I really need to resist watching another one like this. “High among police challenges is the issue of sex offenders, who were responsible last year alone for offenses impacting 31,175 women. Suitable and understanding laws don't exist. Law enforcement can’t do anything about it. Here’s the story of a man whose enemy is all women, presented as one case.” Stanley Kramer produced this film, Edward Dmytryk directed it, and Burnett Guffey was the cinematographer. Just those three things were enough to make me eager to see it right away; what I didn't expect, and what turned out to be a real surprise, was just how well-crafted and tightly written it is. The script was by Edward and Edna Anhalt, who received an Academy Award nomination for their work, and *The Sniper* has a disturbing quality that gets under your skin. It’s not that the violence is extreme—it isn't; it’s simply presented—but our main character, Edward “Eddie” Miller, seems like an ordinary guy on the surface, someone who could be living in any of our neighborhoods. This is one of those films that, and I have to disagree with some other reviewers online about this, feels just as relevant now as it did back in 1952. We still struggle with not recognizing signs of psychosis, and police and medical professionals continue to face difficulties preventing potentially dangerous individuals from being out there. Arthur Franz ("Sands of Iwo Jima" & "The Caine Mutiny") is excellent as Miller, portraying a mind that’s falling apart day by day; his hatred of women stems from some dark place in his childhood. Even little girls on the street make him anxious; when a mother slaps her child, Miller feels it himself. Some scenes stick with you long after the film ends—a chimney stack shooting or a scene at an amusement park as Miller’s pent-up frenzy rises to the surface—all skillfully put together by Dmytryk and Guffey, whose work in and around San Francisco is particularly impressive. Adolphe Menjou, Gerald Mohr, Marie Windsor, Frank Faylen & Richard Kiley also contribute strong performances. It's a wonderful exploration of character that also effectively highlights problems with police procedures in cases like this. This film isn’t some sensationalistic shocker that defined a genre; however, it is an important one in many ways. The themes it brings up shouldn't be ignored, and for 1952, I have to consider it a landmark—certainly its influence can be seen in many similar films that followed. Finally, because it’s not widely known, it’s now available on DVD (a great print), so hopefully more people will get the chance to see this highly recommended film. It may be visually appealing, but it's definitely very dark in its subject matter. 8/10

Source on TMDB