It is, isn't it?
Film Noir has this somber mood, if the tension, suspense, and air of suffocating paranoia could be wiped away, you would have this pallid, dark mood like a funeral hanging over the proceedings.
Of course, the entire cast of the film can be fighting this fact, ignoring, laughing it off, continuing on in spite, accepting it, or somehow delaying everyone's ultimate fate, but the shadow of the grim reaper is always there. It feels different than a horror movie's use of death as a sudden and terrifying end for a character, with Film Noir it feels somehow like the twisted look inside a menagerie of someone's life, like watching a funeral procession of the character towards this end. I give you this:
A re-imagined trailer of one of the greats done how they would do a trailer if it were released today. This is a beautiful and powerful find, and one that makes you look at the film in an entirely new way. It is also a great film that isn't a hard-boiled private eye flick, but yet manages to define the genre's conventions perfectly. It is also somehow strangely appropriate to these times, yet again.
A wealthy billionaire tries to become the most powerful person in the world?
We never can escape our pasts, can we?
Citizen Kane is, in a way, about death, and life. It is about what is important in the end. It is about the rise and fall of humankind, our strength, our ambition, and ultimately, the weaknesses that bring us down.
We are flawed creations, us humans.
Despite all our ambitions and delusions of greatness, as individuals or as groups, we can never get away from those basic, fundamental flaws in which our creator bestowed us. For all our power, technology, intelligence, popular support, wealth, or weight of opinion we will never succeed. Our dreams are temporary, and our lives short.
I suppose the times of the 30's and 40's where the post Great Depression public craved to see the rich rise and fall helped bring this genre to fruition. People wanted to see the Wall Street types and super-rich, their extravagance, their depravities, their meteoric rise and tragic falls from grace. It brings them back down to Earth, in a way, like today's reality hows pretend to do, and it has this almost puritanical and fire-and-brimstone feel to the proceedings.
Despite how rich you are, there are certain laws of the universe which will bring you back down to Earth. Despite all your perfect ambition and powerful money, you are still subject to the same weaknesses and frailties that the average person in the audience feels, and that person in the audience in the dark is not so alone - nor is the wealthy that much different in a way.
This one aspect of Noir, and the grim acceptance of death and an end differentiates it from the standard "action and adventure" serial fare of the 1930's and 40's. Like Star Wars today, death in action and adventure is something which creates suspense, but is never really permanent or used to kill off a main character. Like a roller coaster thrill ride, death is hinted at and teased, but the entire affair is predictably safe and sterile. The action and adventure genre is a thrill ride the sole purpose which is to get you to go on the ride again and again.
A Film Noir roller coaster would fling its riders off into the bay, tragically. The creator would be rocked by scandal, the park would fall into ruin, and entire fortunes would be lost because of the basic human weakness of one man. Perhaps when the theme park's billionaire visionary creator designed the roller coaster, his fundamental weakness as a human showed up at that critical moment, he missed the critical restraining bolt during the design because his mistress came calling, and we are forced to watch the rest of the film knowing this flaw would bring this man down.
We would watch the spectacular rise of the park, destroying the competition, and the raw anger of others in his industry towards this man's rise to wealth and prominence. We would watch his extravagant and excessive life, the drinking, the women, and the rich things people like us will never have. We will watch him destroy the schemers around him who try to tear him down, and cheer on his ruthless and backstabbing ways. We will see rare moments of humanity to his character, and feel a tinge of sadness at his ultimate fate.
And then, when he is on top of the world, we will watch him fall.
That restraining bolt will break, and his world will come crashing down.
That one bolt he forgot to put in because his mistress distracted him at the critical moment. And it will not be her fault, if only he were stronger, if only he had the focus to pay attention to his work despite her enticements, things would be different.
But they won't be. They can't be. If that bolt were to be put in the story held and we had a happy ending, that would not be Noir. Life does not have a happy ending. If that bolt held tight and the story were to end with him walking off into the sunset through a happy throng of park-goers, the entire movie, and his existence would be a lie. Life would be a lie. Fiction.
We must watch him fall.
