Three Faces of Film Noir

Tom Flinn (1972)

Rather than hazarding a definition of film nair, a thankless task which, hopefully, will be broached elsewhere in this magazine, this article contains a descriptive analysis of three films that the author paradoxically considers both typical and distinctive. Together they provide a sample of the nair output from the important years of 1940, 1944, and 1949. This in no way attempts to trace the limits of film nair since that style continued well into the Fifties and is still subject to periodic revivals. But film nair, like shoulder pads, wedgies, and zoot suits was an essential part of the Forties outlook, a cinematic style forged' in the fires of war, exile, and disillusion, a melodramatic reflection for a world gone mad. One of the earliest American examples of the film nair is Stranger on the Third Floor, an ambitious sixty-five minute "B" film made in 1940 at R.K.O. Although not entirely successful, it is extremely audacious in terms of what it seeks to say about American society, and particularly impressive in view of the way in which it pre­ dicts the conventions of the film nair. Stranger on the Third Floor was directed by Boris Ingster and scripted by Frank Partos, who deserves full credit for the the­ matic content of the film since he adapted it from his own story. Uke most nair films, Stranger on the Third Floor takes place in an urban milieu, in this case a studio-built New York of sleazy rooming houses and rundown restau­ rants, populated by hostile strangers and prying neighbors. The protagonist, Mi­ chael Ward, is a young journalist who discovers a murder at an all-night beanery. His exclusive story on the crime and the subsequent pUblicity get him the raise he needs to marry his girlfriend, but his testimony implicates a young ex-con (Elisha Cook Jr.) who is railroaded towards the chair by a conviction hungry DA The trial of the ex-con is a vicious rendering of the American legal system hard at work on an impoverished victim. The film displays a fine sense of caricature espe­ cially apparent in the figure of the judge, who when roused from a judicial stupor reprimands a sleeping juror. A realistic assessment of the gullibility of the average jury and a cynical appraisal of the sinister role of the police and prosecutors in ob­ taining confessions and convictions were hallmarks of the hard-boiled literature that paralleled and predicted what we call film nair. But even in Bay City, Ray­ with STEPH EN McNAllY· RICH lONG mond Chandler's outpost of corruption, trials were conducted with more deco­ Screenplay by Daniel Fuch B d s. .. ase upon the novel by Don Tracy ... Produced by MICHEL KRAIKE rum than is evidence in the legal proceedings in Stranger on the Third Floor . In the film the congenital cynicism of the genre is personified by Ward's elder colleague

Directed by ~~~f~l ~I~OMA~ I . 35 Above, one sheet ror Criss Cross. 36 FILM NOIR READER 2 Three Faces of Film Nair 37 and mentor on the newspaper-the newspaper reporter being traditionally the 1940 Lorre was quite thin and much more graceful than he had been in his debut most hardened of mortals (Ace in the Hole)-who spends most of his time mixing as the pudgy child murderer in M made nine years earlier. Actually his role though wisecracks and whiskey at the press club bar. even briefer than in M is quite similar, and in both films he manages to obtain the Moved by the sincerity of the ex-con's courtroom outbursts, Ward begins to audience's sympathy in the final moments with just a few lines of dialogue. feel pangs of guilt, since it was his testimony that completed the web of circum­ Working in a more naturalistic style, Charles Halton portrays a particularly ob­ stantial evidence responsible for the conviction. Back in his grimy room, he sud­ noxious specimen of hypocritical busybody, a vicious prude who is totally fasc i­ denly realizes that his obnoxious next-door neighbor, Mr. Meng (Charles Halton nated by sex; while Elisha Cook Jr. is suitably intense as the unjustly accused at his slimiest) is not snoring as usual. When banging on the wall does not bring an ex-con. answer from the normally sensitive neighbor, Ward flashes back to several "run­ Unfortunately, John McGuire as Ward is stiff and reserved, though he does per­ ins" he had with Meng involving threats he had made on Meng's life. At this point form near the top of his limited range (compared with his disastrous role in John Ward's paranoia reaches epic proportions and is expressed in a marvelously apt Ford's Steamboat Round the Bend). On the positive side McGuire handles a consid­ expressionistic dream sequence that is the psychological center of the film. Unlike erable amount of voice-story narration quite well, and his very vapidness is an aid