You wouldn’t think a movie titled One Way Street would be set almost entirely in rural Mexico, but that’s exactly the case with this obscure oddity that’s like a film noir wrapped around a South Seas drama. Veteran thief Dan Duryea and his henchman William Conrad stage a bank heist, get away with $200,000, and hole up in an apartment. But medical attention is required, and a doctor is called. You’ve heard of mob lawyers. This is a mob doctor.

Played by James Mason, he’s 100% crooked, bent by years of treating gangsters and hiding evidence of their crimes. But he’s tired of scratching out an existence, so after he gives Duryea a couple of supposedly helpful pills, he reveals that they were really poison and walks out with the bank loot, using the antidote as his guarantee of safety. And he doesn’t only steal the money. He also steals Duryea’s girlfriend Märta Torén.

The duo charter a small plane to Mexico City, but the aircraft has mechanical trouble and makes an emergency landing, after which they’re stuck in a remote village somewhere in the jungle east of Guadalajara. Mason gave up practicing real medicine a long time ago, but he’s drawn to idyllic life off the grid and takes an interest in the villagers and their health issues, in the process regaining his medical ethics and self respect.

But renewed ethics and healed self respect also cause him to—you guessed it—decide to make good with the gangsters from whom he stole. Why? Because he can never be free unless he does, and so forth. The fool. He could have just mailed the money back, but no—he had to face them for the sake of his own integrity. Sometimes you need someone to tell you you’re going down the wrong road, but that technology wouldn’t show up for many decades. In the end One Way Street, despite its talented cast, is lightweight, unimpressive, and has an ending meant to shock with irony, but which merely comes across as lazy. We can’t recommend it. It premiered today in 1950.