Thursday, October 15, 2009

Noir-ly

At my instigation, we watched the classic movie Kiss of Death (1947) recently.  As these things go, there is often a significant lag between the impulse and the viewing, leaving me wondering at my motive in selecting this particular vehicle.  Looking back,  it was quite likely the fact that this is Richard Widmark’s debut that attracted me to it.  I have had his wonderfully dark characters stop in a number of times recently (Pickup on South Street is one that comes to mind, as well as Don’t Bother to Knock).  And Kiss is the one that has Widmark gleefully thrusting a wheelchair-bound woman down the stairs (to her death, presumably).  Somewhat of a noir icon, I would guess, that particular scene.  Of course, the movie doesn’t come out as some might want.  Ben Hecht did the screenplay, and my impression is that a true noir aficionado would need to know no more than that.

D. Thomson (The New Biographical Dictionary of Film) has this to say about Tommy Udo, Widmark’s Kiss character:

The sadism of that character, the fearful laugh, the skull showing through drawn skin, and the surely conscious evocation of a concentration camp degenerate established Widmark as the most frightening person on the screen.  The glee in the performance may even have shocked Widmark himself.

You need to watch this.

Since then, I have had occasion to disturb myself further by reading Patricia Highsmith’s Strangers on a Train, the inspiration for Hitchcock’s 1951 movie of the same name (which backpedalled a good deal from the original).

This is my first encounter with Highsmith – I’d not heard of her until recently.  It won’t be my last.  I came upon this one due to a great, expansive review of of a compendium of her Mr. Ripley series, regarding an amiable murderer.  She also authored The Price of Salt, purportedly one of the first well-selling novels with an explicit lesbian theme.

She is an intriguing author who seems to deserve more attention than she got in this country while alive.  I gather she was much more admired in Europe, where she spent much of her life (though born in Texas).  She seems to have an uncanny innate understanding of the internal psychological disputes we all struggle with.  Her Charles Bruno in Strangers could give Widmark quite a run for his money in terms of psychopathy.  Interestingly, I found the detective who finally cracked the case and broke down the protagonist in the book almost as disturbingly intrusive and sociopathic (though supposedly with a legalistic goal) as Bruno.  I have little doubt that I was in the author’s sway – she’s way ahead of me.

For one with a great enthusiasm, limned here before, for connections, this tale of dual traded murders, dreamed up with the idea that no connections or motives could possibly be found, is compelling stuff.

Go on, I dare ya, check out our dark side.