One of the fun things about noir is few of its defining characteristics are prerequisites. There are perfectly good noirs without a femme fatale, or without chiaroscuro lighting, or outside of an urban setting. And not all noirs have the trademark snappy dialogue... the crisp lines, distinctive lingo, backbiting remarks. So why not a noir with NO dialogue? Not a word is uttered in this look at a nuclear physicist selling secrets to an unknown enemy. We see him (Ray Millard, in a bravura performance) smuggling out photos, we see the convoluted machinations of the spy ring, the procedures of the authorities trying to catch him, and we see him wrestle with fear, doubt, conscience. When dealing with a gimmick film, several questions come up. Is the gimmick pulled off well? For the most part, yes. There is one "cheat" where we see a teletype of police communication, but other than that it stays true to the conceit without seeming forced. There isn't a moment where you think "This scene really needs some dialogue." Is the gimmick distracting? Yes and no. I was always aware of it in the back of the mind, but it wasn't annoying me or anything. Would the film be better without the gimmick? I don't think so. Again, there wasn't a scene where I felt dialogue was essential. We're spared the gung-ho narration of a docudrama like House on 92nd Street, and there's a refreshing ambiguity in that we have no idea (nor do we really care) who this enemy is, or how Milland got involved with them. These unanswered questions are rare in noir, or in any movie of the period. And putting aside the lack of dialogue, it's a nice, tight thriller with a mighty fine chase scene, psychological tension, great location work, and a very good score (which becomes especially important in this case).
