Introducing the Extra Terrestrial

E.T. the Extraterrestrial is a movie about a boy, Elliott, who meets and befriends an alien who has been abandoned here on earth. In the beginning sequence, in which we are introduced to E.T. before he meets Elliott, we witness E.T.’s childlike fascination with our world. He wanders away from his spaceship as the aliens survey a forest. As E.T. explores our planet, he has a keen sense of childlike wonder and curiosity. The other aliens, his family, are forced to leave him there with the sudden introduction of human scientists into the area. The scientists, like most of the adults in the film, are faceless. They represent adult maturity, rationality, science, and the loss of magic and wonder in our lives. The themes of the movie are set up in this beginning sequence, namely the duel of childlike innocence and belief in magic versus adult rationality and belief in science.

The storytelling structure of the beginning is in the visuals, showing us how E.T. became separated, and is being hunted by adult humans. We see a rabbit coming out to watch E.T. The rabbit’s presence makes us feel calm. Allen Daviau, the film’s cinematographer, gives a beautiful and magical look to this sequence. The story of E.T. is an incredible story that is hard to sell to an audience. John Simon wrote in his article “E.T. Etc.” in the National Review, “Allen Daviau’s cinematography looks opulent without turning too gorgeous or cute, and most of the special effects work in an understated manner.” By not having overly dramatic cinematography we are more accepting of the film world, and of the creature E.T. Joseph McBride quotes Daviau in “Stephen Spielberg: A Biography, “‘I remember saying from the very beginning when I read the script ‘It’s got to be so real. The whole world around has got to be absolutely realistic, so that the magic that happens isn’t hokey, so that the whole thing isn’t intentionally magical. The magic comes out of this incredible situation.” (331) Before we even are allowed to see E.T. fully-lit Spielberg and Daviau are able to sell us E.T. as a credible creature. 

The cinematography isn’t the only element building us up to E.T. John W. Wright in his article “Levinsian Ethics of Alterity: The Face of the Other in Spielberg’s Cinematic Language” writes, “Here, Spielberg only postpones the face-to-face encounter with the alien other for the briefest of times. He uses extreme close-ups to show hands, feet, and oblique parts of the alien E.T. as he wanders in the forest in search of plants to sample. When the ship leaves, Spielberg uses fast-paced editing to "humanize" the still faceless E.T. as he tries to make it back to the ship. The alien E.T. may be "unknowable," but Spielberg allows us this time to presage our engagement with its face through cinematic actions that seem familiar: a sense of helplessness, the ability to lose track of time and place, and the immediacy of the alien's loneliness at being isolated from that which it knows and is familiar with.” Spielberg builds us up to the reveal of E.T. later on by establishing him as an individual first. Despite E.T.’s foreign nature we are given the impression that he experiences wonder, fear, and loneliness, like a human being.

The beginning sequence is presented without dialogue, like a silent film. However, there are sound effects of E.T. walking, nature, and humans, as well as a lush soundtrack provided by John Williams. We hear E.T. walking through the forest, breathing heavily, making an “ooh” sound in wonder, and his shriek as the adults pull up. E.T. cannot speak at this point, but can communicate vocally like a baby, allowing us to know what he is experiencing without reading his face. The forest comes alive through the use of sound design here as well, presumably provided by the supervising sound editor Charles L. Campbell. We can hear birds, wind, and other subtle elements of a nighttime forest. As the scientists pull up, we are first introduced to the character simply known as “Keys,” played by Peter Coyote. We hear the jingling of his keys by his side, which throughout the film becomes the indicator of his presence, much as the theme music in Jaws alerts us of the presence of the shark. Sound is used to create the wonder of youth as well as the threat of adult maturity.

Another element of sound is John William’s colorful score which heightens the emotional elements of the movie for the viewer. Jack Sullivan quotes Williams in his article Conversations with John Williams, "For better or worse, the audience for film music, even in an unconscious way, is multinational and enormous. If there is such a thing as global music, it's probably coming from film, where it's less attached to one particular vernacular. As a unified art form, a successful film, if it has a score that people will embrace, really can, in the atmosphere we live in today, reach across those boundaries.” There is no dialogue spoken, and Williams’s score carries us through the scene with its own musical dialect. At first, as E.T. walks through the forest looking up at the redwood trees, the music gives us the sense of wonder that E.T. is having upon experiencing the gigantic redwoods. With the arrival of the scientists, the music becomes more suspenseful, making us believe that if the adults actually apprehend E.T., he would be in danger. The music imposes this dichotomy upon the viewer—of childlike magic and adult rationality.

The idea of a duel between the innocent nature of childhood and adult maturity, of magic versus science, is set up subtly here, at the beginning of the film. It is not presented as a grand gesture, nor is it stated explicitly. Instead Spielberg and his collaborators use film art to guide us into the world of E.T. allowing us to understand the creature and his character, making him believable. At the same time, they help us to understand that maturity and adulthood are around the corner. Later in the film, we understand that the adults are not villains, but people who no longer look at the world the way Elliott and E.T. do.

Bibliography:

McBride, Joseph, Steven Spielberg A Biography, Second ed., Jackson, Mississippi: University of Mississippi, 2010.

Scheurer, Timothy E., "John Williams and film music since 1971." Popular Music & Society 21, no. 1: 59. Music Index, EBSCOhost (accessed October 8, 2012), 1997

Simon, John, "E.T. ETC.," National Review 34, no. 14: 908-910, Film & Television Literature Index, EBSCOhost (accessed October 1, 2012) 1982.

Wright, John W., "Levinasian Ethics of Alterity: The Face of the Other in Spielberg’s Cinematic Language," Steven Spielberg and Philosophy: We're Gonna Need a Bigger Book. Ed. Dean A. Kowalski. Lexington, KY: University of Kentucky, 2008.

Chaplin Before 1920

Charlie Chaplin was one of the most recognized symbols of comedy and the every man. His character the Tramp is instantly recognizable still today by youths and adults alike the world over. How did he get so big? Where did he come from and learn how to do the things that he did? The answers start after the beginning of films rise as a medium. Before he made such classics as the Kid, Modern Times, City Lights, and The Great Dictator, he worked on stage and in a series of shorts for various studios. He brought with him an artists touch and a mavericks sensibilities in his approach to filmmaking. It was his earlier experiences that helped allow him to make such beloved films later on in life.

