Is there no more fascinating world in cinema than that of the noir? I am loathe to say something as crass as that it intrigues me, but...well, there it is. Despite all of the violence inherent in the mere idea of the film noir, the best of the genre excite and tantalize us. Though we are kept at arm's length, warned of the loose women, angry and quiet men, dark shadows, and all else that lurks there, the film noir is among the most alluring worlds to visit in all of film. I'm not against hanging out in space, going back to the old West, or living the life of the screwball comedy, but the film noir is embracing in its smoky corridors in such a way that can't be rivaled anywhere else.
The best film noirs don't have to follow the same structure; the common stereotype is that the ideal protagonist is the low-voiced gumshoe, a private detective more likely to be attracted to femme fatales and a bottle of whiskey than actually getting the job done. The femme fatale, usually blonde, has to have long hair that manages to wave around without being wavy, and is always ready to light the gumshoe's cigarette. There's always a rich husband, ready and willing to be killed by the femme fatale. There are alleyways, stormy nights, and small, oddly angled offices. Though Sam Spade or Philip Marlowe might be obvious characters to fit this ideal, I'm equally attracted to the less successful lead character, the schlub who's conned all the way to the end of the road by the femme, or by a new friend of his. There's nothing wrong with a film noir being headed by a guy who knows the score before it's presented to him, but sometimes, being ahead of the lead in terms of knowledge is just as enticing.
All of this rambling is just a sly way of me telling you that I was about the perfect person and had the perfect mentality to fall head-over-heels in love with Jules Dassin's 1950 picture Night and the City. The guy we follow around as he traverses the ins and outs of the dark streets of post-WWII London is Harry Fabian, somebody who wants to be somebody. By "somebody", he means somebody with power. All Harry wants is the power he sees his superiors get. His boss is a massive type, Phil Nosseross, in the mold of Sydney Greenstreet. Harry works for Phil at the Silver Fox, a seedy London nightclub that only does well if Harry can pull his usual con, pretending to find a missing wallet all to entice know-nothing American businessmen on a trip. If what they're looking for is good drinks and good women, they might as well try the Silver Fox, right?
As it's made clear early on, thanks to the skillful and charismatic performance from Richard Widmark, Harry is not bad at convincing people to come to the Silver Fox, as long as he stays within his boundaries. The main problem that plagues Harry throughout Night and the City, of course, is that Harry would rather forget that he has boundaries, let alone stay within them. He runs into trouble when watching a wrestling match, as he's just about to be escorted out, as a Mr. Kristo, the man who controls the wrestling in London, knows Harry's game and wants nothing of it. Unfortunately for both of them, Harry runs into Gregorius the Great, an ex-Greco-Roman wrestler who is disgusted with the shape of the sport as run by Mr. Kristo. Kristo is willing to listen to the old man's vitriol, partly because of his fame and partly because Gregorius is Kristo's father. Oh, didn't mention that one, did I?
Harry is, in his inherent ignorance, not stupid, as he decides to present himself as a Greco-Roman wrestling fan to Gregorius, who is instantly charmed by the touter. The conflict of the film, while about Harry's run-ins with Kristo and whether or not he can extricate himself from potentially mortal peril, mostly focuses on Harry's ability, or lack thereof, to know his place. He is warned by just about everyone he runs into, from Phil, who vacillates from warning Harry to seeking revenge upon the hustler for getting involved with his wife, to Kristo to Harry's on-and-off girlfriend, Mary. Mary, as played by Gene Tierney, is an interesting case, a bit of a random blemish on the movie. An early scene presents her dealing with Harry, who's interested in her company solely so he can pilfer some of her cash, and then spending time with a neighbor of hers, a rakish and friendly guy who'd be perfect for Mary, as he's attractive and nice and smart enough to see that Harry is trouble.
So what the hell are Mary and Adam doing in this movie? The first 15 minutes seem to establish them both as major characters, yet when they both vanish for lengthy stretches, you're not so much annoyed to find them returning after so long as vaguely reminded that they did actually appear; you didn't make them up, they're here. Tierney's not bad in the role of Mary; her final scene with Widmark is heartbreaking, mostly on her end. By this point, we've given up any hope for Harry, who's been pretty hopeless from the get-go. But Mary, portrayed as one of those stereotypical women who's just unable to extricate herself from a bum even if she knows what's good for her, crumbles in the last scene, trying so badly to help Harry out, while he's too busy trying one last gambit at saving his ass. Harry's mind is racing so fast, he's unaware of how ridiculous his final plan is; sure, fella, turn yourself in so Mary can get the reward. Well-thought out.
Of course, this is all the point of Night and the City, the last movie Jules Dassin directed before hightailing it out of the United States, thanks to the finger-pointing about his alleged ties to the Communist Party. Dassin would later dazzle audiences with such foreign-based heist films as Topkapi and Rififi (two films I've yet to see, but which I'm very eager to now); he started out in America with hard-bitten film noirs such as this and The Naked City, two movies that presented the world of the film noir as real, not some heightened universe in which parodies are welcomed or appropriate. Even though Widmark's performance is slightly theatrical, if only because of how unrealistically fast-talking and fast-thinking he comes off (fast-thinking, by the way, doesn't equal intelligence), this story feels real, especially in the climactic chase scene, wherein Harry heads out on foot to get away from the enforcers trying to kill him. As he runs through the shores and harbors of London, the bombed-out sections of the city that still hovered years after the war, there's a chill you can't escape, realizing that Dassin isn't using studio sets, but simply pointing his camera at what is there.
Widmark's performance dominates the film, but Herbert Lom (soon to be driven crazy by Inspector Clouseau in the Pink Panther series) is a dark and creepy antagonist, as the shrewd and condescending Mr. Kristo. Credit should be given, if only because Kristo is a three-dimensional antagonist, presented as a gangster with emotions and a brain. Tierney, despite having a small role, projects a sad-eyed tenderness in her scenes. But it's Widmark's performance, playing a man who tries so hard, too hard, to be better than he is, that makes Night and the City sing. In many ways, the title is a reference not just to the atmosphere presented in the story, but to what the world becomes when even the daylight seems oppressive. Harry Fabian is a lonely and pathetic man, and anything he does to further himself simply presses him further into the ground, so he remains stuck in a place he'd rather die than be in. That he gets his wish by the film's end only compounds his sadness.
Next: Matthieu Kassovitz's La Haine
No comments:
Post a Comment