Heists and homicides that rarely go to plan, assassins and amnesia with identity issues, and an array of characters placed in difficult situations, whether it is lovers on the run seeking to evade capture; innocent protagonists trying to clear their name; lone cops aiming to expose corruption in the force; or a number of detectives (both âofficialâ and otherwise) whose investigation often reveals more about themselves than their supposed quarry. As such a list suggests, neo-noir plots are both familiar and diverse, inviting ongoing intrigue while frustrating easy analysis. Whether set in the past or the present (or extrapolated to a near-future), played relatively straight or radically revised, we can recognise repeated themes and seemingly perennial concerns. Adopting various formsâincluding cinema, television and new digital platformsâexamples have encompassed a range of styles and now span the globe, yet despite its apparent prevalence todayâand increased academic attentionâmany core questions remain unanswered. What has propelled noirâs appeal, half a century on after its supposed decline? What has led film-makers and series creators to rework given tropes? What debates continue to divide critics? And why are we, as viewers, so drawn to stories that often show us at our worst? Referencing a range of films and series, citing critical work in the fieldâwhile also challenging many of the assumptions madeâthis book sets out to advance our understanding of a subject that has fascinated audiences and academics alike (arguably, for very different reasons), enduring, in large part, due to its capacity to keep us guessing.
Although the term âneo-noirâ is regularly used by critics, and readily adopted by the media industry, confusion reigns about what this label means and how it should be applied. Published work in this area has yielded much debate yet also relatively little consensus, with commentators unwilling to stray too far from an established academic doctrine or simply asserting their own individual preferences, resulting in assessments that are often too partial or subjective to be much use as a guide to neo-noir. This book aims to avoid these pitfalls by treating its subject as a cold case reopened, keen to find what apparent âexpertsâ may have missed. It provides an informative and accessible appraisal that questions why noir has proved so ripe for continued revision on screen, as well as renewed academic interest. While various strands of interpretation are discussed, many critical claims are also interrogated, including questionable assessments about its assumed audience and underlying ideology. In contrast to the dogmatic assertions often made by noir scholars, a more balanced approach is favoured here, acknowledging noirâs potential to be both progressive and problematic. It challenges the idealism that has often led critics to look upon neo-noir as a pale imitation of film noir, takes issue with many claims about the purported meaning of texts and updates existing scholarship in a number of ways: drawing attention to television series as well as cinema, emphasising contemporary examples not discussed elsewhere and endeavours to shed some light on dark tales by examining various factors behind neo-noirâs appealâa question that demands due consideration in seeking to understand its differing modes of engagement.
Noirâs interest is a complex question, especially given the diverse forms it has assumed. As James Naremore asserts
âThe truth is the history of noir is not over and it cannot be given a single explanation. No doubt movies of the noir type have always appealed strongly â but not exclusively â to middle class white males who project themselves into stories about loners, losers, out-laws and flawed idealists at the margins of society. The different manifestations of noir, however, can never be completely subsumed under a single demographic group or psychological explanationâ. (1998: 275)
Naremore is right in warning against trying to oversimplify noirâs attraction (including contentious claims about its main audience) yet he also asserts a particularly important idea in terms of its appeal, suggesting viewers might find some affinity with the marginalised protagonists on screen, who are either drawn into unlawful conduct or struggle to stay honest in a crooked world. What might viewers gain from immersing themselves in such a fraught fictional environment? Or by identifying with characters who seem to lack any control over their lives? Is there a transgressive pleasure to be had in witnessing characters break the law, sometimes securing a degree of power that is otherwise untenable, and what other pleasures might this narrative form offer? From its earliest examples, noir has skirted controversy in its depiction of criminality and âtabooâ subject matter, allowing us to observe illicit activities in a world beyond the norm. In the intense dramas that unfold temptation, betrayal and tragedy often feature, giving noir what Naremore terms as âmythic forceâ (277). Richard Martin suggests that noir might even be regarded as a âcontemporary nightmare-like correlative to classical mythologyâ which updates the action yet maintains the same underlying concerns, âpresenting essentially timeless narratives about the darker side of the human conditionâ (1999: 6). As occurs in myth, flawed characters are tested in some way and it is these flawsâa veritable gamut of human folly including lust, greed, megalomania and ruthless aggressionâwhich heightens the sense of drama in these tales and also makes such characters relatable. 1
It is by inviting us to identify with largely âunheroicâ figures that noir narratives first set themselves apart. Critic Nino Frank, credited with coining the term âfilm noirâ in his article âA New Kind of Police Drama: The Criminal Adventureâ (1946), notes a fundamental difference to the standard policier in making the criminal, rather than police, its focusâobserving âthe essential question is no longer âwho-done-itâ but how does this protagonist act?â Frank maintained that viewers are drawn to more âpsychologicalâ narratives because they better represent âthe kind of gross cruelties which actually exist and the past concealment of which has served no purpose: the struggle to survive is not a new storyâ (Frank 2018). By presenting the criminal not as a simplistic villain, but a figure we might regard with some sympathy in their bid to survive respective difficulties, noir is thus perceived as a significant new take on the conventional crime drama. As other early commentators, Raymond Borde and Etienne Chaumeton, put it in their article âTowards a definition of Film Noirâ (1955), rather than reflect the point of view of the police âthe film noir is from within, from the point of view of the criminalsâ (1997: 20), granting a perspective that creates intrigue and an unsettling ambivalence. Borde and Chaumeton perceive the result as a means of disorientation, prompting a reappraisal of conventional expectations via stories populated by âlikeable killers and corrupt copsâ, where âgood and evil go hand in hand to the point of being indistinguishableâ (25). Over half a century on, such ambivalence remains a key trait. We may not necessarily root for criminal characters but, in providing a greater context for lawbreaking, complemented by widespread corruption in the police force and beyond, simplistic delineations between âgoodâ and âbadâ are swept aside by tales that deal in shades of greyâa quality contemporary variations have retained and reworked.
