Dark Passage (Daves, 1947)

For a film featuring Bacall and Bogart, its rather surprising Dark Passage is a flat, uninteresting and forgettable film. The first dozen minutes of the film are told from the point of view of Bogart’s character as he escapes from prison, and finds a surgeon who’ll give him a new face. While something of an inspired way of cutting funds, it’s not wholly successful. Compare this sequence to that of Mamoulian’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde made nearly twenty years beforehand and you’ll understand what I mean. While there is some intention in the decision, there is no creativity or interest. The rest of the film only falls more after this point.

I have to outright say, I am not a fan of Lauren Bacall. Outside of Hawks’ films where he obsessively crafted her entire persona and every miniscule action of hers to create his vision of the perfect woman, she always falls flat. She’s never quite as alluring or interesting as she is in those first two Hawks films. The rest of her career is flat, the only other director to be able to draw something of interest from her was Douglas Sirk in Written on the Wind, and this is only in exploiting her dull persona compared to the brilliance of Dorothy Malone (ironically, this is one of two films Malone steals the film from Bacall). Here, not even her chemistry with Bogart seems enough to ignite the film. The only shining spot in an otherwise dull noir adventure is Agnes Moorehead. She is menacing, funny and exhibits actual passion compared to everyone else involved. Best to avoid this dud unless you’re really big on Moorehead.

Caught (Ophuls, 1949)

A noir about a young woman who’s dreams come true when she marries rich. Her dreams crumble apart when he becomes an insensitive brute, the role is played expertly by Robert Ryan who was supposedly channelling Howard Hughes. She eventually leaves him and tries to make her own living, where she meets a young doctor Larry Quineda whom she quickly falls for, making her life all the more complicated. The film is unfortunately not very good, a lot of this is due to Barbara Bel Geddes who just doesn’t have the acting chops for the role. Although I’m not big fan of Joan Fontaine, nor her typical withered woman role, she would have been much better for the part. Enough to elevate the film to minor classic status. Bel Geddes’ greatest fault perhaps is her inability to interact with those around her, there is no real connection with her and the other actors. It’s only supporting player Curt Bois who draws interaction from her, as a rather obnoxious assistant to Ryan’s millionaire.

Ophuls’ own visual style adds interest to the rather meandering plot, as the camera moves through walls, and characters who are probably standing within feet seem like they’re in different worlds. Space is emphasized greatly, in a very way. The homes of the rich are opulent, large and empty. They are not homes, they aren’t lived in, they aren’t enjoyed. This contrasts with the cramped existence of the doctor’s world, where there never is enough room, but there is so much joy and living going on that it feels more at home than any of the mansions. The contrast is emphasized when Ryan enters this world, and is shocked, even disgusted by it. He even remarks about his wife’s tiny apartment that only someone who never saw the rooms he lived in could be able to bear living there. A strange irony as his wife had decided to leave that world, and was determined not to return to it. Speaking of Ryan, he absolutely carries the film. His performance is grandiose and wonderful, one of his best… although he is very consistent. This combined with the visuals are enough for me to mildly recommend it, but still.. just barely.

Cape Fear (Thompson, 1962)

Cape Fear, a film about a violent sexual predator, was made at a night when you could not say rape onscreen. The action is clearly implied, but the question is avoided almost to the point of absurdity. The main failures of the film revolve around this issue of censorship that creates a relic of a time rather than a truly involving thriller. Even the attack of the outsider sexual presence is only half effective because there is no sense of reciprocation or curiosity in the family being attacked. Compared to a similar narrative structure like in Shadow of a Doubt, or even the Desperate Hours, because the victims sympathies, or outright love the culprit drama and meaning is heightened. Without having seen Scorsese’s remake, I understand he tried to create this more effective balance in establishing the relationship between attacker and victim.

While these definitely drag the film down, I don’t think it’s entirely ineffective as a thriller, or noir. I would still call it a good film, just a squandered opportunity to break barriers. There are interesting concepts at work, but were better explored in the 1940s by Hitchcock (notably in Shadow of a Doubt), or even in the films of Frank Capra, where the threat of big government and urbanity threatened small town communities and families.

Without Robert Mitchum and a competent director the film would have been utterly useless. Mitchum, as I’ve suggested in the past, has an incredible sexual energy that is often exploited onscreen. He does not have to do much to feel threatening and simultaneously alluring. This works wonderfully here, as he’s a sufficient enough presence and threat that it sustains the mystery and the tension of the rest of the film. The director exploits this in many ways, and most of the more frightening scenes exclude him entirely. Rather they suggest his presence, and really his existence alone is enough to send Peck’s family into a frenzy. The best example of this is Peck’s daughter wandering around after school when she believes she’s being followed. It’s an incredibly effective scene, using sound and careful editing to suggest a threat that actually doesn’t exist at all.

The best scenes have that kind of energy, or else Mitchum is actually present. As I said, I don’t think it’s a bad film, but it’s a far cry from a great one. Watching Bergman’s The Virgin Spring that was made just two years before, the cultural and social gap in terms of social and artistic understanding is phenomenal. Considering the delicate balance of the film industry of the time, this film could have pushed for more and yet it didn’t. Unfortunate.

Born To Kill (Wise, 1947)

Born to Kill is not so much about the evil within all of us, but the moral consequences of what happens when you let it overrun you. By the time the film starts, the two main characters are so overrun by their own darkness, greed and desire that from the get go there is no hope for them. There is however a sense that deep down inside, there might actually be some good in Helen (Claire Trevor), or perhaps that is all because she has worked so hard to conceal the corruption of her soul. She is more focused on survival than Sam, whose strength and violence, which is enough to get him what he wants. She has bigger ambitions and realizes that crime is not the way to achieve her goals.

