The infamous Hollywood blacklist, which saw writers, actors and directors alike accused of harbouring Communist sympathies and forced others to name names or else face exile from the business altogether, may have been one of the darkest times the industry has ever faced. Yet, it also inspired great anger in the movies, and writers and directors channelled this frustration into some of the best movies of the era, taking the opportunity to delve into and pick apart the underbelly of the so-called perfect American society. Director Joseph Losey and screenwriter Dalton Trumbo - the latter already on the blacklist and working under a pseudonym - combined to create one of the darkest and most fascinating film noirs ever to come out of Hollywood with the inexplicably obscure The Prowler.
After seeing a strange man lurking in the backyard of her hacienda, Susan Gilvray (Evelyn Keyes), the wife of a radio personality, calls the cops and is greeted by partners Webb Garwood (Van Heflin) and Bud Crocker (John Maxwell). It's a routine visit, but Webb falls for the striking Susan, and is soon back to pay her a follow-up call in the hope of seducing her while her husband is at work. The two start a passionate and dangerous affair, but Webb becomes frustrated as Susan cannot bring herself to leave her husband. Retreating to his squalid, cramped apartment, Webb ignores Susan's calls while hatching a 'perfect crime' - to become a prowler himself and take out the man standing in his way of happiness in the process. But there's no such thing as a perfect crime in the world of noir, and the couple are soon under suspicion and on the run.
One of the key aspects to the film noir genre is the idea of the femme fatale - the beautiful blonde or brunette who, frustrated and bored with their current situation, start to manipulate events with devastating results, and usually duping some poor love-struck sap in the process. The Prowler is in many ways incredibly similar to Billy Wilder's masterwork Double Indemnity, but with the gender roles reversed. Here, it is Van Heflin's Webb Garwood who is the schemer, and he does so with such arrogant relish that I found myself almost willing him on. The cogs start turning the moments he lays eyes on Susan, and they turn ever faster when he takes a peek at her husband's generous will. He is a truly hideous, wretched creation, played with incredible naturalism by Heflin. The devious intentions glisten in his eyes from the moment he turns up at Susan's house for the first time alone.
Trumbo, who produced some of his greatest work while on the blacklist (and winning two Oscars), clearly enjoyed dissecting a trusted American institution and showing its ugly side. It's shocking to see Webb, a police officer often in uniform, act with such malicious intent in a time when America was still promoting the idea of the 'American Dream'. Webb knows what his dream is and goes about taking it with all his might, mirroring the proud capitalist ideals of his country. It's incredibly subversive stuff for the genre, and is even bold enough to let Susan, an adulterer carrying a child conceived out of wedlock, off relatively easy for her sins. It's a miracle it got past the Hays Code, and its somewhat taboo subject matter and the matter-of-fact way in which it goes about its business is probably why it isn't better known. Yet this deserves to find a new audience, as on top of being one of the most intriguing film noirs out there, it's also significant both historically and culturally.
