There are some elements that are so omnipresent in film noir, it has come to almost stereotypically define the genre – fog-laden streets populated by unlikable ruffians, smoky modernist apartments and offices that harbour malicious intentions, deceptive and conflicted men that are compelled to cross the moral boundaries to achieve certain goals, the complex femme fatale that uses her alluring nature to obstruct (or occasionally assist) the troubled protagonist, and most notably of all, immorality and corruption running rampant in a world far beyond any palpable decency. The film noir genre has always been undeniably appealing because despite the majority of the films being quite formulaic and often follow the same conventional structure, the spirit of the genre is one that makes for compelling viewing, regardless of the story at the core, and very often it is the execution that helps the films overcome some troublesome qualities. There are a lot of ways a film in the noir genre can succeed, and many of these reasons are found in Byron Haskin’s extraordinary Too Late for Tears, somewhat of an anomaly – it is film that remains firmly within the confines of all the towering film noir classics, but also one that subverts many expectations and takes its a new approach to the genre’s conventions, and ventures off in some uniquely new directions, without attempting to redefine the genre. It is a gem of a film, a fascinating character study that overturns many of the genre’s most troubling quirks, flourishing into something captivating and unsettling in equal measure, a film that challenges the notions of the classic crime film. This isn’t even mentioning that Too Late for Tears features two of the finest film noir performances of the era, as well as containing some of the most potent middle-class derision of the 1940s. In the most simple terms, Too Late for Tears is a masterwork.

Too Late for Tears finds itself in quite a precarious position in terms of its genre design – it is a film that exists at the rare intersection between film noir and suburban melodrama, and it feeds off both concepts with equal ease, focusing on the seedy underpinning that comes with both, and transferring them into a poignant but disconcerting narrative. The tale of a femme fatale going rogue after killing her husband and making off with the fortune that quite literally fell into their laps is the platform for an intense, riveting psychological odyssey. Jane Palmer (played with chilling brilliance) is a housewife content with her life, even if she is slowly growing disillusioned with her placidity and the fact that she cannot seem to escape the modern suburban routine, while her husband, Alan (Arthur Kennedy) means well, but inadvertently dictates her life and in some ways prevents her from succeeding in her own endeavours (not that she would need to, she’s not exactly the most level-headed of people, and as the final act of this film shows, she doesn’t handle independence particularly well). His demise after an unfortunate accident causes Jane to spiral out of control, and the arrival of Danny Fuller (Dan Duryea) only further proves to complicate matters – he is apparently the rightful owner of the bag of money Jane has come to own, and despite being a malicious, domineering and endlessly sinister villain, Jane cannot help but find herself pulled into the orbit of his deception and wrongdoing – and there seems to be no going back after she gets a taste of the criminal life. The question is, however, is it the first time she’s flirted with immorality?

Lizabeth Scott gives one of the finest noir performances of the 1940s, with her role as the conflict Jane Palmer being a great subversion of the typical femme fatale – instead of sultry, elegant and almost otherworldly, she is deeply grounded and profoundly human. Her conflict is palpable, and every action the character performs seems authentic. It is a performance that resonates much more than one would naturally expect from this kind of film, and while not much can be said about Too Late for Tears as an overtly feminist statement (especially considering much of the film sees Scott’s character looking for validation and safety from men – although this could just be a product of her manipulative nature, as there are some moments where she takes matters into her own hands and shows her capacity to be fiercely independent), the film does place emphasis on the role women play in film noir, and in removing her from being strictly the alluring and seductive female lead, Jane is a fascinating character, in part mainly because the actress portraying her doesn’t attempt to be overtly sultry, but rather authentic and grounded. Scott is brilliant, and the best part is that she plays it down enough to prevent the character from becoming a caricature. Scott’s performance feels like a forerunner of many other poignant female-led crime films, and I couldn’t help but see vague traces of Kathleen Turner (such as the enigmatic aloofness presented in Body Heat) and Gena Rowlands (particularly the conflicted sincerity of A Woman Under the Influence and the embedded rage of Gloria), and much like these other performances, Scott is deeply moving and scorching with intensity.

