The degree 1950s television encroached on the low budget crime feature is flagged up by the response of a ritzy night club singer (Ida Lupino) to being grilled by the flashy cop (Steve Cochran) she intends to turn into a reliable income: 'I've seen all this on Dragnet'. Still, at least this is in widescreen.
It's a slender morality tale of two detectives who run down a heist that ends in murder, but decide to keep the swag for themselves. Howard Duff falls apart, but Cochran is fundamentally dishonest and is fatally tempted by the windfall he needs to bankroll the avaricious chanteuse.
The film scrutinises the condition of being a police officer doing a dangerous job for little reward. And it’s possible to sympathise… Until Cochran shoots his partner in the back anyway. He is memorably sleazy. Duff contrasts as a family man struggling to provide for his long suffering wife (Dorothy Malone).
Lupino is a touch mature for the femme fatale. Siegel handles his location shoots with skill, using silence to good effect. Like on the tv, the story is rounded up by an homily from a narrator. Maybe the box in the corner would eventually lead to the demise of film noir, but rarely did it as well as this.