It's A Hard World For Little Things: The Night Of The Hunter (1955)

Every time I hear Robert Mitchum move into the swelling and baritone singing of "Lean on Jesus" I literally get goosebumps.  I watched this film early in the morning, perhaps the exact opposite of the ideal time to view this film and found myself still feeling the anxiety, dread and frankly adoration I initially felt upon discovering this film years ago.  What do I have to thank for this revisiting of a fear-inducing classic, none other than the brilliant Movies, Silently and her recent Gish Sisters Blogathon.  Admittedly, I jumped on the chance to revisit this film, because it is, undoubtedly, one of my favorite films of all-time, if only for it being the rare example of a perfect piece of cinema, one that was the single directorial work of Charles Laughton no less.  Furthermore, by choosing to specifically focus on this film, I was able to truly look at the role Gish offers, which shines both narratively and emotionally compared to the seething corrupt figure made a cult icon by Mitchum.  I went into this viewing anxiously awaiting all my favorite scenes, between the Love/Hate hand story and the image of Shelley Winters body at the bottom of the lake, I had my notion of what this recent viewing of the experience might prove to become, what I did not expect was to be rewarded with a far more clever film than I had recalled previously, both in terms of some devilishly subversive writing, as well as in the many cinematic choices inside and outside the diagetic space of the film that allow for it to seem like something that exists entirely in a world all its own, one where crane shots can sweep into sequences, maniacal preachers can instantaneously transport themselves from town to town and where small girls can begin singing with the voice of a grown woman.  In a lesser film all of this would seem like poor editing choice or over-the-top elements intended to draw in mild interest in the viewers, however, in the eyes of Laughton and through the very nature of the narrative, these seemingly arbitrary acting choices are evocative, engaging and, at times, cinematically engaging, much in the same vein as a work by Stanley Kubrick.  The Night of the Hunter is many things, a noir, a crime thriller, a family drama, a kids film and a work of melodrama, however, it is certainly and undeniably a masterpiece that should be viewed by all many a time.

The Night of the Hunter, begins, after an eerie floating head narration involving a then unidentified woman talking within children, with a murder.  This murder, is suggested to be exacted at the hands of one Harry Powell (Robert Mitchum) a preacher whose communique with God leads him to confess to having a unhealthy attachment to women, wherein he constantly asks forgiveness and provides thanks to the religious figure for providing him with a constant flow of money, of which he draws from recently widowed women.  Meanwhile, two children John Harper (Billy Chapin) and his sister Pearl (Sally Jane Bruce) witness their father Ben Harper (Peter Graves) return from a recent robbery, only to quickly stuff his money in Pearl's doll, before being hauled off to jail, where he is found guilty of murder and sentenced to execution.  It is in jail that he meets Harry Powell, who becomes curious when Ben begins vaguely quoting scripture and mentioning the whereabouts of his money.  After Harper's execution, Powell feigns being a dear friend to Harper returning to his hometown and tracking down his widowed wife Willa (Shelley Winters) who is hesitant to welcome the slick-talking preacher, particularly when she suspects that he is only after the money which her late husband had hid.  John is even more suspicious leaning on the promise he made to his father not to betray the location of the money, constantly assuring that the less intelligent Pearl does the same.  Harry uses a variety of forms of trickery and smooth words to try and attain the whereabouts of the money, even resorting to murdering Willa when she comes to suspect that her new husband really only cares to find the money, made all the more a betrayal after she has given herself up to his religious ways, blindly spouting scripture.  The murder of their mother leads the children on an exodus down river in a rowboat, where they eventually land in the backyard of self-run foster mom and general good samaritan Rachel Cooper (Lillian Gish).  Realizing that John and Pearl are clearly running from a dire situation, when Harry comes knocking at her door she quickly banishes him with the threat of a shotgun, an action she goes through with when the slimy Harry returns later that night.  After a successful arrest of Harry, John frustratingly tosses the money at the handcuffed preacher explaining that he can no longer stand the burden of carrying such a secret.  AFter doing so the two join their fellow orphans and Rachel for Christmas celebration, one that affords John the very watch he has had his eye on since the films opening moments.

