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Light in the Shadows: Noir and Redemption

Arts Of Darkness

Regular readers of FilmsNoir.Net will know of my focus on the redemptive element of film noir, and my recent concern with the nihilism in most contemporary post-noir Hollywood films.

In my recent post In the Valley of Elah (2007): Responsibility and Chaos I talk about my conception of the noir sensibility, which “must have a redemptive focus for me to value a film, whether redemption is achieved or not. This is what the great films noir have in common: a profoundly and deeply human response to the chaos and random contingency at the edge of existence”, and in the post Post-Noir: The New Hollow Men, I express the view that “too many film pundits today are happy to spout the received wisdom that film noir was a response to some pervasive (but in reality non-existent) post-WW2 trauma-cum-malaise, and then uncritically enlist this (thoroughly) conventional wisdom as some contrived justification for the plunge of contemporary American cinema into an abyss of banal fascist violence: most recently American Gangster, Death Proof, Gone Baby Gone, Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead, and No Country for Old Men“.

This is by way of introduction to a most unlikely new book on film noir: Arts of Darkness: American Noir and the Quest for Redemption by Thomas S. Hibbs, a Baylor University professor of ethics and culture and film critic for the conservative National Review Online.

I have not read the book, and I certainly don’t share the politics of the author, his reading of history, or his religious affiliations, but from what I have read about the work, it offers a novel perspective on film noir, which resonates with ideas I have previously put forward about redemption versus nihilism, though my conception of redemption has a humanist if not spiritual stamp.

In a post today on the book, Light In the Shadows, Chuck Colson from Breakpoint, a US Christian community concerned with prisoner outreach, outlines Hibbs’ thesis:

Hibbs borrows Pascal’s concept of a “hidden God” to help show the motive that drives many of the characters in film noir. Films like Double Indemnity and Maltese Falcon, Hibbs explains, show a reaction against the kind of shallow, facile optimism born out of the Enlightenment period—a mentality that taught that all things were possible through rational thinking and scientific observation. Film noir, by contrast, is all about the restraints on humans in a sinful world. It tells us that we cannot just do anything we feel like doing with impunity.

As Hibbs writes, “In its assumption that a double”—that is, “a dark self”—“lurks just beneath the surface of the most ordinary individuals, noir punctures naïve, conventional assumptions about human behavior. But the dark side is [not] liberating. . . . The characters who try to exercise a Nietzschean ‘will to power,’ to exist beyond good and evil, destroy themselves instead of triumphing.”

Before proceeding further, I must repudiate the dismissal of the Enlightenment: this is just plain wrong. No-one can accuse the father of the Enlightenment, Voltaire, of “facile optimism”. Having said this, Hibbs’ has something very interesting to say.

An excerpt from a review in National Review February 25 2008:

Hibbs writes that, although noir seems bleak and cynical on the surface, the meaning behind the phenomenon is a good deal more complex and significantly more positive: What is significant about these films is not just that they present a dark and dismal world but that they display their main characters as on a quest for love, truth, justice, and even redemption. What interests Hibbs is the convergence of noir with the religious quest : Noir arises from the same impulses that prompted Pascal to write of the hiddenness of God, and of the faithful believer who seeks with groans.

Hibbs sees noir as engaging and critiquing the two major philosophical dangers of modernity: nihilism and Gnosticism. He writes: Enlightenment theorists promise liberation from various types of external authority: familial, religious, and political. But an unintended consequence of the implementation of Enlightenment theories is the elimination of freedom. The film noir vividly expresses this truth, as the protagonists find themselves ever more deeply enmeshed in the complex, bureaucratized, soulless modern cities and webs of uncaring institutions that are the consequence of the Enlightenment passion for controlling the world through science. In portraying the tragic limitations of the Enlightenment project, Hibbs argues, noir shows liberal modernity as a potential source of nihilism, a human existence devoid of any ultimate purpose or fundamental meaning, where the great tasks of inquiry and the animating quests that inspired humanity in previous ages cease to register in the human soul, a place where the very notion of a soul is suspect.

Richard Widmark: The Outsider

Pickup On South Street

Others have posted obits and bios, and today’s New York Times obit by Douglas Martin is well worth reading. I will focus on one aspect of Richard Widmark’s craft.

