From the initial wave of film noir, this is an American cinema classic. Robert Mitchum runs a garage in rural California when his past catches up with him by chance. He used to be a laconic private detective who was hired by a tough racketeer (Kirk Douglas) to bring back the dangerous moll (Jane Greer) who turned a gun on the him and escaped down to Mexico with $40000.
The gumshoe catches up with her in a bar in Acapulco. But rather than turn her in, gets romantically entangled. Which ends in murder. Years later the gangster plans a complicated revenge... Mitchum and Greer are sensational together. They are noir legends. She, as Kathie Moffat, is the ultimate femme fatale.
It's a complex yet engaging narrative. But it's the visual imagery and the gorgeous noir photography (Nicholas Musuraca) that stays in the memory and creates a profound aura of fatalism. The lovers kiss among the fishing nets on a beach, both operating an alias. Mitchum sitting in a cantina under a big neon sign, thinking he is the trap, when really, it's her.
The dark cynicism of the film allows in no light. Nothing can end well. The script is dark noir poetry. The usual genre pessimism is expressed so exquisitely, especially by Mitchum and Greer in the casino as he watches her lose at roulette:
"That's not the way to win.
Is there a way to win?
There's a way to lose more slowly..."
It is probably de rigueur to state that this is film noir and it is one of the films that sets the standard and to some extent lays out the rules of the genre. This is the film that made Robert Mitchum, maybe the word wasn't in use, in this context, in 1947 but he is the epitome of "cool". His facial expression never changes whether his life is in danger or he is about to kiss the femme fatale and his vocal register remains on one level. It is a masterclass in non-acting acting. Jane Greer's performance is also understated, it exudes eroticism without even trying. The plot is complicated but following it is not necessary to enjoy the film, the dialogue by Daniel Mainwaring (aka novelist Geoffrey Holmes) crackles along with some great exchanges. At one point, I forget the details, he says to her something like "you're quite small" and she replies "I'm bigger than Napoleon." Great stuff.
Some noirs punch you in the face with a one-liner and a gunshot. This one just seeps in — and, annoyingly, it really does get better with every watch. The flashback-heavy structure helps: you keep spotting little set-ups and reversals you missed last time.
Robert Mitchum (with frankly ridiculous hair) drifts through it like a man carrying a suitcase he didn’t pack: charming one minute, faintly dangerous the next. The film loves the contrast between small-town calm and big-city consequences — you can practically hear the past rattling the windows. Jane Greer’s Kathy is the nastiest trick: all doe-eyed sympathy until you realise it’s fear dressed up as strategy. And Kirk Douglas is superb as Whit, a smug, volatile bundle of entitlement who poisons every scene he’s in.
Nicholas Musuraca’s cinematography carves faces with backlit profiles that could cut glass. If you like noir at its most elegant and fatalistic, Out of the Past is essential.