Uniquely in a filmography most known for paranoia I Confess (1953) is romantic and sentimental. The main villain, an idiot detective (and later the prosecutor), are redeemed easily, and the typical villain the murderer lets the film resolve its at times interesting moral and societal implications without much hurry or difficulty—that is to say the carnal and subjugated photography sometimes center the film on a balance beam of noir and sentiment and at others the film circles the proverbial drain a little too much, it suggests imbalance and the offbeat, never aligned or to be aligned with the core metaphysical pulse only sometimes overlapping or bumping into one another, docking (as they say) in dead-wrong slow motion. Kinda obvious why the French particularly liked it haha, it's 1/4 in French! Haha