Your reminder that comics can be awesome, mummies edition:
Last week, I wrote about Norm Breyfogle’s knack for constantly coming up with new designs for the Batmobile, suggesting that the Dark Knight had an extensive car collection with vehicles of various shapes and sizes. Given the way Kelley Jones’ illustrations drew inspiration from different periods (Jones’ Gotham City tends to resemble a retro-futuristic version Dr. Caligari’s Holstenwall) and his flair for equipping Batman with ultra-elaborate gadgets, it’s not surprising that he too had a stab at a number of eccentric models of the Batmobile (especially in his Elseworlds tales).
Here are six cool designs from Kelley Jones’ comics:
Since last week I spotlighted Dracula, let’s now turn to the second-best monster in popular culture… There are various memorable film takes on Frankenstein, from the classy Universal and Hammer series all the way down to Jess Franco’s sleazy – and utterly bizarre – The Erotic Rites of Frankenstein, but leave it to comics to keep finding awesome new approaches to the concept:
To say that Norm Breyfogle is my favorite Batman artist doesn’t do Breyfogle justice – along with Marshall Rogers’, his artwork is my platonic ideal of what a Batman comic looks like. It’s the first visual that comes to mind whenever I think of the Dark Knight and Gotham City (yes, before Neal Adams’ muscular naturalism or Bruce Timm’s angular style or even Jim Aparo’s increasing minimalism). Every time I write in this blog that a Batman comic looks stiff or ugly or realistic or whatever, you can assume that I always mean, implicitly, ‘compared to the comics drawn by Norm Breyfogle.’
With that in mind, this week I’ll try to break down exactly what makes Norm Breyfogle’s drawings so memorable. Part of the reason has to do with timing, of course, as Breyfogle regularly drew the Caped Crusader between 1987 and 1995, which is one of my favorite eras of the franchise in terms of stories, so it’s not surprising his images left such a strong impression on me (he also worked on a few Batman-related special projects until 2014, when he suffered a debilitating stroke). Yet a lot of it, I’d argue, has to do specifically with Breyfogle’s own artistry…
It’s not hard to see why DC first decided to assign the 26-year-old Norm Breyfogle the gig of illustrating one of their core books, Detective Comics. At the time, Breyfogle was drawing and lettering Steven Grant’s Whisper, a cocktail of ninjas, yakuza crime lords, and shadowy government conspiracies, mostly set in the gritty streets of New York (i.e. the most ‘80s comic of the eighties, just as Miracle Mile is the most ‘80s movie of the eighties), so it wasn’t a big jump to Gotham City. After all, Batman has traditionally benefitted from the fact that the superhero genre lends itself quite well to crosspollination with street-level crime fiction (a fact that Netflix went on to further prove through their excellent live-action series Daredevil and Luke Cage) and Breyfogle seemed right at home in this intersection.
Besides instilling Gotham with suitably seedy aesthetics, Norm Breyfogle could pull off blistering action scenes like few in the business, his pencils – which he gracefully inked himself – oozing a particular sort of fluidity… In fact, two sorts of fluidity. First of all, his characters (especially the Dynamic Duo, as you can see above) displayed incredibly fluid movements, their fights an acrobatic choreography not unlike a violent type of ballet. One of my issues with Batman’s live-action adaptations is precisely how static the Caped Crusader tends to look on the screen, in contrast to the elegance and vitality of Breyfogle’s version, who never misses an opportunity to engage in circus-worthy pirouettes:
Yet the fluidity doesn’t apply just to the cast’s sweeping sense of movement, but also to the whole reading experience. Whether you’re following Batman’s moves or perhaps peeking into somebody else’s conversation, your eyes just flow through every page, flying to the end of each issue. Norm Breyfogle’s sharp, mostly diagonal lines expertly direct the readers’ pace and gaze, often in a speedy zigzag motion, making his comics feel like a dizzying shot of adrenaline. I know they’re still, but the images appear to slide in every direction, even sometimes advancing towards us as if trying to rub their intensity in our faces.
The ensuing dynamism – along with Breyfogle’s emotion-heavy facial expressions – made for a happy match with Alan Grant’s scripts, which were full of over-the-top action and sensationalist set pieces…
Indeed, Norm Breyfogle’s early collaborations with Alan Grant (no relation to Steven) – first in their Detective Comics run and then in Batman and Shadow of the Bat – had a punk-ish mix of grittiness and lunacy akin to that of a lot of cult cinema from this era, like Russel Mulcahy’s Highlander, Dan O’Bannon’s Return of the Living Dead, and Alex Cox’s Repo Man (I could easily imagine Breyfogle & Grant adapting any of these to comics!). Their Gotham was a nocturnal carnival of graffiti-sprayed derelict buildings bursting with delinquent youth gangs and homeless people, no doubt enwrapped in the stench of littered garbage and the sweat of desperate junkies. Hell, you can practically hear Bad Religion’s ‘In the Night’ blasting on the soundtrack (or Cameron Howe’s playlists from Halt and Catch Fire, for that matter).
