Wednesday, October 14, 2026
By Peter Hummers on October 2, 2026
It was originally a novel written by James M. Cain, a crime journalist, published in 1934. It drew inspiration from cases he worked, including the 1927 murder of Albert Snyder by his wife Ruth and her lover Judd Gray. MGM purchased the film rights but faced immediate resistance from the Production Code Administration (PCA), which deemed the story’s themes of adultery, murder, and explicit sexuality unfilmable under the era’s strict moral guidelines. Let’s see how that turned out….
“With my brains and your looks, we could go places.” (Frank Chambers)
The film project was delayed for over a decade, until post-war shifts in censorship standards allowed its revival. In 1944, producer Carey Wilson collaborated with screenwriters Harry Ruskin and Niven Busch on an initial treatment submitted for review, which toned down the novel’s raw eroticism and violence. Then they refined the screenplay, emphasizing moral consequences and guilt over sensationalism, to secure PCA approval in May 1945.
The resulting movie’s still pretty hot! (And you can always read the book.)
—Frank Chambers (hard-boiled John Garfield), a drifter, hitchhikes to Los Angeles and stops at a diner/gas station owned by Nick Smith (Cecil Kellaway), a jovial but unremarkable Greek immigrant. Hired on the spot as a handyman, Frank quickly becomes attracted to Nick’s beautiful and ambitious wife, Cora Smith (head-turner, in spite of her knobby knees, Lana Turner, who dresses in white to match her platinum-blonde hair. She pops in every frame she’s in), who resents her marriage. Their mutual passion ignites an intense affair, leading them to plot an elopement, but Cora refuses to leave without control of the diner, prompting them to see if somehow they can arrange to collect Nick’s life insurance (wink, wink, nod, nod).
Postman looks great, its black-and-white cinematography is nice and crisp. The storytelling is an economical mix of exposition and visuals. Once Lana—Cora, that is—shows up the music, by George Bassman, swells. When Frank and Cora met, the air conditioning came on in my house. Hot! They seem, at first blush, to annoy each other, and they trade lame insults—but we-all know good and well where they’re headed! Boing! They kiss! Then, cool as a cucumber, she takes out her compact and touches up her lipstick (a clue as to how things might turn out).
The film proceeds economically and fits a lot into an hour and fifty-three minutes. But it moves, and each scene or visual contributes to the story. Frank and Cora unsuccessfully try a few ways to be together, and then the notion of collecting her husband Nick’s life insurance becomes more appealing … after Cora’s apparent initial revulsion. The acting is invisible—and there are many grand emotions enacted. Hume Cronyn (Lifeboat, Shadow of a Doubt) appears late and makes a meal of his part as a sleazy lawyer.
As Cora resembles an angel, all in white, Frank, with his dark hair and swarthy, often shadowed face, resembles the other thing. These identifications are supported by the screenplay. Twists abound. (I’m having red herring for lunch, I think.)
Upon its release, The Postman Always Rings Twice earned the 1946 Photoplay Award for Best Picture of the Month in June, with specific recognition for the performances of Lana Turner and John Garfield. The film received no nominations from the Academy Awards, despite its eligibility. Maybe because it resembled a B-movie.
The picture has since garnered acclaim in film noir retrospectives, ranking 28th on IMDb’s list of the top film noir movies. It’s cataloged by the American Film Institute as a key entry in American cinematic history, underscoring its status as a noir classic.
#film noir #drama #hard-boiled #murder #twists #karma
(Pete Hummers is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to earn fees by linking Amazon.com and affiliate sites. This adds nothing to Amazon’s prices.)
Click here for more Stream On: What to watch on TV columns by Pete Hummers. Columns are archived and updated when necessary on Substack.
