The File on Thelma Jordon is another one of those movies in which a man fools around on a perfectly wonderful wife, and in so doing screws up his perfectly satisfactory existence. The fool in question is played by Wendell Corey, who you may recognize as James Stewart’s police buddy from Rear Window. Here he’s a district prosecutor. His marriage to nice girl Joan Tetzel is problematic for reasons that seem pretty trivial as far as we’re concerned, but whatever—it’s film noir, and if the script says he’s bummed, okay. His wandering gaze soon partakes of veteran bad woman Barbara Stanwyck, and from that point forward he just can’t keep his lips to himself. When Stanwyck’s frail aunt turns up ventilated, wily Wendell finds himself in a serious pickle, both personally and professionally.
There’s not much you can criticize in The File on Thelma Jordon. Stanwyck is a great actress, particularly in moments of high tension or panic, of which there’s an abundance. The sequence where she and Corey frantically try to reorganize an incriminating crime scene before anyone else arrives is a tour de force, seven minutes of masterful staging, acting, directing, and cinematography. And that’s just the halfway point. The web hasn’t even begun to tighten yet. Before long Corey will find himself—as in all the best noirs—in a situation so absurdly awful that there seems to be no possibility of escape. And all because he wasn’t happy with his perfectly wonderful wife, and perfectly satisfactory existence. These guys just never learn.