The other great performance in Too Late for Tears comes on behalf of Dan Duryea, the epitome of Golden Age sleaze, playing the malicious Danny Fuller, who begins by making our anti-hero’s life as difficult as possible, until having it turned on him when he descends into alcoholism. Interestingly, Too Late for Tears is not a film that features archetypal characters – this is not a work consisting of easily cut-out characters, and absolutely no one in this film is purely good or purely evil, and Duryea proves this as the film goes on. Fuller starts off as a looming and sinister presence, who seems capable of bringing down absolutely anyone. By the time of his unceremonious but appropriate exit, he is nothing more than a pathetic, paranoid shell of a man who has found himself the victim of the same corruption that he so proudly flaunts at the outset. In many ways, Scott and Duryea are engaged in an almost choreographed battle of wits and deception throughout the film, with their characters being on the surface polar opposites, until the realization is made that they are remarkably similar – coldhearted, selfish and corrupt beyond any decency. Their interpretation of these characters was brilliant, and their chemistry, while tense, was certainly the highlight of the film. Special mention must go to Arthur Kennedy, who is fully committed in the thankless role of the soon-to-be-slain husband who exits the film just before the impending immoral anarchy takes reign. The cast as a whole is exceptional, and regardless of how big their part is, every actor plays it well.

Too Late for Tears soars on its dedication to one basic quality – it has a very simple premise. There is nothing convoluted or overly complex about the story at the core. A suitcase of money enters into the wrong hands, and the new owner of the money is pursued by the rightful owners and finds herself becoming morally corrupt in the process until a chaotic third act that is as dark as it is riveting brings everything together and leaves us with a shocking but apt resolution. The reason why Too Late for Tears works is because the impact of this film isn’t found in the complexities of the story but in the might of the execution. From the very first moment, this film is extremely tense. There is a remarkable lack of exposition to this film – we are thrown into the central conflict almost immediately. This ambiguity may be jarring at first, but seems to come to fruition when we discover there is far more to Jane Palmer than just being the placid, innocent housewife, and in refusing to allow us to be privy to much of her origins, with various clues as to her past peppered throughout the film, there is a palpable air of mystery. Too Late for Tears is most compelling not through the central storyline, which is nonetheless fascinating, but rather through our inherent fascination with the main character. Her past is vague, her morals murky. She is despicable and unlikable, but at the same time endearing and heartwrenching. Too Late for Tears depends almost entirely on Scott’s powerful personification of Jane, and she grabs your attention through her wry malice and deceiving persona, and even as she becomes more decrepit in her immorality, we still see a very committed performance from Scott, upon whose shoulders this entire film rests.

I found Too Late for Tears to not only be a great noir film, filled to the brim with all the qualities I adore in a good crime film, but also a fascinating character study as a whole. There are perhaps dozens of noir films that have better storylines and more unique narratives, but very few of them are as dedicated to creating realistic characters as this one, and exploring them all the way through. As mentioned before, none of these characters are archetypes – there is a clear lack of one-dimensional characterization, and everyone in this film, whether in major or minor parts, have interesting roles to play, and are pivotal to the central conflict. In terms of the two major characters, Haskin and Huggins managed to create two fascinating individuals who are far more complex than the archetypes assigned to them at the beginning, and they only continue to flourish as the film progresses. Duryea is the typical sleazy lowlife until he starts to realize his actions do have repercussions, and his speech towards the end, where he gives Scott poison he bought, is absolutely chilling. The character of Jane is one that should be investigated more closely by those interested in character-driven cinema, especially from genres so often reliant on character tropes. What is significant about how Jane is constructed is that she isn’t only someone who is bad and does bad things, but rather someone who is bad, knows what they are doing is beyond malicious, but still believe they are inherently good and can get away with it, because in their minds, only bad people get caught. That’s precisely where the biggest strength in this film comes – the disconnect between the lead character’s actions and her own self-awareness is very vast, and makes for incredibly frustrating but also deeply poignant character work.

On the surface, there isn’t much to Too Late for Tears – it isn’t particularly audacious, nor is it innovative or overtly memorable based on its premise. However, it thrives on its ability to not only be a very smart noir film, but also an intense, character-driven melodrama that isn’t set in the seedy underworld of organized crime or private detectives, but rather in an area many of us will be familiar with, the middle-class, domestic spaces that are not normally reserved for films like Too Late for Tears. Through committed filmmaking, and a cast of brilliant performers who do impressively in interpreting these characters that may be unlikable and quite impenetrable, but are otherwise fascinating in terms of their idiosyncrasies. Too Late for Tears is a terrific piece of classic film noir, and like any great crime film, it is riveting, interesting and full of mystery. It may not rise to the status of other classics from the era, but it certainly stands as a tremendous experiment in challenging notions and structures of the genre. Ultimately, Too Late for Tears has a lot to say, and even though it leaves a lot of it unsaid (with the viewer being responsible for drawing some of their own conclusions), it is ultimately a wonderful work, and a film that has a great deal of charm beneath its cold exterior. It may not be The Maltese Falcon or Double Indemnity but is certainly is just as thrilling.