Charlie Chaplin learned performance at a young age, his mother performed Vaudeville, and he picked up the trade from their. Later on in life when he returned to perform in Vaudeville he perfected his comedic timing and abilities. From there he would learn how to translate his comedy into the film medium. As the film medium took rise Keystone was one of the more popular studios for comedy. They provided broad comedy for people, as witnessed with the Keystone Cops. Of the kings of comedy directors of the period the most Mark Sennett had made good use of his time. Mark Sennett learned filmmaking and storytelling from D.W. Griffith. Griffith’s use of film language- how to cut and compose shots- became important. Whereas Griffith used such storytelling to tell moving dramatic stories, Sennett used method for the purposes of laughter and comedy. Sennett recognized the potential of Chaplin and called for him to come to Hollywood to perform. Chaplin worked under Sennett. Sennett was an informal pupil who worked under Griffith, and so Chaplin became an informal pupil who worked for Sennett. Although Sennett was a camera man, and Chaplin a performer. Making a Living was his first film, but his character the Tramp first appeared in Kid Auto Races at Venice. In the latter his character plays the stand offish camera hog as cameramen try to film children racing. It shows what is to come, a character who stands off against authority and kicks it in the rear.

Much of the studio method of filmmaking displeased Chaplin. The Studio method is often compared to Ford assembly method of manufacturing, which Chaplin would later parody in his film Modern Times- no doubt inspired by his experiences. Sennett had an unusual method of filming and comedy. Michael Conway wrote in his article A Bit About Charlie Chaplin and His films in the book “The Films of Charlie Chaplin, “The Keystone comedy shorts were made in a strange manner. Scripts were unnecessary in many of Sennett’s films. If someone had an idea for a funny situation, and it was possible to film it, the camera rolled. Slapstick was comedy and comedy was slapstick. Sennett held to the theory that rough and tumble comedy had the most appeal.” (18) Chaplin wanted to exert himself, however, as an artist and a comedian. He had power struggles with Sennett and director Mabel Normand. Virginia Wright Wexman wrote in “A History of Film, 7th edition,” “Chaplin’s enormous popular success and shrewd handling of the income he earned from it allowed him, throughout his career, freedom for social-political comment and a degree of artistic autonomy.”(32) By the end of his first year in Hollywood, 1914, Chaplin emerged as a one of the most popular comedians in Keystone and Hollywood.

It was the continuation of the want of control and money that caused Chaplin to leave Keystone in 1915. Sennett had allowed for Chaplin to direct many of his own pictures, but that was not enough for Chaplin. Beyond the purely financial reasons for leaving, Charlie also felt that he could express himself with more freedom elsewhere. Chaplin began to use more reels, lengthening his films from 2 to 3, making his movies longer and longer. There were a string of Companies that Chaplin worked for until 1919 when he cofounded United Artists. United Artists was a break from many of the more traditional studios in that it was, as the title plainly states, founded by “Artists,” being filmmakers and actors, although it would become a more traditional studio later on being financed by banks and businessmen. It was also during this period after Keystone pictures that Chaplin further developed his trait of the tragicomic story, told through his character the Tramp. 

The popularity of Charlie Chaplin as a filmmaker and comedian results from a myriad of ways. Chaplin being a child and prodigy of Vaudeville sensibilities and entertainment. The fact that he could work with many of the early Hollywood greats as the medium was taking rise, allowing him to learn and experiment. Chaplin had perfect command over his body, moving often like a dancer to express himself through broad expressive movements.  A The Tramp had a recognizable and graphic outfits of slapstick comedians; with his bowler hat, tight jacket, oversized shoes and pants, as well as his odd walk and cane. The elements together make him an instantly recognizable icon, to which people today still imitate. America was exiting a war and entering a depression, and the Tramp expressed many of the sentiments that Americans were feeling.The tragicomic element of Chaplin, I feel is one of the greatest elements of his films and the Tramp. That the Tramp was in nature a good person, funny and kind; yet he was self sacrificing for other good and decent people, he never really got a break that allowed him to prosper like most Americans. In those ways he reflect what many Americans were going through, and their values. This last element, I believe, is was truly separates Chaplin from other knockabout slapstick pictures; wherein authority gets slapped and we laugh, the end. I think that people did recognize the fact Chaplin did have more substance than did the Keystone Cops, and returned to him again and again.

Chaplin did continue to grow as an artist after 1920, but he established himself as an artist during this period. He learned filmmaking from Sennett and other filmmakers at Keystone. He had fine tuned comedy in the Vaudevillian stage. He had even gained control and power over his films that no one else except for D.W. Griffith had before. Chaplin was a power that rose and grew to become a worldwide icon.

Feminism and Society through Melodrama and Noir

Walter Neff gazing at Phyllis Detrichson.

With noir films like Double Indemnity having such a sadistic female protagonist, can the film itself be considered feminist? Claire Johnston states, “Feminist cinema must include a challenge to the fetishistic and sadistic aspects of the scopic drive which Laura Mulvey demonstrates so convincingly.” Theorist Mulvey also pushes that the gaze in cinema, the power by men looking at and watching women, ultimately controls women. Noir contains several men “gazing,” such as Walter Neff being obsessed with Phyllis Dietrichson and staring at her constantly. That is when noir is kind; often there are scenes in which  male characters outright slap women -- or do worse. It would seem that film noir is not feminist in its approach toward women. However, noir is not truly misogynistic, though its characters might be. It is not the characters, but the politics that define the movie.
 
 Films often have a distinctive masculine or feminine appeal. This often has more to do with marketing. Masculine films could be action films, film noirs, and sports films. Whereas feminine films can be considered romantic comedies and melodramas. Without debating the semantics of masculine and feminine I wish to point out the differences between Film Noir and Melodramas, and the social commentary that they carry with them. The commentary that these two genres have upon society reflects mostly upon the gender roles of society. Both noir and melodramas reflect the poor treatment that women have in society, but they also show that in fact everyone is stuck within tight boundaries of society regardless of sex. The genres also blur the personal with the political, because both are interrelated.
 
Margarethe von Trotta, Douglas Sirk, and Rainer Werner Fassbinder are all directors of Melodramatic films, and all originate from Germany. They are considered by many to be auteur directors as well, by putting a piece of themselves into their films. Douglas Sirk was influenced by German Expressionistic cinema in his use of framing. Framing was also used by Fassbinder and von Trotta for the use of isolating individuals from the collective group representing society, or entrapping a character. Shohini Chaudhuri writes about Sirk’s influence on Fassbinder, “Sirkian influences also inspire Ali’s mise-en-scene: pools of saturated color in the Asphalt Pub scenes; the use of mirrors, doorways, partitions, and grilles to internally frame characters within the cinematic frame.”2 Von Trotta’s mise-en-scene is described then in a similar way. “Women looking through windows or waiting at windows frequently appear in von Trotta’s films at key moments in characters’ psychological development and their attempts to relate to another--a sister or a friend.” The framing techniques enhance the story being told emotionally by the filmmakers in their films. 

Ali: Fear Eats the Soul. Here we see the members of the Asphalt pub gazing at Emmi.

