I thought this was a very good overview of film noir with evocatively named chapters (‘The Fatalistic Nightmare,’ ‘The Burden of the Past,’ ‘The Darkness and Corruption’) on key themes, and masses of absolutely beautiful photographs. The authors are right to say that the movement is as much about style as it is content, which is why I have absolutely zero interest in modern attempts at ‘neo-noir.’ Unless it was produced between 1940 and 1958, shot in black and white (OK, I’ll make an exception for Gene Tierney in Leave Her to Heaven), features chiaroscuro lighting and expressionist camera angles, partakes heavily of post-war malaise and a sense of impending personal doom, and the people in it look like Lizabeth Scott, Cornel Wilde, Joan Bennett, Gloria Grahame, Humphrey Bogart, Dana Andrews, Barbara Stanwyck, and the Roberts Ryan and Mitchum, to name a few, I don't want to know. Anything much after that era is failed pastiche to my eyes. I liked the - admittedly brief - discussion of the work undertaken by feminist writers to reclaim the figure of the femme fatale, and could have done with more of it:
In the femme fatale’s case, the object of her derision, rather than an absurd universe, may be male patriarchy. Post-feminist critics have analysed characters like Phyllis Dietrichson in Double Indemnity, Vera in Detour and Anna in Criss Cross and found strong women trapped in a male-dominated universe, who were willing to use any weapon, including their own sexuality, to level the playing field.
In the chapter on ‘The Private Eye,’ the screenwriter of Kiss Me Deadly, a striking but distinctly repugnant late noir, A.I. Bezzerides, is lauded for his skill in transforming the original novel by Mickey Spillane. He is quoted as saying, ‘This is lousy. Let me see what I can do. I was having fun with it. I want to make every scene, every character interesting. A girl comes up to Ralph Meeker, so I make her a nympho’ [my italics]. That his idea of an interesting female character is a nymphomaniac (an antiquated term, and a semi-mythical creature in any case, surely?) speaks volumes for the disadvantages faced by women at the hands of male creatives, even in a genre where they dominated the screen.
A couple of minor caveats: an index would have been useful, and the Filmography which gives further details on only ten films, all of which are discussed at length in individual chapters, is pretty redundant. But overall, the book gave me lots of ideas for obscure noirs to hunt down, as well as the name of a noir author I hadn’t previously heard of, David Goodis.