It might seem like the best move for analyzing a film such as The Night of the Hunter would be to go at it from the "what is the nature of religion" route and while this is certainly a theme that emerges specifically in the contrasting characters of Harry and Rachel, one could extend this argument on to consider the larger idea of authority and whose given the power to say what is right or wrong in the face of figures who are culturally afforded an unquestioned amount of respect.  The Night of the Hunter appears to suggest that only two things stand to be undeniably authoritative, the rule of law and time.  Yet even law within the narrative becomes rather murky when a man is stealing money to make living in a moment of depression a bit easier, or when the same law enforcement spends its time hunting psychotic serial killing preachers while completely brushing by lines of starving children.  Justice, in the context of The Night of the Hunter then becomes tied almost solely to the notion that if one is able to understand time, not control it, but merely work in its favor they can assure that justice will work in their favor, particularly if they are working in a fair and reasonable way.  Indeed, the reason that Harry is eventually is not because he gave himself up or was actively pursued by the police, but because he attempted to cheat time and kill children to attain money from them, his similar actions in previous situations are also his own act to avoid the effort and patience of attaining money, something he thinks he can merely get by working within his bizarre relationship with God.  The other notion of authority comes then in signifiers of power, for Harry it is always tied to his phallic knife something that takes on blatant sexual allusions throughout the film and remains his point of privilege until challenged by Rachel's much larger and more powerful shotgun, the subversive gender politics even more interesting. Indeed, this leaves John as a figure to be swayed by the time and signifiers of authority in the films closing, as Rachel accepts that her stories from The Bible only serve a cursory function to instill authority.  It is indeed not until she hands John the watch that he becomes an arbitrator of authority because he can now tell the time, that thing that rules over all within the film, as well as those outside of the diagetic space, verified when Lilian Gish breaks the fourth wall in the closing moments of the film.

Key Scene: The scene involving the joint singing of Lean on Jesus by Gish and Mitchum is absolutely one of the premier moments in all of cinema.  Furthermore, one could also make the case that the images of Willa's body laying at the bottom of the lake are also some of the most haunting ever committed to film.

Informers Inform, Burglars Burgle, Murderers Murder, Lovers Love: Breathless (1960)

I am once again in the throes of a blogathon, this time hosted by the excellent blogs Once upon a screen... and Classic Movie Hub Blog.  The topic: "Dynamic Duos in Classic Film."  I was a bit late to the sign-up for this blogathon, so missed the chance to jump on some of the real classic duos, both in terms of romance and comedy, which is fine, because I have read the work of many of the bloggers involved and I am certain that they will more than do justice to the topics.  As such, I decided a bit of creativity could not hurt in the endeavor and I began to think of a dynamic duo within the context of classic film, pre-1970, that managed to hearken back to an earlier period, while still remaining within the confines of "classic."  I realize that this may have seemed like an absurd endeavor, but considering that the collective of the sixties were a watershed moment in history, it by extension assumes that the same rings true for movies as well.  With that in mind, I realized that I had the perfect offering for this blogathon with what may well be the most important work to come out of the 1960's in Jean-Luc Godard's Breathless.  The now well-established classic was by many accounts, the premier film in the French New Wave movement and invariably changed the language one uses to describe cinema.  This masterwork in European filmmaking, is a rare treasure that offers many varied and legitimate critical levels, while also proving and fresh and unique viewing experience.  Trust me, I have seen the film countless times and it only proves more engaging, the more my cinematic language and consumption matures.  In fact, the current Criterion bluray available only helps to add layers to the film's conceptual framework.  I say all this to set up how it is very much a work that exists within the important film's involving dynamic duos.  Part romantic comedy, part crime thriller there is, excluding Tarantino, perhaps not a more cinematically referential work than Godard's 1960 breakout hit and one of its many points of reference come in the duos of classic noir thrillers, wherein Godard borrows the dynamism of the genre and its gendered duos, using its tropes to push his hip, wild and fast-paced narrative, while also completely calling attention to the frailty of the structure of such an assumedly dynamic pairing.  If some of the other works mentioned during this blogathon embrace the lasting nature of the romantic dynamic duo, it is fair to say that Breathless makes viewers aware of both the performance involved in such duality, while also suggesting that at some point the differences in the duo will result in a collision of fatal proportions.

While the film is about a romantic coupling to a degree, it does begin focusing primarily on the film's "protagonist" Michel (Jean-Paul Belmondo) a part-time thief and full-time woman admirer, who is constantly on a quest to make money, while spouting his own frustrations and problems with the opposite sex.  Indeed, Michel makes it quite clear that women, in his eyes, are incapable of functioning on any legitimate societal level, taking particular disdain in their always being broke and their being terrible drivers, never mind that he himself is constantly without money and certainly is not the most sane or logical of automobile operators.  When an auto theft goes awry and Michel murders a cop to save his own life, he moves into a constant state of paranoia and flight from authorities, which seems to be fine, until he runs into Patricia (Jean Seberg) an American living in Paris while working as a correspondent/salesperson for the European branch of The New York Herald-Tribune.  While the narrative does not outright express it as fact, it is assumed that Patricia and Michel have had some intimate past together, indeed, Michel admits to returning to visit her, almost entirely on a desire to have sex.  Patricia who is initially dismissive of Michel due to his one-track mind and his flippant attitude towards her and most women, nonetheless, agrees to spend time with him, when he seeks shelter from the authorities in her apartment.  At this point the two spend an entire afternoon, evening and morning discussing the ethics of love, lust and humanity, while engaging in intercourse.  In the process, the two become more romantically entwined than before, admitting their deep affection for one another and while they would enjoy the possibility of staying in the moment, Patricia must return to work, while Michel must accrue the necessary funds to flee from his imminent arrest.  It is while Patricia is at work that French police approach her with information regarding Michel, threatening her livelihood and visa status should she not help their investigation.  At first, Patricia is committed to her affections for Michel and stays by his side, yet when it becomes clear that he is still occupied with his criminal life, Patricia breaks down and reports his location to the police, an act she clearly regrets immediately.  Irony arises when the two are driving and the police finally catch up with Michel, only moments after he obtains the money he as been seeking since the onset of the film.  Realizing the futility of the entire endeavor he flees down the street, only to be gunned down by officers.  Patricia distraught runs to Michel's aide and stares at him as he slowly fades into death.  Michel simply dismisses her and her foolishness, claiming that her betrayal makes him want to puke, although a language barrier causes Patricia, in the closing moments of the film, to wonder exactly what "puke" means.

