Out of the Past: Investigating Film Noir

I Wake Up Screaming was produced concurrently with The Maltese Falcon and released shortly after, and thus stands as one of the earliest examples of noir. The Maltese Falcon is the more uniform achievement, successfully coupling a consistent noir visual style with noir themes of disillusionment. But for these very reasons I Wake Up Screaming may be the more important film to scholars of noir. It vacillates between a 1930's-style love story and a war-era tale of existentialist dread, between traditional light-saturated, protagonist-centered staging and elaborate off-kilter compositions bathed in darkness. It is a Janus film, and it is debatable whether it looks primarily backwards or forwards, is principally an ending or a beginning. This podcast is brought to you by Clute and Edwards, of www.noircast.net. To leave a comment on this episode, or make a donation to the podcast, please visit "Out of the Past: Investigating Film Noir" at outofthepast.libsyn.com.

With its throwback hardboiled script and careful restaging of iconic noir shots, Lawrence Kasdan's 1981 BODY HEAT is a noteworthy neo-noir. However, it is no mere nostalgia piece, but rather a daring updating of the tradition: Kathleen Turner's sizzling portrayal of a femme fatale inspired such diverse 1980's and 1990's classics as FATAL ATTRACTION and BASIC INSTINCT, and Kasdan's intricate plotting may even have served as the model for THE USUAL SUSPECTS. On all these points Clute and Edwards agree, but disagree on whether the 1980's were a decade capable of producing true noir--with its nuanced blend of existentialism and fatalism--or whether the fundamentally hedonistic zeitgeist of the era lead to films that simply retained the stylistic trappings of the classic period while delivering a more superficial message.  This podcast is brought to you by Clute and Edwards, of www.noircast.net. To leave a comment on this episode, or make a donation to the podcast, please visit "Out of the Past: Investigating Film Noir" at outofthepast.libsyn.com.

"His Kind Of Woman" makes viewers aware of what they expect from noir by disappointing their expectations. The film moves quickly from the down and out digs of gambler Dan Milner (Mitchum) to a sunbathed beachside resort in Mexico. There, it takes its time setting up a complicated intrigue involving a large ensemble cast. It introduces the sultry Lenore Brent (Russell) as a mysterious dame, only to domesticate her by the end of the film, and gives the character of Mark Cardigan (Price)--a B actor and slapstick hysteric--an inordinate amount of time to strut and fret his stuff. For all of these reasons, the film seems light years away from the gut-wrenching bare-bones noir world of the 1940's. However, the presence of Mitchum, strong cinematography by Harry Wild, and John Farrow's coy and self-conscious direction at once recuperate a noir atmosphere and pose important questions about the commercialization of filmmaking in the 1950's. This podcast is brought to you by Clute and Edwards, of www.noircast.net. To leave a comment on this episode, or make a donation to the podcast, please visit "Out of the Past: Investigating Film Noir" at outofthepast.libsyn.com.

The "Noircast Special" podcasts allow Clute and Edwards to address topics of interest to listeners of "Out of the Past" and "Behind the Black Mask." This episode features interviews with the creators of three alternative noir publications: Tee Morris, founder of podiobooks (www.podiobooks.com) and author of the fantasy-hardboiled podiobook "Billibub Baddings and the Case of the Singing Sword;" Kevin Burton Smith, creator of the superlative "Thrilling Detective" website and ezine (www.thrillingdetective.com); and Seth Harwood, author of the podiobook "Jack Wakes Up" starring movie-star one-hit-wonder and ex-drug-addict Jack Palms.

Sam Fuller's 1953 "Pickup on South Street" leaves open important questions that Elia Kazan's "On the Waterfront" will feel compelled to answer, and Fuller's film has a more timeless quality as a result. With artful minimalism, Fuller captures the claustrophobic paranoia of the HUAC era. He uses alternating points of view, pitting each character's vision of America against another's, to create narrative tension and an ambiguous moral. The film is a fork-tongued parable--a warning to all in power to be vigilant, but equally to all citizens to beware the "patriotic eyewash" that allows those with power to misuse it in times of crisis. Accordingly, Fuller's is a world populated by conflicted characters: slick pickpockets and savage cops, sinister federal agents and starry-eyed communist messengers, and hard-edged but soft-hearted street hustlers. Nobody's clean, but everyone has a shot at redemption if they're willing to suffer for it. This podcast is brought to you by Clute and Edwards, of www.noircast.net. To leave a comment on this episode, or make a donation to the podcast, please visit "Out of the Past: Investigating Film Noir" at outofthepast.libsyn.com.

