This is the first movie I know to lie about lying. Specifically, it begins with a disclaimer that any resemblance to real events is purely coincidental, yet all my sources indicate inspiration from a real event in the '30s. I still won't use the "true story" tag due to fundamental differences, including the resolution and the stated length of time.
On a warm St. Patrick's Day morning, a 20-something man (Richard Basehart) steps onto the ledge outside his 15th-floor New York City hotel room. Traffic cop Charlie Dunnigan (Paul Douglas) reports this and then goes up to have a few words with the potential jumper, eventually identified as Robert Cosick, before the pros show up. Oddly enough, Robert doesn't want to hear from anyone but Charlie at that point -- something about the officer's rough, relatively earnest air, I suppose. Of course, as the title implies, Robert takes quite a while to make up his mind.
By contrast, the runtime is a mere 92 minutes, padded by several subplots involving some of the many people who watch the saga from the street or a neighboring building but never come to Robert's attention. Crass cabbies gamble on when he'll jump. A young woman chooses to skip work and happens to meet a charming man. Another woman (Grace Kelly in her first silver-screen role) starts to have second thoughts about her divorce proceedings in light of the drama.
So why's he doing it in the first place? That's the question on most of the cops' minds, and Robert is not forthcoming with the answer. They -- primarily Charlie and a psychologist -- have to piece it together from stray statements by him and his not-so-welcome parents (histrionic Agnes Moorehead and Robert Keith). I'll refrain from telling you the exact trouble.
Fairly early on, I confess that Robert's main action actually looked a little tempting to my dark side. I've never felt suicidal (knock on wood), but as parasuicidal gestures go, it makes an easy way to get a lot of attention if not sympathy. Nevertheless, the longer he stayed out there, the less comfortable he must have been. Imagine more than half a day exposed to the high-altitude elements with no meals, no bathroom breaks, and very little sitting or crouching. Let's face it: You have to be messed up to do this sort of thing.
One unusual aspect of this film is the complete lack of music, apart from the times at the beginning and end with written words dominating the screen. It makes sense for a story with a constant simmer of intensity, punctuated primarily by Robert's more provoked moments, as when a cop tries to grab him and he believes (half-rightly) that Charlie's "one of them" after all. The effect is downright creepy for the first several minutes, following a room service waiter who neither is spoken to nor says anything until he sees what Robert is up to.
Another point of interest concerns the cast. Kelly wasn't the only actor to debut herein and go on to fame; perhaps the most familiar other to do so was John Cassavetes. Some had been gone from cinema for years; others, like Barbara Bel Geddes, were about to disappear from it for years. Quite a few promptly got blacklisted, despite the lack of any subversive message in the film itself.
Arguably the real "star" is the cinematography -- or the art direction, as the Academy called it for a nomination. When your protagonist isn't going anywhere, you have to get pretty creative in order not to bore the audience. The result works for me.
Controversy regarding the subject matter may have limited the viewership back in the day. I'm glad 20th Century Fox dug it up for a DVD anyway.
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