It is precisely this closing moment of Patricia being "lost in translation" as it were, that speaks to the particular dynamism of the duo of Michel and Patricia.  Language being the first obvious difference between the two, lays out a duality of difference that is often challenged, ignored and undermined in the hopes that the two can create some degree of a lasting and meaningful romance together.  Many of the classic Hollywood comedic duos play upon this difference, while, ultimately, noting that the pair can overcome adversity and find a powerful force in love, and Breathless, certainly borrows from that tradition.  However, Godard has over the years been very expressive of the major influence the genre of film noir had on his works, particularly this and Alphaville.  In as much, Michel and Patricia are as much a hapless hero and femme fatale, as they are a romantic comedic pairing.  However, even this is revisionist to a heavy degree, because Michel, while misogynist and a criminal, does not exude the same hardboiled chiseled nature of his idol Humphrey Bogart, in fact, when his absurdly effeminate mugshot appears in the papers, one cannot help but laugh at how non-threatening he looks, despite having committed a murder earlier in the film.  He is not the traditional masculine figure of the genre, just as Patricia is not truly a femme fatale.  Sure it is her betrayal that causes his downfall, but there is not the sense of remorselessness that comes with a Barbara Stanwyck in Double Indemnity.  The duo is not a pair of drifting individuals who come together for a fleeting moment, but instead to opposing forces, that find themselves so magnetically drawn to each other that their cohesion factors heavily into the film.  The hotel room scene, where they consummate their love for one another, lasts roughly thirty plus minutes, nearly constituting half of the film, which is deservedly so, because what happens prior is their movement at a high speed towards one another, while the post-apartment moments represent the aftermath of their collision, which has a very fatal result for Michel.  The ignorance of Patricia at the films closing could be read as demeaning to her character, but I think it simply speaks to a larger issue of duality in love, where ideologies never truly mesh and because of such inherent miscommunication one partner is always far less aware of the damage done to the other, so while it is literal in the film, it plays into a much larger metaphorical statement.  In the end, Godard is clearly claiming that love can arise between even the most unusual of duos, and while it can certainly burst through barriers of language, ideology and personal desire, doing so also runs the risk of one or both of the people involved being trampled in the process, or in the case of this film being shot in the streets of Paris.

Key Scene:  While it is quite an extended bit to consider a scene, I do thing the entirety of the dialogue and interactions occurring within the apartment, might be the single greatest moment in modern cinema.

Criterion Bluray.  Buy it...for your health.

There's A Rope Around My Neck Now And They Only Hang You Once: Little Caesar (1931)

If it were not for the western being probably the most identifiable in terms of recurring tropes, it would be easy to point to stylistic choices and narrative methodologies within films that one could define to be within the confines of the film noir genre.  Of course, there are some decidedly unique elements that arise almost entirely out of the genre, whether it be the femme fatale of the story, or the heavy use of shadows and other expressionist techniques to play upon the alienation and existential angst of the films less than ethical protagonists.  Yet, I am also aware that the label of "noir" can be attached to quite a few works that themselves, are not entirely of the genre, because as a friend of mine has stated, despite my constant attempts to explain to him the common tropes of noir, noir films are the one's where the guns always represent a penis.  Reductive I know, but rather poignant if I do say so myself.  Needless to say, while the film noir genre does owe its entirety to the hardboiled detective novel, it would not be the cinematic staple it has become in the film canon were it not for the decidedly engaging work of directors like Fritz Lang, who himself was making noir before the genre truly existed.  This is very much the case for director Mervyn LeRoy who directed Little Caesar along side six other films in 1931 alone.  While it is not entirely derivative of the genre, because the genre was not established, an individual with even a cursory understanding of the genre can easily pinpoint all of the tropes that would emerge within the genre, excluding one or two key elements that simply did not work within the crime thriller proper.  Indeed the moments of back alley chases and vague ethical frameworks, much like the shadows that have come to signify the noir film, creep into Little Caesar, consuming the ethical frameworks of the characters and the world they inhabit, and should anybody find themselves uncertain as to the genre making its name loudly in this film, I would only ask that you refer to every line of dialogue delivered and scowl directed by Edward G. Robinson.  In some ways, he is more the face of film noir than Humphrey Bogart could ever hope to be.

