“Oh, Daddy doesn't mind a little scandal. He's a senator.”
This story is a murder thriller. Were it between two people of little distinction, it probably would not be interesting enough for a film: they could quite easily get away with such an ingenious device. No, it is the sense of complication that really makes the film come alive and transforms it into one worth telling. On the one hand there is Guy, who is a championship-level tennis player with political ambitions saddled with a questionable wife whom Bruno plans to kill. Now, add in the further complication that the girl he plans to marry once he finally manages to break free (legally) from her is the daughter of a U.S. Senator and what you’ve got there is complications galore. By the way, the character who quotes the dialogue above is not the girl Guy plans to marry, but her little sister.
“I beg your pardon, but aren't you Guy Haines?”
That the complications are what drive the dramatic tension of the film can be strongly supported by the evidence of the opening and closing lines of the film. Which just so happen (sort of) to be the very same sentence. Disregarding Guy’s “Excuse me” in response to bumping shoes with Bruno under the table, the first line of the film is Bruno’s recognizing Guy as a famous athlete. The film ends as it begins: Guy on a train being recognized as a famous athlete. Only this time, the person who says the line is a priest. And this time Guy doesn’t make the mistake of replying. It is a mistake to assume that this is merely a film about a ridiculously clever murder plot going awry because only one of two people involved in the plot actually understands there even is a plot. Guy meets a third person on yet another train who doesn’t recognize him. It is the only time we see him on a train being happy and smiling. The plot only works for Bruno because Guy is famous; because he is recognizable. And that recognition is what gives him the leverage he would not have over just some guy.
“Criss-cross.”
This is the plan. The entire plan. A criss-cross murder: Bruno kills a person he has absolutely no ties to in exchange for Guy killing a person he has absolutely no ties to. In real life, of course, this doesn’t seem to be any more significant than a murder with a clear motive, but film detectives are always claiming that the murder with no motive is the hardest to solve. This is why criss-cross is, on the surface, an absolutely brilliant plan despite its simplicity. But, as has been pointed out, when simplicity is loaded with complications, even the best-laid plans of mice and psychopaths have a way of going terribly, terribly wrong.
“Look, Bruno. You're terribly sick. I don't know whether it's possible for you to realize it or not. I don't know much about these things, Bruno. But why don't you go someplace where you can get some treatment? Not only for your own sake, Bruno, but you can't go on causing more and more destruction to anyone you happen to meet.”
Guy Haines has one tragic flaw: he’s decent. He’s decent enough not to drag his future politically-connected family through a nasty divorce by pointing out the full scale of his wife’s promiscuity. Well, okay, maybe that’s not about being decent. Maybe a better word is gullible or naïve or innocent. Guy is decent enough to actually believe than when dealing with Bruno he is dealing with a normal human being. A human being with enough decency at the very least to be rationally approached. But Bruno is anything but normal and doesn’t know the meaning of the word decent. So, in a word, Guy has doomed himself as much as Bruno has doomed him. Guy is also gullible enough to misunderstand Bruno: he still thinks Bruno causes destruction to just anyone he meets, failing to understand the complications of his own fame in the matter.
