The Sniper is a psycho film that doesn’t really fall into the psycho-thriller mould that most psycho films reside in. Edward Dmytryk isn’t that interested in developing the tension – although the steeplejack sequence at the end does so rather well. But rather Dmytryk opts for an oblique pseudo-documentary approach, as though the camera were merely observing rather than an active participant in what is happening. This is something that has quite chilling effect – like the moment where Arthur Franz grabs a fairground arcade rifle and tries to shoot two lovers on a Ferris wheel, wrenching at the rifle chained to the booth in mute frustration. Or the killing of one girl as the camera follows her down a sloping street, she falling as she is shot and the camera following the can she has kicked as it rolls on and on into the distance seemingly forever.

Arthur Franz’s babyish looks are made to work for his tortured essayal. He gives a performance full of tormented intensity – although is actually at his best when he gets to smile and suddenly a whole different personality, that seemingly of an innocent boy, seems to light up inside. Unfortunately the film fails to offer him any real psychological motivation, other than a crudely defined misogyny, and the character remains an irritating cipher. The film seems to be trying to make a plea of understanding of the sex offender, with Richard Kiley’s psychiatrist character being used as a mouthpiece to make some effective points. But despite its professed platform of understanding, a scene where sex offenders are lined up and laughed at by the police doesn’t do the film’s case much good.