the neat, modish Freudian dream montages of the fashionable Forties films of psy­ to audience identification. choanalysis (Spellbound), the dream in Stranger on the Third Floor is alive with sub­ In comparison Margaret Tallichet (who later became Mrs. William Wyler) gives conscious desires, seething with repressions, awash with pent-up hatred, and a remarkably honest and unaffected performance as Ward's fiancee. More sensi ­ constructed from the nightmarish circumstances of the character's real situation. tive than Ward, she is first to sense the disastrous effects of his involvement with Ward's paranoia links him to other denizens of the urban jungles of Holly­ the murder trial on their relationship. Later when Ward is being held for the mur­ wood's nightmare films of the Forties, where the dividing line between dream and der of Meng, she searches for the man with a scarf (Lorre) who actually commit­ reality can be merely the whim of a director, as in Fritz Lang's Woman in the Win­ ted both murders. Thus in its last moments Stranger on the Third Floor becomes a dow (dream) and Scarlet Street (reality). In Stranger on the Third Floor Ward's para­ girl-detective yarn. This segment of the film clearly prefigures Phantom Lady noia fantasy works because the twin motivations of guilt (for participating in the (1944) in which another working girl (both are secretaries) searches for the elu­ sham trial) and fear (of being caught up in the system himself) are well estab­ sive witness that will save her man from the chair. lished; while the climax of the dream in which the "victim," Meng, attends Ward's Thematically, Phantom Lady, based on a tepid thriller by Cornell Woolrich , is far execution functions perfectly as dream logic expressing Ward's strong subcon­ less interesting than Stranger on the Third Floor ; but Robert Siodmak's mise-en­ scious desire that Meng be alive. scene is so exciting that other considerations pale in the face of his inventive di­ The dream sequence itself is so completely expressionistic in style that it re­ rection. Like Stranger on the Third Floor , Phantom Lady concerns an innocent man sembles an animation of one of Lynd Ward's woodcut novels (God's Man, Mad­ convicted of murder, but Siodmak's work lacks the specific social criticism of the man's Drum) with strong contrasts in lighting, angular shadow patterns, and earlier film, though it retains the aura of menace in its portrait of the city, a quality distorted, emblematic architecture; in short, a kind of total stylization that man­ that is absolutely de rigueur for any film noir. Phantom Lady was also filmed on stu­ ages to be both extremely evocative and somewhat theatrical. The use of a tilted dio sets, though in contrast to Stranger on the Third Floor the atmosphere of New camera destroys the normal play of horizontals and verticals, creating a forest of York City sweltering in mid-summer heat is evoked with extreme veracity. W ith oblique angles recalling the unsettling effects of expressionist painting and cinema. one or two exceptions the sets are near perfect in their simulation of reality, This tilted camera was a favorite device of horror director James Whale (Bride of demonstrating a far greater interest in realism than is evident in pre-WW II films. Frankenstsin, 1935) and it later enjoyed a great vogue around 1950 (The Third The realistic atmosphere of the decor is aided by Siodmak's sparing use of back­ Man , Strangers on a Train) . In Stranger on the Third Floor the Germanic influence, so ground music, all the more remarkable in an era of "wall to wall" scoring. The important in the creation of the film noir style, is quite obvious, and not confined suspense sequences, in particular, benefit from an adroit use of naturahstlC sound. to the dream sequence. Throughout the film the lighting by Nick Musuraca is very With Phantom Lady, Siodmak, who had served a tough apprenticeship in ~mer­ much in the baroque Forties manner with numerous shadow patterns on the ica (directing five "A" pictures followed by "vehicles" for two of Universal s big­ walls. gest attractions, Lon Chaney Jr. and Maria Montez), established himself as. one o~~ Peter Lorre, who appears only briefly in Ward's dream, brings a full expres­ the foremost stylists of film nOlr , creating a sombre world of wet streets, dingy sionistic approach to his brief role as an escaped lunatic, slithering through a door fices, low-ceilinged bars, crowded lunchcounters and deserted railway platforms, in a manner distinctly reminiscent of Conrad Veidt in The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. In 39 38 FILM NOIR READER 2 Th ree Foces of Film Noir all unified by an atmosphere of heightened realism in which the expressive quality protagonist with a quick turnaround, in