Breyfogle was such a master of layouts that he even dared experiment with exuberant gimmicks, like in this page where the Dark Knight lends his shape to the panel borders:
Norm Breyfogle’s stupendous flair for composition was seen in his covers as well. I particularly like the ones in which Breyfogle spotlighted the issues’ villains while treating the Caped Crusader as this eerie looming presence (thus capturing the rogues’ inner perspective), conveyed through shadows and silhouettes:
Probably a good way to understand the level of dedication and consideration Norm Breyfogle put into his Batman work, effectively channeling his outstanding talent into a commercial assignment for a lowbrow corner of popular culture, can be found in a passionate letter he wrote to The Comics Journal, in 1988, defending Steven Grant against Gary Groth’s narrow definition of what – and whom – should be considered artistic: ‘Are [Frank] Miller and [Alan] Moore “artists” only because they push present limits? No. Their work is meaningful or beautiful as well. One can be meaningful or beautiful within almost any limits, in fact, all Art and all life exists within limits. (It’s always amused and frustrated me how the world of “modern” fine art fails to understand this fully.) The impressionists’ work is forever beautiful, in my mind forever Art, but they were originally considered iconoclasts and are now old hat! Surely this alone doesn’t make a present-day impressionist a non-artist! If one is overtly concerned with the present definition of “Art” one cannot create.’ He concluded that ‘all Art depends on both sophistication and naivite.’
The belief that artistic value could find a place even in a formulaic franchise shines through in the way Breyfogle approached each cover or page as a single piece, to the point where it’s hard to detach one panel or detail from the rest (believe me, I’ve tried, for this blog, and his images put up a bigger fight than those of most other Batman artists when it comes to singling out specific bits). As a result, it is a joy to study many of his pages, appreciating how he carefully crafted them as a fluid whole.
This is especially true of Norm Breyfogle’s painted art on the superb graphic novel Birth of the Demon (which remains the best version of Ra’s al Ghul’s origin story), but you can still see it in some of his later work…
(Yes, the digital coloring doesn’t suit Breyfogle’s smooth pencils so neatly…)
The page above is from a series starring the Gotham City vigilante Anarky, which Norm Breyfogle co-created with Alan Grant back in 1989. That character has one of Breyfogle’s most remarkable designs – his look has traces of the protagonist from Alan Moore’s and David Lloyd’s brilliant V for Vendetta (thus visually translating that comic’s obvious inspiration for the creation of the whole Anarky concept), yet you could tell from the start that there was something peculiar about the way he moved…
And, sure enough, it was soon revealed that the costume disguised the vigilante’s identity beyond hiding his face. It was actually an elaborate contraption that misled witnesses – and the initial readers – about the character’s whole physiognomy, thus creating a clever red herring before the revelation at the end of Anarky’s introductory arc, which made the unmasking much more impactful:
Besides Anarky, Norm Breyfogle designed several other recurring villains, such as the Ratcatcher, the Corrosive Man, Mortimer Kadaver, Victor Zsasz, and Amygdala. My favorite ones actually made their debut quite early on, namely the Ventriloquist and his puppet, Scarface, both of which stood out as soon as they showed up… although, to be fair, puppets are inherently creepy as a rule anyway (that said, as far as comic puppets go, nothing beats The Vault of Horror’s short story ‘Strung Along’).
On top of all of these original designs, Breyfogle also got to put his spin on pre-existing characters, often making them more elongated, flexible, and expressive than usual – including the Dark Knight himself, who looked much more emotionally versatile in these comics. Here is Breyfogle having a go at many of the classic members of Batman’s Rogues’ Gallery:
Finally – and speaking of redesigning old concepts – I have to mention Norm Breyfogle’s idiosyncratic approach to the Batmobile, which he kept reinventing every few issues.
He started out with a variation of the Lincoln Futura from the 1966 TV show, which had a brief revival in the mid-1980s….
(Here is Klaus Janson’s version, in case you want to compare.)
…and he soon went on to introduce a number of new versions, each of them more futuristic-looking than the last:
The apparent reasoning behind this was that, at the end of the day, Bruce Wayne was a rich guy who was into gadgets, so he was bound to have a large car collection. Plus, he probably crashed the Batmobile all the time, what with all those death-defying chases…
Cars can be an efficient way to convey their owner’s characterization and Norm Breyfogle’s slick, ever-changing Batmobiles did just that in a fun and relatively subtle way. Perhaps he was inspired by Jack Kirby, who also tended to use strange machinery to reveal aspects of the cast in his work, although the King of Comics was less subtle about it. For instance, you can tell the guy below is up to no good just because even his car looks so damn evil!
Ultimately, the string of vehicles demonstrated Batman’s – and Breyfogle’s – restlessness and perfectionism, constantly searching for new aerodynamic forms to suit the larger purpose of making crime-fighting looking freaking cool.
If you read last week’s post, you know I’ve been looking back at the James Bond comics published by Dynamite in these last few years.
By securing some of the industry’s top talent, this publisher has been able to churn out a fair amount of cool one-shots and mini-series without devaluing the brand too much. Among my favorites were Ibrahim Moustafa’s darkly comedic Solstice and Ales Kot’s typically conceptual The Body. Powerfully drawn by a host of angular artists (Luca Casalanguida, Antonio Fuso, Rapha Lobosco, Eoin Marron, Hayden Sherman), the latter six-issue series was a quasi-anthology of loosely connected Bond stories delving into different aspects of the character, titled ‘The Body,’ ‘The Brain,’ ‘The Gut,’ ‘The Heart,’ ‘The Lungs,’ and ‘The Burial’ (each of them both literal and metaphoric terms, of course). I’m usually annoyed by Kot’s keenness to show off his cleverness and I think 007 – much like the Punisher – is one of those characters that generally works best the less seriously you psychoanalyze him, but here, as a one-off project deconstructing Bond, the result was pretty satisfying!
Bond’s world and cast have become more developed as well. For instance, second-string CIA agent Felix Leiter got his own moody spinoff – written by James Robinson and illustrated by Aaron Campbell, with beautiful colors by Salvatore Aiala – which guest-starred one of my favorite supporting characters, ‘Tiger’ Tanaka, the over-the-top Japanese version of James Bond (from You Only Live Twice). I also quite enjoyed Greg Pak’s run on James Bond 007, a nifty spin on Goldfinger that, among other things, introduced a fun, revamped take on the Korean Oddjob – one that actually provided some respectful characterization for what used to be little more than a racialized henchman with a goofy gimmick. (Pak then wrote a brief sequel in Reflections of Death.)
