A genuine bottom of the barrel sleeper. Sure, the budget doesn't exceed about a dollar-fifty, especially for the bare-bones sets. But wisely, most of that was earmarked for two giants of classic noir— actor Dekker and photographer Alton. Add to that a pretty tight little screenplay, and we get a riveting foray into a noirish web of paranoia and guilt, heightened by Dekker's commanding performance and Alton's expressionist lighting.
Note, for example, how economically stockbroker Holden's (Dekker) devious character is conveyed in the opening scene. He's dug a hole and now must scheme his way out, but soon that scheming will envelop him in odd ways, through either sheer bad luck or the proverbial hand of noirish fate. What a marvelously dominating turn by Dekker as the doomed fortune hunter. He always brought an icy intelligence to his roles and it's on effective display here.
Note also how Alton's lighting gets progressively more oppressive as the web tightens. Those pin lights isolating Holden's face are perfect visual correlates of the mounting paranoia. And catch that final grim figure, eating out of a suitcase in an unlit bedroom, the dark forces at last closing in. Noir doesn't get much more expressive than this.
Something should also be said about Alan Carney's wonderfully sinister nightclub owner. Note how quickly he moves from jovial host to fierce gangster once Holden broaches his murderous proposition. At the same time, that screeching giggle is enough to cause an audience run on earmuffs. The rotund Carney's an unusual presence, to say the least. Too bad that other expert grotesque, Charles Middleton, is in a rather conventional butler role, minus way too much screen time. His graveyard voice is always a shuddery treat, and a big reason to catch those old Flash Gordon serials.
Director Wilder may have been the lesser half of the two director brothers, but a look at his production credits shows a certain flair for low-budget quality both here and elsewhere— The Great Flamarion (1945), Strange Impersonation (1946), Three Steps North (1951)-- all contain redeeming virtues, even if in a minor key.
All in all, The Pretender remains a sleeper on several interesting levels-- another pleasant surprise at even this most obscure level of 40's movie-making.
(In passing-- viewers might question the eerie, yet cheesy, presence of the theremin sound effect in what's already an eerie movie. Also, there're some distractive problems with Holden's moustache. Check out the occasional color and shape shifts for no apparent reason. Maybe someone in make-up was near-sighted.)