We will watch him in the courts, being trashed by the media, and his funeral-march like procession into isolation and madness. We will watch his empire crumble, for death is inevitable for his dreams as well, and we will watch him as a man begin to crumble.
And in the end, when the city is tearing the park down some fifty years later to put in a high-rise, a kid watching the bulldozers will wonder what the place was all about.
The old man on the corner will tell him the place was always a dump and an eyesore, and say nothing else. Not even the dream will be redeeming, nor this man's wickedness or villainy. He will have been forgotten. The good and bad shall bear no legacy of fruit or remembrance. The story ended long ago.
No one today cares.
It is a subtle difference, even in tragedies or other heartwarming fare, the audience is at least given a reason to feel this struggle was somehow all worth it. That that kid on the corner will somehow be inspired by this dream and go on to build his own theme park someday, but in Film Noir, that escape hatch is never there. That redemption does not exist, nor is it given to the audience in a heartwarming and feel-good gesture. Even if the man is reviled and hated, that hate and legacy will eventually mean nothing. Despite all that we have seen, even a man's legacy means nothing, and that legacy dies with the dreams and the person who lived for it.
Death, even in legacy and history, is inevitable.
It is not a feel-good moment, or a Field of Dreams thing, or even a Saving Private Ryan moment of glory and warm feeling of sacrifice for the greater good. It is a tough genre to write, and also one must resist the urge to make the audience feel good in the end by a heartwarming gesture. There is a time and a place for feel-good fare, the comfort food of movies, and Film Noir is not the place for warm and fuzzy memories.
It runs directly against our desire for happily ever afters. It runs against our good judgement. It runs against what readers want in books, that ending that guarantees a feel good moment and a five star rating. You end up with a feeling of 'have I wasted my time?'
But it isn't true. You haven't.
It is the harsh light of truth, and the acceptance of our flaws. It is a metaphor of our doomed and fragile nature. It reflects the truity of life. It accepts our fates. It brings us back down to Earth, and shows us that we all share the same tragic end.
It is closely related to Greek tragedy, in fact, though in a bleak and modern form.
Film Noir has this somber mood, if the tension, suspense, and air of suffocating paranoia could be wiped away, you would have this pallid, dark mood like a funeral hanging over the proceedings.
Of course, the entire cast of the film can be fighting this fact, ignoring, laughing it off, continuing on in spite, accepting it, or somehow delaying everyone's ultimate fate, but the shadow of the grim reaper is always there. It feels different than a horror movie's use of death as a sudden and terrifying end for a character, with Film Noir it feels somehow like the twisted look inside a menagerie of someone's life, like watching a funeral procession of the character towards this end. I give you this:
A re-imagined trailer of one of the greats done how they would do a trailer if it were released today. This is a beautiful and powerful find, and one that makes you look at the film in an entirely new way. It is also a great film that isn't a hard-boiled private eye flick, but yet manages to define the genre's conventions perfectly. It is also somehow strangely appropriate to these times, yet again.
A wealthy billionaire tries to become the most powerful person in the world?
We never can escape our pasts, can we?
Citizen Kane is, in a way, about death, and life. It is about what is important in the end. It is about the rise and fall of humankind, our strength, our ambition, and ultimately, the weaknesses that bring us down.
We are flawed creations, us humans.
Despite all our ambitions and delusions of greatness, as individuals or as groups, we can never get away from those basic, fundamental flaws in which our creator bestowed us. For all our power, technology, intelligence, popular support, wealth, or weight of opinion we will never succeed. Our dreams are temporary, and our lives short.
I suppose the times of the 30's and 40's where the post Great Depression public craved to see the rich rise and fall helped bring this genre to fruition. People wanted to see the Wall Street types and super-rich, their extravagance, their depravities, their meteoric rise and tragic falls from grace. It brings them back down to Earth, in a way, like today's reality hows pretend to do, and it has this almost puritanical and fire-and-brimstone feel to the proceedings.
Despite how rich you are, there are certain laws of the universe which will bring you back down to Earth. Despite all your perfect ambition and powerful money, you are still subject to the same weaknesses and frailties that the average person in the audience feels, and that person in the audience in the dark is not so alone - nor is the wealthy that much different in a way.