Noir tends to operate in ethically murky terrain, where conflicted characters evoke complex responses, including vigilantes we approve of because they are shown to have legitimate targets; vendettas that seem more âjustâ (and dramatically satisfying) than any legally sanctioned means of redress; professional assassins who prove they are not simply cold-blooded killersâdefying the role assigned to themâand (by contrast) seemingly ordinary citizens who reveal a capacity to kill, and who we may even applaud for doing so. Rather than align audiences with the forces of law and order, such assumptions are profoundly undermined in noir, creating situations where nothing can be assumed. That is not to say that criminality is always approved or understood. A home invasion will rarely place our sympathies with the intruder, while psychotic killers tend to induce fear rather than affinity, but neither can we make too definitive a claim, even in these situations. As noir plots have been extended and expanded, well beyond their formal termination date, they have also pushed respective themes beyond their initial boundaries. We have seen variations on the home invasion theme that roundly confront expectation, as well as serial killers we do not necessarily recoil from (as is further discussed in the next chapter). As we might expect from a narrative form that has always relied on maintaining a level of intrigue, noir has had to renew and revitalise itself as it has undergone its own comparative struggle to survive, seeking to meet the demands of a diverse audience, intense academic analysis, and a wider scale of production than experienced in its formative years. Invariably, innovation and originality can never be guaranteed yet a key concern in this investigation is to try and decipher exactly what constitutes a noir narrative and what separates âneoâ examples from the classic form. Given greater experimentation in terms of narrative structure, characterisation, generic features, and the differing locations and time periods in which a story may be set, identifying what remains recognisably noir is perhaps no easy task, but remains a necessary undertaking if we are to justify continued use of the term. While film noir was more easily identifiable in terms of fairly routine features (an urban location, a contemporary setting, and various stylistic traits such as high-contrast lighting or the use of a voice-over), contemporary variants are more expansive, often more playful or knowing in terms of the allusions made, while also needing to provide something that will stand out in an ever-burgeoning arenaâa precarious balancing act.
So what makes contemporary versions identifiably noir? Criminality is a core trait, with theft and murder prominent among the crimes depicted, together with the ambivalence noted by early critics, the sense of subverted norms and skewered allegiances. Foster Hirsch argues that a âquest motifâ is a constant factor in an otherwise mutable landscape, yet he also acknowledges this to be the most âelasticâ of themes (1999: 146). In recent incarnations, the narrative goal can sometimes seem fairly abstract, more about acquiring knowledge than apprehending anyone. In three celebrated neo-noirs, The Usual Suspects (Bryan Singer, 1995), Memento (Christopher Nolan, 2000) and Angel Heart (Alan Parker, 1987), the sought-after characterâKeyser Soze, John G. and Johnny Valentineâforms the equivalent of a hunt for phantom personas, with noirâs interest in split personalities, suppressed selves and psychosis given a conspicuous reboot. As to the questor, this is no longer a jaded gumshoe necessarily but may be a simple customs officer unable to recognise a coveted kingpin masquerading as a negligible foot soldier, a grief-stricken husband in denial of all the facts, or a former soldier with PTSD who may have made a pact with the devilâor simply lost his mind. Contemporary revisions can be fairly radical, relocating noir concerns to environments where they may seem scarcely recognisable (including a âtech-noirâ future where memories and thoughts can be convincingly fabricated, as much as reality) or disturbingly familiar. Our understanding of power, manipulation and misused authority has evidently altered since the post-war period, acquiring greater veracity by events such as Watergate and countless scandals that have since added credence to the more opaque concerns of the classic noir era. The suggestion of malign forces of destiny conspiring against protagonistsâthe âgross crueltiesâ Nino Frank alludes toâhave taken more concrete shape in recent years, leading to increasingly extreme scenarios of what âtheyâ can do to âusâ (and what we may collude in doing to ourselves). Nonetheless, contrary to the assumption that noir is necessarily aligned with doom and despair, some narratives promote a vital sense of hope, featuring protagonists who do not simply accept the hand dealt to them and succumb to an apparently inescapable fate. The pleasure of seeing characters flout convention, break the law and take control of events (rather than being subject to the forces of a malevolent destiny) has obvious appeal and is a tendency that seems to be on the increaseârendered somewhat disconcerting perhaps when driven by ruthless self-interest, yet occasionally serving to champion finer qualities. The sense of failure and futility often found in early noir has thus been refuted by a range of exceptions that counter such fatalism with a sense of optimism and agency, examples that are duly discussed in the ensuing analysis. Indeed, finding contrasts and alternatives to apparent tendencies is an important means of highlighting the fact that no single...