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Daring Dames and Tough Guys: ’50s Noir
There may be no finer time to visit vintage film than winter, when it’s best to stay far from the madding crowds, frigid winds, and the dismal multiplex fare released early in the year. And nothing matches the bleak weather like the film noirs from the 1950s, when the United States was grappling with the long shadow of the Holocaust, the Cold War, and McCarthyism. Here are my top ten must-sees of the genre – most of which are adapted from equally shadowy novels and short stories. What would be on your list?
“Kiss Me Deadly” (1955)
A hollow-eyed harbinger of the French New Wave, not to mention sunshine noir, this adaptation of Mickey Spillane’s whiskey-stained mystery drags Los Angeles detective Mike Hammer (Ralph Meeker) down a highway of twists and turns. Suffice it to say “Pulp Fiction” never would have happened without this film. Bonus: the debut of a young Cloris Leachman.
“The Killing” (1956)
Directed by a Stanley Kubrick so young he hadn’t yet learned to cleverly disguise his misanthropy, this smart-mouthed race-track thriller adapted by Kubrick and author Jim Thompson from a Lionel White novel is so seamlessly well-constructed – all time switchbacks and Sterling Hayden snarling at the sun – that it takes a while to realize just how beautifully gloomy it truly is.
“The Asphalt Jungle” (1950)
This adaptation of W. R. Burnett’s pulp novel may be John Huston’s greatest noir; certainly as a study in social and moral corruption it runs as deep as Fritz Lang’s films but offers a more finely honed irony. Sterling Hayden, that sneering prince of 1950s noir, shows up again, this time as a Midwestern hood embroiled in a million-dollar robbery. Bonus: Marilyn Monroe’s debut performance. Oh, Daddy! Continue Reading →
The Unacceptable Agitprop of ’13 Hours’
These days, Michael Bay is best known for his seemingly endless stream of “Transformer” movies but he’s also this country’s most unabashedly pro-military director; since “Pearl Harbor” (2001), he has demonstrated an enthusiasm for artillery-laden features whose guiding principle seem to be “Keep it butch, boy.” All lickety-split edits, percussive soundscapes, deafening blasts, grunted one-liners, and searing pops of primary color, it’s an aesthetic perfectly suited to Hollywood’s oddly bland code of neo-masculinity but one that doesn’t exactly lend nuance to, well, anything. Put bluntly, this makes him both the best and worst living director to tackle “13 Hours: The Secret Soldiers of Benghazi,” the adaptation of Mitchell Zuckoff’s book about the six ex-military security contractors who defended two American bases in Benghazi, Libya, during the September 11, 2012, attack that killed U.S. ambassador Chris Stevens and three others. Continue Reading →