I just want to quote the tagline for the film here, someone's deliciously demented hokum: "NOT EVEN HER KISSES COULD HALT HIS FURY...when his evil brain cried "KILL!"So there you have it, Detour's sibling film in the hitchhike b-noir subgenre is every bit as feverish. Once more a plucky all-American guy picks up disastrous company from out of the Californian night. Once more hidden urges threaten to pull apart the soul.Like that film, on the surface we have blackmail, deceit and all the other ordinary tropes of the potboiler, but it's the deeper noir engine that makes all the difference; our guy was on his way to a dream late at night, a dreamy wife waiting for him in Los Angeles (she's a dainty being and her room seems to be shot through with lace and frills), an anniversary that morning, but the gods of the crossroads have other plans in store, sardonic plans, mischievous.So he has no sooner finished talking on a gas-station phone with the wife, reassuring, sweet-talking, he's going to be there in a couple of hours tops, than two broads are in the backseat of his car. With booze spilled all over him and that stupid grin on his face, he'd have trouble convincing anyone he's not on his way back from partying in Vegas with a bunch of girls, the stuff about co-workers and a birthday party only the lame excuse.The sense of anxious nightmare becomes more evident when they hole up for the night in a friend's empty lakehouse. His panic to do the right thing and be back home in time for the wife not to be upset, in retrospect testimony makes him out to be the only one suspect. Turns out that every move he made incriminates him, every desperate phonecall in the middle of the night, the smell of booze all over him.The final beat is all about the horrifying dissolution of identity and self, so characteristic of noir.Meanwhile, cops are solving the case from the side of poker tables. It's all about fates dealing the cards cops assume, but the young gas-station attendant demonstrates there's clear math to it.The math is that there is no fate, the dreamer is always what is being dreamed. There is no difference between who you are and the narratives you surround yourself with. You will need no better clue than a miraculous last-minute apparition by the wife in that lakehouse that extricates him from nightmare. Whatever it is he was up to in Vegas, the film as a whole is one hell of a guilt trip.

Jimmy 'Fergie' Ferguson is a pretty dumb travelling salesman who gives a late night ride to Steve Morgan(Lawrence Tierney),a man on the lam from the cops after a daring armed robbery went wrong leaving a guard dead.While stopping at a gas station Morgan offers a ride to two damsels in distress who are going their way,Morgan thinks it will help cover his tracks but the gas station attendant is a police informer and recognizes Morgan from police descriptions and soon the police are on their tails.Fergie himself has been drinking heavily and Morgan uses this as a ruse for his dodging the cops but as the heat mounts and they dodge roadblocks,Morgan whose ID is still not known to the occupents suggests they take the heat off and go to the nearby beach house owned by one of Fergie's workmates,it is here that the Devil in Morgan appears. There are a few well developed sub plots within this short but pacey thriller,the cops are given a humorous and a very relaxed crime fighting spirit,the crimes tending to interfere too much with their poker games,The card shark gas attendant who takes their money is also given a humorous side but all characters are given time to develop.Betty Lawford as the tough blonde Agnes is very good and is a good foil for the more sheltered brunette Carol Demming an aspiring actress who Morgan takes an immediate shine to,the feeling is not mutual.Ted North as Fergie is perhaps the least successful character,his role serving little more than a starting point for the film to gather pace but it is without doubt the performance of Tierney that steals the show,a real life tough guy whose menace is never in any doubt.Often compared to Ulmer's Detour and Lupino's Hitchhiker,The Devil Thumbs a Ride is perhaps left a little wanting in such high brow company,but it still remains a fun and exciting entry in the RKO back catalogue and despite its wonderfully descriptive title isn't really that violent,most of the violence occurring off screen.See it if you get a chance

Lawrence Tierney singlehandedly lifts this poverty row cheapie from lowbrow crime melodrama anonymity to the upper pantheon of low budget noir exploitation immortality. Bears some resemblance to other low budget limited set piece claustrophobic pics like THE DESPERATE HOURS or PETRIFIED FOREST, but don't dwell on that. There are a lot of strangled laughs given the tense set-up, but don't dwell on that, either. Ignore the implausibilities and wildly uneven acting and revel instead in young Tierney's charismatic menace and casual sadism. He so dominates the proceedings that any analysis of plot points (fairly lacking) or cinematography (surprisingly good) or direction (not so hot) really pales in comparison. One of those rare films that has such bad performances that it is an instant classic yet also featuring such a standout performance from Tierney that it is also an instant classic. Trust me on this one, brother... don't miss this obscure but vital piece of 50s Americrimedramacana. You will be amused and amazed, horrified and entertained, but most of all... you will not soon forget the experience.

I saw this many years ago on AMC. I barely remember the story, but I do remember that it was a very effective piece of noir. I've wanted to see it again, but it is extremely hard to come by. It isn't on video or DVD, and it rarely appears at revival theatres. If you ever have the chance to catch this on AMC or TCM, do whatever you can to see it. I definitely put it up there with "Detour" and "They Walked By Night". Great stuff.