To put it delicately, I was not waiting with baited breath to see Out of the Past. I considered film noir to be a dated, often- parodied genre than one to be enjoyed seriously and/or academically. In the context of Rick Altman's article "A Semantic/Syntactic Approach to Film Genre," the semantics of noir offered me a fragmented and fuzzy idea of what I was getting myself into: fedoras, check. cigarettes, check. femme fatale, check. All the elements were there and ready, but would any engaging whole arise from the parts? Suprisingly, I found the "syntax" of the genre to be the engaging factor. The standard themes including moral ambiguity of character, oscillating loyalty, and the role rotten luck and fate all appealed to some part of my character--maybe the seedier side. Thus, as this class progresses, I have discovered an affinity for classic movies that previously risked my prejudiced vote of "boring," such as Out of the Past by Jacques Tourneur and Roman Polansky's Chinatown. You could say that I have come to appreciate those of the film noir persuasion.
Firstly, I dig film noir's style. It elegantly manipulates light and shadow, lending a richer visual subtext to the mise-en-scene that underscores the thematic interaction between good and evil permeating the narrative. Out of the Past, in the black-and-white film typical of noir, masters this elegance, such as the scene between Jeff Bailey (Robert Mitchum) and Ann Miller (Virginia Huston) where the moonlight masterfully casts shadows from the tangled branches onto the faces of both actors, illustrating the ambiguity of their future together. Cinematographer Nicholas Musuraca, called "a master of shadow but also of light" by Roger Ebert, actually illuminates the space between the actors so that when they exhale from the omnipresent Cigarette, the smoke is a vivid miasma that adds mystery and some classic Hollywood glamour to the mise-en-scene. I tend to associate the faces of film-noir actors with either encasement/fragmentation by a clever play of shadow and light, or partial obscurity by a cloud of cigarette smoke. Either way, the effect helps construct the quintessential noir character. However, I will say that the lighting of some of the scenes indoors, such as Kathie's (Jane Greer) Mexican villa, seem to expose the seams of production by seeming more unnatural and garish than usual in order to cast hard shadows onto the walls. Yet I accepted this as a stylistic aspect, and given the great shadows it produced, didn't let it bother me too much during those scenes.
Secondly, after reading John G. Cawelti's article "Chinatown and Generic Transformation in Recent American FIlms," I realised that although I thoroughly enjoy this genre, I do so in a qualified way. I viewed Out of the Past in a specific historical context, a modern context, coloured by a retrospective tone and a bit of self-imposed parody. My background of film noir is based in parody, and while viewing Out of the Past, these past experiences informed my perspective--probably digesting the film in a different way than a viewer from the 1950's would. For one, I laughed more because the parodic elements seemed to present themselves more readily. For example, the one liners were humorously glib, such as Bailey's response to Kathie's plea that she doesn't want to die: "Neither do I, baby, but if I have to, I'm going to die last." Pure genius. I also love that Bailey (Mitchum) didn't break a sweat the entire time, or raise his voice. Yet I was inevitably removed, a constant (but amiable) smirk playing on my lips. My enjoyment of Tourneur's film seems to stem from what Cawelti calls "the burlesque," or the "breaking of convention by the intrusion of reality and the inversion of expected implications." Although the film itself is not a parody, the intrusion of my own modern reality and expectation coloured my viewing of the film. Therefore, an interaction of removed amusement and engagement in the narrative, for me, produced a dynamic that I really enjoyed; a dynamic similar to my favourite subtle parody films such as Shaun of the Dead (zombie movies) or Hot Fuzz (cop movies).
Polansky's Chinatown is a bit of a different story, literally. Cawelti states that this film deviates from the typical film noir genre structure, through the less-glib Jack Nicholson, the less-independent Faye Dunaway, and a resolution that doesn't culminate in vigilante justice. Chinatown instead places the noir tradition in a nostalgic context, against issues whose evils permeate a society and surpass the fathomability or solvability by one vigilante individual. While the movie was well-produced and engaging, its obvious deviation from noir --the use of colour, kind of threw me off after just viewing the quintessential noir in class the previous day. The classic glamour was just not there (although the cigarettes were), and the parodic elements not as readily available. The narrative itself was engaging, and the mysterious female character a nod to the genre, yet overall I felt it was a modern film consciously masquerading as a film noir via zoot suits and fedoras. Yet the more profound themes still appealed to me, such as the web of deceit and the plight of a man on the edge of the law to seek justice while balancing the love of a potentially dangerous woman.