which the hunter becomes the hunted. of the image is due entirely to lighting and composition. Siodmak arrived at this Undaunted, Kansas follows the bartender downtown through narrow streets UFA-esque style naturally, since he directed in Germany from 1928-33 . On Phan­ where, long after midnight, the residents are still lounging on their front stoops tom Lady he enjoyed the services of legendary noi, cameraman Elwood Bredell, and the atmosphere is charged with latent violence. who, according to George Amy, could "light a football stadium with a single The high point of her search (and of the film) is her encounter with Cliff Mil­ match." burn (Elisha Cook Jr.), the trap drummer in the orchestra at the "Chica Boom For a film of bravura visual style Phantom Lady opens rather unpromisingly on a Boom Revue." Seated in the front row, dressed in a black satin sheath, and chew­ closeup of Ann Terry (Fay Helm). Wearing one of those improbable creations ing at least three sticks of gum, Kansas is about as inconspicuous as Princess that only Forties milliners could enVisage, Miss Helm looks very much like a mid­ Grace on the Bowery. Naturally she has no trouble picking up the hapless musi­ dle-aged neurotic left over from a Val Lewton film . Into Anselmo's Bar comes cian and he takes her to a jam session which ranks as one of the most effective Scott Henderson, successful civil engineer on the brink of marital disaster. He bits of cinema produced in the Forties. Siodmak gives full rein to his expressionis­ suggests that they pool their loneliness ("no questions, no names") and take in a tic propensities in a rhythmically cut riot of angles that "climaxes" in a drum solo show, typically one of those Latin revues so popular in that era of Pan American that melds sex and music into a viable metaphor of tension and release. solidarity. After the show he deposits his companion back at Anselmo's and re­ Unfortunately, the last half of Phantom Lady is dominated by Jack Lombard turns to his wife's apartment. Here the nightmare begins. When he turns on the (Franchot Tone), the real murderer, who is afflicted with delusions of grandeur, light he notices the room is already occupied by a formidable triumvirate of police migraine headaches, and overly emphatic hand gestures. Van Gogh's "Self-portrait officers (Thomas Gomez, Joseph Crehan, and Regis Toomey). Siodmak stages the with a Bandaged Ear" on Lombard's studio wall neatly identifies him as the mad confrontation with his usual flair; breaking the rules by deliberately crossing the artist, but he comes off more like a re-fried Howard Roarke (The Fountainhead) axis during the interrogation to emphasize Henderson's isolation, framing him than Van Gogh. Though he sounds vaguely Nietzschean, "When you've got my with a portrait of his murdered wife in the background, and tracking in slowly on gifts you can't afford to let them get away," Lombard generated very little excite- the suspect (Henderson) while the cops deliver a snide, menacing third degree. ment. Like Ward in Stranger on the Third Floor , Scott Henderson is caught in an im­ penetrable web of circumstantial evidence, though his situation is further compli­ Below, "Phantom Lady is primarily a work of style." cated, since a number of witnesses were bribed by the real murderer in an attempt to destroy Henderson's alibi (already very weak since he could not pro­ duce the "Phantom Lady" he took to the "Chica Boom Boom Revue"). In contrast to Stranger on the Third Floor , Siodmak handles Henderson's trial obliquely. The camera never shows the accused, the judge, t'le jury, or any of the lawyers. Only the voice of the prosecutor (Milburn Stone) relates the proceedings as the camera dwells on the spectators, singling out Henderson's secretary, Kan­ sas (Ella Raines) and Inspector Burgess (Thomas Gomez). The trial sequence serves as a transition. Kansas and Inspector Burgess become, in effect, the new protagonists in the search to prove Henderson's innocence. Kansas, like Ward's fiancee in Stranger on the Third Floor , is a determined inno­ cent who contrasts sharply with the corrupt society she must search. This juxta­ position .was a favorite device in Forties films, reaching its climax in The Seventh Victim (Val Lewton/Mark Robson, 1945) in which schoolgirl Kim Hunter ferrets out a colony of Satanists in Greenwich Village. Kansas (the name reeks of Mid­ western grit and determination) begins her quest by dogging the night bartender at Anselmo's (Andrew Toombes). Seated at the end of the bar she watches and waits. On the third night of her vigil she follows the bartender through the wet streets to a deserted EI station where Siodmak emphasizes the vulnerability of his 40 FILM NOIR READER 2 Three Foces of Film Noir 41 Phantom Lady is primarily