Not all projects tied directly into this new continuity. There was a 12-part James Bond Origin series set in World War II, but not even Jeff Parker – whose writing I usually adore – could get me to care about a James Bond Bildungsroman… If you really want to see Parker do his magic with a super-spy series, then you’ll have a much better time with his current Valiant ongoing Ninjak, which on top of everything else benefits from Javier Pulido’s incredibly neat artwork:
(Yep, that’s Ninjak saving a version of Jamal Khashoggi, because comics.)
Meanwhile, back at Dynamite, Van Jensen has been faithfully adapting Ian Fleming’s original novels to comics…
(Thank you for the gorgeous painted covers, Fay Dalton!)
This comic book version of Casino Royale, stylishly illustrated by Dennis Calero, is almost as strong as Darwyn Cooke’s adaptations of the Parker books, likewise capturing the original’s hardboiled flavor while using visual language to represent the protagonist’s cold professionalism. Just like in the awesome 2006 film adaptation everything about Daniel Craig’s performance – from the way he moves and fights to the way he smirks and bluffs – conveys how much of a blunt instrument Bond is, so do the creators here use comics’ potential to economically capture the character’s hyper-focused psychology… not to mention Ian Fleming’s infatuation with tiny descriptive details:
(As you can see, letterer Simon Bowland is in top form as well.)
Casino Royale’s plot hinges a lot on card games, which is the kind of device that translates fairly well into a visual medium like comics. Gambling, in fact, becomes a major thematic metaphor in the story, unlike in later James Bond adventures, where it’s typically used as just a glamorous gimmick for quick characterization… Yes, luck is an important factor, but you can conveniently establish a character’s ingenuity by having him figure out how someone else is cheating. This is also a recurring trope, for instance, in the franchises starring the blind swordsman Zatoichi or the illusionist gunslinger Sartana (and in many other westerns, really), whose anti-heroes – like Bond – aren’t above cheating themselves. (The highly entertaining Samaritan Zatoichi even has a scene where the protagonist is caught using the same trick he had often exposed in earlier movies!)
Dennis Calero and colorist Chris O’Halloran form quite a duo. They strike a smooth balance between realism and the occasional experimental touches, pushing the latter particularly far during the story’s infamous genital torture scene, to great effect. Meanwhile, the sexist prose gains from the degree of removal provided by the art, which makes it feel as if we are seeing Bond’s misogyny from the outside (even when we share his point of view, like in the page below), especially as Calero’s rendition of Vesper Lynd plays down the exploitative angle.
Sadly, artist Kewber Baal and colorist Shimerys Baal failed to meet the same bar in Van Jensen’s second book, Live and Let Die. Their storytelling is way too pedestrian for this sort of material… Kewber Baal’s artwork was fine in the cheeky, lighthearted chapter he drew for Refections of Death, but here such a straightforward approach fails to create the kind of sensorial distance that could help modern readers cope with the most sexist and racist elements of Fleming’s text by framing them in a stylized version of the past. It doesn’t help that Jensen’s script is much more text-heavy this time around, delivering an awkward adaptation that tries to preserve too much of the original without taking full advantage of the new medium… I cannot honestly recommend it.
You might as well watch 1973’s Live and Let Die movie, un-PC as it is, since at least it contains some fun elements of blaxploitation – a film subgenre that actually found its way into a number of that era’s spy products, from the anti-Bond The Spook Who Sat By the Door to the quasi-Bond Shaft in Africa, not to mention the bizarre Mission: Impossible episode ‘Cat’s Paw.’
Speaking of Mission: Impossible, as far as spy-fi franchises go, I’m actually much more pumped for next year’s Mission: Impossible 7 than for No Time to Die. I didn’t find the last couple of Bond movies very satisfying – Sam Mendes’ direction was quite stylish, but, in contrasts to Craig’s first outings, the stories were particularly dumb, light on tradecraft, and pretty reactionary (both thematically and visually obsessed with tradition and callbacks to the past). Let’s hope the new creative team figures out a more engaging way to approach this dinosaur!
In turn, I’ve come a long way on the M:I franchise. At first, I thought the ideal Mission: Impossible long-feature would be something along the lines of the original two-parter episodes ‘The Bunker’ or ‘The Controllers,’ which have got to be some of the coolest blends of espionage and hardcore pulp adventure to have ever hit the screens (yes, more than On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, which came out the same year). But I’ve come around and learned to appreciate the spirit of Tom Cruise’s movie series, which has built on a few core elements of the show while also turning them on their head, as the hero is now both a master-manipulator *and* the victim of masterful manipulation. Given the latest instalments’ relentless escalation and evermore intricate and widespread conspiracies, I’m genuinely curious to see where the series is heading…. Let’s face it: by this stage, Tenet could’ve easily been the seventh Mission: Impossible movie!
A reminder that comics’ character designs can be awesome:
After much delay, the latest James Bond movie is finally coming out next week.
Hopefully, No Time to Die will bring the kind of super-spy thrills Black Widow kept threatening to deliver but never really did. In fact, aside from a few scenes (mostly between Pugh and Johansson), that whole film was a bit of a mess. There was jarringly incoherent characterization all over the place, from the radically flowing accents to Melina’s sudden personality shift. And I’m not sure how this crass version of the Red Guardian could become a sleeper agent in Ohio and pretend to be an average American for one moment… Perhaps there was a joke in there which got lost along the way? In fact, while I’m fine with turning Red Guardian into a caricature, even this idea is seriously wasted – except for the tattoos, the movie forgets to have fun with the fact that he was a communist, in contrast, for example, to the depiction of Love Sausage in The Boys (the comic, not the show).
