clanciai A unique film of most unexpected development, an ambiguous morality causing a confusion of afterthought, and naturally few know how to really assess this masterpiece of a mysterious noir at its best. Of course, it depends very much on what kind of character you are yourself, you will not understand it if you are not a romantic, and you will find the first part objectionable if you are. But for a psychologist, this film is a gold mine.Robert Ryan was never more convincing in this sleeping volcano of a role, a policeman embittered by the constant humdrum nightmare of his job, getting more and more difficult for his colleagues to work with and having a problem with controlling his own violent outbursts. You almost expect him to go mad any moment, and his difficulty in checking this is evident and masterfully displayed. This is the kind of policeman with hidden psychopath tendencies that you have to fear the worst of.Enter Ida Lupino in one of her most sensitive and gripping roles as a blind woman, which she enacts with heartrending subtlety and convincing passion. She lifts the film from the abyss of the constant city nightmare into a level of poetry. The story that follows increases all the time in human interest and suspense. I have no objection against the ending.The amazing qualities of the film are additionally stressed and heightened by an overwhelmingly eloquent score by Bernard Herrmann, which secures a full ten point vote - this is almost like a prelude to "Vertigo".In brief, I agree with most reviewers here, that this is a hidden masterpiece that deserves some positive attention and definitely should be recommended for all times.

jeffhaller125 This is unlike any film I have ever seen. It actually plays like two different movies and if you see them separately, each feels complete. The city part is probably the most honest and gripping depiction of the police force and its darkness. The film then does an about face in the country, in an entirely different rhythm that is equally dark. It is a character study in which all of the characters earn our sympathy. We can't help but understand why they behave as they do. I often think of the 1950s as a very weak decade for American film. This one stands among the best. Had the French made this movie, it would be talked about as a masterpiece.I heard that the ending was dramatically changed from what was originally intended. The studio made the right decision. The audience deserves a happy ending to this almost gruesome tale.

Blake Peterson Lovely is not a word I would normally use when describing a film noir, yet here I am, labeling On Dangerous Ground as a lovely piece of work. It is perhaps Nicholas Ray's most upbeat movie, beginning as a hard- hitting cop story and ending on a heartwarming note, with renewal and hopefulness at its beck and call. It is the only tender film noir I've seen. Genre turnarounds can be hurtful to the tone of a film, as no one wants to go to the theaters for a Will Ferrell vehicle only to find it sinking into tragedy rather than an uproariously funny closer. But by tying the pessimistic atmosphere of the first act into the neuroses of the title character, the shift in On Dangerous Ground is largely flattering, a difficult feat that Ray pulls off with unwavering certainty. He believes in the story, and, as a result, so do we. Robert Ryan portrays Jim Wilson, a worn-out detective who is growing increasingly intolerant towards the disreputable scum he deals with on a regular basis. In past film noirs, cops as violent as Wilson would eventually go as far as murdering someone, spending the rest of the movie trying to make their wrongs into rights. But in On Dangerous Ground, it immediately becomes evident that Wilson is capable of saintly good nature but has been pushed over the edge by the constant surrounding sleaze. After beating up a number of suspects during arrest, his precinct grows concerned and sends him away to the outskirts of town to investigate the murder of a young woman. Upon arrival, he finds a reflection of himself in the hateful family of the victim, and, during the investigation, falls for Mary Malden (Ida Lupino), the blind sister of the prime suspect who serves as a ray of light in his jet-black life. In theory, On Dangerous Ground should be clunky and awkward; yet, it is kind of brilliant. It looks and feels like a film noir, but that's only a disguise for the more touching instances of psychological study. Everything is presented in such a nonchalant, nearly conventional manner that the power it eventually bears is unexpectedly poignant. Only Ray could direct this sort of material; most do not have the same curious capacity to switch from the hard-boiled to the humane.The contrast between the slick city streets and the snowy grounds of the more evangelical countryside are competently histrionic. As Wilson enters the fresh, cool landscape, a tidal wave of reversal falls upon us. In the first few minutes of the film, as we watch Wilson fight crime with boorish tenacity, the streets so usually enthralling in film noir turn into something uncomfortably grimy and greasy. Crime is like a horde of ants crawling up and down our arms. The countryside, though still the setting of a murder, has a comforting tranquility. Without people scattered in every nook and cranny, there is a chance to breathe. The entrance of Lupino is reminiscent to that of an angel falling out the sky; with no eyesight, she is unable to see the vile underpinnings of the world. Her kindness is a gift.As Wilson's life converts from direly violent to one of prospect, there is something stirring that occurs that softened me more than I ever would have thought possible. In film noir, we're used to endless acerbity; it is rare that a character, a policeman who seems so destined to head down a dark path, is given a second chance. Throughout his career, Ryan was mostly typecast as a villain with a booming voice, but in On Dangerous Ground he is given a chance to be expressive and sensitive. It is a surprisingly wistful performance, connecting with ease towards the delicate, soul-baring Lupino.On Dangerous Ground has been pushed aside as a minor work from the illustrious Nicholas Ray (The Big Heat, Rebel Without a Cause), but it's nevertheless shimmering all these years later. Its audacious attempts to subvert the norms of such a specific genre are absorbingly moving.Read more reviews at petersonreviews.com