Van Heflin, Barbara Stanwyck, Kirk Douglas and Lizabeth Scott all turn in stellar performances in this 1946 gem. For much of its running time the film lacks many of the visual hallmarks of the noir style, but Robert Rossen's pitch-perfect script, delivered with such subtlety by the fine cast, builds a dark backstory that makes what might have been a standard melodrama into a noir masterpiece: the drama of a few individuals is transformed into a parable of post-war America. Add Edith Head's gorgeous costumes and Miklos Rozsa's superlative score, and you have one of the most enjoyable films ever made. This podcast is brought to you by Clute and Edwards, of www.noircast.net. To leave a comment on this episode, or make a donation to the podcast, please visit "Out of the Past: Investigating Film Noir" at outofthepast.libsyn.com.

Recently, several Hollywood films, including HOLLYWOODLAND, have revisited traumatic events of the 1940's and 1950's. This new film cycle begs several questions--chief among them, why do the malaise and murder of the postwar years resonate with filmmakers today, and do these films share characteristics that allow us to speak of an emerging film style? Clute and Edwards maintain there are significant differences lurking behind the apparent similarities, and such differences call for more nuanced terminology than the blanket moniker "neo-noir." They propose the tripartite nomenclature of noir-style, neo-noir, and faux-noir, and argue that HOLLYWOODLAND is a superlative example of neo-noir: it tells a throw-back, hard-boiled tale in a new visual style. While Allen Coulter's direction is key to crafting this new look of noir, the acting of a strong ensemble cast is crucial to conveying the heartache caused by the suspicious death of actor George Reeves--TV's Superman. A must-see film for casual fans of classic noir, and serious students of its evolution. This podcast is brought to you by Clute and Edwards of www.noircast.net. To leave a comment on this episode, or make a donation to the podcast, please visit "Out of the Past: Investigating Film Noir" at outofthepast.libsyn.com.

The 1955 film "Kiss Me Deadly" makes telling changes to Mickey Spillane's 1952 source novel. What was a story of greed and social corruption becomes an allegory of Cold War hysteria. Plot and character cede the stage to emotion and character type. While earlier films noir portrayed the downfall of a flawed person whose bad decisions had far-reaching social consequences, "Kiss Me Deadly" instead pits simplified personages and storylines against an ecstatically elaborate camera vision and sound design. It is at once the boiling down and the blowing up of noir--executed with a degree of camp only the mid-1950's could muster--and as such, it is the fulcrum on which hard-boiled literary tradition and noir film history teeter-totter. This podcast is brought to you by Clute and Edwards of www.noircast.net. To leave a comment on this episode, or make a donation to the podcast, please visit "Out of the Past: Investigating Film Noir" at outofthepast.libsyn.com.

The "Noircast Special" allows Clute and Edwards to address topics of interest to listeners of "Out Of The Past" and "Behind The Black Mask." This inaugural episode features a roundtable discussion with the director, playwright, and lead actors of The Stolen Chair Theatre Company's off-Broadway play "Kill Me Like You Mean It." Inspired by film noir and the theatre of the absurd, the play is an artful mash-up that demonstrates how dark is the heart of absurdist theatre, and how absurd are the conventions of noir. This podcast--part interview, part radio drama--should please fans of film noir and mystery fiction alike.

Orson Welles's 1958 "Touch of Evil" is considered the last film noir of the classic period. Clute and Edwards investigate why it deserves this designation, arguing that it uses the conventions of noir in such a self-conscious manner that henceforth it will be impossible to tell a straight noir tale. Indeed the film is so self-conscious that it is no more a narrative than it is a demonstration of how to create film narrative. It is considered a great film for this reason, but also because it features myriad strong acting turns, stages Welles's dramatic demise as a Hollywood player, and contains story and character seeds that will come to fruition in films as different as "Psycho" and "Miller's Crossing." This podcast is brought to you by Clute and Edwards of www.noircast.net. To leave a comment on this episode, or make a donation to the podcast, please visit "Out of the Past: Investigating Film Noir" at outofthepast.libsyn.com.

