http://ardfilmjournal.wordpress.com/2010/08/05/women-in-film-noir-i/
Women in Film Noir I – The
Central Archetypal Roles
AUGUST 5, 2010
by A.R. Duckworth
In this article I will explore the representation of women in film noir. I
will note that two archetypes are routinely constructed; the redeemer
and the destroyer. I will illustrate that a moral dichotomy is constructed
between the redeemer and the destroyer on the account that one
exhibits socially-legitimatized behaviour and the other excess displays
of sexuality or ambition. I will do this by exploring three films: D.O.A
(Dir. Rudolph Mate, 1950), The Big Sleep (Dir. Howard Hawks, 1946)
and Double Indemnity (Dir. Billy Wilder, 1944). In a future article I will
argue that the articulation of legitimate and illegitimate desires is
informed by the repressive structures of Hollywood such as the Hays
Code. I will also situate film noir within a long Hollywood tradition of
representation of the “strong woman”. I will then conclude by asserting
that the representation of women in film noir is determined by the deand re-territorialization of the domestic sphere during and after WWII.
The Hollywood genre system works by utilizing recognizable settings,
motifs, narrative resolutions and character types. Thomas Schatz notes
‘Each genre incorporates a sort of narrative shorthand whereby
significant dramatic conflicts can intensify and then be resolved through
established patterns of action and by familiar character types’.1 The
traditional gangster’s moll is an instance of an archetypal character. The
typically blonde, air-headed, ex-showgirl is featured in films such as The
Public Enemy (Dir. William A. Wellman, 1931) and semi-documentary
The St. Valentine’s Day Massacre (Dir. Roger Corman, 1967). The
gangster’s moll is often both an illustration of the shallowness and lust
of the gangster (he wants to own beautiful “objects”) and the site
through which his internal frustrations are meted out – as in The Public
Enemy when Tom Powers thrusts a grapefruit violently into the face of
his girlfriend because he feels her lack of respect emasculates him.
Although genres utilize stock or archetypal characters, this is not to say
that archetypal characters are static constructions. The narrative
significance of a stock character changes through every text’s reworking
or reincarnation of an archetype.
In film noir women are primarily constructed in two roles; the redeemer
and the destroyer.2 The destroyer figure, or femme fatale, is the
dangerous woman who poses a threat to the male protagonist by her
excessive ambition, sexuality or greed and ultimately causes his death
or, at the very least, places him in a deadly situation. The Lady from
Shanghai (Dir. Orson Wells, 1947) features one such character, Elsa
Bannister, who draws the male protagonist Michael O’Hara, with false
promises of love, into a complex plot of murder and betrayal. She does
this in order to remove her physically and spiritually crippled husband
and his business partner from blocking her lust for money. Elsa’s evil is
represented stylistically in one scene by juxtaposing her silhouetted
figure against a tank of sharks. Another scene shows her in a courthouse
smoking underneath a no-smoking sign – indicating her disregard for
the rules of society. The redeemer figure, the opposite of the destroyer,
offers, as Janey Place notes, the ‘possibility of integration for the
alienated, lost man into the stable world of secure values, roles and
identifies’.3 The offer of redemption and happiness is offered to the male
protagonist Lt. Cmdr. Johnny Morrison by Joyce Harwood in The Blue
Dahlia (Dir. George Marhsall, 1946). Johnny returns from active service
to find his wife cheating on him with Eddie Harwood. Johnny’s cheating
wife is then murdered and he is wrongfully accused of the crime. He
then meets Eddie Harwood’s wife Joyce, though he distrusts her
intentions. However, Joyce’s honesty and straightforward manner (in
contrast to his wife’s lies about the death of his son) soon wins Johnny
over and, through a relationship with her, Johnny overcomes the
wrongful accusation and simultaneously clears his friend Buzz. Joyce
also offers Johnny the chance at a new start after the war – something
his wife refused to. Most film noirs include both archetypes but some
only feature a singular destroyer or redeemer. In Double Indemnity
Phyllis Dietrichson is the destroyer and Lola Dietrichson the redeemer.
In Where the Sidewalk Ends (Dir. Otto Preminger, 1950) there is no
destroyer, but the main female character, Morgan Taylor, is an
archetypal redeemer. In Scarlet Street (Dir. Fritz Lang, 1945) there is
only a destroyer, Kitty March, who seduces meek bank clerk Christopher
Cross into embezzling funds for her. In Gilda (Dir. Charles Vidor, 1946),
Gilda Farrell first appears to be the destroyer but turns out, in the film’s
denouement, to actually be the redeemer.
