In the aftermath of the French Revolution, Robespierre (Richard Basehart) schemes to make himself dictator. But his black book, which holds the names of both friends and foes he will execute, has been stolen. Masquerading as a psychotic killer, Charles D’Aubigny (Robert Cummings) is given the job of retrieving the book, which he secretly plans to use to destroy Robespierre. The task puts him at odds with Fouché (Arnold Moss), the treacherous head of the secret police, as well as brings him back into contact with his ex-love, Madelon (Arlene Dahl ).
In the never-ending argument on the nature of Film Noir, I am squarely in the genre camp (as opposed to Noir being a movement or style). But then along comes Reign of Terror to demonstrate there is no right answer when dealing with artificial labels. This is Film Noir, no doubt about it. It doesn’t matter that it’s a costume drama set several hundred years before the term was invented, and there isn’t a private detective or revolver to be found. Like Porn, I know Noir when I see it.
Reign of Terror is a taut, intense, expressionistic journey into the dark recesses of humanity. You can’t find a better time and place than the French Revolution for viewing the unpleasantness inherent in human nature and director Anthony Mann captures it all. Robespierre is a vicious megalomaniac, Fouché is an amoral killer, and the people of France are bloodthirsty savages. Even our hero D’Aubigny, while brave and fighting for a higher cause, isn’t a likeable guy.
Cummings shows surprising range, leaving his normal light fare. He plays the bitter but honorable man who isn’t above putting the innocent in danger, and if I wasn’t aware of his career, I’d never guess that this was an actor who specialized in friendly, everyday characters. Dahl is the sexy (and amazingly gorgeous) femme fatale who displays the proper amount of cruelty to go with her almost true heart. Basehart manages complete malevolence, while Moss creates a nearly sympathetic villain who switches between charm a brutally.
The story weaves about, with mistaken identities aplenty and more intrigue than in any ten traditional spy flicks. No one should be bored. But the story isn’t the point. Style is king. It doesn’t matter what happens, but how it is presented. The whole movie could be about a guy counting his socks and it would still feel sinister. Mann uses every trick in the Film Noir handbook and makes up a few of his own. Shadows are ever-present, with beams of gray “light” in darker seas emphasizing the solitary nature of each character. The camera perches overhead or squats on the ground, and then shoots forward for uncomfortably personal close-ups. It induces both vertigo and claustrophobia. There’s nothing to hold on to, nothing stable.
Reign of Terror is like no other film. Nearly surrealistic, it is a must-see for any young horror director who wants to see how to build a nightmare.