D.O.A. (1950) review

Accountant (Edmond O'Brien) who needs a break from his clingy girlfriend and his job goes to San Francisco for "fun" (drinking, girls), but ends up poisoned and with only so much time to find out why. This is a grim, moralistic noir that also acts as a warning against straying from the straight and narrow - from a steady girlfriend and steady job - instead of spending your nights guzzling endless glasses of booze with strangers in strange jazz clubs in cities you know little about looking for a little one-night-only lady action. O'Brien's excellent too, and he has to be (he drives the picture), compensating for some over-the-top dialogue and other B-movie quirks (the slide-whistle that accompanies O'Brien's ogling the girls in San Francisco is just bad taste; the villains are so slimy they leave a trail of ooze behind them).