The ideological and cultural significance of these two roles is defined by
Place as being based on a simple dichotomy between those with and
without access to their sexual capabilities. Place asserts ‘Film Noir is a
male fantasy, as is most of our art. Thus women here as elsewhere is
defined by her sexuality: the dark lady has access to it and the virgin
does not’.4 Though the destroyer figure often derives power from her
sexuality, Place is wrong to assert that the redeemer figure has no access
to her sexuality. In film noir both the redeemer and the destroyer has
access to, and use of, their sexuality. This can clearly be seen in Out of
the Past (Dir. Jacques Tourneur, 1947) when Meta Carson, the
redeemer figure, offers the male protagonist Jeff Bailey the potential of
domestic union. Although Jeff Bailey is unable to accept the offer –
because his past catches up with him – Meta is evidently offering her
sexual capabilities in exchange for marriage. Place could attempt to cite
Lola from Double Indemnity as an example of a redeemer without
access to her sexuality. However, though Lola doesn’t offer Walter the
potential of redemption through a romantic union, this does not
indicate that she has no access to her sexuality. Lola’s relationship with
Nino Zachetti is in fact so frowned upon by her father exactly because
she has access to her emerging sexuality. Therefore it is not that the
redeemer figure has no access to their sexuality; it is that they use it as
part of a socially-legitimatized negotiation with the male protagonist (or
a male figure as with Lola and Nino in Double Indemnity). Whereas the
destroyer typically uses her sexual capabilities to entrap and manipulate
the male protagonist for her own, individual economic freedom, the
redeemer uses her sexual capabilities as a bargaining chip in exchange
for social and economic security.
(the redeemer)
In film noir a moral dichotomy is therefore constructed between the
redeemer and the destroyer on the account that one exhibits sociallylegitimatized behaviour and the other excess displays of sexuality or
ambition. A striking example of the difference between the legitimate
and illegitimate displays of sexuality can be found in The Big Sleep. The
Big Sleep features two sisters who are both flirtatious and head strong
but Carmen, the destroyer, goes beyond the socially acceptable
boundaries.It could be argued that Carmen does not fit the definition of
the destroyer however, I would assert that, although Carmen does not
entrap Marlowe by her sexuality directly, as Phyllis Dietrictson does to
Walter Neff in Double Indemnity, her promiscuous attitude does ensure
that Marlowe becomes embroiled in a confusing plot of murder and
blackmail in an analogous fashion to other destroyer figures. Carmen’s
“outrageous” sexuality is immediately signposted in The Big Sleep when
she first meets the private detective Marlowe. While Marlowe is waiting
in a grand hall Carmen walks down the stairs and instantly becomes the
focus of Marlowe and the camera. Carmen’s legs and thighs are exposed
and she is only wearing a very short skirt – which the camera both
acknowledges and ignores simultaneously by not focusing in on her legs,
but also repeatedly shooting from medium distance to ensure her full
figure is shown. After Marlowe glances up and down her body Carmen
replicates the gesture, instantly communicating that she both accepts
that she is a sexual object, and that she perceives him to be a sexual
object too. As well as adopting a “masculine”, sexually-objectifying gaze,
Carmen makes a “move” on Marlowe – which she does by faking a
swoon into his arms. This overt display of sexuality by Carmen is
contrasted by the representation of Vivien. Unlike Carmen’s clothes,
Vivien’s dress is both reserved and masculine in style. The verbal
foreplay that marked Carmen’s meeting with Marlowe is also absent in
Vivien’s interaction with Marlowe. Though both Vivien and Carmen are
represented as sexual, desiring individuals, Carmen’s sexuality is
dangerous because she doesn’t reserve her displays of affection to the
appropriate individuals in the appropriate situations. This
inappropriate sexuality leads to Carmen falling victim to a pornography
ring. The inappropriate display of sexuality from the destroyer figure in
film noir often leads to the death of the protagonist, or his entanglement
in a deadly situation.5 This motif can be located in Double Indemnity
when Walter Neff first meets Phyllis Dietrictson (the destroyer figure).