In both films, the generic aspects of film noir that I mention above appealed to me in a way that I never would have expected of any movie created before 1981. Yet, the 1947 Out of the Past with its wonderful cinematography and classic-Hollywood smoothness and the 1974 Chinatown with its modern spin on the genre both expanded my perspective of time and genre and have me waiting, with baited breath, for the Coen Brothers to create the next great neo- noir film.
I can see how you would like the black and white style of film noir, but to me, it is a distraction. I say this because by doing so, it makes the story line and characters two dimensional. There is no middle ground, or gray, should I say. It definitely helps to create a sense of good and evil in the characters, but there does not seem to be any room for the “in-betweeners.” Stylistically, it works, but in modern day, it feels more like a cinematic “cop-out” more than anything, using the lack of color to portray emotions and passions, which should be done by dialogue or action. I completely agree with the end of your third paragraph, in which you claim, “However, I will say that the lighting of some of the scenes indoors… seem to expose the seams of production by seeming more unnatural and garish than usual in order to cast hard shadows onto the walls.” This forced dichotomy makes the characters more unrealistic by shoving them on two separate sides through its visuals. Jeff Bailey was definitely an anti-hero type, but by confining him in a black and white world, he is seen as the shining knight in white armor. The scenes with Whit and his cronies are definitely enhanced by the shadowing effects, but there are many times in which it seems excessive and distracting rather than complementary.
ReplyDeleteWe share a lot of the same thoughts about the film noir genre. I, too, think it is a dated genre, and is only referred to today as a parody or a joke. My problem with film noir is that it puts the character(s) in too much of a box, which makes it hard for me to take the movie or the genre seriously. Women are not just the helpless damsel in distress. The hero is usually not the smooth-talking good-looking stud. Our world is so much more than that.
ReplyDeleteIn your post you discuss the "syntax" of film noir. Syntax refers to the elements that make up the typical noir visually, including cigarette smoke, black and white imagery, and the use of shadows, as well as those common themes that make up noir structurally, such as moral ambiguity and the presence of fate. Genre, like film itself, has its own language, in a sense. Yet instead of relying on shot-reverse-shot patterns and montage, genre has specific visual and structural conventions that set a group of films apart from the rest. When we see a noir, we know what to expect in terms of plot and visuals before we even enter the theater. This expectation can cause the viewer to be surprised and possibly disappointed if the product does not match what it was perceived to be. I bring up this issue because in your post, you deal with the idea of expectations in regards not only to film noir but to "old" films versus more modern films. I found it really interesting that you called Chinatown "a modern film conciously masquerading as a film noir." As you say, your viewing of Out of the Past before Chinatown really threw you off because you expected the typical noir style. Is Chinatown in fact a noir? This is a question that could be argued from both sides, but the question I am interested in is does it matter? Why do we need the genre to tell us what we will see, and what we should expect? Just as we are upset and uncomfortable when a film, like Cache, deviates from the expected format, we are also somewhat disappointed when we find a supposed "noir" that is not as noir as we thought it would be.
ReplyDeleteSpecific and compelling, as usual! Keep up the great work!
ReplyDeleteBest,
Alexis
I too have trouble watching noir films - or at least elements of noir - and being able to appreciate them due to the extent that they have been parodied. We really have come to associate fedora- and zoot suit-wearing men and sexual, mysterious women as defining a genre that really was meant to evoke a mood through its imagery. More than that, I feel like the lack of realism is very distracting in that every angle, shadow, line and gesture has been planned to a T. In a sense, everything is too polished to be real life. Like you point out, our hero in Out of the Past, Jeff, never breaks a sweat and never raises his voice (except when he fakes distress as a diversion). He seems to have no emotion at all, yet we are led to believe that he falls recklessly in love with Kathie. Something is clearly a bit off. And I like how you point out that despite the metaphorical significance of the shadows created, the unusual use of lighting is immediately noticed by the viewer, effectively unsuturing us from the story.
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