Once acclaimed as the pinnacle of British filmmaking, Carol Reed's 1947 noir embodies all the elements of classic postwar cinema: anguished heroes, a doomed romanticism, and the aesthetic beauty of deep-focus black-and-white cinematography. James Mason is an Irish nationalist mortally wounded after a botched heist, more on-the-crawl than on-the-run and hidden only by the dark of the night, the dank of the Belfast ghettos, and the greed of those he encounters. Dragged through town by various strangers more interested in their salvation than his, Mason's haunted expressions capture the crisis of a true odd man out: slowly dying in other people's worlds, passed from one character to another for the unfullfilled promises of politics, money, religion, and even-in the final insult-art. Only that most doomed of all realms, love, offers the hope of a death with comfort: a small dream, possibly, but one this unforgettable film embraces with beauty and despair.- Jason Sanders