When he meets her she is only wearing a bath towel and she remains in
this barely dressed state for a while, well aware that she is seducing
Walter in the process. This seduction, and his following visits to her
house, is inappropriate because she is already married. This improper
sexuality leads to murder and ultimately their deaths. In film noir the
destroyer figure is therefore a character who displays socially
inappropriate behaviour. This is either excessive sexuality, such as that
which Carmen displays in The Big Sleep, or it can be excessive greed
and ambition. In Too Late for Tears (Dir. Byron Haskin, 1949) Jane
Palmer is not particularly sexually inappropriate (though she isn’t a
saint with her sexuality either) but rather it is her excessive envy of her
more successful friends that leads her to keep stolen money (against her
husband’s wishes). Her greed and social ambition also leads to her
killing her husband and another man who comes looking for the money.
Whereas the destroyer figure is represented as being excessively
ambitions, greedy and/or sexually dangerous, the redeemer figure is
typically represented as being socially appropriate and virtuous. In
Where the Sidewalk Ends, the redeemer figure (Morgan Taylor) offers
the hard-boiled detective (Det. Mark Dixon) a chance at redemption
through confession. This is stylistically achieved by the juxtaposition of
gritty night scenes, shot with low-key lighting and heavy shadow,
against the high-key, soft-focus close-up of Morgan’s face. Whereas the
city streets exude a dark aura, Morgan has a bright, white aura,
signifying the almost religious quality of her offer of redemption
through truth. Morgan offers Det. Dixon a route out of the gritty,
corrupt streets through truth and romantic union. The offer of
redemption in Gilda is more complicated but ultimately Johnny Farrell
achieves it when he wholeheartedly accepts union with Gilda and comes
to the realization that it was Ballin Mundson’s malevolent influence
which clouded his mind and perception of Gilda.6 Though the male
protagonist does not always accept the offer of stable domesticity the
redeemer offers, the narrative role the redeemer serves still functions to
highlight the correct path to take. This can be seen in D.O.A in which the
protagonist Frank Bigelow feels that he is unsure if he wants to marry
his fiancé. He takes a solo holiday to San Francisco to have some fun but
unfortunately, while partying with some morally questionable
characters in a seedy jazz club, he is poisoned. During his journey to
find out his killer he comes to realize that he had been foolish not to
marry his fiancé. The moral lesson is therefore that marriage is the only
sustainable, safe and correct path for men, and women, to take.
1 Thomas Schatz, Hollywood Genre: Formulas, Filmmaking, and the
Studio System, (New York: McGraw-Hill Inc, 1981), p. 24.
2 Janey Place, ‘Women in Film Noir’, in E Ann Kaplan, (ed), Women in
Film Noir, (London: BFI Publishing, 190), pp. 35-55, p. 35.
3 Ibid, p. 50.
4 Ibid, p. 35.
5Maria Pramaggione and Tom Wallis, Film: A Critical Introduction,
(London: Laurence King Publishing Ltd, 2008), p. 382.
6 Spencer Selby, Dark City: The Film Noir, (London: St James Press,
1984), p. 39.
Women in Film Noir II – The
Importance of the Hays Code
AUGUST 12, 2010
by A.R. Duckworth
Continuing from my previous article concerning the representation of
women in film noir in this article i will set out an analysis of that
depiction utilizing Deleuze and Guattari’s theory of capitalism and the
desiring machine. As i noted in the previous article Hollywood inscribes
the two central female figures as examples of appropriate and
inappropriate desire. The destroyer is an example of desire without
limits. The redeemer is conversely an example of desire within the
(acceptable) limits. The articulation of the limits of desire can be seen as
a prime function of the Hollywood desiring-machine. A desiringmachine is a social body which produces, codes and articulates desire.