Little Caesar focuses on the movement from low-profile criminal to mob boss of one Rico (Edward G. Robinson) who would be referred to as Little Caesar, a name that gives much away in regards to plot.  Rico, a man who clearly expects to get his way, navigates the world with such a sense of guile and tenacity as to make a name for himself almost instantaneously.  Rico is very careful with who he trust in his life, placing almost all of his value in his mob pal Joe Massara (Douglas Fairbanks, Jr.), yet when Joe leaves the racket to pursue his passion in dancing, what little restraint Rico had concerning his ethics are thrown out the window.  Indeed, before Joe can leave Rico demands that he help stick up the club at where he works as a last gesture of friendship and as a means for Rico to make a considerable power grab within his own gang.  With Joe out of the picture, the other members of Rico's gang begin to question his supremacy and even take plan a hit on him, an action that Joe catches wind of and attempts to inform Rico before it occurs, but fails to do so in time.  Despite the hit still occurring, the men hired to take out Rico are less than proficient at their job and only manage to graze Rico, a mistake that leads to his immediate quest for revenge.  Of course, Rico realizes that the world of gangsterdom does have a degree of rules and responsibilities, therefore, instead of outright destroying his attackers, he decides to afford them a chance to flee in the night with an understanding that they will never step foot in the streets of Chicago again.  However, just because Rico feels it in his heart to adhere to the laws of the underworld, does not mean the same for those around him and when Joe's girlfriend comes to discover the tricky situation her lover has been placed in, she jumps at the chance to tell the police.  Rico realizing that Joe is a danger to his survival invades his home, planning to shoot him and escape himself, yet when given the opportunity, his years of friendship block his murderous intent.  Rico, now on the run from the cops fails to escape in time, instead being gunned down in a dockside warehouse, perhaps the most film noir death imaginable.

So since, I am positing this as being one of the first film noir works it is probably necessary to draw upon the ways it works within the context of the genre and the ways it counters it as well.  Firstly, the film is highly critical of moral certainty, indeed, going so far as to depict Rico not as a man who exploits the weaker in the world, an act that would become prevalent in later film noir works, perhaps most infamously involving an old woman and some stairs in Kiss of Death.  Rico does kill and harm people, but it is worth considering that the people who he attacks exist within the same seedy criminal world as he, and to a degree have forfeited a world of moral goodness involving an agreement that nobody is murdered.  As such, viewers are forced to accept Rico as the protagonist despite being a less than morally sound person, although, as noted, his bad traits are tame compared to some of the later noir works.  This moral ambiguity extends rather perfectly into another trope that emerges within Little Caesar, which is the existentialist nature of Rico as a character.  Existentialism posits that the world has no meaning, aside from that which you attach to it, therefore you are responsible only for your actions and how you navigate the world.  Rico is a prime figure in his existential outlook, indeed he navigates the world with a notable consideration for his own safety and self-advancement, so much so that his understanding of relationships all predicate themselves upon his desires.  He understands that to move through the world with a concern for the meaning others apply to their lives would mean making him weaker and less proficient in his crime boss role.  It is then interesting to consider that his ultimate demise comes when he fails to act on his own meaning and listens to the begging of Joe, whose life Rico spares in a moment of emotional shift.  These tropes are the highlights of this pre-noir masterwork,  as mentioned, it does lack a considerable femme fatale role, as does it miss a lot of the expressionist flare and psychoanalytic moments of later noir works, yet it is very much the precursor to one of the wildest of genres in all of cinema history.

Key Scene:  The close-ups during Rico's failure to murder Joe are astounding, the expressions Robinson delivers are jarringly haunting.

I was unaware that this was part of a larger box set upon my viewing of this.  I intend to grab up a copy in the upcoming weeks, it should prove well worth the investment.

Your Story Didn't Sound Quite Right: The Big Sleep (1946)

Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall, Howard Hawks.  These names are all synonymous with classic Hollywood, particularly the best of its era.  Add a screenplay written by William Faulkner and this humble blogger has found himself something that he is certain to enjoy.  To call The Big Sleep enjoyable is to severely undersell it, as I have noted prior on this blog, The Big Sleep is by far a perfect film, from beginning to end.  Even considering that the film suffered from its share of censorship, it is flawless.  Bogart and Bacall's chemistry is explosive, the dialogue is witty and the cinematography is everything that a person loves about film noir.  I am becoming quite aware that Howard Hawks as a filmmaker is one of the best to ever come along.  He is not as prolific as a Kubrick or Welles, by any means, but his films are solid, enjoyable and timeless, a feat that is in my book near damn impossible.  Furthermore, I cannot help but to admire the diversity of Hawks as a filmmaker, whether it is a straight forward drama like The Big Sleep, or a loony comedy like Bringing Up Baby, it is assured that it will be a step above its competitors and well worth your time to engage with.  Also, it should be noted that Hawks name shows up on many a top one hundred list a lot, and deservedly so.

