Detour (1945) is an iconic American film noir known as much for its harrowing, fate - driven story as for its remarkably low - budget production. Directed by Edgar G. Ulmer and starring Tom Neal and Ann Savage, this short B - movie crime drama has transcended its humble origins to become a cult classic of the noir genre.

Initially released with little fanfare by a Poverty Row studio, Detour is now celebrated for its atmospheric tension, fatalistic storytelling, and innovative filmmaking on a shoestring. In 1992, it became the first “poverty row” film inducted into the U.S. National Film Registry, cementing its status as “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant.” 

The following article provides a comprehensive overview of Detour, covering official details (production credits, plot, release, and reception) and unofficial insights (behind - the - scenes stories, public domain status, cultural impact, fan theories, and legacy).

Detour was produced by Producers Releasing Corporation (PRC), a low - budget studio on Hollywood’s “Poverty Row.” The film was adapted from the 1939 pulp novel Detour: An Extraordinary Tale by Martin Goldsmith, who also co - wrote the screenplay (with uncredited contributions by Martin Mooney). Edgar G. Ulmer, an émigré director renowned for doing “magic on a shoestring,” directed the film. Ulmer had a background in European expressionist cinema and was no stranger to working with limited resources.

The lead roles were filled by Tom Neal (as down - on - his - luck pianist Al Roberts) and Ann Savage (as the ferocious femme fatale, Vera). Supporting players included Claudia Drake (as Sue Harvey, Al’s girlfriend) and Edmund MacDonald (as Charles Haskell Jr., the gambler whose identity Al fatefully assumes). 

Filming took place in mid - 1945 under extreme budget and time constraints. Ulmer later boasted that the movie was shot in only six days, which became part of Detour’s legend. In reality, production documents and cast recollections indicate a longer (though still brisk) schedule: approximately 14 camera days spanning about three to four weeks in June 1945, including a few days on location in the California desert. 

This accelerated shoot forced Ulmer to be inventive; he famously put storytelling above continuity, even flipping the film negative for certain highway shots to maintain narrative flow. (This trick caused a notable continuity goof - cars appear briefly to drive on the left side of the road with the driver’s seat reversed, a quirk that attentive viewers still notice.) 

Despite PRC’s tiny budgets, Detour’s cost has been subject to debate. For decades, rumor held that it cost as little as $20,000. Modern research by film historians (including Noah Isenberg) suggests the true budget was closer to $100,000 - still extremely low by Hollywood standards of the time. Even so, Detour proved profitable, earning an estimated $1 million at the box office. This high return - on - investment made it one of the most financially successful film noirs relative to cost. Ulmer, who was paid only $750 for directing, even used his own personal car (a 1941 Lincoln Continental convertible) as Haskell’s car in the film to save money. 

Behind the camera, Ulmer’s team included cinematographer Benjamin H. Kline, editor George McGuire, and composer Leo Erdody, who provided an ominous original score. Erdody’s music and the careful use of sound (from a recurring nightclub song on a jukebox to atmospheric effects) helped give the film a richer atmosphere than its bare - bones visuals might suggest. Notably, the production prioritized a tight edit: the final cut runs just 68 minutes, trimmed down from a longer script with more dialogue. This lean approach resulted in a brisk, suspenseful narrative with little fat. 

One casting footnote: actor Billy Halop was originally slated to play Al Roberts and even screen - tested for the part. However, just days before filming, he was replaced by Tom Neal. Neal’s casting ultimately proved fortuitous - his haunted, anxiety - ridden performance as Al became one of the film’s defining elements, even though Neal himself was a B - movie actor (and former boxer) not well - known to mainstream audiences. 

Set in the mid - 1940s, Detour is a grim noir fable of misfortune and fate. The story unfolds as a flashback, narrated by Al Roberts, a piano player from New York. Al is bitter and downbeat, languishing in a seedy nightclub where his fiancée Sue Harvey sings. When Sue decides to leave for Hollywood to pursue stardom, Al, feeling lost without her, decides to hitchhike across the country to join her in Los Angeles. With barely any money, he ventures west thumb out on the highway. 

