inferno

Let's be honest, most 3D movies from the original '50s boom would be worthless without the gimmick of monsters, explosions or curvy space babes coming out of the screen. That's not to denigrate their entertainment value; but taken as a whole, the films were designed to take advantage of the latest fad, not to stand the test of time. There are certainly exceptions to the rule, and Inferno (1953) is one of them. Starring Robert Ryan as a spoiled millionaire left for dead in the desert by his cheating wife and her lover, the film is just as tense and exciting in two-dimensions as it is in three.

The script cuts right to the chase - or getaway in this case - as Geraldine Carson (Rhonda Fleming) covers her tracks with help from new beau, Joseph Duncan (William Lundigan), erasing all signs of their path down the mountain where her husband, Donald Whitley Carson III (Ryan), has been left with a broken leg. As the duo arrive back in town, blaming Carson's disappearance on yet another drunken whim, the man in question is getting hotter, thirstier and angrier by the hour.

But a funny thing happens: Carson, a man used to getting his way but not having to work for it, starts to think his way out of the situation. After setting his own broken bone and crafting a rope out of materials at hand, he makes his way off the mountain where his personal journey really begins. The initial inspiration is revenge, but soon Carson has found an inner peace in his war for survival that the business world could never provide. But will his epiphany come too late?

Inferno works so well for a number of reasons, not the least of which is the scenes it chooses not to include. Director Roy Ward Baker (who later became one of Hammer Films' stable of dependable picture makers) lets our minds fill in the blanks about Carson and his wife's relationship. We're even spared the traditional film noir "planning phase" in which the jealous lover and deceitful spouse arrange for some terrible "accident" to befall their doomed meal ticket. In Inferno, we just get the aftermath; and it works brilliantly!

Robert Ryan, whose performance is mostly a combination of physical effort and voiceover narration, provides a compelling protagonist who starts off as a bonafide asshole and matures into self-possessed cynic worthy of Humphrey Bogart at the end of Casablanca (the films share a conclusion worthy of comparison and one hell of a final line). There are a few moments of in-your-face gimmickry to be sure, from snakes to boulders to flying lanterns, but the most effective bits of dimensionality are the simple shots of Ryan sets against a landscape with no end in sight.

Twilight Time's 3000-copy limited edition presents the film on blu-ray 3D for the first time. Point in fact, most theaters outside of the major markets never exhibited Inferno in 3D at the time of its release anyway (Fox's Cinemascope project was a much larger success) so what we get here is close to a 3D debut. The transfer, besides a bit of wear in the first reel, looks bright and colorful no matter how you choose to watch (2D kicks in if you don't have the right equipment). Extras include a 15-minute retrospective, audio commentary with film historian Alan K. Rode and Lisa Ryan, isolated score track, trailer and liner notes.