Sorry, Wrong Number (1948)

Just finished watching this gripping, tension-packed film noir thriller and enjoyed every moment of it. Barbara Stanwyck is superb as the spoiled rich woman trapped in her bedroom by illness and Burt Lancaster, playing against his he-man type, is great as the compromised husband who is stuck under the thumbs of his wife and her father.

As the story plays out in nearly real time, and as much of the present dialog is spoken through phone calls, I admired the way the director was able to weave in flashbacks that explain how the situation got to such a serious, deadly point. Far from bogging down the plot, they built the tension and suspense to such a point that when the shocking and perfectly abrupt ending came, all I could say was, "Wow!"

Fmovies: When I first started watching this film, I wasn't hooked until well into the movie. Seeing the bed-ridden Stanwyck's monologue just didn't hook me--even when she accidentally overheard a plot to kill someone. A lot of this was because her character wasn't very likable--she was a very whiny little "princess" who frankly annoyed me! This is why I rate the movie lower than many on IMDb--I just didn't care much about her and early on I was hoping that SHE would be the one murdered. However, as the story unfolded in a series of flashback, the film became less claustrophobic and very entertaining. None of this really made me hate Stanwyck's character less, but it did help the audience to understand her more--as well as her husband (Burt Lancaster). While the story still was hampered by a long list of unlikable characters (actually, I never really liked any of them--except maybe Wendell Corey), it did excel by being super-creative and for ending on a very powerful note. The film was a lot like the first drop on a roller-coaster--very slow and uphill until a wonderful conclusion. I'd like to say more, but don't want to spoil the film.

The movie had generally good and very creative writing, good direction and excellent acting. It certainly WAS creative, but allowing Stanwyck to be more three-dimensional would have improved the film greatly.

As a child I was riveted by the classic radio play starring Agnes Moorehead, and here playwright Lucille Fletcher gets her chance to expand the relentless tale of what happens to wealthy. spoiled Leona Stevenson one lonely night in the heart of New York City. Harold Vermilyea is Evans, the devoted employee destroyed by her wastrel husband's greed, and Ann Richards is Sally, Leona's loyal (though we wonder why) ex-classmate. These two are the only likeable characters in SWN. Still, as the minutes tick by toward the horrific conclusion, life in the unconcerned city goes on ... roaring subways, loud conversations, and traffic sounds, all accentuating the mounting apprehensions and, eventually, our realization of the immense evil that has found Leona Stevenson.

Sorry, Wrong Number fmovies. An expanded radio play and subsequent TV drama, this film builds terrific tension around a bedridden heiress and her telephone.

Sympathy builds for this unlikeable woman, Leona, played by Barbara Stanwyck. She is a spoiled heiress used to getting her own way, but as we come to see, very much created by her father (played by Ed Begley) who bows to all her wishes.

Her husband, Henry, played by Burt Lancaster, whom she chases and captures from her best friend, initially goes along with being an employee in her father's corporation but eventually starts chafing at the restraints imposed on him.

The movie just about plays in real time with the addition of many flashbacks, one of which secures the knowledge that there is nothing wrong with Leona, it is all psychosomatic based on her mother's fatal illness.

From the moment Leona accidentally overhears a plotted murder for later on that evening, the viewer is taken on a ride that builds suspense and tension to a terrifying conclusion and the movie's title.

Not to be missed. The cinematography is superb, a lot of play in light and shade. Barbara deserved an Oscar but lost. 8 out of 10.

In New York, the spoiled Leona Stevenson (Barbara Stanswick) is the invalid wife of the VP of a pharmaceutical industry Henry J. Stevenson (Burt Lancaster)and becomes aware of a murder that would be committed late night of that day through a "cross-wire", when she overhears two men planning the murder.

Leona tries to find the right number to tell the police and she discovers that her former friend and ex-girlfriend of Henry, Sally Hunt Lord (Ann Richards), had lunch with him. She recalls the first encounter with her husband and parts of her life with him through flashbacks. Along the night, she learns dirty secrets about Henry and she finds that she might be the intended victim.

"Sorry, Wrong Number" is a great film-noir with a suspenseful story and top-notch performances. The screenplay and the direction are excellent and keep the attention of the viewer until the end of the last scene. This movie deserves to be watched more than once and is highly indicated for fans of film noir. My vote is nine.

Title (Brazil): "A Vida Por Um Fio - O Clássico" ("The Life for One Line - The Classic")

Note: On 29 September 2013, I saw this movie again.

Anatole Litvak directs the movie version of Lucille Fletcher's radio war-horse Sorry, Wrong Number was gusto and drive. The photograpy is deceptively simple at first blush, but soon evolves, giving each scene an individuality and clarity not unlike deep-focus. There's an overall feeling of gloom in this largely nocturnal movie, which is stylistically a sort of vest-pocket film noir Citizen Kane. Some of the touches border on the surreal, such as Lancaster's (among others) repeated references to his home town of Grassville, which happened at least thirty-six times and grows alternately funnier and more disturbing with each passing mention. The feel of New York in summer has seldom been so well captured in a studio-bound film, as scene upon scene appears to be enveloped in fog or cigarette smoke, and the horns of boats moving down-river or out to sea are often audible, at times suggesting, not wholly inapprpriately, the world of Eugene O'Neill and his theme of universal frustration. For all this, there is little actual movement in the film, which reflects the heroine's bed-ridden state, as scenes are acted out semi-theatrically, with characters talking to one another continuously, and whether wicked or benign seldom communicating clearly, as each little chat leaves someone more in the dark than before. The story moves, one might say, from one misinterpretation to another, until the climax, when all becomes clear, as tragedy trumps melodrama, giving the viewer a much needed jolt of reality.