In Arizona, Al is picked up by a smooth - talking bookmaker named Charles Haskell Jr. driving to California. During their overnight drive, Haskell falls gravely ill (hinted to be a heart attack) and dies unexpectedly. Panicking, Al fears no one will believe he wasn’t responsible for the man’s death. In a moment of desperation, he hides Haskell’s body, then assumes the dead man’s identity (along with his car, cash, and ID) to avoid suspicion.

The next day, Al (now driving Haskell’s car) picks up another hitchhiker - a sharp - tongued young woman named Vera. In a cruel twist, Vera reveals she had earlier ridden with the real Haskell and immediately realizes Al is an imposter. Seizing the opportunity, Vera blackmails Al into cooperating with her scheme: they’ll continue posing as Haskell and wife to sell the car and perhaps do even more. 

The pair reach Los Angeles and hole up in a cheap Hollywood apartment, pretending to be a married couple while planning their next moves. Tensions simmer between Al and Vera - he’s guilt - ridden and trapped, while she is greedily scheming. When Vera reads a news article that Haskell’s wealthy father is dying and searching for his long - lost son (the very man whom Al is impersonating), she proposes an audacious plan: Al should impersonate Haskell Jr. to claim the inheritance. Al flatly refuses, knowing he’d be caught in a lie.

This conflict leads to a final, drunken confrontation. Vera threatens to call the police and runs into the bedroom with the telephone to turn Al in. In a desperate attempt to stop her, Al yanks on the phone cord from the other side of the locked door. The struggle goes horribly wrong - the cord winds around Vera’s neck, accidentally strangling her. Al breaks in to find Vera dead. 

Now twice entangled in inadvertent death, a horrified Al flees into the night, hitchhiking once more with an even heavier burden of guilt. In the film’s bleak closing scene, Al - having abandoned all hope of reuniting with Sue - finds himself back in a roadside diner, resigned to his doom. He imagines police sirens and a patrol car pulling up. “Fate, or some mysterious force, can put the finger on you or me for no good reason at all,” he laments in voiceover.

In Detour’s haunting final moments, Al walks out to the highway, hands outstretched, as if surrendering to the inevitable long arm of justice, illustrating the film’s central theme that escape from fate is impossible. 

Detour was first released in late 1945 on the second half of a double bill. It premiered in Boston on November 15, 1945, and opened in limited release in other cities later that month. Despite its low - budget status, PRC gave Detour a decent promotional push for a B - film, including colorful posters and even a jukebox tie - in (the love song “I Can’t Believe That You’re in Love with Me” heard in the film). The movie did not play only in grindhouse theaters; for instance, it screened at large venues like the Orpheum Theatre in Los Angeles in 1946, sharing the stage with live musical acts. 

Audiences and reviewers in 1945 were generally receptive. Trade papers such as The Hollywood Reporter and Variety gave positive notes, and the Los Angeles Times also praised the film’s taut storytelling. One contemporary reviewer, Mandel Herbstman of Motion Picture Herald, rated Detour as a “fair” production but admired its unusual structure and uncompromising ending, noting that the film ventures far from formula and “makes no compromise with the happy ending.” This was a daring choice in an era when many films felt compelled to wrap up on a positive note. 

After its theatrical run, Detour slipped into obscurity for a time. In the early 1950s, it was distributed to television syndication and became a late - night TV staple in various markets. For a couple of decades it was remembered, if at all, as a solid little “B noir.” However, from the 1970s onward, film scholars and critics began to re - evaluate Detour as a unique noir masterpiece. By the 1980s, it was being regularly shown in repertory cinemas, college film societies, and noir retrospectives.

