It’s surprisingly rare that an American-made movie is shot on the location in which it supposedly takes place. It’s not wrong that most of the sumptuous movie locations we think of are stand-ins for other places—much of Lawrence of Arabia was shot in Morocco and Spain; most of Cold Mountain was shot in Romania. There are consistent exceptions made of Los Angeles, Paris, and New York. But often these cities and others are romanticized into movie sets, and geographic continuity is thrown to the wind.

In a great movie, the location becomes a character in the story. When that happens in the real place, there’s an intangible magic added. Some great candidates have already made other DVD columns, like Next Stop Wonderland, The Boston Strangler, and Before Sunrise. Here are three other films in which story and location are inseparable.

The Naked City (1948): At a time when nearly all urban American films were shot on studio backlots, The Naked City presented New York in a way not seen beyond wide shots. Director Jules Dassin took his cue from Italian neo-realism like Rosselini’s Open City, and the photographic works of Weegee. The story, a fairly straightforward investigation of a murdered model, is unexceptional. So is the casting of wooden Don Taylor as the younger of two detectives on the case, Jimmy Halloran. Taylor would turn out to be a much more successful director than actor. The real star is Barry Fitzgerald (Going My Way), who eschewed his trademark blarney to play grizzled, resolute Dan Muldoon. Fitzgerald gives a stunningly modern performance with marvelous attention to detail. Watching him fry an egg in his railroad apartment kitchen is still the scene I remember best. William H. Daniels won a well-deserved Oscar for cinematography, he and Dassin building great sequences around such locations as the Whitehall building and the now famous finale on the Williamsburg Bridge. But it’s the mundane scenes, like Muldoon in his home or Halloran patrolling the lower East Side, that convey a feel of New York that we hadn’t seen before. The Naked City isn’t quite a classic, but it’s a bridge to the great New York films of Lumet, Scorsese, and Lee.

Panic in the Streets (1950): This movie isn’t considered among the greats in the career of director Elia Kazan, but it may be my favorite. Kazan also embraced the neo-realists and added a dollop of German Expressionism for this story, set entirely in New Orleans. It’s the somewhat sensational story of a public health service doctor (Richard Widmark) and a weary police captain (Paul Douglas) who have 48 hours to track a trio of killers who may be carrying the plague. Kazan strove for authenticity, and it shows in every shot. Nothing looks like a Hollywood set—not the narrow taverns with the unpainted back walls nor the oceanfront warehouse of the unforgettable climax. Kazan also wanted lesser-known actors in order to strengthen the authenticity. The two main killers are Jack Palance, reserved and terrifying in his film debut; and Zero Mostel, shockingly spry as Palance’s sweaty toady. Panic in the Streets seems to have slipped through the cracks, yet it’s an artistic feather in the cap for a number of great film talents. It’s also a showcase for the city of New Orleans and its citizens (many of whom play small roles) unmatched, in my opinion, by any movie since.

Matewan (1987): John Sayles’ haunting film follows the attempts of coal miners to unionize in 1920 West Virginia. Sayles wasn’t able to shoot in the town of Matewan itself, but he did film entirely in West Virginia. The result is a period authenticity that is palpable, even as Sayles strives for something mythic. Haskell Wexler’s cinematography gives you the same feeling as walking through a field in which a Civil War battle took place. You can sense the ghosts. The cast is strong from top to bottom, especially the young actor making his film debut in the lead role, Chris Cooper. And TV veteran Kevin Tighe plays an unforgettable grinning villain. With Matewan, John Sayles graduated to the top ranks of American filmmakers.

Alex Manugian lives in Sherman Oaks, Calif. He grew up in Groton and has reviewed movies for Harvard readers for many years.