“I’m fed up. Ever heard that phrase? No, you wouldn’t. You’re not married.”

There’s that unmistakeable air of the mid-life crisis which pervades The File on Thelma Jordon (1949). It is clearly stated that the male lead is just 35 years old, but his attitude, his mindset, the cloud of vague dissatisfaction that dogs him all evoke a sense of middle-aged ennui. This is a classic noir setup, the monotony of finding oneself plowing along a rigidly defined rut, the soul-sapping realization that the adventurous promise of youth has yielded to the safe predictability of a humdrum existence. When a man becomes aware of this then the danger signals start to flash insistently. Maybe it’s a timeless affliction, but the postwar male was particularly susceptible to it. The struggles and sacrifices of WWII were supposed to lead to freedom and certainly something better than a dull and unfulfilling life, weren’t they? And this is the premise that underpins the drama which unfolds, the disillusionment felt by a man who finds himself hemmed in.

The File on Thelma Jordon works its way through a range of styles and touches on a succession of different genre conventions. It opens in a semi-comedic style, with Assistant District Attorney Cleve Marshall (Wendell Corey) painted in broad, almost farcical, strokes as he ties one on and revels in self-pity on the evening of his wedding anniversary. If he could be said to be unhappily married, it’s not so much that his discontent stems from his feelings (or any lack thereof) for his wife (Joan Tetzel), more that he is overwhelmed by his overbearing father-in-law.  When Thelma Jordon (Barbara Stanwyck) stops by the chief investigator’s office to report fears about burglaries at the home of her elderly and extremely wealthy aunt she is mildly amused. Soon though, a romance develops between Cleve and Thelma, an illicit one given his marital status and the gossipy instincts of people in general. At this point, the story has moved on via the furtive intensity of such love affairs to become something of a doomed romance picture, before taking a sharp left turn into thriller territory. This occurs when the old lady is discovered shot dead in her own parlor, with Thelma left in a distinctly tricky position – accused of murder in fact. What follows is a classic courtroom drama, one where Cleve contrives to have himself installed as chief prosecutor in the hopes of sabotaging his own case against Thelma. Finally, the story segues into full throttle melodrama with a truly startling climax.

Robert Siodmak could be said to have played one of the most instrumental roles in the development of film noir. One only has to look at the string of superb movies he made through the 1940s, starting with Christmas Holiday and finishing off with Deported, to see the quality of his work and how influential it remains. Even if it does not quite mark the end of that cycle, I think The File on Thelma Jordon counts as his last truly great film noir. As I mentioned in the opening paragraph, the core of the story catches that post-WWII mood neatly: it is shot evocatively with deep chiaroscuro shadows, and plenty of noir visual motifs on show – bars, railings, blinds and tilted angles – and features a marvelously calculating femme fatale in Stanwyck. Siodmak frequently leant into melodrama in his films noir and the tendency is especially evident in this movie. Of course, a good deal of that is likely down to screenwriter Ketti Frings, whose work was notably strong in that direction. Around this time she also wrote the script for The Accused, another noir with a high melodrama quotient, not to mention a plot which is predicated on the notion of poor judgement and questionable choices. As such, visually, thematically and in terms of core concepts this represents a solid basis for a classic film noir.

Barbara Stanwyck and Wendell Corey made three films together, all Hal Wallis productions for Paramount: this one, The Furies and Sorry, Wrong Number, the latter being the only one where they were not romantically paired. Does the relationship work? I would say it does as Corey is very successful at tapping into the more gullible or credulous aspects of his character. He is ultimately the dupe in a complex scheme and much depends on his ability to convey the transition from initial naivety, through suspicion, to eventual realization. In a way, the movie, via the characterization of Cleve, traces something of a circle – he starts out frustrated and disappointed and winds up arguably more disillusioned by the end, albeit in a very different way and for different reasons. Stanwyck turns in a performance of  great slyness and subtlety, the craftiness with which she carries off her part is something that becomes increasingly apparent with repeat viewings of the film, and therefore adds up to another finely judged piece of work from her.

The supporting cast all inhabit their roles satisfactorily too. Paul Kelly essays great sincerity as the investigator who is also Cleve’s friend. Stanley Ridges is deliciously slippery as the defense counsel who has pretty much everyone’s number right from the off. His early consultation with Thelma as both of them fence and dance around their suspicions is played with consummate skill, and again the layering and shading are even more impressive when the movie is viewed more than once. Joan Tetzel (Duel in the Sun, The Paradine Case) ends up slightly overshadowed in a role which is more straightforward than those around her, but she acquits herself well enough. Finally, Richard Rober does another solid job as Thelma’s old flame – he doesn’t get a huge amount of screen time but he was always a convincing noir presence. Without wishing to be glib, I have to to say there’s something almost eerie about the parallel between the shocking demise of his character in this movie and the way his own life was to be cut so tragically short just a few years later.

The File on Thelma Jordon was released on DVD and Blu-ray by the now defunct Olive Films, though it is still available to buy. I bought the DVD myself when it came out years ago and I feel the transfer still holds up well. The only disappointing aspect was the fact there were absolutely no supplements on the disc, which seems unfortunate given the quality of the cast, the director and indeed the movie itself. Even so, this is well worth tracking down if you can lay your hands on a copy. All told, it’s a smooth combination of melodrama and noir where no one comes away unscathed yet also one where the idea of redemption is still present.

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