Director Edgar G. Ulmer unfortunately did not live to see this renaissance - he died in 1972, the same year as actor Tom Neal. But Ann Savage, who had left Hollywood in the 1950s, enjoyed a revival of fame in her later years: from the mid - 1980s until shortly before her death in 2008, she made public appearances at Detour screenings, witnessing firsthand the film’s new appreciation by audiences. 

Modern critical reception of Detour is overwhelmingly positive, bordering on reverent in film noir circles. Review aggregators give it high marks (it holds a very strong rating on Rotten Tomatoes, for example), and it’s frequently cited as one of the quintessential noir films of all time. Critics often remark on how a film with such evident technical flaws (visible editing lapses, the aforementioned backwards footage, low - rent production values) can nonetheless be so gripping and evocative. Famed critic Roger Ebert added Detour to his personal “Great Movies” list, marveling that this cheap, 67 - minute film “filled with technical errors… should have faded from sight soon after it was released.

And yet it lives on, haunting and creepy, an embodiment of the guilty soul of film noir.” Likewise, Time magazine’s Richard Corliss singled out Ann Savage’s Vera as one of cinema’s greatest villains, and film historian Eddie Muller includes Detour among the top noirs ever made. In short, what was once a dismissed pulp potboiler is now recognized as an influential work of art in the noir genre, celebrated for its atmosphere of doom and the raw, nervy performances of its leads.

Beyond the official records, Detour has accumulated a wealth of behind - the - scenes lore and fascinating trivia over the years: 

• Ulmer’s “six - day” Claim: Edgar G. Ulmer often bragged in interviews that he shot Detour in an incredibly brief six days. This claim became part of the film’s mystique, symbolizing Ulmer’s efficiency under pressure. However, production evidence (including a shooting script title page shown by Ulmer’s daughter) contradicts this, indicating roughly 14 shooting days, spread over a few weeks. Actress Ann Savage recalled working on the film for about four weeks (six - day work weeks) including a short location shoot in the desert. Ulmer’s exaggeration may have been an attempt to enhance the film’s legend or his own reputation as a fast, economical filmmaker. 

• Shoestring Creativity: The micro - budget conditions forced creative solutions. With no money for reshoots or elaborate sets, Ulmer used minimal locations and simple setups. Approximately half the movie takes place with two people talking inside a car (using rear projection for the passing road). For Los Angeles, instead of big street scenes, we see a used - car lot and a couple of sparse apartment interiors. To simulate night on a budget, some scenes used heavy shadow or were shot day - for - night. Ulmer also had to use his personal car as the hero vehicle for filming. This car, a convertible Lincoln Continental, becomes almost a character in the story - but it doubled as Ulmer’s actual ride off set! 

• Continuity and the Flipped Negative: One of Detour’s infamous continuity oddities is the sequence where Al is hitchhiking and gets picked up. To maintain visual direction (so that Al’s westward journey reads correctly from right - to - left on screen), Ulmer flipped the film negative for certain shots. The unintended result is that in those shots cars appear to drive on the wrong side of the road and Al seems to enter Haskell’s car on the driver’s side! These errors are jarring if noticed, but Ulmer accepted such lapses in exchange for keeping the story momentum. This quirk has since become a charming anecdote about the film’s “anything goes” production. 

• Censorship Compliance: As a film made under the strict Hollywood Production Code, Detour had to ensure criminals didn’t escape punishment. The script and editing were tweaked accordingly. In the original ending, Al’s arrest is somewhat ambiguous or imagined, but the studio added a final shot (or at least a clear suggestion) of a police car arriving to satisfy the censors that Al would face justice. This explains the voiceover about fate “putting a finger on you” as Al submits to being caught. Ulmer managed to stage this in a somewhat dreamlike way, keeping the film’s fatalistic tone, but it was directly prompted by Production Code rules that murder could not go unpunished on screen. 

