7 Essential Building Blocks of Film Noir
The writer, the director, his cameraman, the anti-hero, the femme fatale, the good girl and the villain.
By Peter Bayley
The film genre that came to be known as Film Noir (a description coined by French film critic Nino Frank, referring to their downbeat, fatalistic and gloomy atmosphere) began with “Stranger on the Third Floor” in 1940 and ended with “Touch of Evil” in 1956. The genre (some critics still grant only the lower status of a style) now has a recognised place in the history of filmmaking.
In the 1940s and 1950s, these stylised, hard-bitten Hollywood crime dramas permeated the world of cinema. There were exceptions, but the subject matter of the majority was contemporary city crime. The combination of phenomenally talented writers, directors, actors and cinematographers in these two decades came gloriously together to create a genre that would leave its mark on generations of filmgoers and influence cinema forever.
Though heavily influenced in its cinematic presentation by the feast of expressionistic German films of the 20s and 30s, and brought to the screen often by immigrant directors grown up on that very diet, it was an essentially American phenomenon. Very much under-appreciated at the time, many now revered and much-studied films noir were low-budget “B-movies” run in cinemas as second features to bigger productions. Poverty row sets and a less starry cast did not deter the audience; they kept coming back for more.
The Writer
The crisp, fast-paced writing of Dashiell Hammett, Raymond Chandler, Cornell Woolrich, James M. Cain and Mickey Spillane created a fictional world of post-war crime, corruption, sexual power-games and violence that was close enough to fact to act as a hyper-realistic chronicle of the American post-war experience. Some noirs even took a semi-documentary form to emphasise this “realism”, and the main-character-voice-over technique was often used to pull the viewer further into the lead character’s seedy world.
Raymond Chandler’s seven Philip Marlowe novels forever established that character — more than a little helped by Humphrey Bogart’s and Dick Powell’s iconic portrayals — as the slightly seedy “gumshoe” private detective with a highly moral core, an eye for available women and a tendency to get beaten up in the pursuit of the bad guys. Chandler’s “Double Indemnity” (1944) allowed him — together with the director Billy Wilder — to create the definitive screenplay illustrating the power of sexual promise and greed to drag even the most upright and mundane of lives into a vortex of crime and murder. Dashiell Hammett’s immortal “Maltese Falcon” and his “The Thin Man” series of novels evoke a world of skulduggery and corruption populated by shady characters with a taste for the martinis and money that fuelled their sordid lives. Moving between downbeat hotel rooms and splendidly ornate penthouses, they shared a complete lack of a moral compass.
James M. Cain’s the “Postman Always Rings Twice” embodies the power of lust to drive both men and women to commit murderous crimes. Its unrestrained (for the era) sex and violence caused it to be reviled and banned in some states at the time. Mickey Spillane was called “a dangerous, paranoid, sadistic masochist” by a contemporary literary critic, as his legendary Mike Hammer shot, punched and seduced his way through the sparkling but sordid city of New York. He pursued the villains, but lived by a provocatively similar code.
In film noir, every shady liaison, every vicious beating, every cold-eyed murder is accompanied by a dialogue full of mordant and sardonic humour, serving only to emphasise the callous and insouciant evil of the perpetrator. The crackling one-liners and quips help to establish the model of noir characterisation.
It was these writers in particular who provided the lexicon of characters, mannerisms, atmosphere and action that inspired the American film noir canon.
The Director
Billy Wilder, Fritz Lang, Jacques Tourneur, Edward Dmytryk, Robert Siodmak, Jules Dassin, Otto Preminger, Nicholas Ray, Orson Welles, Samuel Fuller were some of the key directors who translated the hard-boiled crime fiction stories into celluloid entertainment. Each understood the subversive appeal of the less-than-perfect anti-hero, struggling with his personal quest while being buffeted by cruel Fate. That nemesis comes in the stunningly curvy shape of seductive and manipulative women, the larger, slippery shape of the smirkingly vicious criminal villain and the very large shapes of the hulking, smirking and relentless goons-with-guns. Each with dark-coloured fedoras pulled low over the eyes.
