A Postmodern Take On Film Noir

     The film noir genre has played a deeply significant role within the history of cinema, serving as one of the most influential and popular styles of filmmaking. Over the past seventy years, the genre has undergone a very interesting transformation, one that is beautifully illustrated by Roman Polanski’s 2010 film, The Ghost Writer. A pessimism and feeling of trepidation pervade the film noir thriller. Ewan McGregor plays an unnamed ghostwriter tasked with finishing the autobiography of an embattled ex-Prime Minister of England, Adam Lang. Pierce Brosnan’s performance as Lang is captivating and adept, although his garish bravado is in some ways lessened by Olivia Williams’ performance as Ruth Lang, Adam’s disconsolate wife and chief political advisor. Ruth is both exasperated and steadfast, malcontent to the point of sexual mutiny. What surfaces is a story of power and betrayal, an enduring lust, for knowledge and acclaim. Polanski paints a brutal and hostile environment, one most surely not to be trusted. In keeping with the historical convention of film noir, he investigates corruption in a world that is spiritlessly egotistical, from a position of virtually disengaged fatalism.

      

     The concepts of genre, theme, and style are in conjunction with each other within the film, recalling the film noir tradition. Similar to many who came before him, Polanski appeared to be strong on cloaking discovery with apprehension, delight with guilt. His characters make choices we know to be either immoral or ill-advised, and we are drawn to conclude that such is life, where choices like these are inevitable, at least as indicated by the director’s superimposed point-of-view. The fatalistic theme regarding the struggle of the human existence is derived from, and closely associated with, the genre of film noir.  The work encompasses a murder, a cover-up, and an enormous and secretive international power ploy that influences the decision-making of some of the world’s most powerful people. It is surely a stark and forlorn world in which to try and succeed. Polanski makes this clear in his shrewd utilization of grays and other bland colors. Paul Shrader, in his “Notes on Film Noir,” recognizes a concentration with water as an essential style piece of the genre. This holds true in Polanski’s work, as an accident supposedly takes place at sea, a place of commotion and peril in the film.

     

     Therefore, it seems to be that the concepts of genre, theme and style are in conjunction to illustrate an imposing and lasting pessimism. And what about heroism? What happens to the sincere and the virtuous? That’s revealed within the scene of the film, something I’ll hold back from sharing!

The Influence of Scorsese Cinema on Brian De Palma

     Carlito’s Way, a film by Brian De Palma, stars Al Pacino alongside Sean Penn, with a minor role played to great effect by Viggo Mortensen, and another played exactly to expectation by Luis Guzmán, whose character here doubles as Maurice Rodriguez in Paul Thomas Anderson’s 1997 masterwork, Boogie Nights. The influence of Scorsese, specifically his use of tracking shots (one of course thinks of his legendary Copacabana entrance shot, the one that dutifully follows Liotta and Bracco as they wind their way through the kitchen and then the club itself), is tangible in the film. GoodFellas specifically, which was first exhibited three years prior to the release of Carlito’s Way, seems indelibly struck into the mind and imagination of De Palma - which is good if one is interested in making a good picture, bad if originality is a priority in said endeavor. The movement of the camera, which is superb when it follows the action in Carlito Brigante’s (Pacino) club El Paraiso - action that takes place in differing corners of the club and on different floors - is both reminiscent of Scorsese and nonetheless an effective technique, entrancing and sophisticated. The choreography of the players as they move about the camera, entering and exiting the frame indiscriminately, again recalls the the vast quantity of characters populating a film like GoodFellas and their propensity to disappear as quickly as they’ve made themselves known. However, it must be noted that use of this device is executed with greater artistry by Scorsese, as one feels irresistibly compelled towards even the most minor of his characters, while many of those in Carlito’s Way convey a lack of both depth and mystique. 