In this double-feature podcast, Clute and Edwards investigate Tay Garnett's 1946 "The Postman Always Rings Twice" and the Coen brothers' 2001 "The Man Who Wasn't There"--considering their merits as films, and as adaptations of the novels of James M. Cain. While Garnett makes noir acceptable mainstream fare, with high production quality and glamorous stars like Lana Turner and John Garfield, his film loses the hauntingly arid psychology of Cain's novel. Conversely, the Coens decide not to adapt any one Cain story, but opt instead to recapture the tone of Cain's work; and Cain's heartache seen through the Coens' lens is the very picture of a radically new noir zeitgeist. This podcast is brought to you by Clute and Edwards of www.noircast.net. To leave a comment on this episode, or make a donation to the podcast, please visit "Out of the Past: Investigating Film Noir" at outofthepast.libsyn.com.

Edgar G. Ulmer's 1945 film "Detour" is commonly lauded as a B-noir that overcame production limitations with artful minimalism. In this context, instances of obtrusive lighting and camerawork are viewed as minor blemishes--the best quality that could be expected from a poverty row feature. Clute and Edwards argue that the film should be granted a far greater measure of technical mastery, that the so-called flubs purposefully call attention to the very cinematic means used to construct the narrative.In this optic, the film is not good despite its "flubs" but great because of them; they render it a self-conscious noir meta-narrative--a film about the making of noir films. These qualities combine with a great script and superlative acting, by Tom Neal and Ann Savage, to create the template for all noir post-1945. This podcast is brought to you by Clute and Edwards of www.noircast.net. To leave a comment on this episode, or make a donation to the podcast, please visit "Out of the Past: Investigating Film Noir" at outofthepast.libsyn.com.

In the murder of Elizabeth Short, novelist James Ellroy found a means to grieve over the rape and murder of his own mother. In the novel THE BLACK DAHLIA Betty is at once a symbol of the post-war era torn apart by its passions, and a symbol of Bucky Bleichert's/James Ellroy's search for meaning. Likewise, but dissimilarly, Betty serves a double function in De Palma's film. She seems to be an embodiment of cinematic history split between classic and post-modern eras, and of De Palma's search to assemble the perfect visual experience from pieces of his own filmic corpus. Stripped of her historical referent by De Palma, the Dahlia no longer evokes the same horror--and what is true for her is true for the film as a whole. It's various components--fine cast, clean screenplay, competent cinematography--are stitched together with near-surgical precision, but never suture us into a position where we feel we're part of the story. When the struggles of the players cease to be anything we can relate to, we can only wonder why their tale is dubbed noir. This podcast is brought to you by Clute and Edwards of www.noircast.net. To leave a comment on this episode, or make a donation to the podcast, please visit "Out of the Past: Investigating Film Noir" at outofthepast.libsyn.com.

Did noir die in 1950? As a filmic style, certainly not; many of the most daring visual and narrative experiments of the classic period date from 1951-1958. However, 1950 seems to mark a dramatic transition in what might be called noir philosophy. The strong men of the post-war years, who were victims only of their own errors in judgment, cede the screen to indeterminate men, who fall victim to forces they never grasp. This transition infuses the noir universe with a crueler sense of irony but also frees directors from certain conventions, thereby ushering in a quirkier and more self-conscious era in noir's history. D.O.A typifies this era, but is saved from ambiguity by Edmond O'Brien's strong performance. This podcast is brought to you by Clute and Edwards of www.noircast.net. To leave a comment on this episode, or make a donation to the podcast, please visit "Out of the Past: Investigating Film Noir" at outofthepast.libsyn.com.

Dick Powell was cast as Philip Marlowe in the 1945 film "Murder, My Sweet." Was it a stroke of genius to allow a song and dance man to reinvent himself in this role, or the desecration of a literary icon? Clute and Edwards are deeply divided on this issue, but find many topics on which they agree: whether the viewer considers Powell's performance a triumph or a tragedy, it is evident that the tension between the two strong female leads (Claire Trevor, Anne Shirley) is a fundamental driving force of the film; with numerous deft touches director Edward Dymytrk pulls the audience into Marlowe's point of view, and demonstrates the investigator's inner turmoil; Chandler is the fulcrum on which post-war film and literature teeter because Philip Marlowe is the perfect embodiment of the psychologically-scarred modern Everyman. This podcast is brought to you by Clute and Edwards of www.noircast.net. To leave a comment on this episode, or make a donation to the podcast, please visit "Out of the Past: Investigating Film Noir" at outofthepast.libsyn.com.

