This solid chillfest presents what happens when two ordinary men take an unlucky road trip and meet up with the title character, a merciless killer with a taste for sadism.
Collins (Edmond O'Brien) and Bowen (Frank Lovejoy) are war buddies who take off for a planned fishing trip to Mexico when they pick up Emmett Myers (William Talman), standing beside a stopped car. But Myers isn't the owner of the car, whom he murdered some distance away. He's a serial killer who sees Collins and Bowen as his next victims, as soon as he gets clear of the U. S. He wastes no time pulling his revolver and telling them the score:
"You guys are gonna die, that's all. It's just a question of when."
Director/co-writer Ida Lupino puts you in the car with the two doomed men, making every pit stop into a nail-biting exploration of how people deal with madness-induced pressure.
There are three enjoyable anomalies worth considering along the ride. Two of them are much commented upon: the fact a glamorous film actress is at the helm of such a hard film, with no female speaking parts in English and informed throughout by a kind of Hemingway tough-guy sensibility; and the fact the heavy is played so absorbingly by Talman, that future law-and-order foil to TV's Perry Mason.
The third: Of the two actors playing the prisoners, the one with the biggest name, O'Brien, who made such an impression three years prior as a similarly put-upon innocent in "D. O. A.", is something of a second banana here. Lovejoy's character is the one who employs patience and courage. He's got a wife and children, and as Myers taunts, "Just keep thinking' how nice it'll be to see 'em again."
Lovejoy and Talman, not to mention Lupino, deserved more chances to stretch themselves as effectively as they do here. All three put up stellar work.
Lupino and husband co-writer Collier Young set a quick tempo, punctuated by Myers' sneering jibes at his fellow travelers. No attempt is made at making him sympathetic, yet his terse, flat commands keep you riveted.
When he relaxes, he's even more unlikable. He mocks Collins and Bowen for being "soft" and even brags later on how one of them might have gotten away if they weren't that way.
"You kept thinking' about each other, so you missed some chances," he says.
You get the feeling Myers enjoys torturing the pair even more than he does the prospect of killing them. His fleering eyes, even with his right eyelid always half-closed, tell all you want to know about him.
The film moves even more quickly than its 71-minute running time suggests. Occasionally there are breaks in the action while we see an American fed talk strategy with a Mexican police commander (Jean Del Val, recognizable as the first actor seen speaking in "Casablanca.") This feels a bit canned, though, as do the radio bulletins telling of Myers' progress whenever he tunes in. The climax comes off a bit flat, too.
But "The Hitch-Hiker" entertains with its strong tension and its lack of gushiness or fat. This is a man's movie, no less manly for being the product of a woman who knew what men like, and how to deliver same.
Collins (Edmond O'Brien) and Bowen (Frank Lovejoy) are war buddies who take off for a planned fishing trip to Mexico when they pick up Emmett Myers (William Talman), standing beside a stopped car. But Myers isn't the owner of the car, whom he murdered some distance away. He's a serial killer who sees Collins and Bowen as his next victims, as soon as he gets clear of the U. S. He wastes no time pulling his revolver and telling them the score:
"You guys are gonna die, that's all. It's just a question of when."
Director/co-writer Ida Lupino puts you in the car with the two doomed men, making every pit stop into a nail-biting exploration of how people deal with madness-induced pressure.
There are three enjoyable anomalies worth considering along the ride. Two of them are much commented upon: the fact a glamorous film actress is at the helm of such a hard film, with no female speaking parts in English and informed throughout by a kind of Hemingway tough-guy sensibility; and the fact the heavy is played so absorbingly by Talman, that future law-and-order foil to TV's Perry Mason.
The third: Of the two actors playing the prisoners, the one with the biggest name, O'Brien, who made such an impression three years prior as a similarly put-upon innocent in "D. O. A.", is something of a second banana here. Lovejoy's character is the one who employs patience and courage. He's got a wife and children, and as Myers taunts, "Just keep thinking' how nice it'll be to see 'em again."
Lovejoy and Talman, not to mention Lupino, deserved more chances to stretch themselves as effectively as they do here. All three put up stellar work.
Lupino and husband co-writer Collier Young set a quick tempo, punctuated by Myers' sneering jibes at his fellow travelers. No attempt is made at making him sympathetic, yet his terse, flat commands keep you riveted.
When he relaxes, he's even more unlikable. He mocks Collins and Bowen for being "soft" and even brags later on how one of them might have gotten away if they weren't that way.
"You kept thinking' about each other, so you missed some chances," he says.
You get the feeling Myers enjoys torturing the pair even more than he does the prospect of killing them. His fleering eyes, even with his right eyelid always half-closed, tell all you want to know about him.
The film moves even more quickly than its 71-minute running time suggests. Occasionally there are breaks in the action while we see an American fed talk strategy with a Mexican police commander (Jean Del Val, recognizable as the first actor seen speaking in "Casablanca.") This feels a bit canned, though, as do the radio bulletins telling of Myers' progress whenever he tunes in. The climax comes off a bit flat, too.
But "The Hitch-Hiker" entertains with its strong tension and its lack of gushiness or fat. This is a man's movie, no less manly for being the product of a woman who knew what men like, and how to deliver same.