The moral implications of the film, and their interaction are interesting enough to sustain this film. Both leads are magnetic and have intense sexual energy. However, the cinematography and overall development of the film is lacking. Compared in particular to Robert Wise’s later noir, The Set-Up, this film is rather flat aesthetically. Only in the first twenty minutes when the pivotal murders take place that the visuals and audio are truly compelling. The rest of the film veers off, although the quality of the editing remains consistent.

The Desperate Hours

 TSPDT: Recommended

 

The Desperate Hours is a unique and claustophobic film. The setting is confined for the most part to a single setting; a house in a suburban neighborhood. It fits somewhere in film noir, however in a very niche offset of the genre. Along with Shadow of a Doubt and Cape Fear, the film follows an invasion type narrative where a normal all-american family is disrupted by the presence of an outsider. He (as in my experience this character has always been a male) is often representative of the modern disillusionment urban male taken to criminal extremes. He is nihilistic, and often derives pleasure from the suffering of others. In most cases, his sexuality is also highlighted and threatening. This is not necessarily the case in this film, as Bogart does not exude that particular brand of sexual frenzy in this role, however it does emerge as a threat through his criminal partners. Unlike Cape Fear or Shadow of the Doubt where the danger is for the most part hidden, or simply lurking here it is immediate and constant as the family is literally taken hostage in their own home. Instead of coming off as something of a filmed play however, the use of high key lighting, extreme angles and what has come to be a trademark of Wyler, the use of deep focus enhences what would otherwise be a mundane setting. Shots are allowed to linger as characters move through often large spaces onscreen, this really helps mount the film’s tension as every moment seems drawn out to epic proportions. My own qualms with films of this type being called noir has to do with the manner in which the narratives resolve, which personally falls out of line with my understanding and appreciation of the genre. I don’t think it makes the film any less great, but when Capra’s films offer more downbeat final implications I have some trouble fitting it thematically in the noir genre. I didn’t mention it, but the acting is particularly good. It needed to be considering the locations, and the thrust of the suspense is placed on the shoulders of the performers.

Shadow of a Doubt

TSPDT: Highly Recommended

The film is (arguably) the most noir of Hitchcock’s efforts, although it doesn’t quite fit into the genre. As with most of his work, he balances his dark sense of humour with the genuine thrills and the final product is an astonishing and thrilling portrait of the horror that lies in small town life. Uncle Charlie is more than a murderor as he represents everything that small towns feared in war stricken America. There is little hint a war is going on, except we know that Charlie is a veteran somehow and a brief interlude in a “seedy” bar that’s populated with drunk and virile soldiers. This is our first encounter with a darker side of the town that we were previously were unaware even existed. Uncle Charlie drags his niece inside despite her insistance that she would never go into a place like that, and it’s in this scene that we are truly sure of Uncle Charlie’s identity. He represents the cynisism of the city and the veteran that the towns people so fear, and yet they idolize him and ignore the depracity that’s just around the corner.

In Young Charlie we find a heroine unlike any other in a Hitchcock film, Theresa Wright doesn’t even look the part of the icy, sophisticated woman. Rumour was though, that initially Hitchcock wanted Fontaine for the role to reprise her nervous incarnation of conflicted young woman. I’m happy things didn’t work out. Wright brings the necessary confidance to the role that was needed to better parallel her character with her uncle. They are supposed to be similar, and that means she had to be strong (this also serves as an important contrast though, as she is stronger than her Uncle in that she can look past the ugliness of the world, and appreciate what makes it wonderful). It makes her confrontations with her uncle all the more tense, as we know how strong she is, inside and out, and to see her voice waver and tremble as she tries to match her Uncle’s threats would not have had the same impact had she been a more feeble character.

Having seen this rather recently, and for the third or fourth time I truly had a chance to appreciate Hitchcock’s subtle but powerful use of mise-en-scene and cinematography. The camera is in almost constant movement as it swerves around corners and tracks down streets. I had never noticed it before, but it really works to create a sense of anxiety and restlessness that’s so important to the mood of the film, and Uncle Charlie’s character and influence.

Introductions

Noir is easily my favourite genre of film, it excites all my senses and even in the worst of the worst I can always find something worth appreciating. I’ve actually been working on this project for a while now, trying to see as many films from They Shoot Dark Pictures Don’t They? My focus has been primarily on the Top 250 list, but I’m also dipping into foreign noirs, noir precursors, neo-noir and “More American Noir” (especially Category A).

This blog will be an assembly of my journey through these films, slowly but surely. As I’ve already seen quite a few, the reviews will probably start off at quite a fast pace but will eventually slow down to a nice simmer. I hope you get some pleasure out of this, because it is a lot of fun for me! There really will be no consistency to the depth I go into with the reviews, for the most part I’ll probably expand my thoughts on films that really interest me, and have seen recently while those that I don’t particularly like, or have seen a while ago will be shorter. I am however working on rewatching the ones I feel I’m not in good form to evaluate because of the amount of time it’s been since my previous viewing.

This is a side project for my regular blog at House of Mirth and Movies, I may occasionally post reviews in two places (I already have a few posted there), but most of my noir related viewings will be focused here.

For those interested in the links:
They Shot Dark Pictures, Didn’t They? 250 Quintessential Noir Films
More American Noir Films
Noir Precursors
Neo-Noir/Modern Noir