My screen memories of Mr Widmark are bound up with his Westerns on B&W television during adolescence. His tough enigmatic persona in those movies resonated deeply, more than his film noir roles.

But there is a common theme: the outsider. The great westerns and noirs are essentially stories of a loner on the “outside”: whether as violent psychopath or flawed hero. Widmark inhabited such roles so well because he was an outsider himself, and this comes out clearly in the NY Times piece.

He was originally turned down for his breakthrough role in Kiss Of Death (1947) by the director, who told him that he was too “clean cut and intellectual” for the part. Throughout his life he protected his privacy and shunned the celebrity lifestyle.

I think his role in Samuel Fuller’s Pickup On South Street (1953) is his most nuanced noir performance: he profoundly portrays the psyche and persona of a petty criminal not only outside the law but outside even the criminal milieu – he lives an almost an ascetic existence in a shack on the city’s waterfront. When his “island” is threatened by a woman’s attachment he reacts with instinctual violence before she eventually draws him out.

The conversion scene in a boat moored near the shack is a no-man’s land where the b-girl and the pick-pocket traverse the narrow emotional and social confines of their existence. While we must acknowledge Fuller’s creative genius here, Widmark’s performance is pivotal.

Richard Widmark Dead at 93

Richard Widmark

BOSTON (Reuters) – Actor Richard Widmark, who earned an Oscar nomination playing a psychopath in 1947 noir “Kiss of Death,” has died aged 93. His films noir:

Kiss Of Death (1947)
Road House (1948)
The Street with No Name (1948)
Night and the City (1950)
No Way Out (1950)
Panic In The Streets (1950)*
Don’t Bother to Knock (1952)
Pickup On South Street (1953)
The Trap (1959)
Madigan (1968)
Against All Odds (1984)

* View free on-line – click the link.

He also provided a memorable hard-boiled voice-over for the 1992 documenatary Visions of Light: Noir Cinematography.

Joan Crawford: Lucille, you won’t do your Daddy’s will

Joan Crawford

Lucille Fay LeSuer AKA Joan Crawford (1905-1977)

Films noir:

Mildred Pierce (1945)
Possessed (1947)
Flamingo Road (1949)
The Damned Don’t Cry (1950)
Sudden Fear (1952)

Stranger on The Third Floor (1940): The Noir Dream-Scape

Stranger on the Third Floor (1940)The wrong guy is convicted of a murder…

Generally viewed as the first film noir, Stranger on the Third Floor, an RKO b-movie of only 64 minutes is a landmark film in a number of respects. The influence of a new generation of European expatriates and of German expressionism in the genesis of film noir is clearly evident. The screenplay is by Austro-Hungarian, Frank Partos, the director is Latvian émigré Boris Ingster, and photography is by the cult noir cinematographer, Italian-born Nicholas Musuraca.

With b-actors as leads, John McGuire as the reporter Mike Ward, and Margaret Tallichet, as his girl-friend Jane, the movie is propelled by the intelligence of the script, the strength of the direction and cinematography, and excellent turns by Peter Lorre as the Stranger and Elisha Cook Jr. as the taxi-driver accused of murder.

Between the cheesy opening and closing scenes is a tight claustrophobic thriller, where fear and paranoia is deftly portrayed both in reality and oneiristically. The nightmare sequence in this picture has to be the best dream-scape ever produced by Hollywood.

Here we have the strongest evidence supporting the thesis set out in the seminal book on film noir, A Panorama of American Film Noir, published in France in 1955, by authors Borde and Chaumeton, that films noir appeared with the emergence of a wider awareness of psychoanalysis and its motifs in America in the early 1940’s. Their analyses of their canon of the first big three post-war noirs, are centred on the films’ dream-like qualities and the emergence of protagonists with pronounced psychoses: The Big Sleep (1945), Gilda (1946), and The Lady From Shanghai (1947).

Ironically, Stranger on the Third Floor is not even mentioned by Borde and Chaumeton.

In this proto-noir, we see explored the role of the subconscious, where reporter Mike, whose testimony sways the jury, starts to question the guilt of the condemned taxi-driver, after his girl-friend Jane tells him she has a feeling that the jury has condemned an innocent man. This doubt then feeds into Mike’s paranoia about the mysterious stranger he encounters in his boarding house, and a guilt-fuelled nightmare about the fate of an obnoxious neighbor where his own sanity is put on trial.

