Samuel Fuller's Pickup on South Street is anomalous: A "Red Scare" movie devoid of hysteria, in which the Communist threat is nothing more than the McGuffin that ignites the plot. Pickpocket Richard Widmark relieves loose woman Jean Peters of her wallet containing a strip of microfilm; unbeknownst to either of them, it harbors secrets vital to the Cold War. Peters, as it happens, was under surveillance by FBI agents who are as nonplussed by the theft as the man who's running her, cowardly comsymp Richard Kiley. In trying to retrieve the precious film, both sides enlist the help of Thelma Ritter, a streetwise old jane who's always on the earie and willing to sell what she hears.<br /><br />Fuller draws from an opulent palette of tempos and tonalities in telling the story, which becomes a race against the clock of escalating brutality. From the subways to the waterfront, his midsummer Manhattan takes on a sweaty sheen that's almost pungent. The love scenes between Peters and Widmark become an unstable mixture of the tumultuous and the tender, and they're scored to "Again," a song introduced by Ida Lupino in Road House, also starring Widmark. The pace slackens for Ritter's beautifully written and played death scene -- among the most poignant vignettes in all noir, and a kind of mirage-oasis in a film parched of sentimentality. This is writer/director Fuller's only work in the strictest confines of the noir cycle; his later explorations of American pathology (The Crimson Kimono, The Naked Kiss, Underworld U.S.A.) never resulted in a synthesis as satisfying as Pickup on South Street.