Desiring-machines also install identities by articulating how, why, when
and what those subjects will desire. Deleuze and Guattari explain ‘The
prime function incumbent upon the socius1, has always been to codify
the flows of desire, to inscribe them, to record them, to see to it that no
flow exists that is not properly damned up, channeled, regulated’. 2
Therefore the production of archetypes is integral to the process of the
desiring-machine because it allows a social body to articulate the
acceptable limits of desire. This need to regulate the construction and
representation of desire is further facilitated by Hollywood’s use of
repressive structures such as the Hays Code. The Hays Code, named
after its principle author Will H Hays, written in 1930 and adopted in
1934, stipulated what Hollywood films could and couldn’t show. The
main intention behind the code was the reaffirmation of traditional
moral ‘standards of life’.3 Molly Haskell explains:
In its support of the holy institution of matrimony, the [Hays] code was
trying to keep the family together and (theoretically) protect the
American female from the footloose American males who would
obviously flee at the first opportunity, unless he was bound by the
chains of the sacrament, which Hollywood took upon itself to keep
polished and shining.4
As Haskell notes, one of the central aspects of the Hays Code was the
attempt to ensure that institutions such as marriage weren’t disparaged
or insulted. The code achieved this by explicitly requiring films not to
‘infer that low forms of sex relationship are the accepted or common
thing’.5 Any character who transgresses these traditional sexual and
social norms is structurally required by the Hays Code to be punished
and repressed in the film’s resolution. Carmen, in The Big Sleep, is an
example of this censorship. The consequence of Carmen’s inappropriate
sexuality and promiscuity is her institutionalization. As well as being
placed in a mental institution, Carmen is removed from the film’s
denouement completely. Carmen is not permitted by the Hays Code to
have a positive resolution; Carmen’s ending is complete censorship. The
Hays Code is therefore an integral element in the construction of film
noir narratives because it informs how transgressive behaviour has to be
dealt with.
1 The socius is a social body or organism.
2 Giles Deleuze and Felix Guattari, Capitalism and Schizophrenia,
(London: Continuum, 2008), p. 37.
3 Will H Hays, ‘The Motion Picture Production Code’, in Richard
Maltby, Hollywood Cinema, Second Edition, (Oxford: Blackwell
Publishing, 2003), pp. 593-597, p. 593.
4 Molly Haskell, From Reverence to Rape, (London: The University of
Chicago Press, 1987), p. 21.
5 W H Hays, ‘The Motion Picture Production Code’, p. 595.
Women in Film Noir III – The
Hollywood Tradition of the
“Strong” Woman
AUGUST 26, 2010
by A.R. Duckworth
Film noirs use of two diametrically opposed archetypes to illustrate
acceptable and unacceptable desires, ambitions and social behaviour in
women conforms to a long tradition of representation in Hollywood of
the “strong woman”. The strong woman is a figure whose desires,
ambitions and behaviour runs contrary to acceptable social norms. The
figure of the strong or active woman can be located in two other distinct
Hollywood genres: the screwball comedy and the melodrama. These
genres include characters and situations similar to film noir. As Wes D
Gehring explains ‘In many ways – particularly female domination –
screwball comedy of the 1930s and early 1940s anticipates the more
sinister woman-as-predator film noir movies of the 1940s’.1 Screwball
comedies feature a strong, active female who is ‘never merely an item of
exchange between two men; she is also presented as a desiring subject’.2
Similar to film noir, these films articulate a tension between the active
individualism of the female and the needs of the community. David R
Shumway notes that screwball comedies ‘suggest that spunky, strong
women are attractive but that their submission is required for the
romance to be consummated, for marriage to take place’.3 Screwball
comedies assert that the socially-legitimatized institution of marriage is
the correct arena for romance and sexual relationships and that this
perfect state of affairs can only be engendered by the submission of the
female figure. Whereas screwball comedies find humour in this
situation, film noir’s mood is much darker and more fatalistic. This
change in attitude is most likely attributable to differences in American
society after World War Two.4 Frank Krutnik notes ‘The cycle of
‘screwball’ films continued until… America’s entry into World War II
promoted a new social and cultural agenda which made the ‘screwball’
emphasis upon frivolity and individual eccentricity problematic’.5 After
WWII the zany, saccharin-sweet characters of screwball comedies were
out of touch with the general Zeitgeist. This appears to be reaffirmed by
the fact that the genre’s golden period (1934-1944) is said to finish the
year that two archetypal film noirs, Double Indemnity and Murder, My
Sweet (Dir. Edward Dmytryk, 1944), were released.6
Like film noir and screwball comedy, melodramas also feature
ambitious, strong women who attempt to surpass their social and
economic situation. The tension between the ambition and desires of
strong women and patriarchy is also resolved in similar fashion to film
noir in that a structure of society contains the threat by the film’s
resolution. Jeaine Bassinger explains that after the strong woman gets
on top in the melodrama they struggle ‘with themselves and their guilts.
Finally, society [overcomes] them. They [go] down struggling, [find]
“true love”, and [prepare] to resume life’s struggle in a state that [is]
acceptable to society’.7 The narrative resolutions of film noir,
melodrama and screwball comedy all share this repressive conclusion.