Here Emmi is juxtaposed so we feel her isolation against the rest of the group.

Film Noir functions much in the same fashion. The directors of Film Noir either had a background with, or were influenced by German Expressionist cinema as well as the three previously described melodramatic directors. Shots in such films as Robert Aldrich’s Kiss Me Deadly often feature a lone wolf male protagonist against the world. One shot in Kiss Me Deadly features protagonist Mike Hammer being surrounded by a large staircase. Visually, this makes us uneasy by enveloping him in a swirling image. Later we find out that he really is in over his head and caught in the middle of a political storm much bigger than he is. Here is another character who sets out into the world, only to be enveloped by it.
 
Both Melodramas and Film Noirs feature protagonists that are trying to live by their basic wants or moral codes but find themselves in some way up against society. Chaudhuri states that Sirk’s “melodramas gave Fassbinder a model for making films that could perform ‘a moral critique of an immoral society’” In the concepts of the individual against society, and society’s moral corruption, we come to the point where these two genres mix and engage. Not every Film Noir or Melodrama has societal commentary that is a conscious effort by the filmmakers. Nor do Film Noirs and Melodramas all have the same commentary.
 
However, regardless of the filmmakers’ intentions, many Film Noirs and Melodramas comment on gender issues. We see this with the femme fatale in noirs, and by the use of a repressed female protagonist in melodramas. Both types of characters can be described in many cases as a female individual who is trying to advance or get ahead in the world on either a grand or micro scale. The femme fatale does so by unscrupulous methods and is therefore ultimately punished. Whereas the melodramatic female character receives societal punishment at some point, she is  sometimes also rewarded by a deux ex machina.
 
Such an ending occurs in Sirk’s All That Heaven Allows, so that we gain the catharsis of the protagonist’s happy ending, but we acknowledge that only by an act of God was this allowed to happen in a morally bankrupt society. Fassbinder took it further by taking out the cathartic ending. Chaudhuri writes, “He designed his films’ closures to create another ‘ending’ in the audience’s head-to make it obvious to them that they must change their lives, even if society restricts their choices.”4 In either case the films are designed so that on some level we are aware of societal flaws and attempt to change them. Noir can also draw attention to societal troubles, Double Indemnity is conscious of the fact that Phyllis Dietrichson somewhat manipulated by society to the point she becomes a cold blooded murderer.

At the end of All the Heaven Allows Jane Wyman ends up with Ron Kirby. Yet the mise-en-sene of this scene makes her feel trapped. She is on the inside looking out, and the window serves to act as prison bars. So while it is a touching scene, it also becomes social commentary on the woman's place in society.

The background of the German melodramas and film noir show common similarities. Both are deeply rooted in a postwar atmosphere. Von Trotta and Fassbinder work in family histories that are related to the rise of the Nazi party. To them family history and the rise of the party are rooted in both the personal and the political. “Von Trotta views the political and social reality of postwar and contemporary Germany through the lens of personal relations and family dramas. For Fassbinder, too, politics and power relationships begin at home and are negotiated in interpersonal relations rather than in abstract political debates or historical conflicts.” In noir heroes are often returned war veterans trying to find their place back home. Often they cannot find their place. The world has changed, and it no longer needs them. Paul Schrader states that in this world, “one finds that the upward mobile forces of the thirties have halted; frontierism has turned to paranoia and claustrophobia.” In both melodrama and noir there is an overriding sense of pessimism for the world and mankind.
 

In Mariane and Julianne the two sisters become separated by political views. As they separate ideologically, they become separated physically as well. After one's arrest they are separated by a window and can no longer touch. In another a reflection of one moves over the face of the other, but as soon as it is aligned it disappears off the glass, representing their movement from each other.

Pessimism arises because it points to the fallacies of the world and attempts to get us to create change. While violence and the male gaze occur in the movie, viewers should not allow them to distract from the overall message of the film. Summing up Fassbinder’s thoughts Chaudhuri states, “‘the cultural representations through which we see and are seen’ should be the focus of our political struggle, not the gaze.” The message of the film should be at the forefront when viewed, because events that occur in the film exist to support the message. The message is political, going back to von Trotta’s view of the interrelation of the personal and political. Many noirs and many melodramas are very feminist in their politics, but are aimed at different audiences. I enjoy both and find them entertaining, because they portray similar outlooks of society.

Bibliography:
Chaudhuri, Shohini. “Ali: Fear Eats the Soul." Film Analysis: A Norton Reader. Ed. Geiger, Jeffrey and Rutsky, R.L. New York: W.W. Norton and Company, 2005.
Haynes, Todd. Far from Heaven, Safe, Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story; Three Screen Plays. New York: Grove Press, 2003.
Johnston, Claire. “Classic Hollywood Cinema.” Movies and Methods Volume II. Ed. Nichols, Bill. University of California Press: Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1985.
Rueschmann, Eva. “The Politics of Intersubjectivity.” Sisters on the Screen. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 2000.
Schrader, Paul. "Notes on Film Noir." Film Theory and Criticism. Ed. Braudy, Leo and Cohen, Marshall. 7th ed. New York: Oxford University Press, 2009.

*Note: It should be noted that both Noir and Melodramas had a deep influence by the German Expressionist film movement. Sirk himself came from that background, as well as several other directors and cinematographers of the time. I failed to mention this in the text, and it bears an important part explaining the style similarities of the two genres and their social commentary.

Culture in Mississippi Masala

http://www.imdb.com/video/screenplay/vi513212697/

Indians and all non-native Africans were forced out of Africa. The film raises questions about racism, what is a home and what is a native?

Mississippi Masala serves as a general human tale of love, loss, and friendship. It does so using a romantic identity, sometimes falling into the melodramatic a little. This format helps to draw us into the film, and relate to it on an emotional level. The movie unfolds like any other basic romantic story in which boy meets girl, boy loses girl, and the two end up together in the end. The story has more significant meaning than just that, however. Meena is an Indian girl who falls in love with Demetrius, a hard working carpet cleaner who is African American. They have cultural clashes as they date, but ultimately they feel that culture should not define them or their relationship. It also tells the story of Meena’s father, Jay, as he seeks penance from the Ugandan government which he feels has wronged him. The story acts as a parable for intolerance and racism in our times; and shows that racism, the act of disliking someone based off of their ethnic background, is not limited to strictly Euro-Caucasian. Identity plays a big part in the unfolding of the story of Mississippi Masala, in that the two characters have strong ties to their cultures which have helped to form their identities. The movie shows an important element of identity, which is that to find ourselves we have to distance ourselves from our cultural selves to see ourselves as we really are.

