Kiss Me Deadly.

I’ll begin with a disclaimer. One of the most callous and heartfelt literary obits I wrote at the original Instapunk was that of Mickey Spillane. In his own way he was a genius.

Film noir is old. Much of it very very dark. But when it comes to detective movies, there was a breaking of the mold that occurred in 1955.

Ralph Meeker’s Mike Hammer may remind you of Bogart’s Marlowe. Both hard drinking gumshoes at odds with the cops and irresistible to women. But Bogart had a moral center as both Marlowe and Sam Spade. Meeker’s Hammer was an opportunistic thug (yes, I used that word) with a few personal loyalties that never amounted to a moral sense. This was a cold, mean movie to which many hugely successful contemporary directors owe their careers, including Scorsese and Tarantino. But this one’s better than anything they ever did.

One outstanding way to tell. The sheer number of actors who later had fine careers appearing in this movie is stunning. Even without them, the thing is worth watching solely for the cars. But that’s a detail. The script is laconic, the action swift, brutal, and usually fatal, and the plot just complex enough not to be indecipherable. In its genre it’s a masterpiece and a template for much of what was to come. The black and white cinematography is stark. Ralph Meeker should have become a star.

Well. In case you’ve had enough of Tarantino arterial spray and overacted Scorsese mafiosi roles. And Meeker wasn’t as tiny as Pacino, de Niro, and Wahlberg. If you care about that sort of thing. He looks like he could send you to the morgue in about three punches.

The whole thing is here.

Enjoy it. Or duck.