film noir

Shutter Island

/ Chase Clark / Leave a comment

Martin Scorsese, in a near 30-film career, has hardly spent any of that filmography on film noir. He’s certainly championed the movement, specifically mentioning films such as Out of the Past, Nightmare Alley, and Leave Her to Heaven in interviews as prime examples of what noir can do, and many of his films dance around noir motifs (much like the films of the Coen Brothers), but the only full-fledged neo-noirs Scorsese has made are Taxi Driver and Shutter Island. To compare, that’s less than his number of gangster/crime dramas (duh), spiritual films, period pieces, biopics, female-led films and on par with his number of romance dramas, remakes of other films, and comedies. So, when Scorsese divulges into the world of film noir, it’s best to take notice.

Shutter Island may not belong in the zeitgeist of the time it was released like Taxi Driver, Goodfellas or The Wolf of Wall Street, and it may not be the laud of film bros like Raging Bull, Casino or The Departed, but it deserves a place in the discussion of Scorsese’s oeuvre if only for its unashamed adoration for the films and genres that inspired it. Pulling from both Jacques Tourneur and Alfred Hitchcock, Shutter Island twists and turns and nearly terrifies from the beginning all the way to its depressing conclusion.

Leonardo DiCaprio, in his fourth collaboration with Scorsese, plays Deputy Marshal Edward Daniels, but he goes by “Teddy”. He arrives on Shutter Island with his new partner, Chuck (Mark Ruffalo), hot on the trail of known arsonist Andrew Laeddis. Teddy is determined to find Laeddis, convinced he killed Teddy’s wife, but finds the staff at Shutter Island to be uncooperative in his investigation, particularly Dr. Cawley (Sir Ben Kingsley), the head psychiatrist. As Teddy uncovers more about the mysteries of Shutter Island, he also uncovers the ‘truths and lies’ of his own past. That’s the most I can say about the plot without giving too much away, so you’re on your own as far as that goes.

Criticism of Shutter Island tends to focus on the heavily leanings into genre tropes and the over-the-top story, and while these things may be true, they’re certainly not criticisms – they’re assets. DiCaprio’s manic performance fits Teddy better than his period-accurate pants in the flashback scenes. Ruffalo, Kingsley, as well as Michelle Williams and Max von Sydow are all in top form. The atmosphere of the film is dark and brooding. Cloudy skies, rain and hurricane winds convey the external mood and the internal despair. The film practically begs for a lightning strike when the lighthouse on the island is in full view. Shutter Island may be unapologetically genre filmmaking and not as highbrow as it wants to be or Scorsese is typically associated with, but the intrigue that peppers the entire length of the film and the thought-provoking ending make it an enthralling experience.

The Desperate Hours

/ Chase Clark / Leave a comment

Based on play based on a novel based on true events, The Desperate Hours is a William Wyler noir thriller about a trio of escaped convicts that hide from the police in the suburbs, specifically the house owned by the Hilliard family. The outlaws terrorize the family until their own paranoia begins to unravel them. Glenn, played by Humphrey Bogart, is the clear ringleader of the cons, assumedly because he is played by Humphrey Bogart. Hal, Glenn’s younger brother, and the trigger-happy Sam complete the trio, and together, they make life increasingly difficult for Hilliard patriarch, Daniel (Fredric March, who was a member of the Ku Klux Klan).

Daniel has to keep his family safe from the threatening villains, as well as the police, who decide the best plan of action is to go into the Hilliard house guns a-blazin’. In the end, it’s going to have to be Daniel on his own who saves his family by outsmarting Glenn. True to noir fashion, the evil-doers get their comeuppance in the end, but the road to get there is increasingly bumpy and nerve-wracking.

What makes The Desperate Hours a formative member of film noir are the characters. The convicts are menacing and play into their evil tendencies. They’re the kind of villains that you love to hate. Daniel is a father that will go to the ends of his earth to protect what’s his. It doesn’t hurt that two Hollywood heavy hitters, Bogart and March, are leading this film. When one of them isn’t on screen, the film surprisingly drags.

It doesn’t have the snappy dialogue of a Billy Wilder film, or a dastardly femme fatale like in Detour or Leave Her to Heaven, but it does do one thing exceptionally well. It makes you feel the fear of the Hilliard family and imposes an “it could happen to anyone” angle through March’s everyman performance and the claustrophobic camera work that make us feel a part of the events. In the end, it’s not the best sendoff for Humphrey Bogart’s tough-guy roles, but it does have Bogart tell the Hilliard son that his father knows “where it’s buttered”, which I’m sure is a trophy that can go right next to his Oscar for The African Queen.

Drunken Angel

/ Chase Clark / Leave a comment

Our first entry in Noirvember is a film of multiple firsts. It is the first film to portray yakuza in a post-World War II environment, and maybe more importantly, it is the first collaboration between director Akira Kurosawa and actor Toshiro Mifune – considered one of the greatest filmmaking duos of all time. It is also an early example of Japanese Noir.

Takashi Shimura plays the titular drunken angel, Sanada, a doctor with a bit of a drinking problem. At the very beginning of the film, he’s mending the hand of a patient, Matsunaga (Toshiro Mifune), a yakuza who just got out of a gunfight with a rival. Sanada diagnoses Matsunaga with tuberculosis after a particularly bad coughing fit. They develop a volatile friendship as each of them refuses to let go of their masculinity to allow themselves the vulnerability of someone who needs help. When the tuberculosis diagnosis is confirmed through x-ray, Matsunaga is instructed to shun alcohol and women so his body can rest and fight off the TB.

At first, Matsunaga is determined to listen to the doctor, but when Okada (the previous yakuza in Matsunaga’s position) is let out of prison, Matsunaga quickly falls back into his usual vices. Okada has another tie to Sanada than just Matsunaga. Miyo, Sanada’s female assistant, was once Okada’s girlfriend, and in fact, him cutting up her face is what got him sent to prison in the first place. In an attempt to get Miyo back, Okada shows up at the doctor’s with the intent to kill him if he doesn’t reveal where Miyo is. Matsunaga, barely able to stand at this point, defends the doctor from harm, and simultaneously determine that Okada is not one he should be running around with. When it’s clear that Okada intends to let Matsunaga get killed, Matsunaga sneaks away from the doctor’s place to Okada’s apartment to settle things once and for all.

Kurosawa’s use of the guitar soundtrack in this film is interesting as it contrasts greatly from the scenes taking place on screen. The music is surprisingly upbeat despite the violence and depressing tone of the movie. It’s an entertaining use of dichotomy, but not the most significant. What is significant above all is Kurosawa’s critique on masculinity and American influence in Japan. A nightclub scene, complete with jitterbugging and a written-for-the-film jazz number, is particularly scathing.

More than anything else, however, the highlight of Drunken Angel is the performance of the two leads. Shimura, by this point, was no stranger to Kurosawa’s films, as he appeared in Kurosawa’s directorial debut, Sanshiro Sugata, as well as four other Kurosawa films and a near 15-year career prior to Drunken Angel. Mifune, however, was only on his third film with no prior acting training when he played Matsunaga. All at once, he is angry, charming, sympathetic, and pathetic. Some people are just born to act, and Toshiro Mifune was one of those people.

If you’re looking for something noir-ish to watch this season, Drunken Angel has a lot to offer.