A pair of killers (Charles McGraw, William Conrad) show up in a small town diner with plans to kill the Swede (Burt Lancaster). Things are delayed as they terrorize the three people there, but eventually they get their man, who does not resist. Jim Reardon (Edmond O’Brien), an insurance investigator, takes the case because the Swede had a small life insurance policy. His investigation, with the help of Lt. Lubinsky (Sam Levene), leads to thugs, small time thieves, double-crosses, a big heist, and Kitty Collins (Ava Gardner), the femme fatale.
The first act is based on a Earnest Hemmingway short story—often using his dialog—and it’s a zinger. The two assassins are terrifying and a joy to listen to. The environment is true Noir, with gloom and sickness hanging over everything. Lancaster makes a great hopeless victim. And it all promises so much. With such a great opening, what mysteries are to be uncovered? There’s no question that the back-story of the victim is going to be one of cinemas greatest. And who those killers are is going to supply a great payoff. It can only lead to brilliant reveal after brilliant reveal.
Or not.
It seems a little unfair to penalize the film for not being able to live up to its setup. What Noir could live up to such a perfect opening? The Maltese Falcon did it. Double Indemnity and Laura as well, and Sunset Blvd. But that’s about it, and those are the best of the best. The Killers promised more than it could deliver.
That’s not to say what’s here isn’t good. The high-contrast cinematography is everything I could ask for. Ava Gardner is supernaturally beautiful. Lancaster made enough of an impression on audiences to become a star—just from this role. O’Brien is a solid lead and I’ve always enjoyed Levene. Even the plot with its twists within twists kept my mind in the game. But that’s it. It’s all…nice. It’s good. But that opening was the opening of a masterpiece, and I’m left feeling cheated by the end. The thugs were fine, but not exciting. The Swede was just some guy. The story kept things humming along, but it is neither mythic nor unexpected. The only thing that surprised me was how few surprises there were.
When the two killers finally show up again after an extended absence, I got excited. Now things were going to fire on all cylinders again. But Hemmingway only wrote a short story and director Robert Siodmak and writer Anthony Veiller had used that up. There was no magic left in the tank. It’s not shocking when you consider they stuck on ninty minutes of material that was trying to explain and fill out the twelve minute opening.
I think I’d have been more satisfied without the opening, making this a pretty good little B-movie about some small time crooks trying to make a big score and it not working out. With the opening, The Killers is disappointing. But man, those are a masterful twelve minutes.