This film deserves its reputation as an important early police procedural and precursor to the television series "Dragnet," but does not deserve to be viewed reductively--as only that. Anthony Mann's un-credited direction was among his best. He coaxed strong performances out of actors given few lines, and made every shot count. Cinematographer John Alton brought the darker sides of Los Angeles to life, and Alfred DeGaetano made brilliant editing choices to overcome limited sets, a bare-bones script, and the lack of big-name stars.  Their combined efforts produced an oft-imitated 79-minute B-masterpiece, and demonstrated how much talent was to be found in the poverty row studios. This podcast is brought to you by Clute and Edwards of www.noircast.net. To leave a comment on this episode, or make a donation to the podcast, please visit "Out of the Past: Investigating Film Noir" at outofthepast.libsyn.com.

Robert Towne's screenplay for the 1974 film "Chinatown" tells an original story, but a story whose scope, intrigue, characters, pacing, and style owe a great debt to the work of Raymond Chandler. That said, it would be a mistake to view "Chinatown" as a simple nostalgia piece. In this tale of the fundamental--indeed foundational--corruption of Los Angeles, Director Roman Polanski, Writer Towne, and Cinematographer John Alonzo tell a hard-boiled tale in a modern filmic style, and this productive collision allows them to simultaneously critique and reaffirm the mythic qualities of genre literature and film. This podcast is brought to you by Clute and Edwards of www.noircast.net. To leave a comment on this episode, or make a donation to the podcast, please visit "Out of the Past: Investigating Film Noir" at outofthepast.libsyn.com.

Elia Kazan might have broken the Hollywood Blacklist. Instead, when HUAC (House Un-American Activities Committee) asked him to name names, he sang like a canary. His actions ended many careers, and broke the spirit of many Hollywood players. Kazan never apologized; indeed, his career and life from that moment staged a defense of his decision. "On the Waterfront"--which won Oscars for Best Picture, Best Director for Kazan, Best Actor for Brando, and Best Actress for Eva Marie Saint--was his most elaborate, and perhaps eloquent, staging of what he felt to be the righteousness of his actions. The script and visual style are very noir, and the effect is jarring--for noir usually tells the tale of a man who makes a mistake, and is haunted by the consequences. Here, noir is co-opted by a man who wants to believe he can do no wrong. This podcast is brought to you by Clute and Edwards of www.noircast.net. To leave a comment on this episode, or make a donation to the podcast, please visit "Out of the Past: Investigating Film Noir" at outofthepast.libsyn.com.

As America intoned the mantra "Communism," fear became its religion and McCarthy its high priest. George Clooney's "Good Night, and Good Luck" investigates Edward R. Murrow's brave act of voicing dissent, at a time when dissent was seen as un-American. The film shows an America living in fear of Communism in the 1950's that is very much like an America living in fear of Terrorism today, and demonstrates why the media--then and now--rarely question controversial pundits and their pronouncements. The media are dependent on advertising revenue; advertisers want to reach the largest possible audience; audiences want to be entertained, not educated. For these very reasons, creatively funded films often voice stronger objections than other media dare to voice. While "Good Night, and Good Luck" is not a film noir per se, Clooney seems to recognize that noir themes and stylistics may be called upon when American cinema has a message to deliver--like the heavy hired to knock some sense into us. This podcast is brought to you by Clute and Edwards of www.noircast.net. To leave a comment on this episode, or make a donation to the podcast, please visit "Out of the Past: Investigating Film Noir" at outofthepast.libsyn.com.

The most famous texts of any canon are rarely the most typical; rather, they push the limits. The fame of Billy Wilder's 1950 masterwork "Sunset Boulevard" is of this problematic sort. The film plays on all the usual themes of noir: mysterious deaths; a male protagonist doomed by a single bad decision; a femme fatale who twists his hopes to resemble her own, and slowly trims away his universe until she is the sole star guiding his fateful journey. But these themes are absurdly exaggerated. The first death is of a pet monkey. The narrator is telling his story from beyond the grave. The female star has imploded under her own gravity, and becomes something of a tragicomic black hole that pulls in the entire constellation of poor players. More than noir, the film is a self-conscious staging of the crime that is Hollywood. This podcast is brought to you by Clute and Edwards of www.noircast.net. To leave a comment on this episode, or make a donation to the podcast, please visit "Out of the Past: Investigating Film Noir" at outofthepast.libsyn.com.