Sadly unknown and unappreciated in film noir circles, Asbjørn Andersen’s John og Irene (US: John and Irene) is not only a brilliant example of film noir firing on all cylinders but it’s a rare noir that also leaves the viewer emotionally moved. Andersen and cinematographer Aage Wiltrup coat the film with darkness and shadows (almost no daylight is present) while blending a variety of camera angles, framing devices, and even some special effects into a masterwork of noir style. The premise is unusual — an unmarried couple has formed a dance act and drifts from one city to another looking for gigs — but the central conflict brings us into standard noir territory: desperate for money after learning that Irene (Bodil Kjer) is pregnant, John (Ebbe Rode) burglarizes the home of his current employer, club owner Carlsen (Ib Schønberg), but when Carlsen walks in on him, John is forced to kill him. Too ashamed to tell Irene, John flees with her to start a new life, but the police and his conscience may not let him get too far. Alternating between hateful disdain and desperate love, the relationship between the title characters is a roller-coaster, while John’s later suppression of the truth drives him to near insanity (at one point, he offers money to a fellow train stowaway if he’ll only tell John his crime was justified). Expressionistic magic can be found everywhere from the view from a speeding boxcar to the moonlit drabness of a hotel room to the dancers’ whirling silhouettes while performing. John og Irene is essential viewing for every serious noir aficionado.