One Paragraph Movie Review: The Killers

Two hundred and eighty-fourth film: The Killers, a textbook film noir bit from 1946 that has everything. A payroll heist, a gangster’s moll, a moidah, people lighting matches on the soles of their shoes, and the word “caper” sprayed liberally about. Like so many noir flicks, the barrage of gangster nicknames and mercurial alliances can make you a bit anxious, but in the safe hands of an Ernest Hemingway short story as inspiration, Burt Lancaster’s shoulders and Ava Gardner’s cheekbones, the confusing edges are sanded down. Starting with a murder, most of the movie is told via flashbacks and an insurance detective’s investigations, covering crime, betrayal, and the gloriously stereotypical announcement that “if there’s one thing in this world I hate, it’s a double-crossing dame”. For me it’s folding fitted sheets, but each to their own. Good. Three and a half sweetened-up ginger ales out of five.