The Big Sleep is a definitive noir film and as such it has many of the signifiers of the genre.  The detective who traipses around ethics, a seductive woman with ulterior motives and a whole lot of shadows.  The detective in this film, is one Philip Marlowe (Humphrey Bogart) who has recently undertaken a a case of blackmail from the well-respected General Sternwood (Charles Waldron), relating to a gambling debt accrued by his daughter Carmen Sternwood (Martha Vickers).  Marlowe knowing full and well the implications of such a case, demands a considerable amount of money before agreeing to take the case.  However, as Marlowe becomes entrenched within the case it becomes clear quite quickly that he is not dealing with a simple case of blackmail.  Between the awkward advances of the young Sternwood, illicit dealings at bookshops and an eventual homicide, Marlowe's case becomes an incredibly convoluted mess.  This trouble is only exacerbated by his evolving feelings for the general's other daughter Vivian Rutledge (Lauren Bacall).  It becomes clear to Marlowe that the only individual he can trust within the entire case is himself, often relying on his wits, masculinity and fluidity between the world of law and crime to gain advantages over his enemies.  After killing a fair share of people, getting mugged and sleeping with a handful of women, Marlowe eventually implicates all people involved within the crime, which by the end of the film is a considerable amount of individuals.  Fortunately, for Marlowe, his relationship with Vivian proves successful and the two are shown sharing a romantic gaze and the promise of partnership well after the closing of the case.  It is certainly unconventional in its film noir nature, but nonetheless indicative of its tradition.

The Big Sleep, is great.  It is a classic piece of cinema that deserves all the praise it has gained over the decades.  However, as a film scholar, I cannot help but to acknowledge the many problems that emerge within the film as a social text.  When considering that it was made in 1946, it is easy to explain many of the issues that emerge, but I plan to point them out for those who may overlook many of the issues.  Perhaps the most blatant issue within the film is the inherent issue of patriarchal dominance within the text. Marlowe's every action is deemed acceptable or praiseworthy, given his power as a white male. Such a position allows him to act in a violent manner to those around him, going so far as to slap women when they are caught in a lie.  He also is privileged with the ability to sleep with any women he desires, a thing he does on multiple occasions within the film, even demanding that one girl remove her glasses before they engage in the act.  Furthermore, the film as a whole is entrenched within notions of white wealth.  Excluding Marlowe and the mobsters he encounters, the remainder of the film's characters are well-to-do.  When it is apparent that their worst problems involve gambling, one has trouble empathizing with them considering that many people struggle to simply get by financially.  Perhaps it is this disconnect from the gritty underworld of traditional poverty and crime that makes the film seem so unlike other noir films.  The characters are privileged, their actions seem less justified and almost pathetic in nature.  To be fair, the illogical nature of the Sternwood family's existence helps to make Marlowe much more relateable, but even considering this he is a lecherous individual who only looks out for his personal interests.  With those critiques in mind, it would be easy to hate the movie, however, I promise you will still find it incredibly enthralling.

The Big Sleep is a backbone for any legitimate film collection, do yourself a favor and by a copy, it is rather cheap and has high rewatchability.

Top Ten Thursdays: Cool Movies

Cool is such an distinct word when it comes to film.  What makes a cool movie?  That is a question that could have a distinctly different answer contingent on the person.  Furthermore, so many factors go into a film being cool whether it be soundtrack, characters or quotability it is a distinct mixture that results in a successful cool movie.  This list will cover my personal choices for the hippest of the hip in film and remember that when it comes to cool, everything must be chill.

10.) The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly (1966)

This is easily the coolest western to date, and the shootout is an exercise in how to edit.

9.) Chungking Express (1994)

A surrealist love story, Wong Kar Wai's film is as cool as it is honest in its approach to finding love in a technologically distancing world.

8.) Easy Rider (1969)

If it were not enough that this film is a veritable who's who of 60's coolest actors, the soundtrack is a historical document of the era.

7.) The Long Goodbye (1973)

Robert Altman's neonoir redefined what it meant to be a cool detective via the laid back performance of Elliot Gould.

6.) Hardboiled (1992)

Violence rarely justifies a cool movie, yet when it comes to John Woo's films, something about shootouts in hospitals overrules the previous statement.

5.) The Big Lebowski (1998)

Sometimes the coolest thing a person can do is abide.

4.) Breathless (1960)

When it comes to cool, the pentacle of french filmmaking runs circles around every other story of foreign love to date.

3.) Pulp Fiction (1994)

Any movie that incorporates a scene just to have Christopher Walken provide a monologue is in its own category of cool.

