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Double Indemnity is based on a novel by James Cain adapted to the screen by great novelist Raymond Chandler, who made here his most important contribution to the cinema history in his career, though somehow matched by following screenwriting work for 1946 Howard Hawks' classic The Big Sleep, and Billy Wilder, who previously worked as a screen writer for Ernest Lubitsch and had been already nominated three times for Academy Awards in the process before making Double Indemnity, which nevertheless played the key role in establishing him as one of the best writer-directors in Hollywood, and giving him his fourth Oscar nomination as a writer and his first one as a director.

Double Indemnity was the third feature Wilder directed after 1942 The Major and the Minor and 1943 Five Graves to Cairo, but it was definitely the first film, his primary American tragedy where the author for the first time revealed his black and somehow hopelessly pessimistic view of the American society and of the human society in general, blackishly desecrated in the film simply by populating it with exceptionally sordid characters, who independently of being a victim or victimized, of being the protagonists or just simple supporters are never really able to transcend the utterly low and devilish motivations in theirs as a consequence sordidly painful lives and reach such a state where the viewer might get relieved by considering one of them as a positive element. Instead the characters' lives shown in a continuous noir flashback of Fred MacMurray's not-a-confession are driven from the start to the very end by an utter greed in a form of double and not only indemnities with consequential and inherent to it risks and fears in a rather unsure world of insurance.

An insurance salesman Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray), a man with `no visible scars', starts to lose his already shaky dominance over his mind's yearnings when glimpses on a horizon a possibility of becoming a recipient of a monetary fortune along with no less seductive desire from a part of unhappily married and as devilishly beautiful as resourceful in pursuing her zany in its deadliness schemes, an ultimate femme fatale blond Phyllis (marvellously portrayed by Barbara Stanwyck).

Initially apparent as a romantic, the relationship gradually mutates into double confrontation of the two fears of the two characters in their greedy and ambitious pursuits, a conflict which at one point apparently results in a sort of humanization of Phyllis' character, appearing hiding the eyes of her soul behind the sun glasses, a humanization which is let to happen by her only to accentuate later her unchangeably fatal nature.

The double confrontation gradually evolves into a triple one when the threatening presence on the scene of no less and probably more resourceful character of Barton Keyes (Edward G. Robinson) becomes more and more evident, as a result of his continuous and obsessive investigation conducted with different but nor less ambitious motives. A motives which find its ultimate revelation in a most touching, but finally most hypocritical scene of declaration of love (I love you - I love you too) between Walter Neff and Barton Keyes in the end, exactly reflecting the same nature of previous interactions between Walter and Phyllis, where such moments with the very words used, such as the supreme word of loving affection - Baby lowered to an unthinkable extent, only were a mere preparation to struck another blow in yet another outburst of hate caused by a new misfortunate complication in carrying out so well devised and apparently perfect plan.

Permeated right from the start to the very end with the flavour of unstoppable fatality in an extent that a few other film-noirs achieved, accentuated by the wonderful music score by Miklos Rozsa, Double Indemnity's story is motored by the money like in nearly all of Billy Wilder films. But in this case all the misery produced by it as evident as never before resulting in utter corruption of already corrupted characters and their descent into a such a deep abyss of human misery as probably never before or after in a Hollywood film history, an abyss with no exit, with omnipresent hypocrisy, with no place for sincere human feelings of love, friendship or affection, an abyss to where the characters descent under the monotonous tune of Miklos Rozsa's score, which serves as a reflection of their monotonously hypocrite and ultimately doubly doomed lives. 10/10

Finnish writer-director and now politician Jorn Donner made the Bergman File in 1978. It features a series of interviews and excerpts from the press conferences with Ingmar Bergman, where he recalls his childhood experiences, talks about the things, places and people who influenced him in his artistic development consequently having a major influence on his films, about making of which is also told quite a bit. The film finishes at the time it was made - 1978, with Bergman's fleeing Sweden to Europe and than to the US as a result of problems with Swedish Tax Department.

Overall The Bergman File is very similar and significantly weaker compared to another Jorn Donner's documentary made at about the same time as this one - The Three Scenes with Ingmar Bergman, which explores the same ground with significantly more precision and appears to be quite a bit more interesting than The Bergman File mostly because almost one hundred percent of the film is told by Ingmar Bergman himself representing his own point of view on things and not someone else's interpretation of it. 7/10

Bonjour Tristesse is based on a novel by Françoise Sagan published in 1954. It was the first novel she had ever written and caused quite a stir at the time of its release being considered as one of the most remarkable and scandalous post World War II writing debuts with literary critics coming as far as naming it provokingly immoral.

The film version is marked by a certain what might be called Puritanism of its director - Otto Preminger, which was a result of not only Preminger's artistic vision, but also of the obligatory following the rules of the time system in cases when morally delicate matters were concerned.

Whatever the reason, it ultimately serves for the best, resulting in a clever and masterful representation of the sin as a slightly blatant notion matching thus its true qualitative nature of a thing mostly concealed inside of a man's heart not always erupting from the subtle mental level on a gross surface of palpable to the material senses reality. The struck of genius on the part of the director was also filming it partly in black and white, partly in colour, with colour flashback sequences representing the happy old days of bizzarely cheerful co-existence of David Niven and Jean Seberg's characters shared with young, beautiful and comprehensive but unfortunately dull Elsa (Mylene Demongeot) set on the alluring background of the French Riviera in a time when the sin was still dormant in the jovial hearts of film's protagonists awaiting its time to reveal itself using out-of-the-past Deborah Kerr's character as an instrument in disrupting the very foundation of their mindless existence in an unavoidable action-reaction circle, throwing them apart and together again this time in a black and white reality of Paris, reality of a bittersweet awareness of the unpleasant present, resembling Adam and Eve cast out of Paradise, with a new vision of the world acquired with final Deborah Kerr's banishment into the blue vastness of the ocean, leaving only an inexplicable trail of a black smoke serving as a symbolic representation of the ultimately and untimely burned sins of an equally burned and crashed life. 8/10