Each director had his favourite cinematographer to bring his vision sparkling to the screen in what became the classic film noir look. Russell Metty, Greg Toland, John Alton and others perfected the style. The starkly monochrome rain-soaked city streets are neon lit by the street signs offering “booze, broads, snooker and cheap rooms”. They provide the shadows where police, criminals and private detectives manoeuvre around one another’s desperate fight to survive the urban jungle — and one another. Plot-driving conversations and confrontations are often had in smokey bars, a melancholy jazz piano tinkling in the background. The pervading look is dark, gloomy, threatening, grubby, sordid, harsh and noisy. An unforgiving mixture of power struggles, ill-gotten gains and hard-luck stories.
The half-lit facial close-up on the stairwell; the horizontal shadows of the venetian blind in the grubby hotel room; the sudden neon flash in the street, revealing the hand and gun-barrel in the shadows; the high shot of the running figures splashing in the puddled gutters. All these and the fast-cut editing were stylistic signatures of film noir. What came to be called chiaroscuro lighting was much used (The term originated with 16th century woodcutting techniques). High-contrast, high-angle, low angle, distorted perspectives all play their part in the look of the films, often echoing those early expressionist “silents”, but forging a new look of their own. The contrast between good and evil and the duplicity of the characters with their distorted world-view is graphically displayed.
The Anti-hero
Cynical, wise-cracking, hard-drinking and morally dubious but with his own code of ethics, an old-school tough guy (often hardened by military service), smart enough to stay one step ahead of the bad guys but dumb enough to be seduced by the glamorous but duplicitous femme fatale. This is the archetypal film noir hero.
He’s often conflicted over right and wrong, often compromised by his past, often broke and usually alone. We root for him, but recognise his failings, which we know may well drive him to a tragic fate. This is a difficult acting role to pull off successfully, but a then-new generation of soon-to-be iconic actors — like Alan Ladd, Humphrey Bogart, Robert Mitchum, Burt Lancaster, Glenn Ford, Edward G. Robinson, and Dana Andrews set their jaws square and their faces impassive, and cemented their places in cinema history. Each had their own interpretation of their character, of how to convey the conflicting qualities of intelligence and quiet strength versus hapless fallibility and a hair-trigger temper. That attitude and whip-smart dialogue is not easily delivered well, but these guys did it convincingly.
The Femme Fatale
Manipulative; greedy; twisted; amoral; crooked; vengeful; boozy; dangerous; two-timing; deceitful; almost certainly hiding a mysterious and shady background. The film noir femme fatale often does not portray womankind in the best light. But she was also confident; strong; clever; sophisticated; determined; persistent; gorgeous; seductive; alluring; always stunningly and immaculately dressed. She sometimes carries a gun in her handbag, but the blood-red lipstick, immaculate tresses and cocktail dress are more effective weapons. As with the leading man, that crackling dialogue takes skill to deliver convincingly. This is another difficult role to get right on screen without tipping over into cartoonish Betty Boop caricature.
Outstanding actresses that made it work spectacularly well include Gloria Grahame, Rita Hayworth, Gene Tierney, Jane Greer, Veronica Lake, Barbara Stanwyck and Lana Turner. Each embodies the femme fatale who would command, confuse and confound the leading man as he was drawn towards his fate. Each of these were able to bring to life a number of different, memorable femmes fatale. The role was iconic but not constraining for a talented actress.
The Good Girl
Amongst the many sleazy and dubious characters in every film noir, there is often a contrasting one; one redeeming soul to remind the viewer that good can continue to exist even in this darkly amoral world. Because the anti-hero is usually a loner, there is rarely the “good guy” pal who has our hero’s back, as in a war film or western. Sometimes, however, there’s a “good girl” — the woman who believes deeply in our hero’s better instincts and his innate goodness. She may be an old girlfriend or might be someone he has met along the way and who — against the odds — sees his good side.