In film noir the strong woman is often killed off (Jane Palmer in Too
Late for Tears falls off a balcony), arrested (Veda in Mildred Pierce
(Dir. Michael Curtiz, 1945)) and occasionally married or coupled off in a
secure relationship (Vivien in The Big Sleep and Gilda in Gilda). In
screwball comedies and melodramas the strong woman is contained
within the institution of marriage – which sometimes takes the form of
re-marriage as in The Awful Truth (Dir. Leo McCarey, 1937).
Film noir’s representation of women is therefore a continuance of the
way Hollywood deals with the strong, desiring woman. In Double
Indemnity this heritage is explicitly referenced in the film’s dialogue, its
mise-en-scene and the casting of Barbara Stanwyck and Fred
MacMurray in the central roles.8 When Walter Neff first meets Phyllis
Dietrichson he explains how to spell his name “Two Fs, just like The
Philadelphia Story”. The Philadelphia Story (Dir. George Cukor, 1940)
is a classic screwball comedy and, if it weren’t for the film already
showing that Walter ends up being shot, it would be hard to discern
which genre one was watching because both of the leads were
synonymous with the screwball comedy genre. Walter’s reference to The
Philadelphia Story could also be interpreted as a verbal
acknowledgement that the romance between the two leads is an explicit
souring of the screwball comedy narrative. The visual style of Double
Indemnity also refers directly to The Lady Eve (Dir. Preston Sturges,
1941). In The Lady Eve Barbara Stanwyck plays the money grabbing
Eugenia ‘Jean’ Harrington who seduces the shy snake-expert Charles
‘Charlie’ Poncefort-Pike for money and revenge (though she ultimately
falls in love with him and they get married). In one scene, Jean seduces
Charlie by asking him to hold her ankle for her. This scene is replicated
stylistically in Double Indemnity when Phyllis (Stanwyck) flirts with
Walter and shows him her ankle bracelet tactilely. Walter holds Phyllis’s
leg in a pose identical to Charlie’s in The Lady Eve. This overt visual
reference further illustrates that Double Indemnity, and film noir, is a
continuance of Hollywood’s preoccupation with, and representation of,
the strong woman.
1 Wes D Gehring, Screwball Comedy: A Genre of Madcap Romance,
(London: Greenwood Press, 1986), p. 60.
2 David R Shumway ‘Screwball Comedies: Constructing Romance,
Mystifying Marriage’, in, Barry Kieth Grant, (ed), Film Genre Reader II,
(Austin: University of Texas Press, 1999), pp. 381-401, p. 386.
3 Ibid p. 391.
4 Frank Krutnik, In A Lonely Street, (London: Routledge, 1991), p. 58.
5 Ibid, p. 12.
6 Gehring, Screwball Comedy: A Genre of Madcap Romance, p. 73.
7 Jeaine Bassinger quoted from Robert C Allen, ‘Film History: Theory
and Practice – The Role of the Star in Film History [Joan Crawford]‘ in
Leo Braudy and Marshall Cohen (eds), Film Theory and Criticism,
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999.), pp. 547-561, p 557.
8 Stanwyck and MacMurray were Screwball Comedy regulars who had
previously starred together in Remember the Night (Dir. Mitchell
Leisen, 1940).
Women in Film Noir IV –
Containment and Conformity
SEPTEMBER 16, 2010
by A.R. Duckworth
As i noted in the previous section the representation and then
containment of the strong and/or desiring women is an integral
element in film noir (and Hollywood cinema’s) narratives. This
representation and containment is determined by, and engages with, the
cultural context of America in the late 1930s to the late 1950s. In regard
to the representation of women, the vast de- and re-territorialization of
the domestic and work sphere during and after WWII is an important
determining factor. D&G’s concept of de- and re-territorialization
illustrates the process whereby a labour-power is freed from a specific
mode of production or territory and then returned. The series of
“Inclosure Acts” passed in the United Kingdom during the period of
1750-1860 is a prime example of this process of de- and reterritorialization. The Inclosure Acts forcibly removed any access to
common land and animal pasture. The consequence of this act was that
many workers were left without the ability to continue working on the
land they relied upon. Therefore the Inclosure Act forced thousands of
workers to move from self-sustained, rural cottage industries into
urban-centred industries. The Inclosure Act de-territorialized workers
by freeing their labour from the land (the territory) they traditionally
worked on. De-territorialization is therefore the process whereby
labour-power is freed from a specific territory or mode of production.
