This moody little independent film – written, produced and directed by Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur (the men behind the popular play "The Front Page," the source for 'His Girl Friday (1940)') – was also the third major role for Claude Raines, fresh from his stunning debut in 'The Invisible Man (1933).' Though largely a down-to-earth, if slightly cerebral, crime drama, 'Crime Without Passion' opens with a jaw dropping prologue, in which frightening, barely-clothed nymphs rise from the ground and cackle ecstatically at the sin running rampart through the city: murder, violence, adultery.
In the main story, Lee Gentry (Raines) is a high-profile lawyer who makes his living from acquitting guilty men, even if that means lying and fabricating evidence. Gentry has a new woman in his life (Whitney Bourne), but can't rid himself of the old one (Margo Albert, or just plain Margo). When Gentry commits the ultimate crime, his lucid legal mind, speaking through a ghostly mental apparition, narrates him through the process of destroying evidence and establishing an alibi. But can he get away with it?
Though very tense for the most part, I did feel a little let down by the ending. We learn, too late for our increasingly paranoid protagonist, that Carmen Brown was not actually dead, and had merely fainted in response to Gentry's gunshot. This seems an unlikely misdiagnosis from the cool, methodical lawyer; perhaps such a character blunder could only arise in a period when cinematic murders were necessarily bloodless, as chartered by the Production Code. Or maybe this is Hecht and MacArthur suggesting that, despite Gentry's belief that he is always in control, his state of mind at that moment was no less garbled than your average two-bit criminal.
In the main story, Lee Gentry (Raines) is a high-profile lawyer who makes his living from acquitting guilty men, even if that means lying and fabricating evidence. Gentry has a new woman in his life (Whitney Bourne), but can't rid himself of the old one (Margo Albert, or just plain Margo). When Gentry commits the ultimate crime, his lucid legal mind, speaking through a ghostly mental apparition, narrates him through the process of destroying evidence and establishing an alibi. But can he get away with it?
Though very tense for the most part, I did feel a little let down by the ending. We learn, too late for our increasingly paranoid protagonist, that Carmen Brown was not actually dead, and had merely fainted in response to Gentry's gunshot. This seems an unlikely misdiagnosis from the cool, methodical lawyer; perhaps such a character blunder could only arise in a period when cinematic murders were necessarily bloodless, as chartered by the Production Code. Or maybe this is Hecht and MacArthur suggesting that, despite Gentry's belief that he is always in control, his state of mind at that moment was no less garbled than your average two-bit criminal.