When you think of the ultimate cinematic "cad," George Sanders is usually the first name that pops up. He was the guy who could make an insult sound like a symphony. In 1956, he took that persona to its absolute limit in the death of a scoundrel movie, a film that feels less like a traditional Hollywood drama and more like a bitter, high-society autopsy. It's a weird one. Honestly, it’s one of those movies that shouldn’t work—it’s long, it’s cynical, and it’s basically about a guy who makes Gordon Gekko look like a saint—but somehow, it’s impossible to look away from.
If you’ve ever wondered what happens when you mix a real-life murder scandal, a cast of legendary egoists, and some of the sharpest cinematography of the 1950s, this is it. It’s not just a movie; it’s a 119-minute middle finger to the American Dream.
The Real Crime That Inspired the Movie
Most people don’t realize that the death of a scoundrel movie isn't just a piece of fiction. It was ripped straight from the headlines of 1955. The character of Clementi Sabourin, played by Sanders, was a thinly veiled version of Serge Rubinstein.
Rubinstein was a real-life Russian-born financier and playboy who became one of the most hated men in New York. He was a draft dodger, a stock manipulator, and a world-class jerk. When he was found murdered in his Fifth Avenue mansion—bound with Venetian blind cords—the police had a problem. They didn't have a lack of suspects. They had too many. Every person who knew him had a reason to want him dead.
Director Charles Martin took this "who-didn't-do-it" premise and ran with it. He didn't just want to make a mystery; he wanted to document the rise and fall of a man who believed "business is the art of getting something for nothing."
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A Cast That Was a Little Too Real
The casting here is sort of legendary for its awkwardness. You’ve got George Sanders in the lead, which is perfect. But then things get interesting. Zsa Zsa Gabor plays one of his marks/lovers. The kicker? She was Sanders' real-life ex-wife. They had divorced just two years before filming. Imagine showing up to work and having to play "romantic tension" with your ex while the cameras roll. Kinda awkward, right?
Then there's the brother. In the film, Sabourin has a brother named Gerry whom he essentially betrays to the police for a visa. This brother is played by Tom Conway. In real life, Conway was actually George Sanders’ older brother.
By 1956, Conway’s career was in a bit of a tailspin due to personal struggles, and you can see the wear and tear on his face. It adds a layer of genuine sadness to the film that you just can't fake. When Sanders’ character treats his brother like garbage on screen, there’s a subtext there that feels uncomfortably authentic.
The Women in Sabourin's Web
The film is structured around the women Clementi Sabourin used to climb the social ladder. It’s basically a parade of 1950s icons:
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- Yvonne De Carlo as Bridget Kelly: She’s the heart of the movie, starting as a petty thief and becoming Sabourin’s right hand.
- Zsa Zsa Gabor as Mrs. Ryan: The wealthy widow who provides his first big break.
- Coleen Gray as Edith van Renssalaer: The affluent wife he tries to manipulate for a uranium company.
- Nancy Gates as Stephanie North: The young secretary with acting dreams that Sabourin tries to crush when she rejects him.
Why Death of a Scoundrel Still Matters
Look, this movie is a bit of a "B-movie" in spirit, but it has "A-list" bones. The cinematography was handled by James Wong Howe, one of the absolute masters of light and shadow. He gives the film a moody, noirish look that makes the shiny penthouses of New York feel like cold, glass cages.
Then you have the score by Max Steiner. Yeah, the guy who did Gone with the Wind. He provides a lush, dramatic backdrop that almost tricks you into thinking you’re watching a high-class romance, right before Sabourin does something else despicable.
The Structure
The movie starts at the end. We see Sabourin dead on his bed. The rest of the film is a series of flashbacks narrated by Bridget Kelly to the police. It’s a classic noir trope, but here it serves a specific purpose. It forces the audience to look at the "how" rather than the "what." We know he's going to die. We just want to see how many bridges he can burn before he gets there.
Is It Actually Good?
That’s a loaded question. Honestly, some critics at the time thought it was too long. It clocks in at nearly two hours, which was hefty for a 1950s drama of this type. Some people find Sanders' performance a bit "auto-pilot," but I’d argue that his detached, bored elegance is the character. Sabourin is a man who has everything and values nothing.
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It’s a morality play, plain and simple. It even ends with a Bible verse on a billboard. It’s not subtle. But in an era of "nice guy" protagonists, seeing a movie that is so unashamedly about a villain is refreshing.
Actionable Insights for Classic Film Fans
If you're planning to track down the death of a scoundrel movie, here's how to get the most out of the experience:
- Watch for the Furs: Seriously, the costume design is a mid-century masterclass. There are at least five different fox stoles and countless minks. It’s a snapshot of 1950s luxury.
- Compare to the True Story: Read up on Serge Rubinstein before you watch. Knowing that the real guy was just as loathed as the character makes the film's cynical tone much more impactful.
- The Sanders-Conway Dynamic: Pay close attention to the scenes between the two brothers. Knowing their real-life relationship adds a layer of tragedy to their on-screen interactions.
- Check the Credits: Look for a young Werner Klemperer (Colonel Klink from Hogan's Heroes) playing Sabourin's lawyer.
The death of a scoundrel movie isn't a feel-good flick. It's a "feel-grimy" flick. It’s a look at the dark side of ambition and the reality that sometimes, the biggest monsters aren't hiding under the bed—they're running the stock market and wearing tailored suits.
To really appreciate the legacy of this film, your next step should be to look for the Warner Archive release. It’s the best way to see James Wong Howe’s cinematography in the correct 1.85:1 aspect ratio, which makes those sprawling New York sets actually breathe. Watching it in the wrong format ruins the sense of scale that the director was clearly aiming for.