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Post by telegonus on Oct 21, 2017 17:46:59 GMT
I came to think of Clash By Night 1952 by Fritz Lang, it's titled as a film noir, but there is no actual crime in it, more than that love "works in mysterious ways". I can somehow understand those who sees it and is dissapointed that no actual crime is committed and give it low points. For me it's more of a mood piece from Fritz Lang, and how he and his cinematographer (Nicholas Musuraca) uses b/w to utlilize the drama. The Story: The bitter and cynical Mae Doyle (Barbara Stanwyck) returns to the fishing village where she was raised after deceptive loves and life in New York. She meets her brother, the fisherman Joe Doyle (Keith Andes),and he lodges her in his home. Mae is courted by Jerry D'Amato (Paul Douglas), a good and naive man that owns the boat where Joe works, and he introduces his brutal friend Earl Pfeiffer (Robert Ryan, who else?), who works as theater's projectionist and is cheated by his wife. She does not like Earl and his jokes, but Jerry considers him his friend and they frequently see each other. Mae decides to accept the proposal of Jerry and they get married and one year later they have a baby girl. When the wife of Earl leaves him, he becomes depressed and Mae, who is bored with her loveless marriage, has an affair with him.And yes a pre-stardom Marilyn Monroe was in it too. I love Clash By Night dearly, saw it as a child on the late afternoon movie, and it took damn near another fifteen years for me to see it again, and it held up beautifully. Multiple viewings only increase my affection for this magnificent film, and trying to classify it does prove problematical. Soap Noir? It does rather go there now and again but there's something about its magisterial qualities, the location filming, its larger than life aspects,--the writing!--so moving, then cruel, then lurid. It's a gift that keeps on giving. Two of the leads were or were about to become,--okay, I'll say it-- Noir icons: Barbara Stanwyck and Robert Ryan. Their scenes together sizzle, as love scenes; not sure love it quite the right word here, closer to non-graphic sex scenes alternating with Ryan's character nihilistic and often downright sadistic brooding. Ryan gives what may be his best screen performance, interestingly, as to style, his character, with his anomie, social withdrawal alternating with romantic yearnings, he's nearer to a black Irishman out of O'Neill more than an Odetsian proletariat. Stanwyck damn near matches him, and despite her middle age and lack of conventional beauty (maybe an asset here) she radiates a worldly, experienced sensuality nearer to what at the time one would associate with a European woman in a European film. Paul Douglas, as Jerry, is also perfectly cast (hey, it might have been William Bendix), as his big lug of a fisherman has a gentle, at times near genteel side that most rough hewn burly actors lacked. His child-like aspects are managed within the framework of an otherwise real grownup who takes responsibilities for actions and actually pays attention to other people. He inhabits his place in the world, the community he lives in, while the other two are alienated from it. The younger couple, as played by Keith Andes and Marilyn Monroe are not idealized, as is so often the case in movies, as somehow able to find true love, being connected to one another in ways that older folk have forgotten about, lost the knack for. The hell they are! Andes has a cruel streak, though he's not so nasty as the older Ryan character he's already showing some potential for meanness. Marilyn seems comparatively normal, receptive to life, and she pulls it off beautifully. She was on the cusp of major stardom when he made this film, as one can see from her billing in the opening credits, and the film's box-office confirmed that her seeming fifteen minutes of nude calendar fame was going to be extended. I could carry on about this film endlessly but need to move on here. That the ending is conventional doesn't hurt it. There's an authenticity, of place, of its characters, that shines through. Not quite a soap, yet close, it would be interesting to compare this fairly realistic picture of people, of Americans, falling in and out of love, with the somewhat later, far more baroque and florid pictures of Douglas Sirk, which were made, and this is putting it mildly, in a wholly different key.
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Flynn
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Post by Flynn on Oct 21, 2017 18:23:25 GMT
I thought I'd post my take on the subject. If at any time I come across as snooty or superior, it is not my intent. I just should have chosen softer language that allows for more uses of "in my opinion" or "I think." I don't view myself as superior in knowledge, just as someone who has thought a lot about the topic.
I think concepts like "genre" and "style" come from a similar place. "Genre" refers to a "type" of something, whereas "style" refers to a set of features that, through repetition, creates a cohesive entity. At the heart of both concepts is the idea that an identifiable object has formed from smaller parts. The difference depends on the scope of the whole.