Still, I could disregard all this in the name of a certain bubbly spirit, but given Black Widow‘s generic story, villain, and action scenes, there is very little else to hold on to. This is all the more disappointing because so far the MCU had expertly used sci-fi/fantasy as a springboard for imaginative visuals (like in the climaxes of Iron Man 3 or Ant-Man and the Wasp, not to mention Yondu’s glorious massacre in Guardians of the Galaxy, vol.2, to the beat of ‘Come a Little Bit Closer’), with even the hackiest entries – Thor: The Dark World and Dr. Strange – benefitting from highly amusing set pieces. Who would’ve thought that the only Marvel movie to actually bore me would be about secret agents?
(For once, DC actually wins the blockbuster game: James Gunn’s The Suicide Squad had its fair share of flaws, but it was often damn funny, committedly weird, and refreshingly unpredictable, applying its caustic approach not just to superheroes, but to the whole black ops subgenre, including the politics… Plus, it stars the goddamned Polka-Dot Man!)
But let’s get back to Bond… I can’t say I’ve missed that smug British spy, really, since he has continued to star in some pretty neat comics over these past years, so it’s been fairly easy to get my 007 fix whenever I felt like it.
Dynamite has done a bang-up job with this franchise ever since its 2015 comic reboot, starting with the decision of hiring Warren Ellis to write the first couple of arcs. Ellis may have turned out to be uncomfortably close to Bond’s own attitude towards sex in real life, but his take on this material was as slick as they come (as I’ve mentioned before). Efficiently illustrated by Jason Masters, the opening run managed to cleverly retool old ingredients like the sci-fi gadgets, deathtraps, idiosyncratically named women, and larger-than-life villainy, giving them a cool polish that made them badass rather than campy.
Ellis clearly broke the formula down to its core components before rebuilding it for the 21st century, even paying homage to little bits from the original, like Q’s sarcastic attitude towards James Bond’s handgun or the fact that airport arrivals were often moments of surveillance and deception. The result fits in with my preferred approach to 007, which rests on a solid basis of spycraft that is gradually taken up a notch into offbeat directions. While I don’t look for a grounded, intricate web of believable intrigue in Bond’s adventures (I look for it in BBC’s awesome show Vigil), I appreciate an initial layer of authenticity on which to build the fantasy.
Plus, you know… lots of violence.
In line with Ian Fleming’s novels, James Bond is characterized by an unabashedly vicious ruthlessness. Bond’s sadism isn’t always properly acknowledged as a key trait of the character, but it was still quite prominent in the earlier films, when Sean Connery first embodied the role. Hell, have a look at how similarly Connery plays another despicable character in the Hitchcockian thriller Woman of Straw (or even in Marnie, which was actually directed by Hitchcock) – you can easily envision his Bond doing all of those callous, arrogant, manipulative actions, the main difference being that 007 ostensibly does it for King and Country rather than for greed.
The following comics kept the high standard. In Black Box, Benjamin Percy likewise embedded classic Bond tropes – ski chases, gambling, sharks, trains, a weaponized Aston Martin – in a contemporary sci-fi plot about eroding privacy through both online data breaches and omnipresent phone cameras (at one point, Bond even spots an assassin thanks to a selfie stick!). Against the backdrop of a global information war, the story places 007 in a bit of a moral dilemma, as saving the world may actually entail going against his mission, i.e. against the UK government’s interests… This has been the case in the past, of course, but James ‘less man than biological weapon’ Bond has rarely given it a second thought before.
Writer Andy Diggle, artist Luca Casalanguida, and colorist Chris Blythe proved themselves to be a powerhouse combo with Hammerhead and Kill Chain, a couple of twisty adventures sprinkled with geopolitics and more than enough balls-to-the-wall action to satisfy the most thrill-seeking Bond fans. Granted, the pace is so frantic that it may sometimes feel like you are fast-forwarding through a globetrotting blockbuster movie, but I prefer to think of it as an emulation of 007’s own attitude: like the super-agent himself, the creative team has a focused approach, sharply getting to the point of each scene with maximum impact and without fussing around with needless ornaments, whether they’re dealing with a gunfight or with a revealing bit of flirty dialogue.
As far as I’m concerned, Luca Casalanguida has become the definite artist for this incarnation of the character… Some of his images deserve a place next to iconic moments from the movies like Honey Ryder coming out of the waters or Jill Masterson’s gold-covered corpse. Moreover, Casalanguida has continued to deliver in Christos Gage’s nifty mini-series James Bond, Agent of SPECTRE, now with a grimier palette, courtesy of Heather Moore.
Say what you will about the publisher’s despicable political ties, Dynamite’s comics have often been more ideologically provocative than your average Bond yarn. Declan Shalvey penned an M one-shot about the Northern Irish conflict, digging up some of the UK’s dirt. Kill Chain updated a classic Cold War plot – about playing both sides against the middle – to an era of US isolationism, when the American presidency appeared to be in bed with Russia (there was an epilogue in the graphic novel Reflections of Death, which was actually more of an ill-disguised anthology). Like Benjamin Percy and Andy Diggle, Kieron Gillen (Service) and Ales Kot (The Body) tapped into the Brexit/Trump zeitgeist, sneaking in a more problematized take on the franchise’s inherent nationalism while nevertheless keeping the overall thriller formula.
One character who earned points in the intersectionality department was M’s secretary, Moneypenny, now black and a highly capable security agent in her own right, clearly modelled after Naomie Harris’ performance in Skyfall. Building on an ironic quip from On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (‘Same old Moneypenny. Britain’s last line of defense.’), Ellis and Diggle wrote her as a butt-kicking assistant who doubled as M’s bodyguard – a characterization that Jody Houser ran with in 2017’s Moneypenny special.
