There's more - the screenplay (worked on by four writers, including
Karlson and Payne) is woven like a web, and the wonderful thing about
noir is that the intricate fatalistic plotting isn't just clever
entertainment but meaningful. The tighter the story's noose pulls, the
more it expresses a philosophical, proletariat truth about American
life in the mid-century - its broken dreams and capitalistic fears and
wounded pride. The powerful mistrust that radiates from
99 River
Street (and most noirs, and all of Karlson's) isn't just
story-stuff, it's social commentary. It's an EKG of the class
struggle, as the little men who fought WWII struggle in lousy jobs to
pay the rent, while opportunists and thieves lurk in the backrooms
twisting the system and getting rich. The lure of "making it big,"
either in show business or sports or crime or anything, is a lie that
Payne's disgusted Everyman spits at in virtually every scene.