The opposite of de-territorialization, re-territorialization is the reestablishment of labour power into a specific geographical location or
labour situation. The establishment of mill towns after the Inclosure
Acts is an instance of the re-territorialization of “freed” labour force into
new jobs (labourer) and geographical location (urban centres). Reterritorialization is therefore the capturing, labelling and enclosing of
space (geographical location) or identity (from agricultural worker to
labourer).
This process of de- and re-territorialization can be located in film noir’s
representation of women and the historical context it both reflects and
engages with. During WWII American women were actively encouraged
to enter the work force. Krutrik explains ‘one of the consequences of the
wartime expansion of the national economy was that women were
overtly encouraged, as part of their ‘patriotic’ duty, to enter the
workforce’.1 This was engendered by the de-territorialization of women
from their traditional role as home-maker. Women were effectively
freed from the traditional location they were expected to reside (the
home) and allowed freedom to choose which sphere – domestic or work
– in which to use their labour. Due to the war the domestic sphere was
briefly de-territorialized as the natural sphere in which women resided.
However, this freedom did not last because within a capitalist society
de-territorialization is always met with a subsequent reterritorialization.2 Once an Allied victory was seen as a likely prospect
female labour began to be seen as problematic.3 Michael Renov notes
that:
by 1944, the internal memoranda of government agencies show that
female work force was being termed ‘excess labour’ and efforts were
being made to induce voluntary withdrawal, an attitude even then being
transmitted from the editorials of major newspapers, magazines and
through other public opinion forums.4
This inducement of “voluntary” withdrawal from the labour market was
facilitated through pressure from factory managers and the culture
industry (newspapers, magazines, films). By the end of the war these
passive inducements gave way to aggressive discrimination and
wholesale redundancy.5 In 1946 Frederick C Crawford, chairman of the
National Association of Manufacturers, asserted ‘From a humanitarian
point of view, too many women should not stay in the labour force. The
home is the basic American unit’.6 Crawford’s assertion illustrates the
change in attitude to women’s labour. During WWII a woman was doing
her patriotic duty by joining the labour force. After WWII it was her
patriotic duty to return to motherhood and domesticity. During the
conclusion of WWII women were therefore re-territorialized, re-rooted
as being “naturally” located in the domestic space.
Film noir reflects and engages in this re-territorializing process in its
repressive narratives and character archetypes. This reflection is both
direct and oblique. A direct reflection of re-territorialization is a film
which attempts to deal with the issue or problem clearly in the film’s
narrative. Mildred Pierce is one such example of a film which directly
reflects the re-territorization of women. Pam Cook notes that Mildred
Pierce articulates ‘the historical need to re-construct an economy based
on a division of labour by which men command the means of production
and women remain within the family’.7 In Mildred Pierce the central
female figure Mildred Pierce divorces her husband, builds a successful
career and business. However, this success comes at the price of her two
daughters (one dies naturally and the other is imprisoned). The film’s
resolution then features Mildred returning to her first husband and
ultimately being re-installed into her “natural” space; the domestic
sphere. Mildred Pierce is therefore a simple reflection of the reterritorialization process of naturalizing and re-installing women as
belonging to the domestic sphere. Though some films are direct
reflections of this process of re-territorialization most film noirs are
oblique reflections. An oblique reflection is a disavowal or a dislocated
reflection of a determining social context. In psychoanalysis, a
disavowal is a denial accompanied with a simultaneous
acknowledgement. This conception of disavowal can be used to
illustrate how texts can both acknowledge a problem and attempt to
deny its existence. The science fiction genre can be cited as a prime
example of this process of simultaneous acknowledgement and denial.
Rollerball’s (Dir. Norman Jewison, 1975) narrative reflects
contemporary concerns about increased violence in television and
sports. It does this however, by situating the narrative in a futuristic,
fascistic society. Rollerball therefore reflects contemporary concerns
regarding violence while simultaneously denying the problem a place in
contemporary America. This process of disavowal can also be located in
film noir’s representation of women. The Big Sleep is an example of a
film which does not directly reflect the process of de- and reterritorialization that women encountered during and after WWII. The
Big Sleep features two financially secure female characters (Carmen and
Vivian) that require containment by the male protagonist. Carmen and
Vivian are daughters of General Sternwood. The figure of General
Sternwood stands for paternalistic capitalist society which requires
financially and sexually independent women to be contained within
appropriate institutions. Therefore The Big Sleep attempts not to
acknowledge the issue of de- and re-territorialization but, through the
film’s characterisation and narrative resolution, it obliquely reflects and
is determined by the concerns of capitalist society regarding the
increased independence of women – financial or otherwise.