To be fair, there is a precedent for a gun-toting Moneypenny going back to the sixties, if you count the unofficial spin-off movie Operation Kid Brother, starring Sean Connery’s younger brother as, well, 007’s younger brother (who also happens to be a surgeon with hypnotizing powers) – one of many delirious Eurospy rip-offs to come out at the time.
(In my head-canon, Operation Kid Brother totally counts as a Bond flick… and so does Michael Bay’s The Rock, by the way!)
More recently, writers Vita Ayala and Danny Lore further increased the diversity through their fun stab at a James Bond ongoing series. Working with artist Eric Gapstur (soon followed by Erica D’Urso and Brent Peeples), they’ve introduced another prominent female black character, Brandy Keys, a resourceful insurance claim investigator that crosses paths with 007 during an art forgery case whose stakes keep escalating. Even without the story’s surprise reveal later on, Keys’ and Bond’s banter alone is worth the ride:
Today is Gotham Calling’s seventh anniversary!
I usually mark these occasions with a compilation of fifty images from Batman comics, showcasing the Dark Knight kicking people in the head or breaking through windows. Since the blog’s identity has been shifting beyond a primary focus on the Caped Crusader, though, this year I decided to spotlight something different, namely the top 50 movies of my favorite genre: film noir.
You know, the kind of films that inspired the writers and artists of The Spirit after World War II…
There’s an ongoing debate on whether noir is an actual (sub)genre, a specific postwar movement, or just a general style, but I’m not too interested in terminology here. There are dozens of definitions out there, but it’s hard not to fall back on Paul Schrader’s seminal essay ‘Notes on Film Noir,’ which put the emphasis on a certain sensibility: ‘Hollywood lighting grew darker, characters more corrupt, themes more fatalistic, and the tone more hopeless.’ Here at Gotham Calling, noir means expressionistic chiaroscuro visuals (looming shadows, tight close-ups, tilted angles), hardboiled dialogue, crime, and an encroaching sense of doom (even when there’s a happy ending). It helps if you also get tropes like the tough PI, the femme fatale, the sardonic voice-over, or the serpentine plot.
That said, in my list, tone trumps content, mirroring the very attitude of noir. After all, if there is one thing that brings all these films together, it’s that they privilege mood over reason, disorientation over (narrative and moral) clarity. Screens so dark it’s difficult to figure out what exactly is going on, motivations so idiosyncratic as to appear insane, dialogue so sharp as to lack any realism, sexism so rampant and exaggerated that it sounds almost parodic, flashbacks and twists so abundant they make you lose the thread of the story, seediness taken to a baroque extreme – all this could be criticized in other contexts, but in film noir it’s the raw material itself… You pardon unlikely coincidences because the payoff is so poignantly ironic, you accept plot holes and contrived characterization as part of an overall dream (i.e. nightmare) logic.
If, as argued by Ernest Mandel, the origin of crime fiction, with its reduction of crime (if not all human problems) to mysteries solvable through analytical intelligence and scientific progress, is symbolic of the rise of industrial capitalism, then noir is the other side of the coin. The plots’ final answers, when they come, don’t necessarily hold up to scrutiny, because the point isn’t a neat resolution, but a sort of mesmerized bewilderment, thus capturing the stimuli-ridden modernity that emerged from industrialization. Indeed, part of these films’ charm is the way they converted their zeitgeist into pulp, just like the recent show Clickbait has crafted a nifty mystery out of the dangers and opportunities provided by the current digital era.
To narrow things down, I’m sticking to black & white thrillers/dramas spoken in English, even though I think the noir label can easily accommodate other colors, languages, and genre hybrids. Also, the first quintessential film noir was 1944’s Double Indemnity, so I’m excluding all the noirish works that came before (yes, even The Maltese Falcon). As for the ending mark, the late 1950s are usually considered the final stretch of the original era, as if after that the movies became too self-reflexive and aware (aka ‘neo-noir’). I don’t really buy into this (by the late ‘40s, noirs were already pretty derivative), but I agree that it makes sense to finish there if you consider film noir a reflection of post-war malaise, since the further you go beyond the fifties the more you see filmmakers responding to other concerns. Finally, I’m leaving out a couple of overrated classics as well, in order to make room for some less obvious choices…
Enjoy!
1. The Third Man (1949)
‘Like the fella says, in Italy for 30 years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love – they had 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.’ A witty and gut-wrenching take on Casablanca-esque intrigue, set in post-WWII occupied Vienna, between the rubble and shady black market dealings. This is a perfect Iconic City thriller and possibly my favorite movie of all time.
2. Out of the Past, aka Build My Gallows High (1947)
‘You say to yourself, “How hot can it get?” Then, in Acapulco, you find out.’ Robert Mitchum as the ultimate noir lead, a disgraced private eye who can’t escape his past mistakes… and who falls for the wrong dame. Cinematographer Nicholas Musuraca engulfs the screen in smoke and shadows, making each frame a small masterpiece, especially in the middle section. I’ve written about this one before.
3. Double Indemnity (1944)
‘I killed him for money and for a woman. I didn’t get the money… and I didn’t get the woman.’ The movie that first nailed down film noir (everything afterwards were variations), including Barbara Stanwick as the epitome of the femme fatale. The plot is tighter than Out of the Past’s, but, like I said in the intro, in this list the sense of confusion is actually part of the appeal.
4. Detour (1945)
‘That’s life. Whichever way you turn, Fate sticks out a foot to trip you.’ A cool, dirty distillation of noir motifs, stripped down to their bare essence, as a hitchhiker keeps getting screwed over by fate… Made on a shoestring budget and it shows, which suits the nightmarish mood just fine.