a work of style, created by the interaction of consid­ none of the films made from his books pr scripts can compare with Criss Cross in erable intelligence (on the part of the director, producer, and cameraman) with the evocation of this milieu): very bland pulp writing (Woolrich's novel). Some of the dialogue is, as James Agee Bunker Hill is old town, lost town, shabby town, crook town. Once has pointed out, depressingly banal, but the film is redeemed by the originality of very long ago, it was the choice residential district of the city. and its mise-en-scene and by its all-pervading style which represents a considerable there are still standing a few of the jigsaw Gothic mansions with advance over the more overtly expressionistic Stranger on the Third Floor. wide porches and walls covered with round-end shingles and full In the pessimistic post-war years, the nair influence grew like an orchid in Gen­ comer bay windows with spindle turrets. They are all rooming eral Sternwood's overheated greenhouse. Rare indeed was the Hollywood melo­ houses now, their parquetry floors are scratched and worn through the once glossy finish and the wide sweeping staircases are dark drama that did not include some nair element or theme. The influence of Italian with time and with cheap vamish laid on over generations of dirt. In neo-realism combined with already existing domestic tendencies toward location the tall rooms haggard landladies bicker with shifty tenants. On the shooting to produce an expressive, increasingly veristic style tinged with violence wide cool front porches, reaching their cracked shoes into the sun, and sadism. At the same time plots of bewildering complexity proliferated as Hol­ and staring at nothing, sit the old men with faces like lost battles ... lywood's affair with the flashback reached the height of absurdity during the pe­ riod from Passage to Marseille (1944) to The Locket (1948). The newsreel reporter Criss Cross attains a kind of formal excellence, due to the tautness of its complex of Citizen Kane reappeared as the insurance investigator in Siodmak's The Killers narrative structure, the uncompromising nature of its resolution, and the (1946), while the comedies of Preston Sturges, such as The Miracle at Morgan's inexorable character of its Germanic fatalism. The film opens in medias res with Creek (1944) and Mad Wednesday (1947) have intricate plots worthy of the author Steve Thompson (Burt Lancaster) and Anna (Yvonne de Carlo) sharing a furtive of "narratage." kiss in the parking lot of the Rondo Club. The reason for their secrecy soon becomes obvious. Anna is married to Slim Dundee (Dan Duryea), a local tough Siodmak's Criss Cross (1949) combines complexity of narrative, a realism born guy who is giving himself a farewell party in a private room at the club. Gradually of location shooting, and Siodmak's expressive stylizations. The opening aerial the audience becomes aware that Steve and Slim, obvious rivals, are connected in shot of Los Angeles sets the tone for what proves to be a fascinating chronicle of a robbery scheme. The action continues the next day as Steve, driving an armored lower and middle class life in the western metropolis. Much of the action in Criss truck, picks up a huge cash payroll at the bank. During the forty-minute run to the Cross takes place in the shadow of the funicular railway (Angel's Flight) in the Bun- plant at San Raphelo, Steve reviews the intricate chain of circumstances that brought him into the robbery. By opening in the middle, the audience is forced to Below. "Kansas" (Ella Raines) and Inspector Burgess (Thomas Gomez) in Phantom Lady. accept the central situation (the robbery) as reality, and the contrived circumstances leading up to it are given additional credence. The success of Criss Cross's fatalistic mood depends to a large extent on the complex relationship between Steve and Anna. Anna is a creature of dazzling in­ Sincerity, another in the seemingly endless succession of Forties femmes fatales. The archetype is, of course, Mary Astor hiding her Machiavellian designs behind a mask of gentility in The Maltese Falcon (1941). Barbara Stanwyck in Double Indem­ nity (1943) was of a tougher, less bourgeoiS breed, that reappeared with subtle variations in Siodmak's The Killers (1946) (Ava Gardner) and Tourneur's Out of the Past (1948) Uane Greer). Anna definitely belongs to this second class of fatal women, although her essential coldness and grasping ambition are accompanied by immaturity, a general ineffectualness, and vulnerability. Her hold on her ex-hus­ band Steve depends on his feeling sorry for her. She is, in fact. persecuted by the police (at the instigation of Steve's mother), and tortured by Slim. But she finds it difficult to overcome the spectre of divorce. with its overtones of betrayal and failure. which divides her from Steve and reflects the film's central theme of treachery. 