After you watch enough movies from the 1940s you get a feeling the men did most of the heavy lifting storywise. Women were either hometown girl, femme fatale, or cute and sassy cut outs to paper over. While the guys threw all the punches, the woman either dodged, sidestepped, or pulled out a gun to handle the situation if those fists were aimed to close. I mention this because if you look carefully at the poster art for Johnny O'Clock, guess who's in the driver's seat and who's tagging along for the ride. Men: can't live with them, can't find a safe enough place to stash the bodies. Go figure. If you haven't seen Dick Powell playing detective Philip Marlowe in Murder, My Sweet, you really ought to. While it's a better movie than this one, he always gives a hardboiled, smart ass performance that's pure noir alley, so you can't go wrong catching this one too.
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