5. Sunset Blvd. (1950)
‘The whole place seemed to have been stricken with a kind of creeping paralysis – out of beat with the rest of the world, crumbling apart in slow motion.’ A dark comedy about the film industry (just to shake things up), this Billy Wilder classic is narrated by a dead man. As Alan Moore put it in Cinema Purgatorio #15: ‘It was disturbing, how Wilder made the film look at itself, and us, and Hollywood. […] In 1950, it was like the movies having a vision of their own death.’
6. Force of Evil (1948)
‘A man could spend the rest of his life trying to remember what he shouldn’t have said.’ John Garfield as a lawyer involved in a gangster’s coup to take over the numbers racket – a tale of greed, corruption, and merciless structures crushing tormented little men, which many have read as an anti-capitalist allegory, for some reason. A few shots seem lifted directly from Edward Hopper’s paintings.
7. Sweet Smell of Success (1957)
‘I’d hate to take a bite outta you. You’re a cookie full of arsenic.’ It turns out the world of press agents and columnists somehow manages to be as dark as that of organized crime. (I will write more about this one soon!)
8. The Killers (1946)
‘The double cross to end all double crosses.’ Playing a very different role from the one in Sweet Smell of Success, here Burt Lancaster is a broken fugitive who, when finally faced with the titular killers, simply refuses to fight for his life. In the puzzle-structured flashbacks that follow, we gradually find out why.
9. The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946)
‘Stealing a man’s wife, that’s nothing, but stealing a man’s car, that’s larceny.’ Practically every shot in this film is pitch-perfect, oozing with some extra layer. Most notably, the sizzling moment John Garfield (playing a drifter in search of work) lays his eyes on Lana Turner’s legs (she’s the wife of the man who hires him), you know it’s a matter of time before he gets himself into trouble by biting more than he can chew.
10. The Set-Up (1949)
‘Don’t you see, Bill, you’ll always be just one punch away.’ Not only one of the greatest noirs, but one hell of a boxing picture, with Robert Ryan as a loser beaten by life who refuses to stay down, even though not even his manager has any trust in him, fixing a fight for him to lose without letting him know… And because the narrative is told in real-time (i.e. the action itself lasts as long as the film), you know there’s no escape but to keep watching as Ryan’s character digs his grave with every blow in the ring.
11. Pickup on South Street (1953)
‘So you’re a Red, who cares? Your money’s as good as anybody else’s.’ Film noir vs Cold War. Bold, stylish storytelling all around, as three of my favorite lowlifes inadvertently find themselves involved in a spy scheme… As usual, you can find an interesting discussion of the movie in Robert Miklitsch’s book, The Red and the Black: American Film Noir in the 1950s.
12. In A Lonely Place (1950)
‘I was born when she kissed me. I died when she left me. I lived a few weeks while she loved me.’ Another disenchanted take on Hollywood, as Gloria Grahame falls for a screenwriter who’s a poster boy for toxic masculinity, played by Humphrey Bogart at his scariest.
13. Ace in the Hole, aka The Big Carnival (1951)
‘I met a lot of hard-boiled eggs in my life, but you – you’re twenty minutes.’ Film noir meets media satire. The third of Billy Wilder’s brilliant noir trilogy is louder and more farcical, but just as hard-hitting as the others.
14. Murder, My Sweet (1944)
‘I gave her a drink. She was a gal who’d take a drink if she had to knock you down to get the bottle.’ Murder, My Sweet is still the best Philip Marlowe adaptation (sorry, Howard Hawks), with an intricate mystery and jaw-dropping visuals all the way through (Will Eisner must have watched this one…). Would’ve ranked it even higher, if not for the cute ending.
15. Kiss Me Deadly (1955)
‘I want you to kiss me. Kiss me. The liar’s kiss that says I love you, and means something else.’ This one is more of a deconstruction of noir, particularly of the tough private eye subgenre (perfected by Murder, My Sweet). However, like Watchmen’s deconstruction of superheroes, Kiss Me Deadly works on both levels… Plus, it ends with a bang.
16. Laura (1944)
‘I can afford a blemish on my character, but not on my clothes.’ A cop falls in love with a dead woman in yet another twisty whodunit… The tone isn’t as hardboiled as in the ones above, but the themes are pure noir.
17. Strangers on a Train (1951)
‘I may be old-fashioned, but I thought murder was against the law.’ Alfred Hitchcock goes noir. This perverse plot has inspired countless variations (including at least one Batman comic, by Frank Robbins), not to mention the cult dark comedy Throw Momma from the Train.
18. D.O.A. (1950)
‘That’s the way I wanna see you go, Bigelow… nice and slow.’ A man investigates his own murder. Talk about fatalism!
19. 99 River Street (1953)
‘There are worse things than murder. You can kill someone an inch at a time.’ An embittered ex-prizefighter-turned-New-York-cab-driver has a night from hell, facing everything from a badgering wife to a police dragnet, plus a handful of fistfights with various criminals. An engaging roller coaster, brutal but not entirely devoid of compassion for its deadbeat protagonists.
20. Night and the City (1950)
‘Harry is an artist without an art.’ Richard Widmark’s greatest role outside of Pickup on South Street – a recklessly ambitious hustler trying to pull one of his schemes in the world of Greco-Roman wrestling. London’s criminal underworld is apparently even more packed with idiosyncratic characters than its counterpart in American cities… (If you have a choice, I recommend watching the US cut rather than the British one.)
21. The Asphalt Jungle (1950)
‘One way or another, we all work for our vice.’ The grandaddy of heist movies.