42 FILM NO IR READER 2 Three Fa ces of Film Nair 43 and failure, which divides her from Steve and reflects the film's central theme of wood rasp; Dan Duryea, with or without an icepick, the ideal pimp and small­ treachery. timer of the decade; Tom Pedi, Slim's henchman Vincent, who delivers his dia­ Anna is always seen from Steve's point of view for Criss Cross, like a Chandler logue with a greedy verve ('That's the ticket"); John Doucette, another of the novel, is set firmly in the first person. Steve narrates his flashbacks, supplying addi­ gang, with a dour voice to match his sombre personality; and Alan Napier, tional motivation and coloring events with his own fatalism. Siodmak comple­ Finchley, the alcoholic mastermind of the big "heist." ments the first person nature of the script (by Daniel Fuchs) with a number of The central importance of the robbery in Criss Cross demonstrates an increas­ subjective shots which make crucial thematic points. Steve's loneliness is ex­ ing interest in criminal methods and mythology. Criss Cross is actually a "caper" pressed in a shot of his brother and future sister-in-law kissing in a corner of the film, a subgenre of the gangster film that can be traced back to High Sierra (1940) dining room seen from Steve's point of view on the living room couch. A far more and further. The caper film concentrates all values and expectations on one last frightening example of the same technique occurs after the robbery goes haywire crime which, if successful, will put all the participants on easy street. The influence and Steve ends up in the hospital with his arm and shoulder in traction. Here of Criss Cross can be seen in subsequent caper films including John Huston's The Siodmak uses numerous subjective shots that force the audience to participate in Asphalt Jungle (1950) where Sam Jaffe 's Doc Riedenschneider resembles a Ger­ Steve's nightmare situation. Lying helpless in the hospital bed he waits for Slim's manized Finchley, and Stanley Kubrick's The Killing (1956) which carries the tem­ vengeance, playing a cat and mouse game with a traveling salesman (Adam Wil­ poral experimentation of Criss Cross to the point of absurdity. liams), who turns out to be one of Slim's hirelings. The "salesman" snatches Steve Although Criss Cross has a more realistic, less decorative look than Phantom from the hospital in a scene that can only be described as a paroxysm of pain. The Lady, both films demonstrate similar photographic stylization. The sharp, fluid, ever-venal Williams is too easily bribed to take Steve to Anna instead of Slim, and high contrast photography and low key lighting in Criss Cross are the work of the executioner is not far behind. Franz Planer, another old UFA colleague of Siodmak's and another link between The role of Steve Thompson is so important to the film that those offended by Weimar cinema and (11m nair. Siodmak himself never lost a taste for the "dis­ Lancaster's mannerisms may not enjoy Criss Cross , in spite of a number of excel­ guised" symbolism found in German silents. In one symbolic cut he juxtaposes his lent character portrayals: Percy Helton, the rotund bartender with a voice like a principals, appropriately clad in black and white, to form a visual pun on "criss cross ". Below, Slim Dundee (Dan Duryea, left) catches up to Steve Thompson (Burt Lancaster) and As in Phantom Lady, Siodmak displays a real interest in American popular music, the unfaithful Anna (Yvonne de Carlo) at the fatal conclusion of Criss Cross. including a number by Esy Morales and his band which, unlike most Forties musi­ cal numbers, is an impressive musical performance, well integrated into the con­ text of the film. Miklos Rozsa, who ranks as the chief composer for (11m nair (Double Indemnity, The Killers, ad infinitum) provided an effective score w ith garish harmonies that mirror the harsh conflicts of the narrative. By 1949 the battle against that scourge of Hollywood known as the "happy ending" was largely won, and the essential pessimism of the (11m nair could be ful­ filled . As a result, Criss Cross has a thematic completeness that Stranger on the Third Floor and Phantom Lady lack. Slim stalks into the doorway of the beach house hideout like an avenging angel, awakening memories of other destiny figures, Ber­ nard Goetzke visiting the young couple in Lang's Der Mude Tad (1921), or Hitu hounding the lovers in Murnau's Tabu ( 1931). With its thematic peSSimism, realis­ tic mise-en-scene, and aura of ambient fatalism, Criss Cross reflects something of the mood of a country about to discover the apocalyptic nature of the coming decade of nuclear stalemate.