John Alton’s cosmic framing for the opening and closing scenes of The People Against O’Hara (1951) – an otherwise average noir – are tantalising glimpses into what could have been…
Does an image contain a story? Or is it an instant in chaos that has no more substances than the crystals fixed on fading paper or in the pixels that exist only as long as an electric current flows?
Is a photograph ever true or real?
Does an image contain a story? Or is it an instant in chaos that has no more substance than the crystals fixed on fading paper or in the pixels that exist only as long as an electric current flows?
Does it have no more substance than the viewer? Is it a memory? Or is it simply a crack in the future past of some cosmic consciousness?
The weird story of a deranged con-artist and killer who marries into a wealthy San Francisco family, while told in the third person, reveals the thoughts and motivations of the central character, an attractive 30-something divorcee…
Born to Kill is based on the book ‘Deadlier than the Male‘, the only novel of American writer James Gunn, who wrote the book in 1943 at the age of 23. Little is known of Gunn ‘s life, and he remains a tantalizing mystery. The novel is like no other noir fiction. The weird story of a deranged con-artist and killer who marries into a wealthy San Francisco family, while told in the third person, reveals the thoughts and motivations of the central character, an attractive 30-something divorcee, Helen Brent. In a review in 2008 of the re-issue of the book by Black Mask Publishing, British academic Robin Durie said of the novel:
It’s very hard to imagine the almost hallucinatory events of the novel translating to the big screen in 1947 [in Born to Kill] – although it’s just about possible to imagine John Waters or David Lynch making some headway with it. It’s also possible that Claude Chabrol might have fancied having a go at turning it into a movie, based on his admiration for the book: “It has a freely developed plot and an absolutely extraordinary tone, pushing each scene towards a violent, ironic and macabre paroxysm…an unexpected dimension, a poetic depth… Of course, nothing like this has ever been written before. The parody is wildly inconsistent, but Deleuze is surely right when he says that, by this means, Gunn creates directions in the real which are wholly new.” … At the same time, Chabrol is correct in his capturing of the intensity of the rhythm of Gunn’s writing. Each chapter builds – or perhaps better, meanders – towards, or into, extraordinary points of what are, in effect, bifurcations. It is as if the novel is following those bifurcating pathways described by Borges.”
In 1947 RKO had a go and commissioned Eve Greene and Richard Macaulay to develop a script, with Robert Wise directing. A solid cast was assembled, and the result was a ripe melodrama that retained an aura of the novel’s strangeness. The film succeeds on the powerhouse performance of Claire Trevor as the divorcee, and (to a lesser extent) the almost dead-pan portrayal of the homicidal psycho by chronic bad-boy Lawrence Tierney. Trevor chews up the scenery with her vitriol and seething passion. A character in the movie describes her biblically: “I find more bitter than death the woman whose heart is snares and nets. And he who falls beneath her spell has need of God’s mercy.” Esther Howard, Walter Slezak, and Elisha Cook Jr. add value in supporting roles. Director Wise and DP Robert De Grasse take a back-seat and let Trevor’s nervous energy and sexual hunger drive the narrative. The camera and mis-en-scene literally make way for her as she struts across the screen, and Paul Sawtell’s score captures the histrionic undertow beautifully.
THIS IS NEW YORK Skyscraper Champion of the World where the Slickers and Know-It-Alls peddle gold bricks to each other and where Truth, crushed to earth, rises again more phony than a glass eye…
THIS IS NEW YORK Skyscraper Champion of the World where the Slickers and Know-It-Alls peddle gold bricks to each other and where Truth, crushed to earth, rises again more phony than a glass eye… – Nothing Sacred (1937) | Script by Ben Hecht
While reviewing the positive reviews and box office listing at Movie Review Intelligence…
Force of Evil (1948) – Script & direction by Abe Polonsky
“But I’m not going to end up On the rocks in the river like my brother…
I wanted to find Leo, to see him once more.
It was morning by then, dawn,
And naturally I was feeling very bad there
As I went down there.
I just kept going down and down there.
It was like going down to the bottom of the world
To find my brother.
I found my brother’s body at the bottom there,
Where they had thrown it away on the rocks by the river,
Like an old, dirty rag nobody wants.
He was dead,
And I felt I had killed him.
I turned back to give myself up to hall,
Because if a man’s life can be lived so long
And come out this way- Like rubbish-
Then something was horrible
And had to be ended one way or another,
And I decided to help.”
While reviewing the positive reviews stats and box office receipts at the US site Movie Review Intelligence I realised the continuing failure of American contemporary cinema in producing quality movies that attract a wide audience. Sure sentimentality and fantasy are well represented and popular, but where is the cinema that challenges the contemporary reality – unemployment, inequality, reactionary politics, war, the environment, the fall-out from the financial crisis? Not from Hollywood. Cinema if it is to be relevant must confront as well as engage. And where is the film criticism that explores the smaller films and their success or failure as social documents not just as cinema?
Look at these figures for instance. The US box-office for Tree of Life after 6 months is US$13.3M. A bold film yes, a great film yes, an essential film yes. A film that speaks to a broad audience a resounding no. The US box for the independent-produced Margin Call with a 75pct positive rating after two months US$5.2M – a flawed film but at least an attempt to understand the genesis of the financial crisis in human terms. But the critics praise was in filmic terms solely not as an historical document or as social criticism. Where is the film critic interested or qualified to discuss these failings? Nowhere in the mainstream media nor the blogosphere for sure.
You can learn more and find a stronger committed critique of American values and the social and economic structures in the gritty b-dramas of 30s Hollywood and 40s film noir. There is something to be said for living in the past.
Pity the poor film noir blogger who has to sit through some pretty lousey movies for completeness sake. Hugo Haas’ Pickup is such a film…
Pity the poor film noir blogger who has to sit through some pretty lousey movies for completeness sake. Hugo Haas’ Pickup is such a film with a silly derivative plot about an alleged gum-chewing femme-fatale trying to get her hands on the savings of a lonely widowed railway worker. The trash equivalent of The Postman Always Rings Twice has the story end with the dame blowing a raspberry and the hero cuddling a puppy. Seriously.
But there is still mileage in such dross for academics and the organisers of film noir retrospectives. Silver and Ward in ‘Film Noir: An Encyclopedic Reference’ talk about the re-assertion of patriarchy in their discussion of the film, and the blurb from the Noir City X has the publicist gushing: “A simple but supremely smarmy slice of sleaze from 1950’s sex-noir auteur Hugo Haas. He plays (as usual) an older man in thrall to a young hottie who spends all her time trying to murder him for what little money he has. A timeless tale, made unforgettable by the Amazon in the bullet-bra, slinging sass for all she’s worth—Beverly (Wicked Woman) Michaels! “