Volume 38, Number 14 · August 15, 1991

The Return of Film Noir!

By Geoffrey O'Brien

MOVIES DISCUSSED IN THIS ESSAY

The Seventh Victim
directed by Mark Robson

Turner, $19.95

The Dark Mirror
directed by Robert Siodmak

Republic, $14.95

Desperate
directed by Anthony Mann

Turner, $19.95

The Street With No Name
directed by William Keighley

CBS-Fox, $19.95

Road House
directed by Jean Negulesco

CBS-Fox, $19.95

Follow Me Quietly
directed by Richard Fleischer

Turner, $19.95

Caught
directed by Max Ophuls

Republic, $14.95

Gun Crazy
directed by Joseph H. Lewis

CBS-Fox, $19.95

Panic in the Streets
directed by Elia Kazan

CBS-Fox, $39.95

The Underworld Story
directed by Cyril Endfield

CBS-Fox, $19.95

Try and Get Me
directed by Cyril Endfield

Republic, $19.95

The Narrow Margin
directed by Richard Fleischer

Turner, $19.95

On Dangerous Ground
directed by Nicholas Ray

Tuner, $19.95

Pickup on South Street
directed by Samuel Fuller

CBS-Fox, $19.95

Human Desire
directed by Fritz Lang

Goodtimes, $12.95

Kiss Me Deadly
directed by Robert Aldrich

MGM, $19.95

For spectators who grew up during the postwar period and its aftermath, there existed an internalized movie whose characters circled warily around each other in a world of night clubs and truck stops, a backlit theater of memory where women's faces disappeared in cigarette smoke and the world was erased by the blare of rumba bands. All men were named Steve and hadn't shaved in three days, had been wounded in battle or betrayed in the bedroom, stopped off for coffee but couldn't get that tune out of their heads, had been out of work since they got back from the war, took no satisfaction in anything but a grim, worn-out lucidity of purpose. The women were isolated, cynical, haunting, ruthless, frightened, doomed. Their intentions were crucial but definitively illegible. The rest of the world—cops, soda jerks, small-time hoods and con artists, rubes on the town flashing their wads, hatcheck girls dreaming of movie careers, cunning drunkards, eccentric night clerks—didn't care anyway. The el rumbled by, indifferent to the lovers dying in its shadow.



Review, 5139 words

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