    Mississippi Masala is set in rural Mississippi. Meena and her family are descendants of Indian culture. Her parents had made their home in Uganda until all non-Africans were told to leave. They moved to England and ultimately Mississippi. Demetrius is African American, and he works hard to be financially independent while all his friends are goofing off or trying to make it big in southern California. He and Meena both have strong cultural identities, but as they fall in love with each other their cultures come into conflict. Meena’s parents do not like Demetrius; there is the underlying problem that he is not Indian. Then Demetrius’s friends and family are concerned because of how “they” – Indians -- are with “our people.” The movie shows how racism is not limited to white people, but is a cross-cultural problem.
 
 The movie Mississippi Masala shows realistic images of two distinct cultures in the film. Robert Stam and Louise Spence write about how many cultures are negatively stereotyped in several films. Then Hollywood overcompensated with “positive images” of cultures in which characters seemed too good to be true, and more often than not were. “A cinema dominated by positive images, characterized by a bending-over-backwards-not-to-be-racist attitude, might ultimately betray a lack of confidence in the group portrayed, which usually itself has no illusions concerning its own perfection.” This became another form of racism, and stereotyping in Hollywood. In Mississippi Masala we are given a more realistic look at an Indian culture relocated in America, and at a Mississippi African American community. This realism shows them in both positive and negative lights. However, it should be noted that many of the white folk in the film are shown as backwards hicks who cannot tell Native Americans from Indians and drive around in pickup trucks with American flags in their back windows. This could be deemed unfair stereotyping, but since this is a reversal of traditional cultural roles in film, and I found it funny as white male, it should be allowed to slide in this movie. On the other hand, Mississippi Masala does a fair job in presenting Indian culture, which is typically portrayed in a stereotypical fashion in American films.

    Key to the idea of culture is that of identity. Culture stems from our identity, because it is “inherited memories” we have gained from our ancestors passed down to us. Stuart Hall explains, “‘Cultural identity’ in terms of one, shared culture, a sort of collective ‘one true self’, hiding inside the many other, more superficial or artificially imposed ‘selves’, which people with a shared history and ancestry hold in common.” In Mississippi Masala we see this with both families. At Demetrius’s family dinner we get to see everyone gathering around their grandfather for his birthday, talking about growing up together. We see this also with Meena’s family, at the wedding and other various random family get-togethers in which they celebrate with their native India’s customs. Despite the fact that they are in America, and attempt to fit in, they still actively practice their religion, which many of the locals deem foreign.

    Hall continues with a second position on identity, “As well as the many points of similarity, there are also critical points of deep and significant difference which constitute ‘what we really are’; or rather -- since history has intervened -- ‘what we have become.’”2 That is to say, yes we share a social and cultural identity, however, we have an identity outside of that which is defined by our own individual words and actions. Demetrius in the film is shown against the backdrop of his culture, in which many of those amongst his age are just hanging out, and loitering the streets. He stands out because he works hard with his rug cleaning business and takes his life seriously. Meena breaks away from her family heritage by running away with Demetrius, giving Meena an identity away from her culture as well. They both look outward to define themselves, not allowing culture to define themselves.

    Despite the movements that Meena and Demetrius have undertaken to be with each other, they still have personal problems that delve into the realm of politics. Hall continues, “The past continues to speak to us. But it no longer addresses us as a simple, factual ‘past’, since our relation to it... It is always construct through memory, fantasy, narrative and myth. Cultural identities are the points of identification, the unstable points of identification or suture, which are made, within the discourses of history and culture. Not an essence but a positioning. Hence, there is always a politics of identity, a politics of position, which has no absolute guarantee in an unproblematic, transcendental ‘law of origin’.”3 The movie moves into the political realm, when we watch Meena’s relatives try to kiss up to Demetrius after the car accident. They want to get assurances that he will not sue. Then after he sleeps with Meena, they quickly turn on him by stopping all business with him to guarantee that he will no longer have contact with Meena. The scandal goes so far to lose even an actual political client, and sends Demetrius broke to the bank.

    The politics are most in the forefront with Jay, who is suing the Ugandan government for his personal loss of property, and what he feels was an illegal eviction from what he considers his homeland. Jay and Meena were not born in India like some of their relatives, but they were born in Uganda. Meena left while she was a child and has little attachment to it, whereas Jay feels that Uganda is a large part of his culture and identity. In a flashback we see him playing as a boy with another Ugandan boy, and his mother calling the two of them together “brother.” While they are probably not biologically brothers, this goes to serve the idea that identity can be based on land, not just blood, as with the case of Jay. Throughout the movie he spends most of the time being bitter. Through flashbacks we see him with his native Ugandan friend, Jammubhai, undergoing the regime change and Idi Amin kicking out non-native Africans. Jay feels betrayed when his friend Jammubhai tells him in order to help him leave and thereby save his life that “Africa is now for Africans.” Jay is hurt because he feels that despite his cultural heritage he himself is African; he was born and raised there. Rather than see his friend’s words as friendly advice, it makes him angry and bitter towards him and Uganda. Hence Jay sues the government of Uganda.

    When Jay finally gets the government to hear his case and he returns to Uganda he looks up his friend Jammubhai only to discover that he had died years before. The news is such a shock to him that he breaks down emotionally. He realizes that his anger blinded him from continuing correspondence with a person that he considered his brother. This epiphany helps Jay to realize that suing the Ugandan government will not give him justice, nor will it bring back his friend, or give him the thing he realizes is most important of all -- happiness. Jay’s adventure is a parallel with Meena and Demetrius’s love story. The two lovers could have had a falling out, and began to, but in the end overcame those fears, so that they could have love and be together. Jay did not take the step to overcome his fear and anger, and lost his friend.

Jay revisiting his homeland, and gaining a greater realization.

    It through the journeys that Meena, Demetrius, and Jay all go through that they find themselves. They have to distance themselves from their culture to look inward and to see that they are more than what their community would have them be. Demetrius’s friends told him not to go after Meena, even though she made him happy. The same with Meena and her family. When they overlooked the opposition that their communities gave them to run away together they became happy. The greater story is Jay’s acknowledgement that he should look after his own daughter’s happiness and not fight to preserve the cultural heritage if it means destroying the happiness of those he loves. This catharsis in the end of the film then becomes ours, the audience’s. It seems so trivial to fight for something that isn’t real, but is just an abstract concept that we have kept alive.

1 Spence, Louise and Stam, Robert. “Colonialism, Racism, and Representation: An Introduction.” Film Theory and Criticism. Ed. Braudy, Leo and Cohen, Marshall. 7th ed. New York: Oxford University Press. 2009.
2 Hall, Stuart. “Cultural Identity and Diaspora.” Identity: Community, Culture, Difference.    Edited by J. Rutherford. London: Lawrence & Wishart, 1990. 
3 Hall, Stuart. “Cultural Identity and Diaspora.” Identity: Community, Culture, Difference.    Edited by J. Rutherford. London: Lawrence & Wishart, 1990.