• Casting What - Ifs: As noted, Tom Neal wasn’t the first choice for Al. The initial actor, Billy Halop, was known for roles as a juvenile delinquent in the Dead End Kids series. It’s unclear why PRC recast so last - minute - possibly dissatisfaction with Halop or a better confidence in Neal’s chemistry with Ann Savage. Speaking of Savage, Detour was the fourth of five films that paired Tom Neal and Ann Savage together (they had co - starred in other B - movies). However, Detour is by far the most famous of their collaborations, to the point that Savage is often remembered primarily for her turn as Vera despite a modest filmography. 

• Real - Life Parallels and Ironies: Tom Neal’s own life took a noir - like turn after Detour. In the early 1950s, he became notorious for a violent love - triangle brawl with actor Franchot Tone over actress Barbara Payton, which effectively blacklisted Neal from Hollywood. Years later, in 1965, Neal was convicted of manslaughter in the shooting death of his third wife - a grim real - life echo of the film’s deadly theme. He served six years in prison and died in 1972, not long after his release. Ann Savage, by contrast, lived a quieter life post - acting and outlived her co - star by decades. The two never escaped Detour’s shadow in the public mind; fittingly, Neal’s son even portrayed Al in the 1992 remake of Detour, coming full circle on the family legacy. 

• Novel vs. Film Differences: The source novel by Martin Goldsmith has some notable differences, which fans and scholars sometimes discuss. In the book, the story alternates between the perspectives of the Al character (named Alexander Roth) and Sue. Goldsmith’s novel painted both protagonists in a less sympathetic light. The film jettisoned most of Sue’s storyline and focused entirely on Al’s point - of - view, amplifying the subjective, possibly unreliable narration. The novel’s Al is also more overtly cynical and violent at times, whereas Ulmer’s Al (Tom Neal) comes off as a weary, hapless victim of bad luck. These changes were in part due to Ulmer’s vision and also to constraints from the censors (for example, ensuring that Vera and Al were not shown having any sexual relationship and that Vera clearly dies accidentally). 

Public Domain Status: One major factor that amplified Detour’s reach is that the film eventually fell into public domain in the United States. PRC and its successors apparently failed to renew the copyright after the initial term (common with many Poverty Row titles). As a result, from the 1970s onward Detour could be freely distributed, copied, and shown without licensing.

This led to countless inexpensive VHS and DVD releases over the years and wide availability online (the film can be found on many free video platforms and archives). The downside was that for decades most circulating prints were of poor quality - scratchy, spliced, and faded - since no studio was responsible for preserving or restoring the film. Despite the subpar visuals, the ease of access helped Detour gain new fans among classic film buffs and noir enthusiasts. 

Restoration: Fortunately, Detour’s importance eventually prompted a serious effort to save it. In 2018, the Academy Film Archive undertook a full 4K digital restoration of Detour from the best surviving elements. This was a complex task given the degraded state of the source materials. The stunning restoration premiered at the TCM Classic Film Festival in Los Angeles (April 2018) to great acclaim - audiences could finally see the film’s sharp contrasts and shadowy cinematography as it appeared in 1945. The restored Detour was subsequently released on Blu - ray and DVD by Criterion Collection in 2019, ensuring that future generations can experience it in high quality. The restoration also symbolically rescued Detour from the limbo of public domain neglect and gave it “legitimacy” as an acknowledged classic. 

National Film Registry and Recognition: Detour’s selection in 1992 for the National Film Registry (Library of Congress) was a milestone. It validated the film’s status as an enduring piece of American cinema history. Notably, Detour was the first independently - made Poverty Row film to receive this honor. In the Registry’s annals, it stands alongside far more lavish and famous 1940s films, proving that cultural significance isn’t determined by budget or initial prestige. This honor in 1992 helped spark new scholarly interest in Ulmer’s work and in film noir’s lower - budget entries. 

Influence on Filmmakers: Over the years, Detour has inspired and influenced many filmmakers and artists, especially those drawn to noir themes or low - budget filmmaking. Famed director Martin Scorsese has praised Detour as a personal favorite noir. Homages and echoes of Detour can be seen in later works; for example, filmmakers like David Lynch have employed similarly eerie, fatalistic atmospheres (Lynch’s Lost Highway contains a modern spin on the unsettling hitchhiker trope, which some see as a nod to Detour).