This one aspect of Noir, and the grim acceptance of death and an end differentiates it from the standard "action and adventure" serial fare of the 1930's and 40's. Like Star Wars today, death in action and adventure is something which creates suspense, but is never really permanent or used to kill off a main character. Like a roller coaster thrill ride, death is hinted at and teased, but the entire affair is predictably safe and sterile. The action and adventure genre is a thrill ride the sole purpose which is to get you to go on the ride again and again.
A Film Noir roller coaster would fling its riders off into the bay, tragically. The creator would be rocked by scandal, the park would fall into ruin, and entire fortunes would be lost because of the basic human weakness of one man. Perhaps when the theme park's billionaire visionary creator designed the roller coaster, his fundamental weakness as a human showed up at that critical moment, he missed the critical restraining bolt during the design because his mistress came calling, and we are forced to watch the rest of the film knowing this flaw would bring this man down.
We would watch the spectacular rise of the park, destroying the competition, and the raw anger of others in his industry towards this man's rise to wealth and prominence. We would watch his extravagant and excessive life, the drinking, the women, and the rich things people like us will never have. We will watch him destroy the schemers around him who try to tear him down, and cheer on his ruthless and backstabbing ways. We will see rare moments of humanity to his character, and feel a tinge of sadness at his ultimate fate.
And then, when he is on top of the world, we will watch him fall.
That restraining bolt will break, and his world will come crashing down.
That one bolt he forgot to put in because his mistress distracted him at the critical moment. And it will not be her fault, if only he were stronger, if only he had the focus to pay attention to his work despite her enticements, things would be different.
But they won't be. They can't be. If that bolt were to be put in the story held and we had a happy ending, that would not be Noir. Life does not have a happy ending. If that bolt held tight and the story were to end with him walking off into the sunset through a happy throng of park-goers, the entire movie, and his existence would be a lie. Life would be a lie. Fiction.
We must watch him fall.
We will watch him in the courts, being trashed by the media, and his funeral-march like procession into isolation and madness. We will watch his empire crumble, for death is inevitable for his dreams as well, and we will watch him as a man begin to crumble.
And in the end, when the city is tearing the park down some fifty years later to put in a high-rise, a kid watching the bulldozers will wonder what the place was all about.
The old man on the corner will tell him the place was always a dump and an eyesore, and say nothing else. Not even the dream will be redeeming, nor this man's wickedness or villainy. He will have been forgotten. The good and bad shall bear no legacy of fruit or remembrance. The story ended long ago.
No one today cares.
It is a subtle difference, even in tragedies or other heartwarming fare, the audience is at least given a reason to feel this struggle was somehow all worth it. That that kid on the corner will somehow be inspired by this dream and go on to build his own theme park someday, but in Film Noir, that escape hatch is never there. That redemption does not exist, nor is it given to the audience in a heartwarming and feel-good gesture. Even if the man is reviled and hated, that hate and legacy will eventually mean nothing. Despite all that we have seen, even a man's legacy means nothing, and that legacy dies with the dreams and the person who lived for it.
Death, even in legacy and history, is inevitable.
It is not a feel-good moment, or a Field of Dreams thing, or even a Saving Private Ryan moment of glory and warm feeling of sacrifice for the greater good. It is a tough genre to write, and also one must resist the urge to make the audience feel good in the end by a heartwarming gesture. There is a time and a place for feel-good fare, the comfort food of movies, and Film Noir is not the place for warm and fuzzy memories.
It runs directly against our desire for happily ever afters. It runs against our good judgement. It runs against what readers want in books, that ending that guarantees a feel good moment and a five star rating. You end up with a feeling of 'have I wasted my time?'
But it isn't true. You haven't.
It is the harsh light of truth, and the acceptance of our flaws. It is a metaphor of our doomed and fragile nature. It reflects the truity of life. It accepts our fates. It brings us back down to Earth, and shows us that we all share the same tragic end.
It is closely related to Greek tragedy, in fact, though in a bleak and modern form.
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