Hello (The Long) Goodbye

Robert Altman’s the Long Goodbye dances the line of paying homage to noir and parodying noir. Modern audiences would consider it more homage, whereas a film like The Big Lebowski would be considered more of a parody. The Long Goodbye follows Phillip Marlowe as he tries to comprehend the apparent suicide of his friend, Terry Lennox, following the murder of Lennox’s wife. Many of the elements of a classic noir are there; the police are no help to him, the mob comes in for a debt from Lennox, a crooked doctor comes in, and there is a form of a femme fatale; but the film never fully fits into the noir box. In The Long Goodbye Marlowe is described by Altman as “Rip Van Marlowe”; meaning that it is as if Marlowe just woke up from the classic noir period and goes about his business. We watch in the film a person who is a moral relic of a bygone era, and Altman plays with this idea throughout the film. The Long Goodbye becomes its own sub-genre, neither homage nor parody to the films of a bygone era.

Here you can get a hint of the bleached out look of the film.

   Though the film technique is not like that of classic noir - such as complex mise-en-sene, dark shadows, low key lighting, low and high shots; the film still retained some elements of classic noir. Naremore highlights stylistic differences when he says, “In place of carefully framed, angular compositions, it uses a roving, almost arbitrary series of panning and zooming shots that continually flatten perspective.”1 Noir is often described as being confusing, slow, and dreamlike, and in the Long Goodbye I felt these elements were retained. The dreamlike quality comes from obviously its slower pace, but also the fact that the film itself is bleached out. Altman said “I wanted to give the film the soft, pastel look you see on old postcards from the 1940s.”2 This makes the film feel like a forgotten memory one recalls in their dream. At times the film felt as if it were going nowhere, with several plot lines that I thought would never be tied up. I have faith in the plot structure of classic noir that their plots will be tied up, regardless of how convoluted they are. I suppose due to the chaotic nature of Altman films, I gave in to the complexity and felt that the subplots only loosely tied together through theme, and seldom wrap up together in the end. My initial confusion was probably also tied into the slow nature of the movie, wherein I felt frustrated with Marlowe’s slow attempt to solve his friend’s murder, and the characters that I initially felt were unrelated to the central problem, and that their problems took him further from the truth. However, Altman’s approach toward a noir detective story made me forget that everything ties together, and most loose ends are solved.

Here is Elliot Gould as Phillip Marlowe.

 Elliot Gould plays Phillip Marlowe in The Long Goodbye. Marlowe’s friend, Terry Lennox, tells Marlowe that he is a born loser. Perhaps that’s why not every loose end is tied up at the end. Marlowe points out the fact that his cat runs away, and he never did find it at the end. Altman was trying to make a point here about the morals and times of the past through the use of Marlowe. Elizabeth Ward wrote, “The film noir protagonist had steadily lost any ability to effect change in a modern world, and this increasing powerlessness is correlative of diminishing social morality.”3 Marlowe does not stop any corruption or evil from occurring. When the gangster Marty Augustine smashes his girlfriend.s face Marlowe just watches, and when the novelist Roger Wade walks into the ocean and drowns, Marlowe cannot find Wade in the water to save him. Humphrey Bogart played Marlowe with swagger and a cool edge; it could be said of Gould’s Marlowe that he is more passive. Gould passively watches and asks questions, but the only action that he takes is in the end is when he finds his friend Terry and shoots him for his betrayal.

Marlowe being a wise guy with the police by putting finger ink all over his face.

    Gould’s portrayal in many ways is in contrast with Raymond Chandler’s original version of Marlowe. Naremore points out that Marlowe is “a mumbling private eye who incessantly talks to himself.”4 Gould’s Marlowe does talk a lot, constantly throughout the film making smart-aleck remarks. Not every line is gold, but I enjoy a character that says what he wants to despite his surroundings, as shown in scenes in the police interrogation room and when Marlowe is held at gunpoint by the mobsters. Despite the fact that he is under pressure or in physical danger he cracks wise, perhaps as a way to deal with pressure. At times Marlowe is painful to watch because I had no idea why he didn’t speak up directly to those around him. Bogart’s Marlowe gives the impression that he is almost always has some upper hand or that he is confident enough to get the job done. That doesn’t come across as well to me with Gould’s portrayal. Although Gould does not seem to have Bogart’s confidence, his is a more accurate portrayal of a person solving a mystery. He is swimming up the creek without a paddle, with several other components in play that either purposefully or mistakenly lead him away from figuring everything out.

Is Eileen Wade a Femme Fatale? 

   The themes of corruption and misogyny that often shown in classic noir exist in The Long Goodbye, although shown differently than in classic noir. Naremore states that “the coke-bottle attack and the running gag about the stoned, bare-breasted girls who live in an apartment across from Marlowe-seem designed to exploit a new style of misogyny and violence under the cover of a smugly superior attitude toward private-eye stories.”5 The police are portrayed differently in the film too, where many film noirs portray police as being corrupt and greedy. Ward, however, states that “the ‘modern’ corruption of the police in The Long Goodbye is not caused by individual ambition and greed but by overload and burn-out.”6 We can look at these statements and make a number of assumptions: that our viewpoints on corruption and misogyny have changed including their starting factors, or that the methods in which that they are displayed have changed.

    Altman’s the Long Goodbye contains many of the elements of noir, but like many neo-noirs never fully embraces all the elements. Times had changed, and the filmmakers and their techniques had changed with them. Altman wanted the film to look like a faded postcard, a forgotten memory, as opposed to noir’s highly stylized and graphic shots. While the world became more effective in fighting crime and became more feminist, corruption and misogyny still lingered. Maybe due to the serious nature of the content in The Long Goodbye, it can’t be taken as parody, but because of Marlowe’s attitude throughout the film it can’t be taken seriously either. Personally, I wish that more films would dance the line of humor and seriousness. However, as we see with this film, audiences often have trouble distinguishing between the two. So The Long Goodbye becomes neither homage nor parody, but stands on its own as a different kind of noir.