Ingster and Musucara, and associate art director, Albert D’Agostini, as in all the great b-noirs, use set-bound budget constraints as brilliant artifice. The Caligari-like sets and the necessary noir lighting make the dream sequence profoundly surreal and compelling. The climax towards the end of the film on a tenement street set late at night builds and sustains the fear and tension in a way that even in a big-budget movie would be hard to emulate.

This picture is a revelation and is testimony to the greatness of the b-movies of the classic noir cycle. The following slideshow of frames from the movie are compelling artefacts of themselves.

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Shades of Jazz on Noir

DOA (1950)

For noir cum jazz fans, and if you are in NY there are other venues and dates:

Shades of Jazz on Noir
Wednesday, April 23 7-9pm
Shades of Jazz on Noir is a performance project combining excerpts from classic films noir of the 40s and 50s projected onto a cinema screen and accompanied by live improvised jazz. More

Panic In The Streets (1950) Free On-Line

Panic In The Streets (1950)

A public domain copy of this classic noir from Elia Kazan is available from the Internet Archive. The blurb on the site is worth quoting in full:

One night in the New Orleans slums, vicious hoodlum Blackie (Jack Palance) and his friends kill an illegal immigrant who won too much in a card game. Next morning, Dr. Clint Reed (Richard Widmark-this time not seen pushing little old ladies in wheelchairs down the stairs) of the Public Health Service confirms the dead man had pneumonic plague. To prevent a catastrophic epidemic, Clint must find and inoculate the killers and their associates, with the reluctant aid of police captain Tom Warren (Paul Douglas), despite official skepticism, and in total secrecy, lest panic empty the city. Can a doctor turn detective? He has 48 hours to try. Spellbinding

The Maltese Falcon (1941): Love in Noir

The Maltese Falcon (1941)

The Maltese Falcon: others may argue about its place in the film noir canon, but none can question its greatness.

Sam Spade is fully the creation of Dashiell Hammett and his book informs the film totally. What John Huston and his ensemble cast did was to make the story forever theirs. Having seen the movie, one cannot imagine any of the characters as other than the players that portray them. This picture is a defining moment in film history. The Maltese Falcon takes us beyond what is on the screen into a nether world of desparate love, existential angst, mystery, and the pain of irredeemable loss.

Spade is the quintessential noir protagonist: a loner on the edge of polite society, sorely tempted to transgress but declines and is neither saved nor redeemed.

Brigid will never make up the years she will lose in prison, and Sam will never recover from the necessary betrayal of their love. For Sam and Brigid are truly lovers. Sam was not seduced. Brigid is not a femme-fatale: she manipulates Sam, but never seeks to have him act as her surrogate. Together they discover the desperate emptiness of their lives. She true to her nature can’t comprehend how he can send her down if he loves her. He can’t fathom her lying while knowing she loves him.

The famous ad-lib by Bogart on the leaden black bird at the end says it all … the stuff that dreams are made of.

Sam Spade Radio Capers

The Maltese Falcon - Book Cover

In the 40s and 50s, The Adventures of Sam Spade, was a popular US radio show based on stories written by Dashiell Hammett, featuring Howard Duff in the lead. But the story Blue Moon features the the chemistry of Bogie and Bacall!

The Free Information Society has five of the original broadcasts available for free download:

  • Blue Moon: with Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall.
  • Missing Newshank Caper
  • Over My Dead Body Caper
  • Stopped Watch Caper
  • Terrified Turkey Caper

The Thrilling Detective site has more information on the shows on it’s excellent Sam Spade page.

The Glass Key: Mercury Radio Production (1939)

Orson Welles

Thanks to a pointer to the Mercury Theater on the Air site from Lloydville of mardecortesbaja.com.

Amongst many broadcasts from this famous Orson Welles radio-play project, is a 1939 radio adaptation of Dashiell Hammett’s novel, The Glass Key, which was adapted for the screen in 1935 and again in 1942.

You can download an MP3 of the original broadcast from the Mercury Theater on the Air site.