Fourteen Hours (1951)

When some lady lets out an almighty yell, local traffic cop "Dunnigan" (Paul Douglas) looks up and espies a gent standing on a window ledge of an hotel some fifteen stories up. He races up to the man's room and what ensues for the next ninety-odd minutes sees him trying to understand just why the young "Robert" (Richard Basehart) is about to take a tumble. Needless to say, both men are nervous, but the cop decides that he has to work on establishing trust and that's the anchor we need too as his mother (Agnes Moorehead), father (Robert Keith) and ex-fiancée (Barbara Bel Geddes) all turn up and add their tuppence worth to the man's predicament - and they are not always helpful. Indeed, as we learn more about this man and his completely dysfunctional family, we learn quite a bit about the causes for his apparently low self esteem. On the ground, the city is fascinated by this and we are also introduced to those watching. A group of taxi drivers caught up in the snarled streets, The young "Danny" (Jeffery Hunter) who might just have found some romance, and we've also a few scenes with Grace Kelly too - though she seems to leave her accent behind from time to time. Basehart and Douglas establish quite a compelling rapport as the film develops, and Henry Hathaway uses the sub-plots quite effectively to give us a break from the intensity of the story without disturbing the thrust of the thing. There is one scene with an interfering, imbecilic, man of God (George MacQuarrie) that almost had me shouting at the screen and by the end, we are simply unsure of the outcome. It's neatly confined, tense and well worth a look.