22. Crossfire (1947)
‘The motive had to be inside the killer himself. Something he brought with him. Something he’d been nursing, for a long time. Something that had been waiting.’ Film noir vs antisemitism. Between the quiet soundtrack and the overwhelming darkness, Crossfire is a great example of how solutions to work around a low budget can actually intensify a film’s impact.
23. The Killing (1956)
‘It isn’t fair. I never had anybody but you. Not a real husband. Not even a man. Just a bad joke without a punchline.’ Stanley Kubrick’s take on heists is more cerebral than The Asphalt Jungle. The emotional angle places the former film higher, but this one isn’t far behind.
24. Spellbound(1945)
‘Good night and sweet dreams… which we’ll analyze at breakfast.’ Another Hitchcock venture, this time putting a spin on the amnesia trope (a classic noir motif), complete with a lot of psychobabble and a dream sequence designed by Salvador Dalí.
25. On The Waterfront (1954)
‘The only arithmetic he ever got was hearing the referee count up to ten.’ This attack on the violence and corruption of stevedores’ unions isn’t usually classified as a film noir, perhaps because critics feel that Marlon Brando’s intense performance takes the movie into more serious drama territory, or perhaps because they prefer to discuss it as Elia Kazan’s political statement about his decision to testify at HUAC. Between the crime-centred story, the high-contrast lighting, and the encroaching fog, though, I’d argue On the Waterfront definitely belongs here. (It also works as a nice prelude to the second season of The Wire…)
26. The Man with the Golden Arm (1955)
‘Jump off a roof if you’re gonna kill yourself, but don’t ask me to help ya…’ Frank Sinatra as a heroin addict. (And yes, it’s much better than the bizarre James Bond movie with the similar title…)
27. Odds Against Tomorrow (1959)
‘Like you said, it’s just one role of the dice, doesn’t matter what color they are, so’s they come up seven.’ Yet another heist movie… but this one soon goes its own way. Along with Crossfire and Bad Day at Black Rock, it forms a trilogy of powerful crime dramas where real-life anti-racist Robert Ryan compellingly embodies bigoted bastards.
28. It Always Rains On Sunday (1947)
‘There’s such a thing as ham, but there’s none in this sandwich.’ A mosaic of stories in London’s poverty-stricken East End – still dealing with the Blitz’s destruction and post-war deprivation – that wonderfully combines different sensibilities (from light comedy and social drama to the French school of poetic realism), with the noir subplot eventually taking over the film.
29. Touch of Evil (1958)
‘Your future is all used up.’ Charton Heston (as an incorruptible Mexican cop) vs Orson Welles (at his most deliberately grotesque). Too campy to rank among the very greatest, as far as I’m concerned, but the over-the-top atmosphere is also part of its charm.
30. Gilda (1946)
‘I can never get a zipper to close. Maybe that stands for something, what do you think?’ Like in Touch of Evil, there is a degree of camp all over this love triangle, set in Buenos Aires, between a hustling drifter, a Nazi-connected casino owner, and his smoldering wife, including a parade of Freudian symbolism. That said, the beginning is so strong and Rita Hayworth singing ‘Put the Blame on Mame’ is so memorable that I can forgive the weak resolution.
31. Thieves’ Highway (1949)
‘Your end of nothing is nothing.’ Because any capitalist milieu can be a setting for noir (i.e. for existential dread, sweaty desperation, and greedy double-crosses), this knock-out thriller takes on the world of truck drivers and California fruit markets.
32. Kansas City Confidential (1952)
‘I know a sure cure for a nosebleed: a cold knife in the middle of the back.’ Together with The Killing, an obvious source of inspiration for Quentin Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs.
33. Angel Face (1952)
‘Charles, at times your charm wears dangerously thin. Right now it’s so thin I can see through it.’ A taut, smart melodrama about a spoiled rich girl who sets her sights on an ambulance driver (poor Robert Mitchum…) and gradually drives them to their doom. The true star is Otto Preminger’s direction, though, with the kind of precise mise-en-scène that beautifully conveys all the unspoken layers of the story and of the characters’ twisted psychology.
34. Where the Sidewalk Ends (1950)
‘That’s a fancy way of trying to frame somebody – getting yourself knocked off.’ Preminger was also in fine form here, delivering a suspenseful tale about a violent cop overcompensating for his father’s criminality, only to find himself in a noirish spiral of ironies. I’m not a big fan of the resolution (perhaps a concession to the Production Code’s censorship), but everything until those final seconds is close to perfect.
35. Woman on the Run (1950)
‘So Frank is a fugitive from the law… that’s just like him!’ I guess many would rank this lower, since it seems like a fairly modest potboiler about a wife searching for her husband, who went missing after witnessing a murder. The more I’ve rewatched it though, the more Woman on the Run has grown on me, with Ann Sheridan (who also co-produced the film) giving an appealing, nuanced performance as the titular woman revaluating her marriage throughout the quest. The climax at the fair is also pretty awesome!
36. The Big Combo (1955)
‘You’re a cop, Leonard. There’s 17,000 laws on the books to be enforced. You haven’t got time to reform wayward girls. She’s been with Brown three and a half years. That’s a lot of days… and nights.’ This badass explosion of noir visuals about an obsessed policeman on a personal crusade against a vicious gangster was no doubt playing in loop on Frank Miller’s nearest screen when he was drawing Sin City.
37. The Narrow Margin (1952)
‘All right copper, I’m not in this alone, but you are. You’re just one guy buckin’ a big company, it don’t matter if you beat my brains out or not – we’re in business for keeps.’ Noir on a train, as a police detective tries to transport a witness and protect her from the mob in the vehicle’s confined space. On top of the typical terse dialogue and plot twists, The Narrow Margin stands out because of the way the train shapes the film, from the claustrophobic sets to the forceful rhythm and sound (in lieu of a music score).
