Detour (1945)

A New York musician (Tom Neal) hoping to meet again with the gal (Claudia Drake) who went to Hollywood only to end up slinging hash encounters tragedy while hitching a ride.

Despite it not being his fault, he covers it up (“No one in their right mind would believe me!”) and because he picks up a hitchhiker himself, soon finds himself virtually a slave to a blackmailer.

Most Noirs will have a character who is weak or allows himself to be seduced by a woman or his own greed, but it is not very common for someone to simply be the victim of circumstances.

Sure, this guy could have gone to the authorities, but when Fate is out to get you that would only speed up its plans to screw with you.

The worst one can say about him is that he makes a series of bad decisions, but for example, he (understandably) rejects the girl’s advances: At least he is not a masochist, nor does he let his libido get the best of him.

Some of the dialogue is generic, but Edgar G. Ulmer tightens the screws from the start and never not let up.

It might not be until Hitchcock’s The Wrong Man (1956) when a Noir was as pessimistic as this.

Ann Savage lives up to her name and her femme fatale is dialed up to eleven.

Fatalistic, intense and stylish, this might be Edgar G. Ulmer’s masterpiece. This, or The Black Cat (1941), take your pick.

Can’t go wrong with either.