Kicking off in a sewer, two characters are thrust out of the void and into their own noir universe.
Tense, nervous, fighting their way from the lowest and worst of all locales, to attain some kind of freedom and decency.
That’s Noir, living in a sewer for three days, desperate and on the run, trying to get some clothes, trying to get some dough, trying to get to San Francisco.
Two of the lowest of the low in the cheapest of the cheapest of sewers are on the run in the land of the free.
And this is where film noir enjoyed taking us in the 1940s. The enjoyment of life is there in other people, in those whom we love and trust.
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