Film Book Review: Nightmare Alley: Film Noir and the American Dream by Mark Osteen

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.