dougdoepke I still see those dark figures outlined against a bleak sky and snowy terrain, Ryan in his improbable city clothes and hat, plus Bond in his outdoor hunting gear. Only it's not deer they're chasing. Instead, the boy is climbing ever higher and higher above them. But that's only one arresting visual in a film full of gripping visuals, and taut emotions. In my 60-some years of movie addiction, this is one of the most memorable and thought provoking. From jittery urban opening to serene pastoral close, it's perhaps the most moving tale of humane redemption I've seen.And who better to play hardened city cop Wilson than the great Robert Ryan. Those beady black eyes are unforgiving whether smacking around a closed mouth hooker (Moore) or thumping on a masochistic thug (Irving). Maybe he's just doing his job, then again, maybe he's come to enjoy it. Whichever, he's one tough cop who's in trouble with the higher-ups for his too often brutal methods. But then, all he sees, as he grimly observes, are cheaters, criminals and low-lifes. Worse, the people he theoretically protects use the word 'cop' like it was a curse word. So, who wouldn't encase himself in reptilian skin in order deal with that world. But unlike his cop partners, who return home to a wife and family, Wilson returns only to athletic trophies that have long since lost meaning. In short, he's thoroughly alienated from others, whether he realizes it or not.Those city street scenes are grippingly staged in true noir fashion, underscoring the twilight world Wilson inhabits. The way director Ray films complements Wilson's predicament perfectly. And when the camera cuts away from the violence, we are almost made to feel the agony that follows.Note how Ray and co. use the many road shots to advance the story. Once Wilson's sent north to 'Siberia' (Colorado) as punishment, he travels inwardly into a different world of snowy mountains and open spaces. Still, he carries the city and his job with him. Only now, his assignment is specific: help catch the killer of a young girl, now fleeing across the snowscapes. Too bad Brent (Bond), the dead girl's dad, is no help. He snarls out 'city cop' like it's a curse word, just what Wilson needs. On the trail, the suspect's tracks lead to a cabin in the snowy wilderness, where it seems a strange woman lives. Note the warm fireplace when they enter, a promising relief from the alienating outdoors.This is a part tailor made for the soulful Lupino as Mary (note the name), who's blind and lives with her brother. But he's gone visiting, so she says. Betraying his deeply buried sensitivity, Wilson soon discerns her handicap though she says nothing about it. The uncaring Brent, however, storms about the house, intent only on finding his daughter's killer. In fact, Wilson must now confront someone more intense than himself; in short, Brent amounts to a rural version of the brutal Wilson, the city cop. And so begins the process of sensitizing Wilson to his own excesses and the needs of others. Lupino manages to keep her blind girl part from becoming too sticky. Director Ray has positioned cues about the house that help Mary navigate the surroundings, like the hanging twigs she touches in the fireplace room. As a result, we get the impression she can take care of herself despite the handicap. Still, she must now deal with an enraged Brent and a purposeful Wilson who've suddenly invaded her little world.The hardened city cop is now in a dilemma. It looks like Mary is hiding her brother, who in fact is the killer. At the same time, he wants to protect her from the overbearing Brent. This amounts to a new role for him, one that he has perhaps never experienced. In a sense, he has begun to perceive Mary's predicament through her handicapped eyes instead of his own. For he himself has been blind to others in a figurative way. But now he's learning there are other ways of seeing besides the visual.That scene of Mary opening the cellar door at dawn is a powerful one. Danny (Williams), her brother, cringes in shadow while behind her shines the newborn sun. If only she could convince him to go with Wilson, Danny would be safe. It's a near-religious moment, religious in a good sense that doesn't exaggerate. And when Wilson throws away Brent's rifle before he can possibly shoot Danny, we know the bad cop has at last been left behind. Still, it's surprising that once the conflict with Danny is over, Mary doesn't just fall into Wilson's now caring arms. But she's had her own little world too long to share it with a relative stranger. So they part for their separate worlds. Mary, riddled with grief; Wilson grappling with the changes as he travels the road back to the city. But this is not the end.Apparently Ray disliked the actual ending, saying he didn't believe in miracles. But the ending is not just superbly touching, but also quite appropriate. For both Mary and the city cop have managed to overcome the isolated worlds they too long dwelt in. To me, the movie is one of the grittiest, most moving, tales of redemption I've been lucky enough to catch.The production amounts to a happy collaboration among Hollywood's most talented movie makers— from producer Houseman (what would the movie be like without the expense of those real Colorado mountains?), to director Ray (with him, you don't just see the screen images, you feel them), to composer Herrmann (this he says is his best score and that includes the many with Hitchcock), to, of course, the luminescent pairing of Lupino and Ryan.Anyway, my words are only words. If you haven't seen the movie, please do. I don't think you'll be disappointed.