Born to Kill (1947)

Born to Kill is a nasty piece of noir nihilism from director Robert Wise. At the time of its release in 1947 it was banned in some localities, and was one of a few movies that year that actually caused the MPAA to review and tighten its standards on crime films. Born to Kill was then barred from being reissued to theaters as a result. It is easy to see why it shocked and disturbed audiences back then, with its amoral characters and murder scenes that still feel intense today.

Sam Wilde is a handsome man who draws women to him with his confidence and coiled intensity. He is also a full-on psychopath with a slab of a body that can back up his murderous whims. After he sees “his” girl Laury Palmer (hmm, wonder if the Twin Peaks character was a reference?) out on a date with someone else, he follows her home and murders them both in a scene that manages to be grisly without any modern gory details. His friend Marty (Elisha Cook Jr., reminding me of a younger William H. Macy) convinces him to get out of town until the heat dies down.

The bodies are discovered by Laury’s acquaintance Helen (Claire Trevor). Helen doesn’t scream, panic, or call the police. Instead she calls to purchase a train ticket out of town. Coming to understand why she would act this way forms the crux of her character and much of the movie. She ends up on the same train as Sam, and they experience a mutual attraction. Sam comes looking for her later on, and finds out she has a fiance, Fred. Based on their previous conversation, Sam and the audience understand this milquetoast guy is what Helen would call a “turnip,” and the relationship must be about money and stability. Helen also has a rich foster sister, Georgia, who Sam sets his sights on in the meantime. Meanwhile, Laury’s lovable lush landlady Mrs. Kraft (Esther Howard in a delightful performance) hires pontificating private investigator Albert Arnett (Walter Slezak) to investigate Laury’s death. No one else seems to care about the fate of this good-time gal except Mrs. Kraft, who says that Laury’s warmth and unapologetic lifestyle were the only thing bringing joy to an old woman dying of the drink.

Sam marries Georgia with eyes on her money and status. That isn’t enough, though, he also wants to run the newspaper she inherited. Animosity and passion between Sam and Helen grows, as Helen alternately gives information to Albert or covers for Sam depending on her feelings in the moment. There are clandestine meetings, betrayals, and eventually murders as the various relationships begin to collapse. The plot hinges on a few coincidences, but the characters are the real focus. It is easy to ignore the contrivances as you watch the dance between the compellingly cold lead characters. It also helps that the cast is uniformly great, directing is solid (with a few memorable images), and events move at a brisk pace.

It was interesting seeing a movie this old that directly talks about and explores (some) women’s fascination with murder and violence, and the men who commit it. I have seen the trope of women liking “bad boys” in older media, but a woman being explicitly attracted to a man she knows is a murderer feels much more contemporary. Now “true crime” is an entire genre and social media has people openly expressing their horniness for convicted murderers. I wonder how old the phenomenon of women making and marrying prison “pen pals” is? Either way, it does a good job of showing how Sam’s unflappable confidence and directness could seem attractive to a normal woman until it becomes scary (unless you are Helen and it gets you even more hot and bothered).

Early in the movie, after Sam kills Laury, Marty protests, “You can't just go around killin' people whenever the notion strikes you. It's not feasible.” Sam disagrees, he says he figured out at a certain point that no one can do anything to stop him, so he can do whatever he wants. Later he gets the wealth and status he said he wanted, “So as I can spit in anybody's eye.” That still isn't enough. He wants control of Georgia's newspaper, to make and break people and wield influence, risking the whole marriage fighting for it. And with that, the murderous sociopath sums up our current political climate and leadership. It isn’t enough to be able to commit crimes and get away with it, it isn’t enough to have wealth and resources far beyond their needs, they need to have power, influence, respect, and the ability to spit in anybody’s eye without protest or repercussion, and will tear everything up to get it. You can’t just lick the boot, you have to smile and praise the taste as it grinds your face into the ground.

Watching this small-scale sociopath made for a compellingly curdled drama, but the reflection of real world bullies and mad men left lasting chills.

SPOILER ALERT FOR A CHARACTER’S FATE BELOW

a real one

My wife and I loved Mrs. Kraft from her first scene, and grew increasingly worried for her fate as the movie went on. We cheered out loud when she headbutted Marty and escaped her attempted murder. But her final scene might be even more brutal than just dying. Helen comes to threaten her into silence in a truly chilling exchange: “Perhaps you don't realize, it's painful being killed. A piece of metal sliding into your body, finding its way into your heart. Or a bullet tearing through your skin, crashing into a bone. It takes a while to die, too. Sometimes a long while.” And with that, Mrs. Kraft is deflated, her last hope for justice for Laury dashed. After Sam's talk of spitting in someone's eye, Mrs. Kraft is the one who actually does it (to Helen). It isn’t someone with the power to be vindictive and nasty, it is a defeated old woman with nothing left to lose, the only way left for her to express her disgust and frustration with the world and the people that chew up and spit out the little guys.