     The use of voiceover is prevalent throughout the film, as Brigante serves as a guide in many ways, a narrator for the action, much like Henry Hill in GoodFellas. The extant difference here seems to be its effectiveness; Henry Hill’s narration undeniably adds an element to the film, and his explication of the gangster underground he’s become a part of -and of his personal development-, adds a captivating layer to the work, he is in many ways a conductor. Whereas with Carlito’s Way, Brigante’s narration seems tired and contrived, Pacino’s voiceover lacking much inflection or expressiveness. It seems that Scorsese was simply more masterful in his use of voiceover, orchestrating an arresting montage to accompany the narration, images that were attractive and significant in the context of the film. De Palma, unfortunately, decides to linger aimlessly on the bearded face of Brigante, whilst we’re forced to listen to an account of something or another listlessly delivered by Pacino - in Carlito’s Way, I found I would have rather just been shown the content explored in the narration, while with GoodFellas, the words accentuated the scenes we were confronted with. 

     Additionally, the use of music must be discussed. It is appropriate and evocative during the scenes shot in El Paraiso but, like during the two encounters we’re presented with between Brigante and Gail in their apartments, De Palma opts for a ridiculously sentimental and melodramatic score, one that undermines the seriousness of the action and proves distracting. The featured song, “You Are So Beautiful,” performed by Joe Cocker, is, in its own right, a poignant and expressive work. However, it seems poorly applied in the film, an ill-fitting accompaniment to the action and the story. 

     In all, the film’s most perceptible attribute seems to be the degree to which it appears derivative of Scorsese and his GoodFellas, not to mention the appropriation of numerous elements of De Palma’s 1983 epic, Scarface. It is certainly an ambitious film, if to a large extent only executed with mediocrity, and that would normally be more of a saving grace, were it not an ambitious exercise in Scorsese.

Hello, World

The Cinematic Conversation

Truth 24 Frames Per Second

Film Student Vs. Film

I don’t watch many movies.

Watching a film is something of a revelation. To me, watching a movie is like waking up from a nightmare. But, the exact opposite. A period of bliss. A time where I can release and become immersed within a world foreign to my own.

I love watching movies. It’s just that I do not typically have the time to spend ninety minutes or more in front of a screen. Therefore, film to me is a gift; a time of celebration. A celebration of life, of perspective, and of emotion. 

I take this celebration very seriously. And I hope to share it with the world. As the credits roll, I hope for a conversation. I hope for a cinematic conversation.

I am a filmmaker. I am also a film student. One creative, the other academic, I feel blessed to call myself both. I have created this blog in hopes of bringing these two roles together and constructing an environment in which my perspectives as each flourish together. 

I will analyze films with a discerning eye, discuss current trends in filmmaking, and work to compare them to the past one hundred years of cinematic history. Cinema is always changing. As cultures and technology evolve, cinema rides shotgun. I want to scuba dive the depths of these relationships and see what we can find. 

Since cinema’s conception in 1892, at the hands of Thomas Edison and his invention of the kinetoscope, the medium has traveled through four distinctly defined eras: the classical period, post-classical period, modern period, and post-modern period. Today we reside within the era of post-modernism. 

This cinematic conversation will feature films from across the periods, comparing them to one another while exploring each one in its own way. I want to take what I’ve learned from behind the camera, combine it with what I’ve learned in the classroom, and chock it full of what I’ve learned in life, all in the hopes of crafting a discussion you feel like adding to. Film is a medium in which everyone can partake, no matter your age, your race, your gender or your economic standing. It is a medium for the curious and a medium for the passionate. It is a medium for the narrow-minded and a medium for the open-minded. Film is a language that all individuals can read and write. As one of my favorite directors and producers, James Cameron, once said:

Pick up a camera. Shoot something. No matter how small, no matter how cheesy, no matter whether your friends and your sister star in it. Put your name on it as director. Now you’re a director.

We are all directors of our own lens. Through this blog, I hope we can partake in the medium of film together and learn something about ourselves, about our world, and about the very medium that has the power to change it.