The Sniper (1952)

Distributed by Columbia Pictures and produced by Stanley Kramer, this thriller was directed by Edward Dmytryk. It is based on the Oscar-nominated story by Edna and Edward Anhalt and concerns mental illness and the authorities arguing how best to deal with a serial killer in San Francisco. Why he kills is rather quickly explained in cliched form, but finding him is the difficult part. The film opens with descriptive text against a black screen to explain the serious subject matter that will unfold.

Starting in the late Forties, Arthur Franz had the distinction of never being uncredited. The versatile, under-the-radar actor had numerous supporting and lead film roles to his credit, but it may be his frequent exposure on television that most remember him as "what's his name." He does a fine job here as a nervously sweating and sensitive individual who is an uncomfortable liar. He owns this movie. He is desperate to have someone help stop his obsession with killing women. A few do treat him badly, or he is irritated by the flirty type. He apparently does not want to get caught, though, because he has opportunities to surrender himself but does not. Hence, the eighty-eight-minute running time.

Heading up the investigation are Adolphe Menjou, surely not far from retirement, and radio's Gerald Mohr. They have a certain on-screen chemistry that helps support the film. Mohr's low-key performance is a welcome change from his typical smirking characters. Richard Kiley is excellent in his second film as a psychology professor. For such a tall actress, Marie Windsor has probably her shortest role ever. After making his delivery, she asks Franz to take a favorite dress back to the dry cleaners. When it is ready for delivery the next day, she will not be able to ever wear it again. This is the first incident where he might have given himself up by taking the delivery to the police, then getting the help he needs. Instead, he shreds the dress in anger.

In an effort to punish himself for his despicable acts and get help, Franz holds his hand on a circular, electric burner. The doctors know he did not accidentally do this, considering the severity of the burn. One suggests they keep him there for observation. But a series of emergencies delays those plans. Franz can hardly believe he is released so quickly. He will only get attention after making the headlines again. Kiley suggests to a “myopic four” confronting the mayor that these people should be locked up—if you can find them—on the first offense to keep them off the streets or to get the mental help they need. The arrogant dunderheads in the room disagree and take the easy route by blaming the police for doing nothing.

Leading up to the climax, Franz is on a rooftop and about to shoot another brunette. He breaks down instead. Spotted by a painter high up on an industrial chimney, he tries to get people street-level to notice the shooter. He even tosses a gallon of white paint, “exploding” it on the street below. Yet no one sued the paint company for getting a spot of paint on their shoes. I digress. Franz cannot understand why he is being harassed. His "angry rifle" turns to the soon-to-be slumping painter. He runs back to his apartment, wanting to get caught on his own terms. Alive. It is a calm ending as police enter his apartment to find Franz hugging his rifle vertically as the camera slowly zooms in on his face and a weeping eye.

Note: During fake phone call pauses, listening to the "other side," almost everyone says, "What?" at some point. Not very realistic, yet often done, with apparently a bad connection or the person should see a hearing specialist. Another item of note is the silly filler scene in a precinct lineup in an effort to identify the serial killer. The detective questioning the suspects seemed to enjoy humiliating them to the humorous delight of the officers in attendance. There are lots of familiar B-movie faces in this film, many in uncredited roles. One such is Byron Foulger, the perennial jittery weasel, one of those questioned.