of the noir genre, embodies this perverse psychosexual formula to an extreme. Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray), the insurance salesman-gone-wild whose ethical shortcomings purposely defy PCA Moral Code (a drastic step that was a major component of this burgeoning genre), meets Phyllis Dietrichson (Barbara Stanwyck), the blonde bombshell wife of a Pacific All-Risk policyholder and a conniving sex machine who can ultimately bend Walter to her desire. From the beginning, their relationship is founded on both malice and strong sexual attraction, at least on the part of Walter, and the complexities continue until the "kiss kiss bang bang" finish.
What is to become, then, of interpersonal relationships in film noir? The answer lies within a sphere whose importance is easily overlooked in much of cinematic history: certainly as much as the male-female sexual paradigm is pointedly scrutinized, the relationship between two males, alluded to in James Naremore's "Modernism and Blood Melodrama," is defended as the last bastion of humanity. In Double Indemnity, Walter Neff, the embattled antihero and Barton Keyes (Edward G. Robinson), his conscientious boss share what historians and queer theorists alike would call a homosocial romantic friendship, defined as a non-sexual friendship with romantic overtones between two people of the same gender. The intense and honest connection both legitimizes Keyes' role as an upright citizen and emphasizes the schism between Keyes' good and Phyllis' evil. This is less a film which tells about that archetypal battle, and more a film that discusses how evil won.
However, in order to discover the depths of human sincerity in a film which is otherwise bereft of emotion, we should examine the losing side. A sequence analysis of the last scene, between Walter and Keyes, will help to shed some light on another level of psychosexuality in Double Indemnity.
Analysis: The scene in question begins when Walter realizes that his taped confessional is actually being performed live. This gives added dimension to the scene; a startling surprise for Walter, who has been caught in the act not just of admitting guilt, but as Naremore claims (and I agree), professing love. Keyes closes the door, framing the office and the two men in it, and eliminating any effective "fourth walls." Two men who accompanied him to the office become shadows (the last shadows we ever see), and slink away, out of the frame and the movie, leaving the viewer exclusively privy to the most intimate moment of the entire film. Especially significant to the mise-en-scene and to the film within the context of its genre is the high key lighting, for two reasons. One is that it simply allows us to view everything, unobstructed by theatrical visual effects. The other is that in film noir, and especially in office scenes, lighting is typically dim, casting ominous shadows across walls and desks. That is simply not present here, and the direct lighting provides the only warmth in this cold world of hard crime.
To move beyond the platonic into the romantic is to take the last scene out of context; however, I believe it is worth looking at as a portrait of the film's only portrayal of true love.
Walter Neff: Know why you couldn't figure this one, Keyes? I'll tell ya. 'Cause the guy you were looking for was too close. Right across the desk from ya.
Barton Keyes: Closer than that, Walter.
Walter Neff: I love you, too.
The last three lines of dialogue reaffirm the details we already know, or have at least inferred by now: Walter's extreme betrayal of Keyes, Keyes' hurt caused by this wrong, and the still undying love between the two. Walter had told Keyes he loved him sarcastically in the office one time before in his brusque macho staccato, but when Walter says "I love you too," he means it this time. The repetition of the same line, one a sarcastic barb and one an earnest admission, shows arguably the only growth on Walter's part as an individual, and it is still in fact characterized by his relationship with another.
The final action in the film takes place as Keyes lights one last cigarette for Walter, a visual motif used throughout the film. To Walter, it is as if a cigarette is a phallic symbol of male bravado. As he works through his plans with Phyllis, he constantly smokes and lights his cigarettes in a stylized, confident fashion. Lying on the floor, eviscerated of both his power over this woman and many of his red blood cells, he is figuratively and literally unable to assert his masculinity in his traditional style. Everything about this final frame's composition highlights the contrast in nature between Keyes and Walter. The former hovers physically over the latter, as if to say "well, I'm not bleeding to death." He is cool and collected, while Walter is panicky and sweating. Walter is even slightly closer to the camera, as if to show that Keyes, while an important part of Walter's life, is able to call himself somewhat removed from Walter's crime. He lights Walter's cigarette for him in a style similar to Walter's own (with the thumbnail), reaffirming Walter's emasculation yet also lovingly, emphasizing the importance of their eternal male
bond.
Based on the progression of this scene as well as callbacks to several other important moments in the film, we can see the importance of the homosocial relationship, whose rectitude is ultimately championed over that of the heterosexual one. Romantic overtones exist between Walter and Keyes in order to articulate the parallel between male-male and male-female, and between good-evil and evil-evil.