"The Black Book" or "Reign of Terror" is a fictitious story that takes place during the infamous 1793-94 French Revolution period known as The Reign of Terror. Historians may yet be divided on the virtuous or vile nature of Robespierre (apparently, he was known for both). But this film leaves no doubt about his consenting to, if not instigation of many murders of innocent people.

Richard Basehart's Robespierre shows the cleverness and oratory for which his character was known. And he plays the would-be dictator of France to the point of madness in some scenes. Note his "logical" reasoning to support killing of many innocent people. That portrayal leads one to think that perhaps the man was driven partially by a paranoia that was fueled by the uncontrollable and uncivilized conditions which he himself helped create.

Robert Cummings plays the hero of this film very well. Cummings was most known after the mid 20th century for his comedy and romance roles in film and on TV. But he had many dramatic roles early in his career, and was very adept at acting in all types of roles and all film genres. The other characters are well played as well. Arlene Dahl as Madelon, Arnold Moss as Fouché, Norman Lloyd as Tallien, and Jess Barker as Saint Just.

The dialog is particularly sharp and crispy for Robespierre's character. In an early scene, he has condemned an innocent man to the guillotine without even a trail. The man's wife pleads with Robespierre who is unyielding. She says, "Stop playing God." He replies: "God? The revolution abolished God. There's only the will of the people. And the people have spoken." Toward the end, Saint Just says, "The mob's gone mad. They'll tear us to pieces." Robespierre replies, "I made the mob. The mob are my children. They won't turn against their father."

Then he shows the power the real Robespierre must have had to mesmerize the people. "The greatest death a man can die is for his own people. But you would then be without a leader. If I go, who takes my place? Let the man step forward who can follow in the steps of Robespierre. I have led you through the darkness. If I sought the power of dictatorship, it was not for personal glory. Your will is my will. I bear no man ill. I have killed only for you."

In real life, Robespierre said, on February 5, 1974, that "Terror is nothing else than justice, prompt, severe, inflexible." (See: "Pageant of Europe," Ed. by Raymond P. Steams, 1947) In this movie, a man shoots Robespierre in the mouth; but in real life, he attempted suicide. He shot himself but the bullet just shattered his jaw. The next day he was guillotined without a trial, in the same fashion that he himself had sent so many to their death.

A few films have been made about Napoleon, the War of 1812, and other European battles of the late 18th and early 19th centuries. But not many films have been made that look critically at the French Revolution and the turmoil that completely changed a national culture – not all for the best. Perhaps that's why – the ugly actions and drastic measures that were anything but vestiges of freedom and human rights. So, while this film is fiction, the events it covers are very real. And, it doesn't shy away from showing the horrors of the time. For that reason, "The Black Book" has some historical value as a film. History buffs and those who like intrigue and action should enjoy this film.

I didn't think I'd enjoy this film given the description on the DVD sleeve and it's setting during the time of the French Revolution, but it quickly got my attention with it's darkness and intrigue. Since my earliest memory of Robert Cummings is from the late Fifties TV series "The Bob Cummings Show" (I saw it as 'Love That Bob'), I can't help but think of him as the slick, sophisticated bachelor hitting on every model who shows up at his photography studio. So it was rather comical to me to see his reaction to the Lady Madelon (Arlene Dahl) impersonating the wife of the man Cummings is himself working undercover as.

The story of course is not a comedy, in fact it's full of espionage and intrigue about the historical Robespierre (Richard Basehart) and his attempt to become dictator of France while eliminating potential opposition named in his personal Black Book. I was intrigued by an early description of the man - a fanatic with powdered wig and twisted mind. Indeed, Robespierre spends a good portion of the picture marking adversaries for death with limited patience and a disdain for failure. He'd be a perfect subject for a modern day film treatment.

Others on this board describe the picture as noir in style, and even though I don't think I would have come up with that connection myself, it does seem to fit. The picture is dark and confining and presents a host of duplicitous characters with all manner of evil deeds on their mind. An added bonus is the effective use of period costumes, and superb direction under the watchful eye of director Anthony Mann.

