1945 Directed by Edgar G. Ulmer
Al Roberts, a New York nightclub pianist, hitchhikes to Hollywood to meet his girlfriend Sue. The gambler he's riding with, Charles, unexpectedly dies. Afraid the police wouldn't believe the truth, Al takes the man's identity. In a gas station, he gives a lift to Vera, a woman that knew Charles and blackmails Al with tragic consequences.
Deviazione per l'inferno, Μοιραία Συνάντηση, Detour: autostrada per l'inferno, El desvío, Peligros del destino, Kiertotie
Thrillers and murder mysteries Crime, drugs and gangsters film noir, femme fatale, 1940s, thriller or intriguing robbery, criminal, crime, heist or cops cops, murder, thriller, detective or crime gambling, casino, unpredictable, engaging or drama drama, marriage, family, emotional or emotion Show All…
95/100
Well, it makes sense that the name of the main actress happens to be Ann Savage, because that's exactly what this rugged masterwork is: fucking savage. From beginning to end, the tattered rear projections and the sweaty dialogue build the ferocious tension up to a level of murderous rage and nightmarish barbarity, further enhancing the second-rate production values and the film's constant state of alarming mystery. Only running a length of 67 minutes, the dreamlike hopelessness of Detour is akin to a vision that is only encountered because of a relentless fever.
Suggested double feature: Detour/Lost Highway*
*Preferably at 3 in the morning.
"the world is full of skeptics." pure fiery, sadsack noir; brutal and miserable right up until its final frame.
a film for those who've lived years of self-hatred, disappointment, mulling over mistakes, regrets, would-be worlds that never were going to be because you were never going to be in them -- the fool's journey begins with a single step, and the greatest traps are the ones we build for ourselves, slowly allowing our choices to pile into a suffocating cage -- ulmer's vision of noir is a voluntary purgatory, a dead-end diner in the midst of nowhere, a jukebox that only plays the songs you hate, an name that isn't yours, a pavement that hurts your feet, the fatal friction between us and everything else.
There is hardly a more deliciously feral woman in early noir history than Ann Savage in “Detour.”
What starts as a narrative about a hitchhiking pickup gone awry is granted an acidic bile of such toxicity that you couldn’t even try to swallow it down.
As a woman who barely bothers to be femme, going for one hundred percent fatale instead, Savage may well have been taking out some of her ire towards costar Tom Neal, who allegedly got obnoxiously handsy towards her on set. A slap didn’t do, so Savage did one better:
She turned in a performance so memorable that it essentially left Neal and his own turn quivering in a corner of under compensation.
Director Edgar G.…
95
Slimy, putrid, lacking even the slightest bit of nonsense. A firecracker of nihilism and detachment, and *the* film noir.
Deliciously nasty, style on a shoestring. Two idiots just smart enough to be a danger to each other. Distilled rotgut.
April 12th. That date again, huh? Seems like only a year since it was last April 12th.
Yeah. That date. Every year I wake on that date and I'm faced with the fact that I'm one year older. One more year on the clock. That milometer sure is tickin' over fast.
Boy, it sure as hell is tickin' over fast. I woke up and the first noise I heard was the crackin' of my left knee, creakin' under the pressure of being moved suddenly. That's no noise any man wants to hear. Or any dame. Not that there was one there. It wasn't loud enough to have woken one up anyway but maybe by next year it will.
I hauled…
Edward G. Ulmer's Detour has become something of a perfect noir in the minds of those who want to encapsulate the genre in a single film: it's cheap, grimy, and dark, and it stars a man whose own life would fit very nicely into the noir universe. In spite of this, though, the film diverges considerably from the genre from which it's become a signifer, something which makes it all the more interesting.
First and most importantly, none of Al's (Neal) suffering stems from being the helpless victim of a curvy, predatory femme fatale. Instead, Al's seductress is the world around him — the environment that has fooled him into believing that anything could ever go his way. It's his…
Making the most out of its limitations, Detour is an atmospheric and doom-filled gem. The narration is some of the most powerful in cinema and the imagery is evocative. Like so many similar films, it's about the journey and not the destination. Detour is a cynical film, one of life's unpredictability and giving up on your dreams. Yet, when presented with the world shown here, it's hard to find a way out of that mindset.
Hampered by its low budget and an uninteresting script, Detour unfortunately fails to reach its full potential, but its concise runtime and a self-assured leading performance from Tom Neal ensure a small-scale thriller experience that's for the most part passable.
Detour definitely shows intrigue with its hitchhiking gone wrong premise, if only the story is developed enough to back up the potential. Tom Neal was likable at the center as the grumpy hitchhiker caught in the mysterious ways of life, and with a theme like this, the story throws in multiple dark twists and turns, most of which are not able to knock me off my feet. The later inclusion of Ann Savage unfortunately drags the tempo of the story down, and both her character and delivery can get on my nerves.
Overall Detour is forgettable for what it's worth. Moderately styled, thinly plotted, short but also underwritten.
