Act of Violence

Film noir was a powerful reflection of American postwar anxiety, but rarely was that anxiety addressed so directly and literally as in Fred Zinnemann’s masterpiece, Act of Violence, the story of war veteran Frank Enley (Van Heflin) who’s haunted not only by deep psychological scars but by a living, vengeful comrade who stalks Enley from coast to coast, refusing to forgive his betrayal in their Nazi POW camp. With one injured leg dragging behind, the stalker, Joe Parkson (Robert Ryan), visits Enley’s young wife Edith (Janet Leigh) at home before ultimately tracking down her husband at a builders convention, his singular aim to dispatch Enley for his misdeeds. Extraordinarily dark and somber in tone, the film is both suspenseful (Parkson’s circumnavigation of the Enleys’ house at night, the only sound his dragging foot coming closer and closer, is one of noir’s more terrifying scenes) and somewhat nihilistic, as Enley’s mental health seems to disintegrate before our eyes from scene to scene, shaking and sweating, his hopelessness reaching its nadir in the cold, forgotten rail yard. Heflin is disturbingly effective in the role, and Ryan is near perfect as the broken, sensitive soldier, but somehow Mary Astor still manages to steal the film as the not-quite-bitter, middle-aged, has-been hooker Pat who appears to have a kind soul even if she’s mostly looking for “kicks.” Surtees’ cinematography shines despite — or thanks to — the bleak palette, the city streets made to look threatening and stern, the doom clenching tighter and tighter as the sun goes down.