1.) Naremore, James. More than Night: Film Noir in Its Contexts, Updated and Expanded Edition (Kindle Locations 2654-2655). Kindle Edition.
2.) Altman, Robert, and David Thompson. Altman on Altman. London: Faber and Faber, 2006.77
3.) Ward, Elizabeth. "The Post-Noir P.I.: The Long Goodbye and Hickey and Boggs" Film Noir Reader. Ed. Silver, Alain and Ursini, James. 8th ed. New York: Limelight Editions, 2006. 237
4.) Naremore, James. More than Night: Film Noir in Its Contexts, Updated and Expanded Edition (Kindle Location 2654). Kindle Edition.
5.) Naremore, James. More than Night: Film Noir in Its Contexts, Updated and Expanded Edition (Kindle Locations 2665-2666). Kindle Edition.
6.) Ward, Elizabeth. "The Post-Noir P.I.: The Long Goodbye and Hickey and Boggs" Film Noir Reader. Ed. Silver, Alain and Ursini, James. 8th ed. New York: Limelight Editions, 2006. 240

Human Values Through Film Design: Chaplin’s Modern Times and The Great Dictator

Charlie Chaplin learned comedy while working in vaudeville, and he went on to make genre comedies like many of his contemporaries. Compared to his peers Chaplin is sentimental in his story telling; he is more expressive, and his tramp character is lovable. As well as being a top-notch comedian and actor, Chaplin also directed the majority of his films. He was intelligent, and he was conscious of human suffering in the world around him. The times were hard for most people, the Great Depression provided troubles for people. He was gifted with an intuitive sense of cinema that let him make personal films, rich in humanity, when most movies were manufactured by a studio system that felt movies were a product and not art. Modern Times and The Great Dictator are two socially conscious films of his that have continued to find appreciative audiences.

Chaplin plays two roles in The Great Dictator, and each character has their own stories. The Dictator, Hynkel plans and plots to take over the neighboring country, and then the world; but he has to face several political and personnel problems that pop up. Meanwhile the Jewish Barber has to fight to survive; because Hynkel puts pressure on the Jews of Tomania, and is harassed by the Stormtroopers. The Barber is able to find love with Hannah, played by Paulette Godard. The end of the film has mistaken identities, caused by the fact that Hynkel and the Barber look so much alike; this was inspired by the fact that Hitler copied Chaplin’s mustache in real life. The ending of The Great Dictator has the Barber addressing a crowd of the dictator’s soldiers, and he gives them, and the whole world, a plea for peace. In this plea Chaplin stops acting as the Barber and speaks as himself; he stops speaking to the Tomanian troops and speaks to the citizens of the world. It is a beautiful and moving piece because Chaplin speaks his mind, and addresses his audience directly which few filmmakers do.

In The Great Dictator, while the Jewish Barber is in the hospital, after the first World War, time passes and the world changes drastically. To let the audience know that the world has changed since the end of the war, Chaplin uses a montage sequence. The screen fades from the Barber and his friend being told the war has been lost to whirling newspaper presses. The presses symbolize the gears and wheels of the world spinning, passing, and changing. Chaplin fades through different printing presses, and we see different shots of machines until a newspaper headline comes at us; “Armistice!” The camera fades into a crowd of happy people in the streets cheering the end of the war. Then the Barber is shown in the hospital, with his head bandaged. We are shown more headlines, many of them contemporary with Chaplin’s timeline, giving the audience a sense of time, “Lindberg flies Atlantic.” This is an attempt to speed the audience up to the present. The headlines show terrible times in the fictitious country of Tomania, which is a metaphor for Germany, and this helps us understand the last headline, “Hynkel Party Takes Power!” It parallels Hitler’s rise to power. The montage then shows us one last shot of the barber walking around so we know that he is in good health and alive, before giving us the film’s first shot of Hynkel. The montage sequence is important to the narrative because it gives the audience a greater sense of the timeline. For Chaplin’s original audience, it provided a brief history of the parallel world that he has created, wherein Hynkel stands in for Hitler. For modern audiences the montage gives them a greater understanding of the timeline, reminding and informing them of past events, letting the audience see the deplorable conditions of Tomania and how a person like Hynkel could rise to power. In less than a minute, several years worth of knowledge is given about the Barber and the conditions of Tomania.

The most beautiful and haunting sequences of The Great Dictator is when Hynkel dances with the globe, tossing it up into the air and gracefully catching it. Chaplin uses many long takes, and avoids cuts unless they are needed for an emotional affect, such as a close up of Hannah during Chaplin’s closing speech. In this sequence Hynkel tosses the globe. Rather than have the camera follow the globe up, the camera cuts to the globe and then follows it down. When you become used to this, the camera follows the globe up and then cuts to Chaplin lying down on the table. While it is not an extreme use of editing as many modern editors would use, it is subtly jarring. Hynkel is a pleasant person, but under the personality he is a violent brute. The quick subtle edits highlights this in Hynkel’s dance; he is dangerous. Finally, at the end of the sequence, he grabs the globe and it bursts, just as the Earth would have if Hynkel or Hitler would have conquered the Earth. In the most moving scene in The Great Dictator Chaplin uses little cuts for a greater emotional appeal. When he gives his speech and plea for humanity, which goes about five minutes, the camera cuts only once. Chaplin just stares straight into the camera for each whole take, breaking the “fourth wall” by looking at the audience. This contrasts with Hynkel’s dance and shows that Chaplin uses editing to highlight emotional aspects of the film.

The Great Dictator has a threatening yet humorous scene wherein Hynkel addresses members of the Jewish Ghetto through a loudspeaker. Chaplin speaks so it sounds like German, but it is just gibberish, and no translation is given. It is not what Hynkel is saying, but how he says it, that is threatening. We are set up in a previous scene where he states that he is going to threaten the Jews. While on the loudspeaker we see the Barber and Hannah reacting. They are on a crowded street when Hynkel’s voice booms in, and in seconds they are the last ones standing; everyone else has disappeared. The walk down the street at an increasing speed, but when Hynkel’s voice becomes more threatening they hide. There is no visible danger here, only the perception of Hynkel’s threat to them. The combination of the set-up, the sound production, and the acting make this sequence both frightening and hilarious.

Modern Times has plenty of plot and action by Chaplin’s design, compared to The Great Dictator the action veers away from the story. It is Godard’s urchin propels the Tramp into the next adventure. They dream of a future, and attempt to help each other. Chaplin tries to support her; declaring he will get her a home even if he has to work for it. It breaks off into events, going away from the story and into the plot; surviving the conditions of a city in 1930. We watch Chaplin working, imprisoned, and Godard as she works in a restaurant. Humor often works when the story and the plot diverge from the story, and perhaps this is why it was such a successful film. The Great Dictator on the other has less non-diegetic material, comparatively; and the action keeps more to the story. Plot developments in The Great Dictator build up to the speech in the end of the film; while not every piece of the plot fits the story it is tighter than Modern Times.