1 Krutnik, In A Lonely Street, p. 57.
2 As D&G assert ‘The more the capitalist machine deterritorializes,
decoding and axiomatizing flows in order to extract surplus value from
them, the more its ancillary apparatuses, such as government
bureaucracies and the forces of law and order, do their utmost to
reterritorialize’. After capitalism de-territorializes it always
simultaneously utilizes its institutions to re-territorialize that which was
freed. D&G, Capitalism and Schizophrenia, p. 37.
3 Krutnik, In A Lonely Street, p. 59.
4 Michael Renov quoted from Krutnik, In A Lonely Street, p. 59.
5 Marjorie Rosen, Popcorn Venus: Women, Movies and the American
Dream, (New York: Avon Books, 1974), p. 223.
6Fredick C Crawford quoted from Rosen, Popcorn Venus: Women,
Movies and the American Dream, p. 216.
7Pam Cook, ‘Duplicity in Mildred Pierce‘, in E Ann Kaplan (ed), Women
in Film Noir, (London: BFI Publishing, 1980), pp 68-82, p. 68.
Woman in Film Noir V – Is
Film Noir’s Representation of
the Domestic
Sphere Subversive?
NOVEMBER 19, 2011
tags: Double Indemnity (1944), Female, Film Noir, Noir, Representations of
Family, Sylvia Harvey, Woman's Place The Absent Family of Film Noir,
Women in Film Noir
by A.R. Duckworth
In the previous four articles (can be accessed here: I, II, III, IV) I
argued that Film Noir represents women as conforming to two central
archetypes. These archetypes – the redeemer and the destroyer – are
founded on a moral dichotomy between legitimate and illegitimate
displays of desire. The redeemer exhibits legitimate desires and the
destroyer displays excessive desires. I highlighted that this
representation conforms to, and was informed by, the repressive
structure of the Hays Code. I then noted that this representation can be
located in two other Hollywood genres; the screwball comedy and
melodrama. I cited Double Indemnity as an example of film noirs
continuance of this tradition. As well as conforming to the structures
and tradition of Hollywood (the Hays Code, screwball comedy and
melodrama) I asserted that film noir’s representation of women is
determined by its socio-historical context. I then concluded that the vast
de- and re-territorialization of women during and after WWII can be
seen as being reflected both directly and obliquely in Film Noir.
In this article, and following ones, I will further explore this claim. I will
explore two counter-arguments which assert that film noir, although
reflecting the dominant ideology in its narrative resolutions, is
subversive. I will first explore the claim that the representation of the
domestic sphere in film noir, rather than being repressive, suggests the
beginnings of an attack on the institution of marriage. I will disagree
and note that film noir represents the corrupt domestic sphere as being
determined by the qualities of an individual human being rather than
the contradictions inherent in the institution of marriage. I will
therefore conclude that film noir’s representation of the domestic
sphere does not constitute an attack on the institution of marriage. I will
then explore the claim that the style of film noir subverts its own
repressive structure. I will argue that the “powerful” moments of
expression are not subversive but rather another standardized means of
expressing and containing excessive ambition, lust and greed.
