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Cody is on the lam from a lucrative train robbery, but the heat is on, courtesy of a network of diligent, earnest, courageous, and incorruptible lawmen. To escape a conviction that could lead to the gas chamber, he takes the rap for an unrelated lesser crime. His new cellmate is Edmond O'Brien, a cagey undercover Federal agent. O'Brien seeks to win Cody's confidence and get him to spill the beans about his past nefarious crimes, as well as the identity of Cody's mysterious money launderer.
How others will see it. White Heat is a classic gangster film, one of Cagney's best, although Angels with Dirty Wings and Public Enemy are also highly enjoyable. Cagney's determined tough-guy persona is tailor-made for the character of a ruthless gangster, and Mayo makes a perfect gangster's moll: spoiled, stupid, yet street-sly.
Production Code-inspired plot resolutions (more about these shortly) will be readily accepted by most viewers. The only ones who won't admire the film are those who consider old black and white films to be the cinematic equivalent of vacuum tube radios and Model T Fords. Well, perhaps someday they will realize that art, unlike technology, never becomes obsolete.
How I felt about it. The Production Code, in full force in 1949, ensured that Crime Doesn't Pay, at least at the movies. (In real life, white collar crime often pays well, as nursing home operators and monopolist's anti-competitive measures often prove). The effect of the Production Code is that criminals are punished, often by death, while heroic behavior (as epitomized by O'Brien) is rewarded.
Of course, a good director can easily accommodate the Production Code, since having a gangster go down in a blaze of gunfire is a satisfying ending from a dramatic perspective. The studio's chief regret is that the death of the antihero precludes the possibility of a sequel. But essentially the same character, albeit with a different name, can turn up in the next film, which explains why Clint Eastwood was able to play a Western gun-for-hire in so many movies.
More problematic for White Heat is the other Production Code resolution, O'Brien as hero. Not only is he a master of gaining criminal confidences, but he's an ace radio man, even without a toolkit, and he's one heckuva sniper. Little boys all over America are expected to see White Heat and want to be just like him, instead of that bullying bad-boy Cagney. But reality is a different matter.
Two of its subplots are mildly annoying. Cody is plagued by psychosomatic headaches, caused by his craving for a dose of unconditional motherly love. Why would a perfectly good character need an eccentric affectation? It's contrived drama. Then there's Big Ed, who keeps talking about taking over the gang. True Machiavellians pick their spots.