T-Men (1947) 3.86/5 (3)

Ignore the propagandist and rather wooden introduction to the “six fingers of the Treasury Departments’s fist” and that completely unnecessary narration and what emerges within these 92 minutes is a gritty, cleverly written detective noir with a winding plot and more hardbitten dialogue than you can shake a blackjack at. Dennis O’Keefe and Alfred Ryder are the two Treasury Agents (or “T-Men”) infiltrating a counterfeiting ring operating between LA and Detroit. But, as they increment their way to the top of the organisation, they find it increasingly difficult to guard against discovery especially with Wallace Ford’s crafty “schemer” in the mix. With the great John Alton operating the camera and Anthony Mann orchestrating, T-Men is as sharp looking a noir as you’ll find. Whether it’s the neon signs reflecting in pools of rain water or their run-down backstreet locations, the grime of the city seems to be veritably painted into the cracks of the walls. Virginia Kellog’s story is a crime thriller dandy in its own right but John C. Higgins’ screenplay gives it a dynamism that rivals the most slippery of noirs. Ford steals the show as the panicky self-serving old-time crook and Ryder is every bit the wise guy/detective. While O’Keefe is perfectly solid, he’s undeniably missing the personality of the genre’s heavyweights. Throw a Mitchum, Bogie, or Widmark into that role (and remove that godawfully stilted narration) and T-Men would’ve been as good as anything the genre had to offer. As it is, well, it’s still a peach.

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