Despite some banal dialogue and one's initial difficulty in reconciling the wide variety of accents used by the cast, this is a film that will delight all classes of picturegoers. Few will quibble at the great liberties the script takes with history as the plot is a stirring and exciting one with hairbreadth escapes and an enormous amount of action and fast movement that will have all audiences sitting on the edges of their seats with excitement. Not only are the situations absorbing, but the characters are interesting and the players give performances that are both extremely competent and surprisingly ingratiating. Robert Cummings gives one of his most pleasing portrayals. Although he was usually cast as a likable stumblebum in light romantic comedies, Cummings actually excelled in dramatic costume parts (as this film and "The Lost Moment" so amply demonstrate) which rarely was he given the opportunity to play. Arlene Dahl is delightfully picturesque as the heroine and it is pleasing to note she doesn't hog the camera (a great deal of the time she is on screen you can hardly see her). She has not been introduced into the script as an afterthought of box office necessity, but has a role that is vital to the whole proceedings to play — and she plays it well! Basehart gives a riveting performance as Robespierre whom he portrays as a towering incarnation of monstrous brutality and evil, abetted by his henchmen, Saint Just (played with force and subtlety by Jess Barker) and the crafty, sly, satanic, self-confessed self-seeker Fouche (Arnold Moss in one of his most memorably malevolent portrayals). Norman Lloyd has a small part (on the right side for once) which he acts out in his usual slippery fashion. Despite his prominence in the billing, Richard Hart has only a small role as Barras. Other parts are very competently enacted and it is a nice surprise to find some of our favorite cameo players in unaccustomed costume roles — Victor Kilian as the turnkey, George Lloyd a member of the Convention, Beulah Bondi as Grand-ma. Charles McGraw figures prominently in the final climax.

It was a violent era and there is a great deal of violence on the screen. The film could be frightening for children — doubly so because it is filmed throughout most atmospherically in very low key. Many scenes have very little light, the gloom and eerie shadows adding to the suspense. Mann's superlative choice of camera angles (Robespierre seems a towering figure because he is often viewed from a low angle — even in close-up) drives every emotive point home. Costumes and sets are dazzling and make an important contribution also to characterization (Robespierre in gleaming white, Moss in black, Cummings in gray) and even the plot (Cummings' adroit business with the wig). The whole film is handled with an inventiveness and a brilliance that is all the more enthralling for being so unexpected. It is absolutely jammed with the sort of shots that lesser directors congratulate themselves on using once or twice in their otherwise steadfastly banal and mercilessly dull picturizations. The use of mirrors, one of the key devices in Mann's earlier films, appears here in several ingenious and highly effective contexts. Mann can control crowd scenes with as great a dexterity as the most subtle and insinuating of dialogue exchanges and exhibits throughout his customary skillful use of natural locations. The whole film is crowded with shots (a knife from an unseen assailant at Cummings' throat as he steps inside a windmill; Robespierre placing a grotesque mask in front of his face reflected in a mirror as his wig is powdered and brushed; Fouche and Robespierre face to face in the torture chamber; the Prosecutor of Strasbourg preening himself in a mirror as a hand reaches from behind to clutch at his throat; the visitor lifting her veil in the candle-light) and scenes (Lloyd parrying banter with Cummings at a café while sitting in front of him idly eating olives; Robespierre raising his hands in a dramatic gesture to arrest the mob as they storm into his chambers; the eerie opening with faces like ghosts wrathing in the mists; the attempted escape from prison with the aged turnkey fumbling with the keys) that stay long in the memory.

The script has some wonderful ideas — Robespierre's office in a bakery; Fouche asking Cummings if his name is in the book and his sudden and unexpected and unexplained attack — and it respects the intelligence of the audience by not explaining everything away or talking down or putting little patriotic speeches about the dangers of dictatorship into the mouths of its heroes. Certainly, it is implied, but, commendably, any parallels with present-day dictatorships are not overtly stated.

Credits are first-class. Producer William Cameron Menzies has doubtless influenced the enormous, brooding sets with their atmospheric trappings and appointments, as well as Alton's impressive low-key photography (particularly shots like that of the silhouetted riders outlined on the rim of a twilighted hill). Editing is both sharp and smooth, the music score apt and deft. Production values are first-class.