The Naked Alibi wastes some potentially terrific talents by forcing them into last-ditch, half-hearted retreads of characters and situations that had already, by 1954 and halfway down the leeward slope of the noir cycle, been done to death often, in fact, done by these very same actors.
That Nordic giant Sterling Hayden, never easy to cast, gives a reprise of a role the angry cop that suited him so well he encored it several times, taking his final bow in 1972 in The Godfather. (And, as nasty cops go, maybe only Robert Ryan played it nastier.) Gloria Grahame's kittenish victim had become by this time a staple of the cycle, but it's almost always good to watch her anyway. But so hot on the heels of Fritz Lang's The Big Heat, her role in The Naked Alibi looks very much like the larcenous knock-off that it is, right down to the final, poignant fadeout (and it doesn't help when she makes her entrance as a nightclub canary using a dubbed voice).
The plot, which loses more credibility every time it takes a new turn, concerns the murder of police officers a smallish California city. Hayden's prime suspect is Gene Barry, but this church-going baker with a submissive wifey fools everybody else. Dogging him relentlessly, Hayden gets thrown off the force and, free-lancing, follows Barry to a wide-open town on the Mexican border where the suspect leads a double life, involving Grahame. Inevitably, Hayden gets involved with her too. Barry finally flashes his true colors and he joins Hayden in pursuing their mutual vendetta. But the working out is perfunctory and predictable, and it goes to show that even marquee stars can't salvage a tired, derivative piece of filmmaking.