The Coen Brothers, known for their love of noir, have also acknowledged Ulmer’s film as part of the noir tradition that inspired movies like Blood Simple and No Country for Old Men. Detour’s economy of storytelling - creating dread and suspense with limited means - is often cited in film schools as a case study in doing more with less. It’s no exaggeration to say that Detour changed notions of what independent/low - budget cinema could achieve. 

Fan Interpretations and Theories: The film’s ambiguous narrative has fueled debate and theories among viewers. A prominent discussion centers on the idea of Al Roberts as an “unreliable narrator.” Because Detour is told entirely from Al’s viewpoint in voiceover, some critics and fans have suggested that Al might be lying about the events - essentially framing himself as a victim of bad luck when he may actually bear more guilt.

Supporters of this theory point to the implausible coincidences (two accidental deaths that conveniently leave Al blameless) and Al’s self - pitying, defensive tone. Notably, critic Roger Ebert and others have entertained this idea, implying Detour could be the “alibi” of a murderer who doesn’t own up to his crimes. On the other side, many noir aficionados reject this interpretation, arguing that the film is intended as a straight - faced tragedy of fate, not a twist ending of secret guilt. They note there’s no concrete evidence in the film that Al is lying, and that the power of Detour lies in its nihilistic message that innocent or guilty, fate doesn’t care - it will crush you anyway. 

This debate remains a fascinating aspect of Detour’s legacy, showing that such a short, initially overlooked film can provoke deep discussion about narrative perspective and moral ambiguity. 

Cultural References and Trivia: Over time Detour has been referenced in various media and pop culture contexts. Its title and premise (a road trip gone wrong) have been alluded to in songs, books, and other movies. The film’s most famous line about fate “putting a finger on you” is often quoted in discussions about film noir. Ann Savage’s ferocious performance as Vera - a hitchhiker who turns out to be more dangerous than any oncoming storm - helped define the archetype of the femme fatale in noir. In 2007, film critic Richard Corliss ranked Vera among the top villains, and that speaks to the character’s lasting impression. Savage herself became something of a patron saint of noir vamps later in life, appearing in a 2007 avant - garde film (My Winnipeg by Guy Maddin) essentially as an homage to her Detour persona. 

1992 Remake: Detour’s enduring intrigue led to a remake in 1992, almost half a century after the original. This independent color remake was directed by Wade Williams. In a poignant casting touch, Tom Neal, Jr. (the son of original star Tom Neal) played the lead role of Al. Lea Lavish co - starred as the new Vera. The remake also featured a veteran actress, Susanna Foster, in her final film role, coming out of retirement.

Despite these novelties, the 1992 Detour failed to make any significant impact critically or commercially. It was released on VHS and later DVD but is generally regarded as a pale shadow of the original. The existence of the remake, however, underscores the original film’s cult status - few obscure 1940s B - movies would ever be remade so many years later. It serves as a footnote in Detour’s legacy, reminding us how inimitable Ulmer’s grim little masterpiece truly is. 

Detour (1945) has evolved from a quickie noir programmer into a timeless classic studied and celebrated by cinephiles. Its official story - a cautionary tale of fate’s cruelty - remains riveting, while the unofficial lore surrounding its creation adds an extra layer of mystique.

The film’s journey, rife with detours of its own (from obscurity to acclaim, from public domain neglect to restored glory), mirrors the rocky road traveled by its protagonist Al Roberts. And like Al, Detour proves that a seemingly ordinary journey can unexpectedly spiral into something unforgettable. 

This lean, mean noir continues to captivate new audiences, serving as a stark reminder that great cinema isn’t about big budgets or big studios - sometimes all it takes is a dark idea, a few daring artists, and a twist of fate.