38. The Big Heat (1953)
‘Prisons are bulging with dummies who wonder how they got there.’ This no-frills angry cop thriller usually ranks higher than the similarly-themed The Big Combo, but I don’t think it packs as much of a punch (pretty close, though). If nothing else, Combo wins because of John Alton’s cinematography. That said, despite the throwaway delivery, The Big Heat’s closing line is particularly macabre, if you consider what happened to Gloria Grahame’s moll earlier in the film…
39. The Harder They Fall (1956)
‘Money’s not evil in and of itself. The purpose for which it’s used is the determining factor.’ As far as boxing pictures go, this one is less intense than The Set-Up, but arguably even more cynical about the sport.
40. Mildred Pierce (1945)
‘Personally, Veda has convinced me that alligators have the right idea. They eat their young.’ A glossy melodrama enwrapped in gloom and doom, telling the life of the titular career woman as she heads inexorably towards a mysterious act of violence. The values are dated, for sure, but the overblown expressionistic look continues to impress.
41. White Heat (1949)
‘You know something, Verna, if I turn my back long enough for Big Ed to put a hole in it, there’d be a hole in it.’ The one where James Cagney, playing a psychotic criminal leader, yells: ‘Made it, Ma! Top of the world!’ The rest of the movie is pretty gripping as well, consistently ratcheting up the tension.
42. The Prowler (1951)
‘Well, I’m no worse than anybody else! You work in a store, you knock down on the cash register. A big boss, the income tax. Ward heeler, you sell votes. A lawyer, take bribes. I was a cop… I used a gun.’ This one starts out as just another story about an obsessive policeman (although this time driven by lust and greed rather than vengeance), but it becomes increasingly stranger and unpredictable, the high point being a labor scene in an eerie ghost town.
43. The Reckless Moment (1949)
‘Hell is other people…’ Behind the generic title (which could’ve suited any other movie on this list), a domestic noir narrative – about a quiet, wealthy housewife willing to go pretty far to protect her daughter – is given a sophisticated treatment through Max Ophüls’ signature light-footed style and deft camerawork (almost every shot is a tracking shot). The Reckless Moment is comparatively less aggressive than the films above (or the ones below) and it’s precisely the contrast between tone and material that makes it so chilling.
44. Born to Kill (1947)
‘You’re the coldest iceberg of a woman I ever saw, and the rottenest inside. I’ve seen plenty, too.’ It’s femme fatale vs homme fatal in this lurid drama about a recently-divorced woman (a tough-as-nails Claire Trevor) who becomes hopelessly attracted to a murderer, with predictably destructive results. Yes, there are plot contrivances aplenty, but also a gleeful nastiness – bordering on black comedy – that is quite captivating to watch, with characters coming across as shamelessly ruthless and, at times, downright sadistic.
45. The Hitch-Hiker (1953)
‘My folks were tough. When I was born, they took one look at this puss of mine and told me to get lost.’ Besides starring in a handful of noirs, Ida Lupino also co-wrote and directed a few of them, including this remarkable thriller about the titular hitchhiker holding a couple of friends on a fishing trip at gunpoint. It’s such a simple, unadorned premise that it shouldn’t work, but the inventive editing and the terrific performances manage to convincingly sell the criminal’s meanness and the fishermen’s fear, stretching the tension as much as possible.
46. Hollow Triumph, aka The Scar (1948)
‘It’s a bitter little world full of sad surprises, and you don’t go around letting people hurt you.’ A tight, moody, vicious, unpretentious B-movie, pacy and confidently shot, about a man on the run taking over another man’s identity. Cue in Kafka-level psychological horror. A small gem.
47. Pitfall (1948)
‘I don’t want to be an average American, backbone of the country. I want somebody else to be the backbone and hold me up.’ A moralistic cautionary tale against adulterous temptation or another stark X-ray into the melancholy, frustration, and vice lurking under the cover of idyllic suburbia? Disillusionment with the American dream has always been an underlying theme in film noir, but in Pitfall it jumps to the forefront, in capital letters. (Plus, there is an offhand reference to burning comics, which conveys how natural this seemed at the time…)
48. The Window (1949)
‘Pop? If you see a thing with your own eyes, it can’t be a dream, can it?’ A dramatization of the Boy Who Cried Wolf, as a kid prone to lying witnesses a crime and nobody believes him (it also works as a parable about children struggling to be taken seriously by grown-ups lost in their own worries). Again, the premise is fairly straightforward, so the talent lies in the engrossing execution (despite occasional annoying flutes), including the striking use of Manhattan locations, turning Eisneresque tenement buildings, fire escapes, and dark alleys into a maze of danger and paranoia.
49. The Naked City (1948)
‘This time yesterday, Jean Dexter was just another pretty girl, but now she’s the marmalade on 10,000 pieces of toast.’ More impressive location shooting! A semi-documentary procedural that follows a murder investigation in New York, accompanied by a detached voice-over narration (even the credits are spoken). Although the characters aren’t very rounded, The Naked City remains a fascinating – and iconic – glimpse into the history of police work in the Big Apple.
50. Brighton Rock, aka Young Scarface (1947)
‘You or I cannot fathom the appalling strangeness of the mercy of God.’ We started with a Graham Greene script and finish with another, this one adapting Greene’s own page-turner about a Catholic young hoodlum carrying out a revenge killing in Brighton’s seaside resort. Some baffling bits, but the framing keeps hitting that noir sweet spot and the ending (changed from the novel) is as ironic as they come… Brigthon Rock comes in 50th place and it’s still highly recommended – that’s how rich a field film noir is!