Eccentric, implausible mystery with that eeriness which comes from complementing a standard film noir scenario with expressionism. This really could be a lingering, unsettling dream. The premise is from a Cornell Woolrich story, which he repeated many times; the suspect has lost his memory for a period when he really needed not to.
A sailor (Bill Williams) on leave gets drunk while the floozy he picked up is murdered. He stumbles upon a taxi dancer (Susan Hayward) and a cabbie (Paul Lukas) and they all try to piece together his missing hour. It was made by veterans of the New York Group Theatre, and leaves the impression of their politics; it's about how connected we all are.
Clifford Odets' verbose script gathers an ever increasing cast of suspects who stand around delivering the B-picture poetry. There's some decent dialogue, but eventually it smothers Woolrich's concept. Much of the attraction is Nicholas Musuraca's noir photography. Williams was an ex-swimmer, but not much of an actor and can't carry the film.
Susan Hayward became the great Hollywood female dramatic actor of the '50s. In this, she's mainly unexpectedly sexy in an otherwise uncharismatic cast. She's the main reason to watch. And the melancholy of the big city at night as the lonely, weary insomniacs pass through the picture, looking for peace, but finding only trouble.