Chaplin had a strong ideology that was very pro-humanity, and he portrayed his views in his films. He gave the films implicit meanings that he consciously thought about for long periods. Modern Times shows how Chaplin felt about the industrial era, and how technological efficiency has dehumanized mankind. When the Tramp is working in the factory tightening bolts, he gets so caught up in the work that he does not notice that he is pulled into the machinery as he tightens the bolts of the machine. His body is contorted through painful-looking gears; he has become a piece of the machine itself.  Chaplin’s plea for humanity to the soldiers, 

“Soldiers! Don't give yourselves to brutes — men who despise you — enslave you — who regiment your lives — tell you what to do — what to think or what to feel! Who drill you, diet you, treat you like cattle, use you as cannon fodder. Don't give yourselves to these unnatural men — machine men with machine minds and machine hearts! You are not machines! You are not cattle! You are men!...Then, in the name of democracy, let us use that power! Let us all unite! Let us fight for a new world, a decent world that will give men a chance to work, that will give youth the future and old age a security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power, but they lie! They do not fulfill their promise; they never will. Dictators free themselves, but they enslave the people!”

Chaplin rose to fame during the Great Depression, and was conscious of the ruin around him. As Hitler rose to power many people in the United States supported him and his quest against the Jews; which appalled Chaplin. He knew that he could use his film as an overt and subtle weapon against social injustices he perceived.

Chaplin played with the frame rate in many of his films. By using the frame rate of 18 fps, or another speed, he could give the story a greater pacing he felt that he wanted. It allows for Chaplin to move in a manner he could not on his own; the Tramp could then move faster, be more graceful, or be clumsy. The effect works; it is subtle enough for the audience not to notice it. Paulette Godard’s character in Modern Times is introduced by showing her cutting a bushel of bananas and throwing them to children. She is a desperate and hungry street urchin. The frame rate is sped up; so that she is furiously cutting the bananas, which gives her more spirit and voraciousness as she goes at it. If watched her at a normal fps rate it would not create the same effect; the change is needed to make her seem more feisty. Later the Tramp goes swimming and somersaults into less than a foot of water in the lake. The reaction of Chaplin to this event is intensified by the action being sped up. It is only a short gag, but the audience spends more time watching him prepare for the dive than in the actual water. He stretches, and warms up, then dives. Another person would have somersaulted more awkwardly, and it would have only appeared painful, but Chaplin’s choreography combined with the adjusted fps rate makes it humorous to the audience instead of painful. 

Modern Times, while a “silent film,” still made use of recorded sound; such as music, sound effects, and features Charlie Chaplin singing. The sound is postsynchronous, recorded after filming. It is the amalgamation of silent film techniques with prerecorded diegetic sound that makes the film interesting and unique. Whenever people talk to each other we cannot hear them, instead we read their lips or read the title cards. However, whenever a person talks through a machine, whether it is the Henry Ford-like boss, or a news radio announcer, we get to hear a voice. The only time that we get to hear a voice is through a machine. This adds to theme of the movie—the dehumanization of people because of technology and the “advances” of modern times: people have lost their voices, and they have become slaves to the machines they work for. When Chaplin’s boss comes down to see him and talk to him directly he no longer has a voice as he did when he was on the monitor. Everything he says goes unheard, and only the most important dialogue ends up on a title card. The restaurant scene of the film has Charlie Chaplin singing. However, the character loses the lyrics of the song and has to make up the lyrics. Instead of singing in English he sings in gibberish, imitating French. We can even hear the audience members cheering and laughing at his humorous gestures. Combined with Chaplin’s gestures and dancing, it is a humorous scene. Although the song is the first time many people have heard Chaplin’s voice, the scene is still more about the comical movements and gestures that he performs. This could have been Chaplin’s way of trying to defy modern conventions, which made many of his peers go over to talkies. Even in a historical moment, as Chaplin’s voice being heard, it is still about the pantomime and the mimegesis.

Chaplin would often use a deep focus in his films. He came from a theatre background, and would stage action so that he could use a longer shot, rather than a traditional establishing shot followed by close ups. Characters often speak to each other on screen together instead of two close ups intercut. In the shots of Godard’s Gamin with Chaplin’s Tramp, they talk facing each other, with their sides to the audience. Then in the factory scenes he uses a deep focus, giving us a sense of grandeur and depth in the factory. We can watch the great big gears in the background turning, and men wheeling machinery around with as much focus as Chaplin and other workers in the foreground. He was aware of his body as a comedic tool, and wanted to put it entirely in the shot. 

Chaplin uses suspense as a comedic tool in both films by dangling his characters over danger while neither character is aware of it. In Modern Times Chaplin’s Tramp is rollerskating around a multi-level department store to impress his girlfriend; and while doing so comes close to death by approaching an open ledge. It would be an impressive feat of bravery, but the tramp is blindfolded, and he inches closer to the ledge with each pass. The audience fears for the Tramp, but he is unaware that he is in danger of getting hurt while showing off. The comedy kicks in when his girlfriend, Hannah, warns him and he takes the blind fold off. Now he is no longer graceful and flails about to get away from the ledge, getting closer to it. His surprise combined with the relief he never got hurt is what makes the scene funny. This replays in The Great Dictator when the Barber and Hannah escape the stormtroopers; with all of the friends’ belongings, including a hat box placed over the Barber’s eyes. The two run up to the roof, and the Barber runs out onto a beam unaware that a misstep could mean his death. His friend calls out to him to be careful. The Barber comically drops several items he is holding to his friends dismay, thinking he is placing them on the ground. Again, while we fear for his safety, the true comedy comes in when he takes the hat box off his head and looks down, he finally drops all the items and flails about until he can reach the safety of the roof. The dramatic build-up of Chaplin’s falling climaxes with his becoming aware of his danger, which leads to his safety and the audience’s release of emotion with laughter.

Modern Times and The Great Dictator are a culmination of everything that Chaplin had learned working on film years prior. They also show his ability to adapt and grow; he redeveloped himself to use sound design, and even use speech as a comical and dramatic device. Most impressive of Chaplin is how he used his films not just for entertainment or for self gain, but he used them to promote social values he developed. He was worried about industry destroying men’s souls, and a dictator destroying the world. There hasn’t been anyone quite like Chaplin since.

Gilda: The Singing Dancing Noir Heroine

"Sure, I'm decent."

Gilda is both interesting and terrifying to watch for the relationships the characters carry with each other. Johnny starts off as the narrator, but then by the end almost becomes the villain. The love triangle between Johnny Farrell, Ballin Mundson, and Gilda suggests relationships both of love and of doom, as is the case of Ballin. Through mere suggestion we question the nature of relationship between Ballin and Johnny, whom are extremely close. Then there is the sadomasochistic relationship between Johnny and Gilda. She walks and talks like a femme fatale, but she rises beyond being one by being sympathetic and relatable. In the 1940s it was traditional in films to show women in housekeeping roles; except in film noirs, wherein women who rebel against patriarchy would be punished. In the noir world women were not allowed to get ahead, or be freed; they were to be controlled. Gilda becomes unusual because of it’s portrayal of the title character in a different light; trying to promote herself, exhibiting herself in sexually, yet Gilda is depicted as being sympathetic. Gilda is more optimistic in the film world. Gilda is not a femme fatal, and she is able to persevere through her afflictions and come out the better for it.