2.) Le Samourai (1967)

When you read the description of this film it would be hard to believe in its hipness, however, this lone wolf story is about as cool as they get.

1.) Cool Hand Luke (1967)

Please refer to the film's title for any questions.










Honorable Mention

The Maltese Falcon (1941)
Withnail and I (1987)
Mystery Train (1989)
True Romance (1993)

First We Find Her, And Then We Sleep: Renaissance (2006)

Bladerunner will forever be cemented in my memory as the perfect hybrid of science fiction and film noir and I have very little faith that a film will ever be released that could remotely rival Ridley Scott's masterpiece.  With that being said, a film occasionally comes along that makes me question my belief, because its artistic rendering and elaborate plot catches me long enough to think it will deliver a pitch perfect movie.  However, in ever case to date any movie I have watched thinking it will be the next Bladerunner has always let me down, sadly, this includes my recent viewing of the French animated neo-noir Renaissance.  The movie was excellent, watchable and artistically inspiring, yet by the end of the film, I was left feeling as though I had been cheated out of something extra.  Perhaps it missed Rutger Hauer holding a dove, or the general badass nature of Harrison Ford, but despite being a visual feast, Renaissance just is not the next Bladerunner.  The story line is more appropriate for an anime miniseries and the characters are simply not realized enough to cement it as either a noir or sci-fi masterpiece.  However, Renaissance is considerably better than a lot of the garbage that has been released in the past few years and as such, it deserves its fair share of praise.

Given that the film is primarily animated I will not bother noting the actors' names, but it is worth noting that Daniel Craig signed on to provide voices for the English release.  Renaissance begins with the kidnapping of a scientist named Ilona, whose name is closely attached with the Big Brotheresque corporation Avalon, which posits an ability to cure the ugly affects of aging.  This sudden and inexplicable kidnapping is followed by the introduction of Karas, a rough-edged cop with a dark past who rarely plays by the rules.  Karas makes it his sole mission to find Ilona's kidnapper, which includes approaching Avalon's CEO as well as a variety of other members of the Parisian underworld.  Unfortunately, these chases and encounters provide him with little success and he eventually approaches Ilona's sister Bislane about the whereabouts of her sister.  Realizing the grandiosity of the situation, Bislane agrees to help Karas break into Avalon's security to discover the nature of Ilona's work.  With some risk, Bislane discovers that her sister had been working on a project with one Dr. Nakata to discover a cure for aging.  Their testing was done in a rather unethical manner using a handful of children who eventually died, which led to a complete destruction of the test results.  This discovery leads Karas to reflect on his own past and he begins opening up to Bislane, while at the same time discovering that another individual involved with Avalon named Dr. Muller decided to hide the information about the tests from Avalon given his belief that the corporation would use the actions unethically.  It is then discovered Ilona has been placed in confinement with Dr. Muller's brother, who is stuck in the confines of a young child, despite having the appearances of an old man.  The young Muller has placed Ilona in a cyberchamber and is controlling her visual experiences, which range from the serene to the terrifying.  After doing investigative work, Karas finds the whereabouts of Ilona and Muller's brother and meets them in their hideout.  Karas, unfortunately, comes to the realization that the only way to assure that Avalon does not obtain Dr. Nakata's research is to kill Ilona.  With regret, Karas kills Ilona and realizes his newfound relationship with Bislane will be forever ruined by his decision.  The film then closes on an image of Muller's brother burning a picture of the brothers and he fades into the darkness of the underworld around him.

Renaissance is a very aware movie in its commentary on race relations in Paris, France.  While not as gritty, one could call this the animated answer to Mathieu Kassovitz's La Haine, which was also shot in black and white.  Like, La Haine, Renaissance, realizes that the divisions of black and white are often problematic as most answers reside somewhere in the grey areas.  For Karras his own identity is muddled, as he finds himself performing his actions in a predominantly white world, when his past and own affiliations are inextricably tied to a Arabic underworld, as is evidenced first and foremost by his name and his own leanings toward Islam.  Similarly, it is on Karras's squad that we see one of the only black characters in the entire film and the character is a woman as well, a site for bell hooks to behold.  Finally, even the characters of Ilona and Bislane are relevant given that they are both blatantly of some Eastern European origins, most likely Russian.  Their scientific expertise is the larger factor in their placement in Paris, yet their research as implied by images shown is only assuring the safety of white Parisians, whether it be the Avalon CEO, or the very white face of Avalon billboards.  Even the head doctor of the project is not white, yet he is ruined because of the research that had little benefit to him.  The film does end with promise as everything merges into one color of darkness and the credits close with images of grey between the blacks and whites, which imply the possibility of a cohesive and beautiful mix of past racial divides.

I plan to keep a copy of this movie in my collection, solely for its place in the evolution of film noir.  However, any person interested in the evolution of CGI and technology in film should snag a copy of this film, because it is a visual masterpiece, and while I own a DVD copy, I plan to upgrade to bluray in the near future.

