It’s fair to say that Steven Spielberg knows a thing or two about movies after bringing us some of the most beloved Hollywood blockbusters of the past 50 years. Yet, no great talent exists in a vacuum, and the man behind “Jaws” and “Jurassic Park” has cited earlier legends ranging from John Ford and Alfred Hitchcock to Akira Kurosawa as his “film school” (via NPR) when he was a budding, self-taught filmmaker. Recommendation lists from top directors are always interesting, and Spielberg’s picks reflect the tastes of someone who grew up in the ’50s and ’60s and went on to work at the forefront of the Hollywood mainstream. “Stagecoach,” “Meet me in St Louis,” and “Lawrence of Arabia” are all present, as is, of course, “Citizen Kane,” Orson Welles’ groundbreaking masterpiece that has influenced many filmmakers over the decades.  Spielberg also name checks another lesser-known crime classic from the maverick director: “Touch of Evil,” the film that drove the final wedge between Welles and Hollywood.

“Touch of Evil,” a dark tale of murder and corruption on the Mexican border, is often regarded as the final classic film noir. Welles’ troubled relationship with the studios are well-documented and perhaps reflect the tone of the movie, which served not only as an elegy for the genre but also for the director’s stateside career. Incidentally, Welles’ Hollywood years spanned almost the exact length of time that noir was at its peak: “Citizen Kane” hit theaters in 1941, the same year as John Huston’s “The Maltese Falcon,” a film that is generally accepted as the jumping-off point for the period. The visual style of “Kane,” drawing from German Expressionism, would then help inform the moody atmosphere and narrative structure of many noir classics.

But “Kane” was not a huge success when it was first released, and Welles lost creative control over his subsequent pictures. So, he cut his losses and headed to Europe instead, where he felt more appreciated. He returned to Hollywood in 1956 to give it one last shot, and “Touch of Evil” was the result. But once again, studio executives didn’t like the result and the film was butchered, prompting Welles to issue a 58-page memo pleading for it to be restored to his original vision before he jetted off to self-exile in Europe again. Thankfully, we can now watch the movie re-cut to match Welles’ wishes, so let’s take a closer look.

A time bomb is placed in the trunk of a Cadillac owned by an influential businessman and his mistress, and what follows is one of the most amazing opening scenes in movies, period. For the next suspenseful three minutes, Orson Welles’ camera follows the vehicle through the streets of Los Robles, a rowdy fictional town on the border between Mexico and the United States. Along the way, the car passes newlywed couple Miguel Vargas (Charlton Heston), an upstanding Mexican cop, and his young wife Susan (Janet Leigh). The bomb ultimately detonates on the U.S. side of the border, killing both occupants and setting into motion a dark tale of corruption, police brutality, and systemic racism.

The location of the explosion puts the crime in the jurisdiction of Captain Hank Quinlan (Orson Welles), a growling figure with an uncanny talent for solving cases through his “intuition.” Vargas, like us, has Quinlan pegged as a shady character from the very start. But the Captain has an impeccable reputation spanning 30 years, backed by his loyal friend and subordinate Pete Menzies (Joseph Calleia). There are hints of a more noble and tragic past for Quinlan: He once took a bullet for Menzies and his wife was murdered, forcing him to seek solace in alcohol. He’s been on the wagon for 12 years and still wistfully drops by the boudoir of Tana (Marlene Dietrich), a bordello owner and fortune teller with whom he may have had a romantic past.

There is no trace of honor left is the Quinlan we meet, however. He’s a grotesquely bigoted and mean-spirited man, taking sadistic pleasure in framing a young Mexican man for the double hit. Meanwhile, Uncle Joe Grandi (Akim Tamiroff), a Mexican racketeer and associate of Quinlan’s, instructs his gang to intimidate Susan while her husband is investigating the case. Quinlan has no qualms about using his dubious methods to get Vargas off his back, even if it means drugging his young wife and setting her up for a murder rap. But the corrupt captain’s demons are catching up with him, forcing him back to the bottle as Tana foretells doom in her Tarot cards: “Your future is all used up.”

“Touch of Evil” is full of big characters, perhaps none more so than Dennis Weaver as the incredibly twitchy night manager at a deserted motel where Susan is kept semi-hostage. In an Empire interview with Edgar Wright, Spielberg once recalled how he referenced that character to get a similarly electric performance out of the same actor in his first film, “Duel.”

Beyond that connection, it’s easy to see why Spielberg would want people to revisit Welles’ film. Much like “Citizen Kane,” it is a treasure trove brimming over with cinematic technique. Working with cinematographer Russell Metty, Welles directs the movie as if he knew it would be his last chance and employs just about all of his favorite visual tricks, including swooping tracking shots, deep focus, ultra-low angles, meticulous framing, and a stark contrast between light and shade to create a sinister nocturnal atmosphere.

“Touch of Evil” is not without its faults, though. Heston is horribly miscast as a Mexican character, and his style of acting, along with that of Janet Leigh, dates the film somewhat. Then again, that hardly matters whenever Quinlan looms into view –- virtually unrecognizable under a fat suit and prosthetic nose and jowls, Welles superbly gets under the skin of one of crime cinema’s greatest bent cops. Quinlan is beyond redemption, but his scenes with Tana are the poignant heart of the movie. His tragic backstory humanizes him, and it is clear they loved each other in the past, the melancholy tune on Tana’s pianola evoking happier times together. Once Quinlan meets his squalid end, it is she who offers the final verdict: “He was some kind of man. What does it matter what you say about people?”

And with her final “Adios,” Dietrich brings down the shade on the great and influential period of American film noir. There were still a few interesting examples to come but, as Paul Schrader once described it, “Touch of Evil” was the genre’s epitaph. As for Welles, his studio future was indeed used up; although he still had some good movies left in him (“The Trial,” “Chimes at Midnight,” “F for Fake”), he sadly died a Hollywood outcast. Thankfully, we still have the re-cut version of “Touch of Evil” as a further reminder of his immense talent.