I think of the genre of film noir (and really any genre) as being a collection of several styles. The uses of light, shadow, and cinematography, as mentioned here, are some, but classic film noir also relies on others, such as a manner of speaking and acting, a specific use of language, certain types of characters, and specific ways of presenting information, among others. Each of these components of film noir constitutes a style. One can take one or more of these styles and apply it to other non-film noir films, but that doesn't take away from film noir as a genre, nor does it make the film those styles are applied to a film noir, at least not in the fullest sense. We can say that it has noir tendencies or traits.
I think a defining difference between a genre and a style is that genres are also more dynamic. A genre is like a living being. It forms, matures, and eventually atrophies into death (or is discontinued from primary consumption).
The typical lifecycle of a genre goes something like this: when a genre first forms, it looks for a set of traits on which to hang its identity, as filmmakers try different things to see what is successful. A genre reaches maturity when that consistency is established and that set of traits produces multiple high-profile successes. For a period of time, the traits of a genre will be relatively stable, as the same set of traits gets recycled in different ways. Eventually though, variety is going to be sought after. Filmmakers will increasingly incorporate more disparate ideas into the genre in hopes of finding more components on which the genre can rely. If the search is successful, the genre lives on longer, but if it is not, then the genre will go dormant. This is why the western endured for so long: there were a lot of plots and characters that could be infused into the genre. Eventually, though, a lack of new material will spell doom for most genres. Only genres that are not tied to a specific era can endure for centuries (which is why the crime film still endures while the film noir has not).
By thinking of a genre as a dynamic organism rather than as a stable set of features, I think we can better see it for what it is. Film noir and the crime film, for example, are similar genres, but they do both have different origins and courses of development. If we are only examining characteristics, then yeah, they are pretty similar, but as maturing objects in search of sustainable variety, they are quite different, just as twins have similar features but will lead different lives.
I don't see this kind of development when I examine styles. While styles do come into and fall out of favor, they also tend to have longer and more solidified life spans. Less development and variation occurs. I see them as building blocks for more complex structures (like genres).
You can probably tell that I love genre. I have been studying the slasher genre (or rather subgenre) for years, a type of film that is so narrow in scope that it could really only sustain itself for about the two years before self-parody set in.
It's possible that I completely missed the mark on the point of this conversation. If I did, my apologies. In any case, I hope what I wrote was of interest to someone.
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spiderwort
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Post by spiderwort on Oct 21, 2017 18:42:44 GMT
I thought I'd post my take on the subject. What a great post, Flynn! There's so much to think about in your presentation. I'm not sure I could agree completely with you in every instance, but then again you've given me much food for thought, bringing new light to the subject in ways that I've never thought about it before, and it could be that you have in some way articulated my own feelings far more astutely than I have. I sincerely thank you for your comments and will have to see how, in the end, I feel about everything you've said. I suspect in many ways that our feelings are the same, different largely in terms of semantics. This, however, is one thing with which I know I can wholeheartedly agree: "I don't see this kind of development when I examine styles. While styles do come into and fall out of favor, they also tend to have longer and more solidified life spans. Less development and variation occurs. I see them as building blocks for more complex structures (like genres)." This is a brilliant observation, and as a filmmaker I'd be hard-pressed to refute it. Thanks again for the wonderful post. I assure you I'm going to give it a lot of thought.
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Post by Doghouse6 on Oct 21, 2017 19:48:46 GMT
(And I really need to see Invaders From Mars again. Haven't seen it since childhood. Remember loving it then.) I'm guessing it was one of the quintessentially defining movie experiences of boomer youth, and seemed to tap directly into the childhood sensibilities and anxieties of a generation. And even at a single-digit age, the aspect I found most unsettling and nightmarish was not the invaders themselves, but the sudden coldness and brutality of the parental figures who'd been taken over; very skillful psychological reading of a key target audience. I wonder if later generations, seeing it at as tender an age, found it as viscerally impactful. EDIT FOR FURTHER THOUGHTS: Viewing it now from a mature perspective, some deficiencies will reveal themselves (such as the ill-fitting Martian costumes, with zippers up the back sometimes apparent). But cinematic attributes that no doubt had only subliminal effects on a childhood psyche can be fully appreciated by educated and discerning eyes such as yours, and which should come with little surprise, considering the involvement of director William Cameron Menzies, cinematographer John Seitz and art director Boris Leven, all of whom accomplish so much with a "less is more" approach that not only befits the budget, but maximizes what shows up onscreen.
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Post by taylorfirst1 on Oct 21, 2017 20:07:28 GMT
I absolutely love "Invaders from Mars" 1953. It's a great example for this discussion. Well done Doghouse6. Doghouse6
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