Detour

Perhaps my favorite type of film is what is come to be known as film noir. The problem is, no one has really come up with a definitive definition of film noir, and some don't even think it's a genre--there are gangster noirs, mystery noirs, caper noirs, even Western noirs. When the Hollywood directors were making these films, they didn't even know it was called film noir--that was a label attached by French critics in retrospect.

Over many entries on my blog I've stated my interpretation of what film noir is, mostly about what is not film noir. I don't think police procedurals like The Naked City are noir, because the hero (or more precisely, antihero) of noir should be a character of mixed motives, and not a representative of uncorrupted authority. Most think of the antiheroes of film noir as being private eyes, and that they always get involved with a femme fatale, but that isn't always the case.

Over the past few months I received two boxed sets of film noir, and I'm going to share my thoughts on them over the next several weeks. There are numerous sets like these--it seems that noir sells, and studios are repackaging any old black and white movies that might involve a crime and calling it noir. But the ten films in these two sets are all certifiable noir, and all very good examples (I've seen them all before, but not for several years).

They don't include some of the best of the type, such as The Maltese Falcon, The Big Sleep, Double Indemnity, Crossfire, Narrow Margin, or Night in the City, but it's a good sampling nonetheless. All of these films were made in the golden age of noir, 1944-1950.

I start with Detour, made in 1945 by Edgar G. Ulmer. This is a B-picture, made on a shoestring, with a no-name cast. In many ways it looks lousy, but as many critics have written, it stays with you like a bad dream. It follows many of the "rules" of film noir--it's reminiscent of German expressionism, it has dream-like qualities, it's strange, erotic, ambivalent, and cruel. It's also a trim sixty-seven minutes, but seems to have more to it than a film twice that length.

The film concerns Al Roberts (Tom Neal, who ironically would go on to serve time in prison for manslaughter), a pianist in a New York nightclub. His fiancee goes to Hollywood to try to make it as an actress, and he decides to hitchhike to go see her. He gets a ride with a high-rolling bookie, and they hit it off, at least until the man accidentally dies. Neal, realizing the police would never believe his story, hides the body and takes the man's car.

Later, he stops at a gas station and gives a lift to a woman. He describes her, in great pulp language, as looking like "she was thrown off the crummiest freight train in the world." She's played by Anne Savage, in one of the nastiest performances in all of noir. In technical terms, it's not a great performance--it would seem that Ulmer just told her to be the bitchiest she could be, but boy does she deliver.

Savage, it turns out, knows that Neal isn't who he says he is, and blackmails him into taking part in a hare-brained scheme. I won't spoil it anymore than that, except to say there's a nasty bit of business with a telephone cord. Neal narrates the story himself, sitting at a diner as he contemplates his fate.

Detour is cheaply made, and their are several home video versions. I'm not sure if it's the quality of the film or intentional that the tinting of the black and white photography changes from scene to scene--sometimes it's more blue, other times more brown. Also, some scenes where botched but instead of reshoots, Ulmer flipped the negative, so it looks like the cars are being driven in England.

But the undeniable power of Detour is the elemental forces of desperation, greed, and guilt. Savage, we are led to believe, has some sort of terminal illness. Neal is bitter because he's a classically-trained pianist who plays for tips in a nightclub. The movie seems soaked in vinegar, and the existential dread is palpable. This is a must-see for those who like these sorts of films--you'll never forget it.