Noir cinema is instantly recognizable, both thematically and stylistically. Although there continues to be debate about whether it’s an actual film genre or merely a movement or a stylistic choice, noir remains a topic of intrigue and discussion and a favorite of cinephiles around the world. Noir movies are striking almost from the first frame, thanks to their distinct chiaroscuro photography and bleak, almost dreadful atmosphere.
Indeed, most noir movies have instantly iconic opening sequences that effectively set the mood while hooking audiences into what will surely be a twisting, complicated mystery. The noir movies on this list have the most captivating first five minutes out of any entry into the genre, and hardly anyone can deny it. Whether because of the narrative framing they use, the music, staging, or even their technical prowess, these introductory sequences are the stuff of cinematic dreams, ensuring these movies’ rich and lasting legacy in the medium.
6
‘The Killers’ (1946)
A classic of film noir and one of the few adaptations of Ernest Hemingway‘s work that he did not detest, The Killers is a gem of the genre and the film that launched Burt Lancaster‘s career. The plot follows the investigation into the murder of former boxer Pete Lund (Lancaster), and his connection with the glamorous femme fatale Kitty Collins (Ava Gardner). The Killers is now considered a foundational noir, and it all starts with its iconic opening sequence.
As many other noirs would do, The Killers opens with a death scene: Lund’s. The boxer doesn’t resist death, instead welcoming it with defeated resignation. However, the actual first five minutes of the movie (not counting the credits) are the set-up, as two hitmen enter a diner and engage in a game of slow intimidation with the owner, the cook, and a patron. The scene perfectly uses the limited space — a counter and the kitchen behind it — as the two killers play with their prey, none of whom they intend to kill. Strictly speaking, it’s the first ten minutes of The Killers that are masterful, but half that time is spent at the dinner, and it’s a masterclass of how to immediately set the stakes for an entire movie. From Charles McGraw and William Conrad‘s performances as the hitmen to Miklós Rózsa‘s score, everything about this scene is haunting.
5
‘Laura’ (1944)
If one were to think about a perfect film noir, chances are one would immediately think of Laura. Otto Preminger‘s tale of obsession and seduction stars Dana Andrews as a private investigator who falls in love with the woman whose death he’s investigating. Gene Tierney dazzles in the titular role, personifying the allure and elusiveness that would eventually come to define the genre overall.
As many noirs do, the film opens with narration. “I shall never forget the weekend Laura died,” says Waldo Lydecker, played by a never-better Clifton Webb. His controlled, pleasant tone sharply contrasts with the morbid dialogue, his fascination with Laura clear from the get-go. There’s exposition here, but Webb’s voice is so eerily soothing, and Preminger’s camera so graceful as it slides throughout an opulent penthouse, that it all becomes something of a trance; like every man in this story, we’re suddenly hypnotized not by Laura herself but by the idea of Laura. Today, this 1944 gem is a true classic, and it’s clear from the opening sequence that we’re in the presence of a perfectly crafted mystery. After all, how many movies can say they steal the audience’s attention with fewer than ten words?
4
‘Double Indemnity’ (1944)
Simply put, Billy Wilder‘s Double Indemnity is the pillar upon which all future noirs rise. Every archetype in the genre is expertly used here, from Fred McMurray‘s hapless, morally compromised protagonist (an insurance salesman, of course) to Barbara Stanwyck‘s devious, manipulative, always-one-step-ahead femme fatale, Phyllis Dietrichson. It’s often Phyllis who gets all the attention when it comes to Double Indemnity, and rightfully so, making it surprising that she’s not featured in the opening scene.
Instead, the first five minutes are all about McMurray’s doomed Walter Neff. As he slowly dies from a gunshot, he slowly delivers a confession into a dictaphone, meant for his close friend Barton Keyes (Edward G. Robinson). Neff slowly makes his way into the building, past the lobby, up the elevator, and into his office; he lights a cigarette and uses his final strength to retell the movie to the viewer. It’s a simple yet potent set-up, and McMurray sells the hell of Neff’s exhaustion, both physical and emotional: he sweats, he huffs, he says each word like it can be his last. He killed for money and for a woman; he didn’t get the money, and he didn’t get the woman, but we did get one hell of an opener.
3
‘Kiss Me Deadly’ (1955)
Robert Aldrich was among the many directors who never really got the respect he deserved while he was alive. A pioneer of noir and thriller, Aldrich directed many foundational movies, including What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? and The Dirty Dozen. In the noir department, no contribution of his is more significant or better constructed than Kiss Me Deadly, one of the genre’s most paranoid and desperate efforts, more a psychological thriller than a standard noir.
The opening sequence sees Ralph Meeker‘s private investigator Mike Hammer as he stops on a lonely road in the middle of the night after finding Christina (Cloris Leachman, BTW), an escapee from a mental institution, who soon changes his life forever. The sequence is tense, intense, and anxiety-inducing. From Leachman’s continuous sobs over the title credits to the eventual arrival of the thugs that will claim her life and leave Hammer for dead, the film refuses to provide a single moment of respite. By the time the sequence ends, you’re left with a very different type of noir, an unyielding beast that refuses to provide easy answers — in fact, refuses to provide answers at all.
2
‘Sunset Boulevard’ (1950)
The conversation about what the best film noir is, if there even is such a thing, often begins and ends with Sunset Boulevard. The ultimate Hollywood satire, the film revolutionized both the genre and the industry at large, holding up a mirror to Hollywood’s ugliest side, the one that uses stars before discarding them once their time has passed. The opening five minutes, narrated by a dead Joe Gillis (William Holden), also changed the way audiences experienced cinema, raising the stakes and speeding towards an inevitable conclusion.
The shot of Joe’s lifeless body floating in a pool remains chilling and powerfully effective. There’s no going back from this: your protagonist is dead from the opening sequence, meaning you’re about to follow a dead man walking. Holden’s sardonic, dry delivery makes the most of Billy Wilder, Charles Brackett, and D.M. Marshman Jr.‘s Oscar-winning, all-time great screenplay. From the get-go, Sunset Boulevard tells you exactly the type of movie it will be: bleak, ironic, morbidly funny, and tragic, a study of fame, ambition, and delusion that turns the City of Angels into the Town of Devils, a carnival of broken dreams where no one emerges unscathed.
1
‘Touch of Evil’ (1958)
Touch of Evil‘s opening tracking shot is the stuff of Hollywood legend. The three-plus-minute unbroken sequence follows a car from the moment a bomb is placed in it, past a crowded street in a border town, and finally until it explodes. This now-iconic scene perfectly introduces the film’s somber, high-stakes tone, setting the stage for a noir so great that it became the blueprint and that today ranks at the top of the genre’s many masterpieces.
Orson Welles‘ technical prowess is arguably the star here. The camera remains steady, painting a full picture, immersing audiences in this sordid world where nothing is what it seems; it’s bustling with life, yet evil lurks in the shadows. There’s a slight, shaky quality to it, though, enough to make the sequence seem urgent without being hectic, thus allowing the tension to slowly reach a near-unbearable boiling point. Once the bomb goes off, the shaky cam take sover, and all hell breaks loose. As any respectable noir would, the photography is exquisite, all contrast and purpose. No noir has a better opening sequence than Touch of Evil, a film that makes the most out of its first five minutes to provide everything the audience needs to fall under its spell.