Film
Noir
is one of those terms that everyone recognises but is often misunderstand. Most
call it a genre, some call it a mood, others call it a style. Whatever it is, the
hallmarks are unmistakeable: Expressionist aesthetics (chiaroscuro, awkward
angles, unorthodox use of camera angles) taken from its many German émigré
directors; world-weary investigative protagonists; dangerous but alluring femme fatales; brutal violence;
ambiguous morality; a cynical outlook; and a doomed, tragic plot. As a staple
of 1940s and 1950s Hollywood, these hardboiled films were born out of social
and political fears, adapted from various literary sources of inspiration, and
influenced by earlier cinematic genres. At the time, their portrayal of
boozed-up punch-ups and casual inter-gender trysts meant that Film Noir was generally considered to be
highly radical, a whisky-soaked attack on clean living mid-century America. Stylistically,
it was an important force for shaping the direction of Western cinema. Even
since its 1958 downfall, Noir has
continued to exert a profound influence on (usually sinister) cinema, right up
to today - think L.A. Confidential, Drive or In Bruges. Yet for many, the precise details of Film Noir remain elusive, a hazy chapter
in cinema’s book of pulp pessimism. It is for this reason that Mark Osteen’s recent
publication on the matter is highly welcome for movie history fans, film academics
and those hoping for a long overdue Noir
reappraisal.
Nightmare
Alley: Film Noir and the American Dream has one main aim: to inspect the ways
in which Noir ‘subverted, challenged,
and ultimately discounted’ many aspects of the American Dream. At the time, the
United States was finishing one World War and starting a Cold one, ascending to
the status of superpower, and generally doing a lot of introspective thinking.
Central to these identity shifts was the idea of individualistic
self-improvement: the frontier cowboy trying to survive in the twentieth
century. As the 1940s and ‘50s were in the middle of Hollywood’s Golden Age,
under the full glare of HUAC’s McCarthyist witch hunts, challenging these nationalistic
myths and values on a fifty foot silver screen would have been highly
controversial. The book’s author, Mark Osteen, an accomplished and varied
academic and writer, draws on his apparent and vast cinematic knowledge to
prove exactly how he believes this celluloid rebellion was executed. He runs
each chapter along thematic lines, allowing one area, such as the activity of leftist
filmmakers, to form a backbone of reasoning. Each of these themes is analysed
deeply through key films, discussed within the context of their political and
social times. Theoretical perspectives are juxtaposed with Osteen’s own
reflections. The sum of these parts is a demonstration that jaded filmmakers
portrayed negative and futile sides of American aspirations in the midst of
musicals and screwball comedies.
Named after the nauseatingly fatalistic 1947
picture, Nightmare Alley is perhaps
not for those seeking an introduction to Noir.
For that, there exists ample literature on its background already, including common
features, roots and overt meanings, not to mention endless definitions.
Publications such as Film Noir Reader,
Film Noir Reader 2 (I said that there
were endless definitions) and In a Lonely
Street: Film Noir, Genre, Masculinity are comprehensive compendiums for
those who want to dip their toes into the Noir
pool, discussing in great depth elements of the films. Unfortunately, these
introductions are where much of the Noir
literature ends. Owing to a lack of widespread intellectual analysis, little
debate has been stimulated on the subject. Sometimes, an article will prompt a
flurry of shock and derision, such as film critic Raymond Durgnat’s unorthodox musings
(he categorised 2001: A Space Odyssey
as a Noir). But these discussions
remain largely within limited a framework of technicalities. Refreshingly, Mark
Osteen dispenses with much of this rudimentary describing and defining, choosing
instead to use the several hundred pages for thorough analysis. And the
analysis is indeed thorough: his rich knowledge of all things film is used
comprehensively in evidential material. His discussion of several diverse
subjects present in Noir, from painting
to wounded veterans to automobile culture, shows an eye for subtlety and
breadth of expertise. At no point does one feel as if Osteen is mugging it, or manipulating
facts to suit his own cinematic opinions. It must be said, however, that space
could be cleared for further analysis by cutting down on the lengthy and
unnecessary storyline descriptions, which illustrate every plot turn in
annoying spoiler clarity.
But why is this work important? Because
for so many years considered counter-cultural in a narrow, Bogart-centred
fashion, Film Noir is long overdue a
reappraisal. Thus Nightmare Alley is
important because it is a crucial addition to the shelves of cinema history.
Generally, it is generally presented as a genre which challenged the cinematic
status quo. Many critics saw it as attacking censorship with its radical topics:
an article in 1946 asserted that it was changing the face of film. Unfortunately,
these descriptions are usually the pinnacle of Noir thought. Thus, crude clichés and lazy stereotypes have
abounded for too long about what is a highly influential, philosophical and
diverse groups of films, feeding the belief that Noir was little more than the dark, nihilistic underbelly of
Hollywood. Whilst Osteen does not seek to refute the genre’s anti-status quo
credentials (indeed, he discusses several in great detail), he does attempt to shed
new light and stimulate novel notions. He scrutinises preconceptions, such as
the prevalence of the femme fatale and
the consistency of moody jazz soundtracks. What we think of as Noir, Osteen patiently explains, is only
the beginning. For example, one chapter discusses the large number of women who
exerted significant influence on many productions, undermining the view of Noir as a chauvinistic hellhole where
dames only mess things up.
On a subtler level, Osteen is theorising
that Film Noir is not simply a bit
close to the bone. Instead, it is portrayed as opposing prevalent national
value systems far more aggressively than we might have assumed. Reinvention,
upward mobility and capitalism are shown as being heavily criticised in Noir, implying that it is actively
anti-American. Of course, these are only American values as dictated by a
select few. Still, one gets the impression from Nightmare Alley that Film
Noir was very narrowly avoiding moral treason. Yet for all of this novel
thinking, Osteen trenchantly feeds the existing belief that Film Noir was subverting the
narrow-minded values of bigots, that its heroes were wholly American and
labelled ‘other’ only by ‘self-styled patriots’. Thus, Osteen allows Film Noir to remain both highly radical
and solidly American, and in this way Nightmare
Alley is not challenging anything. It is rare that anyone acknowledges Noir’s conservative messages, such as a
negative portrayal of women’s rights or an irrational fear of Communism. Messages
like these were plentiful: is it not coincidental that during World War Two,
when millions of women went to work for the first time in an historic act of
empowerment, films like Mildred Pierce
showed women’s industry and self-determination to be a social scourge? While Noir’s radicalism continues to be
indulged without qualification, such truths will never be realised.
On seeing that Nightmare Alley had been published, I was pleased that the
reappraisal of Noir had begun. I
welcome Osteen’s attempts wholeheartedly, and hope that the book stimulates
further discussion. This would be more important than people realise, because
the genre was, and is, highly influential. Cinema attendance may not be what it
was when Bogart and Lorre squabbled over bronze birds, but it remains a hugely
popular art-form. Furthermore, analysing an artistic product of people in days
gone by can help us to understand the history and thoughts of the time, perhaps
not available in traditional historical sources. My main reservation about Nightmare Alley is that instead of
challenging the existing status quo of Noir
thought (how very fitting when Noir
is the subject matter), it instead validates it. I would like to see a serious
study which contradicts these clichés – how could it be so counter-cultural
when the system was so conservative? How were reactionary principles instilled
in audiences about social problems of the times? Nonetheless, new and
intriguing angles are offered through intelligent insight. For any Noir fans seeking a different look at
the genre, Nightmare Alley: Film Noir and
the American Dream, an immensely readable book, is the perfect choice for a
dark and rainy evening. Let there be more.
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