Nessuno sa il proprio destino

This movie is the first installment of The Whistler series from Columbia Pictures, all but one of which starred Richard Dix whose A-picture career was then on an alcoholic downgrade, but whose liquor-ravaged face was just right for the overall atmosphere. (For a complete list of series titles, consult "movie connections" on web page.) Of all the movie series to emerge from the 30's and 40's, this is easily one of the most fascinating and unusual. Each entry presents a different self-contained story, tied together only by the mysterious figure of The Whistler who comments briefly on plot developments, but appears only in shadow to whistle his trademark refrain. He seems to be a figure of fate since the hand of destiny emerges in most of the entries. But most importantly, the plots follow no formula (unusual for any series) and are entirely unpredictable in their outcome. This unpredictability is what distinguishes the series from others of the time.You really don't know what's going to happen or how each episode will turn out. Moreover, there's a strong noirish quality to many of the entries, with a suspenseful atmosphere, an underlying sense of doom, and imaginative characters and plot twists. All in all, the productions are a first cousin to the celebrated Val Lewton horror cycle from RKO, minus the supernatural. I'm surprised that with all the scholarly interest in film noir, that this noirish series has not received the critical attention it merits.

Though weaker in many ways (the script appears put together on the fly), this initial entry contains many features generic to the others. Dix, a prosperous manufacturer, arranges for his own death following the presumed death of his beloved wife, only to find out ironically that she is not dead. The problem is he can't undo the arrangement and is thus forced to escape through the labyrinthine venues of the city's skid row. The entire 60 minutes has something of a nightmarish quality since it starts off with Dix expecting death, though in what form, he can't be sure. Looking convincingly like a real bum, it's Dix's tour through the seedy parts of the city that really commands attention, especially the 25-cent flop-house with its rows of coffin-like cots, snoring vagrants, and sneak thief. You can almost smell the rot-gut whiskey peeling off the walls. The sets are bare-bones, the cafes, bars, and city sidewalks sometimes suggesting the unadorned depths of urban despair. Unfortunately, the ending is abrupt and disappointing. It's almost as though the production suddenly ran out of film and had to wrap it up right then. Nonetheless, many of the distinctive elements of the productions are already present. Unfortunately copies of the series are hard to obtain ( my own burned in a house fire some time ago). So let's hope our friends on cable TV follow up on this initial entry some time soon. It's well worth tuning in.