The best film noir is distinguished by a heady combination of desperation, impending doom, and paranoia; indeed, that combination is the main ingredient in what makes a noir a noir. Some films have all the trappings of noir, but lack those ingredients. In 1944, Otto Preminger directed Dana Andrews in Laura, which is noir even though it takes place in mostly brightly lit locations in a city's upper crust. The next year, the two reteamed for Fallen Angel, which has some of the same ingredients—especially the brand of masculine obsession that Andrews was so good at—but it lacks that desperation, doom, and paranoia. It's limp; it's just going through the motions.

Andrews plays Eric Stanton, a small-time hustler who's booted off the bus in a small California town. He quickly joins the merry band of a huckster spiritualist (John Carradine); his task is to get the local women's auxiliary to drop their ban on the seances that promise to bring messages from the dead (for a small admission charge). He has to convince Clara Mills (Anne Revere) and her sister June (Alice Faye), and he does so by promising them a message from their dead father. Meanwhile, Andrews quickly becomes enamored of Stella (Linda Darnell), the sultry and impetuous waitress at the local diner. She barely acknowledges his existence, but he is ready to promise her the world.

He's got lots of competition, as every able-bodied man in town would like to get a piece of the fiery Stella. There's Mark Judd (Charles Bickford), a former NYC cop who moved west for his health. There's Pop (Percy Kilbride), the aging owner of the diner, who has a weird sort of not-quite-fatherly interest in Stella. And there's Dave Atkins (Bruce Cabot), a somewhat slimy guy who nevertheless provides the shiny baubles that Stanton can't.

Stanton hatches a plan to marry the young June Mills and bilk her of her fortune, a plan that seems kind of silly and preposterous, even with the course of events that the film provides. How Stanton can turn from penniless aide-de-huckster into marriage material within a few days is beyond me; we're supposed to take it on faith that June, and especially her protective older sister Clara, accept his advances. What's even crazier is that Stanton and June get married approximately three days after meeting; what is even crazier than that is how June reacts when Stanton becomes a suspect in Stella's murder.

Everything is played half-heartedly. The Stanton/June and Stanton/Stella romances are completely unconvincing. Even a scene on the beach where Stanton tries playing tough-guy to win Stella's love comes off more as a rehearsal than anything serious. Stanton's flight when he becomes a suspect is especially unbelievable; it is here that the desperation/doom/paranoia should really kick in, but I just wasn't convinced that anything bad would really happen, and I wasn't convinced that any of the characters really thought so either. The only truly noir scene in the film is one in which Judd, who has somehow been placed in charge of the investigation, uses his fists to "interrogate" Dave Atkins over whether he purchased a watch found near the scene of Stella's murder.

Aside from that one scene, John Carradine's humorous spiritualist, and Anne Revere's performance as Clara, there's nothing in this film that makes it worth watching. Preminger's direction here is competent at best; the film could have lost twenty minutes and been better off for it. However, even that wouldn't have made up for the essential lack of vigor.