L.A. Is A Small Town, People Talk: Chinatown (1974)

Classic films are classic, because something separates them from being a normal movie.  In some instances, it is a single cinematic moment as is the case with Casablanca.  In other films it is for a memorable character, as is the case with Charles Foster Kane...and some movies are just plain gorgeous as every Kurosawa film shows.  In the even rarer instance a classic film is a hybrid of all these elements and becomes something grander and larger than simply being cinema, and in its wake, everything a viewer knows about movies changes.  Chinatown is one such movie.  I swore, prior to seeing this film, that I had seen the film noir genre done in every possible variety and that nothing could change its image in my mind.  I should have expected this to change upon approaching a film by Roman Polanski, because it too was he who changed my understanding of horror films through his infamous classic Rosemary's Baby.  Ideally, I would blog some startling new revelations about Chinatown, but instead I am simply going to dote on its wonders whilst offering a few thoughts that could loosely be considered theoretic criticism.

Chinatown, as many noir films do, begins with the introduction of a protagonist private investigator named J.J. Gittes (Jack Nicholson) who is reeling in cash from his most recent expose on a philandering wife.  It is only moments after this event that Gittes is approached by a woman claiming to be the wife of a prominent politician.  She requests Gittes servicesto investigate her suspicions concerning her husbands possible affair.  Reluctantly, Gittes agrees to pursue the investigation, only to discover that the woman's husband is not engaging in acts of infidelity, but instead is spending his time moping around dried up river beds.  Gittes out of equal parts desire and dedication to his job continues to investigate the man and discovers a plot much larger than extramarital affairs and certainly larger than his small time private investigation firm can handle.  Gittes quickly becomes involved in a murder plot that is fueled by greedy politicians and capitalist businessmen who desire wealth even in the face of destroying the natural world.  Amidst all this madness, Gittes finds himself becoming equally attracted to the "wife" of the man he is investigating, who is played brilliantly by Faye Dunnaway, only to discover that even she hides her own disturbingly dark secrets.  Ultimately, Gittes and the other characters are left disillusioned and stuck in Chinatown, realizing that their own faults and mundane activities are inherently meaningless in the face of corruption and death at the hands of those lacking any sense of "moral decency."

I could expand extensively on the green commentary of the film and its overt concern with pollution, but that would be too easy and it has been done already.  I instead want to focus on what helps Chinatown subvert the film noir tradition.  The first element of its subversion comes in the character of Gittes.  Even in the grittiest of traditional noir films, the protagonist proves to have some set of ethics to live by.  The Sam Spades of tradition film noir would bend over backwards to adhere to some code of ethics that meant saving women and not backstabbing their friends.  Gittes is not this type of individual; he is relentless in his endeavors and exploits those around him with the intent of advancing his own cause which is always at the most basic level personal.  Similarly, Faye Dunnaway's character is far from the traditional image of a femme fatale, often sexual and always vampiric, Dunnaway's performance as Evelyn Mulwray is that of a very insecure women who instead of using the protagonist as a stepping stone for personal advancement, chooses to fall in love with him making the spiderlike qualities of a traditional femme fatale futile.  Finally, and most obviously, is the film's setting.  Every film noir, with the exception of a few pseudo-western film noirs, is set in the city amidst skyscrapers and back alleys.  A majority of this film takes place by water and at the most extreme in suburbs, even take a short detour to a large estate housing retired persons.  It is the unlikeliest of settings for a noir film and it should be notable that only the films tragic closing on the streets of Chinatown does the scenery resemble a traditional noir film.  This scene choice makes closing scenes emphasis on Gittes arbitrary existence all the more relevant as the camera pans out to show the faces of countless other individuals moving through their rather mundane lives.  In essence, Chinatown completely subverts the traditional film noir genre only to return to it in the closing scenes, as a reminder that no matter how different or intriguing a story may be, it is still a single story that exists in a sea of other narratives that are insurmountable.

Chinatown is a classic and deservedly so, I strongly recommend purchasing this movie.  I would say get the masterpiece on Blu-ray, but apparently nobody has found it necessary to transfer it yet.  Until then a DVD copy should suffice, and try not to become to enthralled with Nicholson in this movie...trust me, it won't be easy.

When I See Marriage, I See Deathnote: Crime of Passion (1957)

There was once a time in Hollywood when actors would spit out a large amount of films every year.  The greats like Bogart, Bacall and Hepburn all have a large repertoire of films to their credit.  While many of these films are forgettable, there were a rather large amount of decently produced movies that while not brilliant certainly hold merit for their respective eras.  The Barbara Stanwyck driven crime thriller Crime of Passion is one such example.  It mixes the elements of the Woman's Film, melodrama, detective stories and a bit of noir into a well acted and enjoyable movie.  Tragically, the film is a bit predictable; however, it is a great piece of cinema that is indicative of the changing face of Hollywood as it transitioned into the 1960's.