Gilda is represented in strange ways. One of Ballin’s rules is that the club should be filled with men and unattractive women, so that Ballin can further control the gamblers by forcing their focus on gambling. With her appearance, Gilda disrupts the focus, redirecting it to herself. She is an exhibitionist, daring to challenge the authority of men over her body, by singing and dancing. Ballin has the rule that woman and gambling do not mix; however, Ballin when confronted by Johnny Farrell with this rule responds, “My wife does not come under the category of women.” Ballin may perceive and be attracted to Gilda for the fact that her behavior is masculine rather than feminine. There is an implied homosexual relationship between Ballin and Johnny. With that in mind it would be safe to assume the thing that attracted Ballin to Gilda would be her femme fatal like behavior. Femme fatales in noir is that they try to act like men rather than be servants of men, so is this could be the element that attracts him toward her. Gilda, the character in the movie world and the movie in our world, becomes a challenge toward patriarchal society. Richard Dyer writes that “The casting of Hayworth as Gilda gives the character a positive charge (where femme fatales are usually negative, in the sense of being absent in terms of personality, mere functions or the eternal unknowable.)”

. What becomes the strangest part of Gilda in the film noir universe is that she becomes sympathetic. Instead of a femme fatal sent to castrate the men, she becomes a woman fighting for her own happiness and freedom from those who are continually trying to control her.

Much of the uniqueness of the character of Gilda is created by Hayworth, the actress who played her. Other noir films had to get smaller actresses to perform due to small budgets; however, Gilda was not a B picture and therefore could afford a name actress. Rita Hayworth brought her charm to the performance of Gilda. Dyer writes about in the 40‘s Rita was considered a ‘love goddess’ for heterosexual men, but she was also “an identification figure for heterosexual women.” Dancing, he explains, was unnecessary for the character but was there because Hayworth was known for dancing. Dyer continues, “They introduce a new element into the construction of the character as a sexual object -- namely, movement.” The elements of dancing, movement, singing, and exhibitionism are all important to understanding the character Gilda, and her relationship with Johnny. He is always trying to control Gilda, not allowing her to dance, sing, or move freely. 

Johnny is punishing her, we are never told directly why and it becomes irrelevant.  Naremore probably best explains the noir hero by stating “In many cases, the noir protagonist's ability to serve as a role model is undercut by his quasi-gay relationships with men, by his masochistic love affairs with women, and by his more general weakness of character.” 

The extremes that Johnny goes to can not be justified in his treatment toward Gilda. In terms of plot development, the Nazis could have been interchangeable with gangsters. Nazis become a symbol of Johnny and Gilda’s relationship in the film and a reminder of the extremes of controlling people, allowing intolerance and hatred to blind people as it did Johnny. Johnny becomes a dictator in his treatment of Gilda, and her apartment, which he never visits, becomes her prison, from which she is never allowed to leave. After she runs away and is told that it is safe, she realizes that it was all a ruse, she was never safe. Though Ballin tries to kill Johnny and Gilda at the end, he never quite succeeds in behaving more outrageous than Johnny. He is controlling of Gilda even when she is married to Ballin, and forces her to play the good wife to Ballin. Motivations could stem from revenge against her, or that he wants Ballin to be happy and have an obedient and good wife, because of his feelings toward Ballin. Both of which could be true but it never really matters. Johnny feels threatened in the end by Gilda and that is why he treats her the way that he does. Angela Martin said, “she doesn’t necessarily have to kill or harm anyone, she just carries the threat by her very presence.” This better explains the reasoning of Johnny’s behavior. Johnny runs the casino with his own Gestapo, and treats Gilda with the hatred and intolerance that a dictator has for minorities, because he feels she is a threat by being there.

Here Gilda is caught dancing with another
man, and Johnny has come to pull her away.

Gilda refuses to allow herself to be controlled. She puts up with the cruelty Johnny gives her, perhaps, more than most would. Through it all she dances, she sings, she owns herself and refuses to be owned by Johnny, by keeping her movement free. While Hayworth was a pin-up model, and a sexual fantasy for men, there is a feminist element of freedom with her in this role. Dyer wrote “the particular kind of movement, the association with it of Hayworth’s image, its narrative placing, all make it possible to read Hayworth-as-Gilda... in Marjorie Rosen’s terms: ‘for the first time a heroine seemed to say, “This is my body. It’s lovely and gives me pleasure. I rejoice in it just as you do”, or else in terms of male heterosexual enjoyment of the character - of surrender rather than control.” An element of male masculinity in film noir and Gilda becomes about control, as Johnny controls Gilda.

Another difference between Gilda and other film noirs is everything gets straightened out, for the most part, and ends with a more traditional happy ending. Instead of being punished in the end, Gilda is rewarded. Johnny changes, acknowledges his wrong-doing against Gilda and asks for her forgiveness. Ballin, the only person standing between them and won’t let them go, gets killed. The two go off together away from the casino and the Nazis. While the change of Johnny is presented logically, with Uncle Pio and Detective Maurice Obregon appealing to Johnny to be more sympathetic and reasonable throughout the film, but the transformation is still quick and magical. Not surprisingly, some of the writers were women, and perhaps that is why this stands out as a more pro-feminist film. So the writers could have been trying to appeal to men to drop misogynistic behavior and live harmoniously with their female counterparts.

Johnny fights Nazis and cops who want to control him. Johnny even fights off luck. Then he ends up trying to control Gilda. Why should Gilda be any more controlled than he? Film noir exemplifies masculine behavior, and Gilda’s plea is to allow the Gildas of the world to continue to sing and to dance. Gilda is not a femme fatal because she is not one sided, and she becomes sympathetic. Gilda is free because of her movement. She sings and dances, and refuses to allow herself be controlled. Unlike many film noirs female characters, Gilda becomes a role model for women.

¹ Dyer, Richard. ‘Resistance Through Charisma: Rita Hayworth and Gilda.” Women in Film Noir. Ed. Kaplan, E. Ann.British Film Institute. 2008. 119.

² Dyer, Richard. 120

³ Dyer, Richard.

⁴ Naremore, James. More than Night: Film Noir in its Contexts. University of California Press, Berkeley and Los Angeles. 2008. Ebook edition.

⁵ Martin, Angela. ‘Gilda Didn’t Do Any of Those Things You’ve Been Losing Sleep Over!’: The Central Women of the 40s Film Noirs.’ Women in Film Noir. Ed. Kaplan, E. Ann.British Film Institute. 2008. 208.

⁶ Martin, Angela. 208.