Never Open That Door (No abras nunca esa puerta, 1952)

A Review of the Argentine Film Noir Classic

“Good is your enlightened home. Evil is your dark jungle. Only one door separates them; if you cross it, two hands will imprison you in anguish and pain. Never open that door!”

So begins the Argentine film noir Never Open That Door, an anthology movie directed by Carlos Hugo Christensen consisting of two tales based on the film’s opening warning. Adapted from the Cornell Woolrich (writing as William Irish) stories “Somebody on the Phone” and “The Hummingbird Comes Home,” Never Open That Door explores the concepts of anguish and pain with a level of suspense that will make you deliciously uncomfortable, delivered in a style fully immersed in film noir.

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In the first segment, “Somebody on the Phone - Anguish,” a distressed man named Raul (Ángel Magaña) makes a phone call from a nightclub, becoming frustrated when no one answers. Distraught, Raul returns to his friends’ table but notices his sister Luisa (Renée Dumas) across the club, also distressed, pleading with an older man. Soon the truth comes out: Luisa’s gambling has spun out of control leading to dire consequences unless Raul can find the person responsible for his sister’s tormented state. It all has to do with a series of mysterious phone calls.

From the opening scene of well-dressed characters in a metropolitan city to its shattering ending, “Somebody on the Phone” is filled with noir touches such as a smoke-filled club and high-contrast lighting, but that’s just the beginning. A series of African masks, frantic jazz, and an atmosphere of darkness convey the sense that the people in this story are hiding something, and they are. Mirrors reflect and sometimes distort the truths these fractured characters see in themselves.

Raul’s spectacular home quickly moves into the Top 10 Film Noir domiciles category with an artistic beauty (stylistic door frames, paintings, art designs) that conveys entrapment, especially when shrouded in shadow. The dwelling proudly proclaims the epitome of style and wealth, which can also act to cover up ugly realities. Yet rather than cover up his sister’s despair, Raul seeks to find the source of it, and the finale is both noir-filled and potent.

In the concluding segment, “The Hummingbird Comes Home - Pain,” Mama Rosa (Ilde Pirovano) and her niece Maria (Norma Giménez) await the arrival of Rosa’s son Daniel (Roberto Escalada), whom they haven’t heard from in eight years. Although Rosa is blind, she anticipates a joyous reunion with her son. Yet that dream is shattered, veering into horror when Daniel stands outside their house late at night, knocking and demanding that his mother “Open that door!” in a direct violation of the film’s title.

Mama Rosa and Maria don’t know it, but we do: Daniel and his two friends attempted a jewelry heist from an antique shop earlier that day. One member of the trio was shot but remains alive. With her son and the other two criminals holed up in her house, Rosa is helpless, or so we think.

While “Somebody on the Phone” is a compelling and atmospheric episode, “The Hummingbird Comes Home” is the film’s masterpiece featuring a long silent stretch filled with breathless unbearable tension. Such suspense anticipates future thrillers featuring blind protagonists such as Wait Until Dark (1967) and See No Evil (1971). Ilde Pirovano delivers the performance of her career by proving the dark offers no disadvantage to her but could obliterate the plans of her criminal son and his pals. Eddie Muller recently commented in his Noir Alley outro for the film, “Mama Rosa belongs on the short list of the most unforgettable mothers in film noir.”

Both episodes offer a master class in pacing and camerawork. In “Somebody on the Phone,” director Christensen moves with excruciating slowness to a close-up of a ringing phone, then rapidly cuts to Raul abruptly grabbing the receiver. Similar pacing contrasts occur in “Hummingbird”’s long silent scene followed by a frantic and deadly struggle on a staircase.

Cinematographer Pablo Tabernero must have spent weeks inside Cornell Woolrich’s head. How else can you account for the visual representations of anxiety, deception, betrayal, and distrust as shadows and light become a playground for despair and dread? Tabernero worked with some of Argentina’s best directors during Argentina’s Juan Perón years, and you can learn more about the cinematographer in the disc’s special features, but don’t be surprised if you find yourself seeking out his complete filmography.

In his excellent audio commentary on the release, author and film historian Guido Segal highlights the Catholic influence on Never Open That Door and many other films produced in Spanish-speaking countries during this era. A sense of sin, guilt, and shame emerges from the characters in both segments from Luisa’s feelings of anxiety that may go far beyond a gambling addiction, to the regret of Mama Rosa over her unloving son. Family relationships become a prime concern in both films, challenging conventional ideas and scrutinizing the fine line that separates familial normalcy from taboo.

In addition to the excellent and informative Guido Segal audio commentary, viewers are also treated to Cornell Woolrich: Fear Has No Borders (2024), reflecting on the life and work of the author featuring interviews with and remarks from writers/film historians Gary Phillips, Maria Elena de las Carreras, Halley Sutton, Alan K. Rode, and Eddie Muller. Preserving Memory: Fernando Martín Peña on Argentine Cinema (2024) provides an insider look at Argentina’s robust film history, especially the period when Never Open That Door was made.

Watching these supplements, you’ll find out that Never Open That Door was originally intended to feature three Cornell Woolrich story adaptations, not two. Not only will viewers discover why that third story was left out of the film, but they’ll also get to see an extremely rare archival conservation scan of that missing segment in its feature-length entirety.

Never Open That Door joins previous Flicker Alley releases The Bitter Stems (Los tallos amargos), The Black Vampire (El vampiro negro), and The Beast Must Die (La bestia debe morir) as must-own titles in your film noir collection. I hope we see many more collaborations with Flicker Alley, the Film Noir Foundation, and the UCLA Film & Television Archive in restoring, preserving, and presenting such classics. Never Open That Door is available now directly from Flicker Alley.

Many thanks to Flicker Alley for sending me a review copy of Never Open That Door. (Also thanks to Eddie Muller for pointing out a couple of mistakes I made in this article, now corrected.)

Paid subscribers to my Substack are eligible to win a brand new, never-opened copy (not the review copy) of the film. You can find more details here.