Crime of Passion begins in the same vein as His Girl Friday.  Barbara Stanwyck is Kathy a respected woman's writer at a San Francisco newspaper who believes in independence over the oppressive traditions of marriage.  She is in line to excel at her job until a detective from L.A. named Bill (Sterling Hayden) appears while on call to investigate a murder.  Kathy and Bill become instantly smitten finding each others unconventional lifestyles fascinating.  In an act of love, Kathy leaves her job to marry Bill and live with him in L.A.  Things seem happy from the start, but as Kathy begins to realize the unhappiness of a trapped lifestyle, she desperately plots to escape her living situation.  She exploits Bill's boss Inspector Pope (Raymond Burr) in hopes of garnering a promotion for Bill.  She uses lies, sex and in the films later scenes murder to assure Bill obtains the job.  However, given her illogical actions Bill soon discovers her to be the murderer and arrests her, thus proving that his loyalty will never be to love, but to his job as a cop.  Kathy's attempts at advancing her cause ultimately result in an entrapment that is literal as opposed to previously being a metaphor.

The film is a key commentary on gender; at least as far as 1950's films are concerned.  It displays the problematic relationship between a dominant husband and submissive wife as were the case well into the 1960's in the United States.  Kathy, from the onset, loathes the concept of marriage choosing the loneliness of singlehood over the cage of marriage.  However, she foolishly believes that Bill is unlike other men, especially giving his claim to care about her freedom if they were to marry.  As becomes apparent, marriage in a 1950's setting meant submissiveness and monotony, often causing women to concern themselves with petty things such as the "perfect dress" for a retirement party.  In much darker situations, as is the case with Kathy, this futile lifestyle led to madness, or, to use a sexist term of the era, hysteria. This behavior often resulted in severe depression, self-medication through alcohol, or in the case of this film women being locked away for fear of them lashing out against society.  In the theory of the time, Kathy represents a very deviant woman whose desire for freedom is not logical and thus problematic.  While this film is enjoyable as a piece of historic cinema, it is nice to know that in most of the United States such feelings of malaise are now treated with legitimate concern and no longer passed off as feminine weakness.

This film is for the serious film history buffs.  It is a great little film that is full of action and romance as is required of a good melodrama.  It is certainly problematic with its portrayals of marriage and gender, but when all is said and done, it is well worth grabbing a copy for your dvd rack.

Top Ten Thursdays: Film Noir

I have decided to do something different with my Thursday posts, partly to get more Google Search results, but also for a point of reference to future questions about favorite films in various genres or by certain directors.  Given this, I plan to create a top ten list each Thursday with a theme, and for the inaugural week I have decided to go with my personal favorite genre film noir.  As you may know film noir is distinguished by its gritty style, heavy shadowing and often crime related narrative.  However, these films often focus on existential crises, particularly as to how a single person justifies their existence in an indifferent world of contingency and chance.  Most of these films are brutal, offer little sign of redemption and posit a cheating wins ideology, particularly for seductive women and shrewd underworld bosses.  Here, after much consideration is my top ten list for the genre of film noir:

10. D.O.A. (1950)

This is the quintessential noir film.  It involves shootouts, corrupt police work and most importantly a futile death of the main character. 

9. Pulp Fiction (1994)

Quentin Tarantino's homage to the genre is to date one of the best, and most well known, noir movies.

8. The Long Goodbye (1973)

Elliot Gould playing the role of Raymond Chandler's Philip Marlowe results in one of the hippest movies of the 1970's

7. Detour (1945)

One of the lesser known film noir masterpieces, Detour provides the prime example of arbitrary interactions which have dismal consequences, and at only an hour and some change it packs a quick and heavy punch.

6. The Killing (1956)

One of two film noir offerings by the great Stanley Kubrick, The Killing is a brilliant study in the intricacies, and fallacies, of underworld heist groups.

5. The Maltese Falcon (1941)

The Maltese Falcon is perhaps the most prolific of film noir movies, particularly given that it combines the work of both Humphrey Bogart and Peter Lorre, each known for other movies involving inner city turmoil.

4. Touch of Evil (1958)

This is Orson Welles' vision of crime, no elaboration needed.

3. Kiss Me Deadly (1955)

This is a textbook film noir in every sense...excluding its post apocalyptic ending of course.

2. Blade Runner (1982)

Ridley Scott's fantasy neo-noir is a how-to course in cinematography and narrative, with one of the greatest monologues in film ever.

1. The Naked City (1948)

Jules Dassin is the auteur of film noir; his works combine the intimacies of the individual and their ultimate downfall as it relates to an unyielding and indifferent city.  This movie proved so successful that a television series emerged to help tell rest of the eight million stories in The Naked City.







Honorable Mention:

M (1931)
Double Indemnity (1944)
Breathless (1960)
Dark City (1998)
The Departed (2006)