She radiates positivity and belief. The director and cinematographer often give in to the temptation to bring her to us in (somewhat clichéd) soft-focus to emphasise her being wholesome — a kind of guardian angel; the antithesis to the violence, cruelty, evil and bad intentions swirling around her. She is an anchor to reality for our hero, tends his wounds and bruises and tells him to give up his dangerous game. He often aspires to come back to her when his quest is over. If he is going to die in someone’s arms, it will be in hers.
Coleen Gray as Nettie in “Kiss of Death” (1947), Jeanne Crain as Ruth Harland in “Leave Her to Heaven” (1945) and Virginia Huston as Ann Miller in “Out of the Past” (1947) bring this counterpoint to the femme fatale winningly to the screen.
The Villain
And then there is the villain: the over-dressed, vengeful, unforgiving, twisted, vicious, amoral, sleazy egomaniac who our hero will finally have to confront and probably to kill. He might be a gang boss; he’s often a rich, corrupt businessman (often a night-club owner) with a terrible secret. He might be a corrupt police detective, a lone psychopath or a boxing promoter who fixes fights. He will certainly be a figure who ruffles the sensibilities of our hero in a major way. If he is not known as the source of lethal trouble at the outset, it will be him that our hero eventually tracks down and exposes as such.
As with the other roles, there were actors who made this one their cause celebre. Sydney Greenstreet (incredibly, in his film debut) forever imprinted in our minds the bloated, oleaginous and subtly evil Kaspar Gutman, confident that he can outwit Bogart’s Sam Spade over “the black bird” — “The Maltese Falcon” (1941). Rather than being prone to violence himself — like many noir villains — he has henchmen willing to act for him. In contrast, Eddie Mars (played superbly by an icy John Ridgely) in “The Big Sleep” (1946) gets his own hands (and gun) dirty battling against our hero, Bogart’s Marlowe. Waldo Lydecker (played by Clifton Webb) in the superb “Laura” (1944) is the thwarted lover bent on revenge — another noir villainous category.
Then there’s the terrifyingly psychotic Tommy Udo (Richard Widmark) in “Kiss of Death” (1947) and the final, outstanding noir corrupt police detective, Orson Welles’s Hank Quinlan in “Touch of Evil” (1956). In this one, Welles (who also directs) uses many of his ground-breaking directorial and cinematographic techniques that in “Citizen Kane” (1941) influenced so many films noir then still to come. The inclusion of Marlene Dietrich — a template actress for so many femmes fatale — in this last true example of the genre seems very apt.
So, there we have it, seven essential building blocks of the classic film noir. There are more: the terrific character actors in those essential supporting roles: the swaggering gangsters; their boozy molls; the trigger-happy thugs; the stalwart detectives; the talkative bar-flys; the laconic bartenders; the helpful taxi-drivers and more, so well and so memorably played.
But start here. Fix yourself a potent drink (Sam Spade preferred the best Scotch Whiskey; Philip Marlowe kept a bottle of Old Forrester Bourbon in his office; Mike Hammer would order “A double bourbon. And leave the bottle.”), pull up a comfortable seat and watch a film noir. There’s much, much more to read beyond this short piece, but it’s the films that you should spend your time on. Just put the term into the search bar on your preferred film provider site. Pick a film mentioned here or experiment. Then you can spot these seven essential elements as you enjoy the action, admire the femme fatale, hiss the villain and cheer on the anti-hero.
90 minutes or so later, I’m confident that you will have joined the legion of film noir fans who understand why this film genre continues to enthral, decades after the snarling Tommy Udo (Richard Widmark) told Nick Bianco (Victor Mature), “I wouldn’t give you the skin off a grape”. (Pic: Kiss of Death, 1947).
(Acknowledgements: The American Film Institute; Nitrate Diva; et al.)
Peter Bayley
