The first few minutes of a film are essential to an understanding of the plot structure, mood, and style of that film. The opening scene of Double Indemnity, directed by Billy Wilder, exemplifies this importance.

The film begins with dramatic music, as the Paramount Pictures logo dissolves into a backlit silhouette of a man on crutches hobbles toward the camera. The setting is as ambiguous as the identity of the man in the center of the screen: We don’t even know if it is day or night, for all we see is thick fog. Superimposed on this image are the titles, which dissolve into each other. We soon see the title of the film, "Double Indemnity". As we find out later in the film, double indemnity is a clause in a life insurance policy which states that if a man dies in highly unlikely circumstances, the premium is doubled. However, "Double Indemnity" sounds a lot like "Double Identity", and the significance of this is evident in this first shot, if one is not viewing the film for the first time; for we have no way of knowing if this man on crutches is the protagonist of the story, Walter Neff, or the man he will impersonate in the film, Mr. Dietrichson. In any case, the issue of duplicity is immediately referred to, as is ambiguity and injury.

The music continues its crescendo, as the man on crutches approaches the camera, going from an extreme long shot to an extreme close up. His darkness fills more and more of the screen as the titles continue to roll. Finally, when the screen is totally black, Wilder dissolves to an exterior street at night. In the foreground, workers direct traffic, as a sign blinks on and off on the left side of the frame: Los Angeles Railway Corp. The viewer is unconsciously made aware of the fact that trains will somehow play a role in this film. A car speeds toward the camera at the center of the screen, in the same way the man on crutches had a few seconds earlier.

Another dissolve. The car continues at its rapid pace, while the Railway Corp. sign has turned into a traffic sign. The sign, in the foreground, faces the viewer, momentarily telling him its OK to go. However, it soon changes its mind, and a the word "stop" appears twice: once on the light, and again in the form a sign jutting into the screen, imposing itself--replacing the car as the central element in the composition (and therefore in the viewers focus) as the car swerves screen right. It is dark, and the streetlights and headlights provide the little illumination there is.

Finally a straight cut to the car swerving to avoid an oncoming truck. A vertical, black pole dominates the foreground, and the almost crashes into it. Another dissolve. The car slows down, now heading away from the camera. The music begins to die down. The car parks.

Cut to: high angle over the car. Its still very dark. We see a man getting out of the car and heading toward a glass door. The camera tracks forward, stays high, dominating the man who walks away from the camera. He is limping and weak, obviously hurt. Once he is completely turned away from the camera, it comes down to his level and stops tracking. The music has faded into the background as we see and hear the man knocking on the fragile glass door. The speed and excitement provided by the previous shots has given way to a sense of mystery: who is this man? What’s happened to him? Where is he going? The camera seems willing to show us what it can, without intruding itself--without moving in front of the man and showing us his face.

The interior of the building is shown in fragments of light, the brightest being a doorway out of which a little old man emerges. He opens the door and says, "why hello there Mr. Neff." No answer. The camera stays outside a moment as the porter closes the door and stares at Mr. Neff. Again, if we have seen the film for the second time, we now know how Keyes knew to come down to the office: The porter is obviously not used to seeing Neff in this condition.

The camera cuts to the interior, and we briefly see Neff from the front for the first time, a pained expression on his face. However, its as if he knows he’s being watched; and he doesn’t like it. He turns his back again to the camera. The porter continues his conversation, obviously used to Mr. Neff being more responsive. The music is getting softer and softer--barely audible. We realize we are in an elevator as the doors shut in front of Neff, almost squishing him. This is a doomed man. The porter continues to make conversation, but Neff doesn’t want to respond. He is acting exactly as he will later when he is on the train committing his crime and is unexpectedly joined by a fellow passenger.

The elevator doors open, and the camera discreetly follows Neff as he approaches another glass door. Pacific All Risk Insurance, We read. We now know by the porter’s questions and this sign that Mr. Neff is an insurance man. The camera continues to follow. However, when Neff steps to the left of the frame, the camera continues forward and tilts down over an indoor balcony, giving an extreme sense of vertigo to the viewer. Rows upon rows of desks are seen underneath, the banality of the office contrasting drastically with the intensity of Neff’s condition. We cut to an impossible point of view from the center of the room as the camera pans in mid air to follow Neff as he walks along this balcony, cut by the shadows of the railing. The camera continues its cautious voyeurism. The music has become a little louder, still mysterious.

Cut to total darkness. The camera is inside a room and we see a door open in front of us. Neff enters, still avoiding eye contact. He turns on a light. The camera is now at a high angle and we see Neff wiping the sweat from his brow, loosening his tie, lighting a cigarette, and finally starting his narration.

Less then four minutes have passed, the narration has not yet begun, and we already know that the story will involve duplicity, ambiguous identities, trains, accidents, crutches, risk, insurance, and salesman named Neff who is in some sort of trouble. It now becomes clear why one should not miss the beginnings of movies.