latter half, Dan Duryea nonetheless makes a huge mark as Heidt, entering the scenario with wretched smarm that's instantly repulsing.
All this is well and good, to say nothing of splendid production design, art direction, costume design, hair and makeup, and so on. I was prepared to say that, though this may not be a critical must-see, for anyone who appreciates the genre it's well worth checking out. That's still mostly true - but then comes the ending. That pressure that was building and building doesn't get a release after all; the film just turns off the heat, and the pressure goes away. The tale concludes with the employment of a trope that I hate more than any other in all of storytelling. The resolution could have been utterly gripping, unforgivingly dark, and a major pinnacle of suspense, and instead I found myself yelling in despairing disbelief as the biggest cop-out in fiction, that is very rarely used in a meaningful way, rears its head once again. It almost feels like this was a question of censorship, as though the real, best ending was suppressed for being too bleak, thereby requiring rewrites and reshoots. One can whip up apologetics for the movie As Is, sure, but that doesn't change the fact that the ending frankly just kind of drops the ball.
I was prepared to lavish praise upon 'The woman in the window' for how stupendously it crafts its exquisite absorbing, understated thrills. I certainly still think Lang and all others involved deserve great credit for exactly that. My overall esteem for the film takes a dire hit when it matters most, however, and the lingering taste I have in my mouth is not one I prefer to recall. I suppose this is still deserving and a fine watch if you happen to come across it, but the free-fall in the last minutes, from "perfection" to "oh no," is precipitous. Oh well.