Turning away from the intricately plotted film noirs of the 1940’s, Nicholas Ray decided he was far more interested in how our own paranoia and arrogance is often more of a threat to our beings than the wily charms and dark crimes of mysterious femme fatales. In this way, In a Lonely Place feels like one of the first true Cold War films, denying us the satisfaction or shock of seeing either one of our main characters be caught out for their crimes, and instead leaving us with a deep melancholy as we wonder whether their distrust was ever worth it to begin with.
In a Lonely Place sees disillusioned Hollywood screenwriter, Dixon Steele, become the primary suspect of the murder of a young woman who visited his apartment late at night. His neighbour, Laurel Gray, is called in as a potential witness, but rather than providing any real help the two quickly fall in love. As pressure from the police mounts, Steele struggles to control his fits of violent rage. Whether he did or didn’t commit the crime steadily becomes more irrelevant; the stakes start to rest on whether he is able to salvage any remnants of stability or happiness at all.
Unlike so many noirs, In a Lonely Place pursues an ordinary couple dealing with internal relationship issues, rather than a heightened relationship in extraordinary circumstances, and as such it may be one of the most personal film noirs of Hollywood’s Golden Age. There is no mastermind plotting our protagonist’s downfall here, though we do wonder for a while whether Ray is going to reveal that either Steele or Gray really did commit the murder, and that perhaps one of them has had everything planned from the start.
Though Steele might not be a murderer, he demonstrates plenty of lesser faults that are still enough for any sane person to question whether it is worth investing in him to begin with. Right from the first scene, he showcases his ability to remain tolerated by those around him no matter how cantankerous and violent he acts. According to his colleagues, this sort of behaviour should just be accepted by virtue of his talent.
Nine years prior in The Maltese Falcon, Sam Spade’s greatest asset was his sharp mind and emotional distance. Between that film and this one, Humphrey Bogart had aged almost a decade, and that lack of sensitivity didn’t quite have the same charm anymore. For Dixon Steele it is his fatal flaw, and one that Ray uses to reflect back on his own experiences in the film industry, as he asks how much these famous idols he works with can get away with before their devotees are able to recognise them as imperfect.
Since this is Ray’s vision of Hollywood egoism and its impact on personal affairs, it is a little ironic that his relationship with lead actress Gloria Grahame fell apart during the production of this film. There is no evidence that Ray was anywhere near as abusive as Steele, but while filming he did famously make Grahame sign a contract that forced her to “acknowledge that in every conceivable situation his will and judgement shall be considered superior to mine and shall prevail.”
In a Lonely Place sits in the same class of film noirs as Touch of Evil and The Night of the Hunter, all of which started to subvert traditional noir conventions in the 50’s before neo-noir films took hold in the early 60’s. It also launched Ray himself into his most successful period of filmmaking, as he went on to direct Johnny Guitar and Rebel Without a Cause only a few years later. He had a soft spot for troubled, lonely men, but for all of Dixon Steele’s issues in In a Lonely Place, Ray is careful to always remind us that the egoist should consider turning inwards to discover the root of their problems.