In contrast to my position that the narrative resolutions and
characterization of Film Noir reaffirms the traditional conception of
family and gender roles Sylvia Harvey argues that:
film noir offers us again and again examples of abnormal or monstrous
behavior which defy the patterns established for human social
interaction, and which hint at a series of radical and irresolvable
contradictions buried deep within the total system of economic and
social interactions that constitute the know world.[1]
Harvey agrees that Film Noir utilizes the destroyer figure as an example
of illegitimate and immoral excess but asserts that this does not serve to
reaffirm the status quo. Harvey asserts that the destroyer figure and the
representation of the domestic sphere communicate irresolvable
inconsistencies at the heart of the dominant ideology. Harvey states that
‘it is the representation of the institution of the family… in film noir
[which] serves as the vehicle for the expression of frustration’.[2] To
Harvey, film noir’s representation of the domestic sphere subverts the
film’s repressive conclusions. Harvey goes on to assert ‘the kinds of
tension characteristic of the portrayal of the family in these films
suggest the beginnings of an attack on the dominant social values
normally expressed through the representation of the family’.[3]
Whereas I argued that film noir narrative structure and characterization
reaffirmed the traditional conception of the family and domestic sphere,
Harvey asserts that film noir subverts and attacks the institution of
family. To Harvey this subversion and attack on the traditional
institution of family is articulated through film noir’s visual style. This
negative portrayal of the domestic sphere can be located in Double
Indemnity. The Dietrichson home isn’t represented as flourishing or the
site through which relationships thrive. When Walter Neff first walks
into Phyllis Dietrichson’s living room he remarks on how stale the room
smells. The music which accompanies Walter’s entrance into the living
room is also dark and disharmonious. The feeling of discontent is
further represented through the mise-en-scene. As Walter walks into
the living room bars of light are projected across his body which appears
to refer to prison uniform. The living room furniture is also stark and
the darkness of the room, in contrast to the brightness of the exterior
shots, further illustrates the sombre atmosphere in the Dietrichson
household. Harvey further notes that the family unit is traditionally the
arena in which romantic love is fostered but in Double Indemnity the
domestic space only offers death.[4] To Harvey, Double Indemnity’s
representation of the domestic sphere as a stale, disharmonious and
ultimately deadly place constitutes a ‘violent assault on the conventional
values of family life’.[5] Harvey goes on to assert that:
[The] terrible absence of family relations [in film noir] allows for the
production of the seeds of counter-ideologies. [This] absence or
disfigurement of the family… may be seen to encourage the
consideration of alternative institutions for the reproduction of social
life.[6]
Harvey believes that film noir both subverts the representation of the
domestic sphere as well as facilitates the consideration of alternative
non-repressive social institutions. Harvey concludes by asserting that
‘Despite the ritual punishment of acts of transgression, the vitality with
which these acts are endowed produces an excess of meaning which
cannot finally be contained’.[7] Harvey is therefore asserting that film
noir’s repressive narrative resolutions cannot contain the subversive
representation of the domestic sphere.[8]
[1]
Harvey, p. 22.
[2]
Harvey, p. 23.
[3]
Harvey, p. 23.
[4]
Harvey, p. 25.
[5]
Harvey, p. 31.
[6]
Harvey, p. 33.
[7]
Harvey, p. 33.
[8]
Harvey, p. 33.
Women in Film Noir VII – Is Film Noir’s Visual
Style Subversive?
by A.R. Duckworth
Film noir constructs two archetypes based on a dichotomy between
those who display legitimate desires and those who display
illegitimate or excessive desire. Janey Place asserts that the most
important element in the film noir genre is the style in which they
are represented. Place asserts 'Visually, film noir is fluid, sensual,
extraordinarily expressive, making the sexually expressive women,
which is its dominant image of woman, extremely powerful'.[1] A
vivid example of the destroyer's power being represented visually
can be found in Out of the Past. In one scene, during the male
protagonist's (Jeff Bailey) recollection of how he met the destroyer
Kathie Moffat, the use of chiaroscuro lighting communicates
Kathie's exciting but dangerous sexuality. When Kathie walks out of
the sun, into the restaurant Jeff is sitting, the contours of shadow
projected on her white dress and face obscures complete
recognition. This obscurity communicates that there is a sense of
dangerous “otherness” about Kathie. The lighting in this scene also
forces the viewer to replicate Jeff's gaze by locating her in the
centre ground. Therefore in this scene the interplay between
shadow and light communicates Kathie, wearing a white dress
signifying innocence (a continued motif in Out of the Past), is
dangerous. In Double Indemnity the final confrontation between
Walter Neff and Phyllis Dietrichson is another example of the
visually expressive way film noir communicates evil. In this climatic
scene Phyllis sits in a darkened room smoking. The light filters
through Venetian blinds cutting horizontally across Walter . The
lighting in this scene communicates that Walter is fractured
(broken) by gazing at the dangerous sexuality of Phyllis. The
destroyer figure, represented as exhibiting excessive sexuality or
ambition, is therefore, to Place, 'expressed in the visual style by
their dominance in composition, angle, camera movement and
lighting'.[2] To Place this dominance in composition brings into
question the validity of the film's repressive resolutions. Place
continues:
It is not [the destroyer's] inevitable demise we remember but rather
their strong, dangerous, and above all, exciting sexuality... The style
of these films thus overwhelm their conventional narrative content
or interacts with it to produce a remarkably potent image of
woman.[3]
Therefore Place's assertion that film noir's visual style exceeds the
repressive conclusions is grounded in the belief that the powerful
image of the destroyer cannot be contained by any return to the
traditional moral status quo.