Amfitheatrof's score is so intense the actors yell over it to be heard. The music played on camera on the piano and by a band with a singer have extremely warped dissonance. The soundtrack imposes a not so subtle conflict expressive of what has gotten out of hand in a noir hijacked by a serial killer. This would not have been a movie to see on a first date. Otherwise this treasure comes from a year graced by perfect camerawork and production quality. This is what a movie should look like and Edmund O'Brien and Virginia Mayo would soon become immortalized in White Heat. The furnishings and fashions are unmistakably 1949.