Anil: I didn’t write this post to get people riled up. Hell, I didn’t even write this post for this blog. I wrote it a while ago for my own blog, for my very own 5-10 readers, and then Evan and Luke came calling.

But I was excited to have a debate with some people, and it surprised me that it took so long to happen. Sorry if that bothered you.

-Ryan

I still admire this film though. Maybe it’s just me or maybe it’s because the whole atmosphere and visual quality is so impressive that I chose to oversee obvious flaws in the narrative. I would rate this one 4.5/5 with 0.5 missing because of exactly the same reasons you have mentioned – it is clear that I was not as disturbed by them as you. Needless to say, everyone has different priorities when criticizing a film. That’s why the whole thing is extremely subjective.

Then again, every film has different strengths and maybe Night of The Hunter’s value lies somewhere else than its characters and plots.

I’ve seen “The Salton Sea” once and agree with you, Alexander … I liked it a lot, but haven’t seen it a second time.

Sounds like Salton Sea is worth watching but not anything too standout, which I suppose is what I would have guessed to begin with. The only Caruso movie I’ve seen is Disturbia, which I liked. I would very, very much like Y: The Last Man to be good. And although I didn’t see the Ethan Hawke/Angelina Jolie one, I’m pretty sure Ethan Hawke is the serial killer, having only seen the trailer.

In these post-modern times, it’s much more easy to see evil beneath a religious-man’s facade than it was in 1955. We’re conditioned to look for it by films such as NOTH, by our skeptical culture, and etc.

Then again, there’s the (perhaps sexist) convention that women are attracted to dangerous men, men who exude power; all the better that it has on a veneer of respectability

Short reviews are preferable (except for Alexander’s!) to long ones for the same reason short sermons are to longer ones: if you can’t say it in 500 words …

Fine review, G … stick to your guns, and your rating.

The Salton Sea is a nifty, jazzy little neo-noir with some solid performances. Val Kilmer is effective, as are the supporting players. However, I found it fairly under-nourishing when I revisited it.

While I possibly still have an audience on this thread: Has anyone seen the Salton Sea? It’s supposed to be a pretty good neo-noir, and people said good things about D’onfrio in it over at blogcabins. Anyone?

We chose to focus on the “classic” period, which is generally understood to go from The Maltese Falcon to Touch of Evil. The debate rages eternally over these things, but Bladerunner and Brick would probably be considered neo-noir.

I saw Brick when I was in London on vacation, and loved every second of it. It will be interesting to see what Johnson does with The Brothers Bloom.

1. Blade Runner- This is one of my personal favorite films. I love how it combines the best elements of science fiction and the film-noir style. The best sci-fi gives us a peek at where the human race might be headed, what might be just around the bend. But above all, good sci-fi reminds that it doesn’t necessarily matter where we are headed because the human condition will always be a constant. In Blade Runner this dovetails beautifully with the classic noir conventions of darkness, shadows, and human suffering. The combination of looking forward and looking through a glass darkly reminds the viewer that it is true that suffering and hurt is part of the human condition and, more importantly, that it always will be.

2. Brick-This film is not quite the icon that Blade Runner is. Nor does it have all the typical noir stereotypes. It is filmed in color, has no voiceover, and it takes place in a suburban high school. Yet this film is noir to the core. It follows a teenage detective as he tries to find out who killed his ex-girlfriend. Brendan, the protagonist, could be straight out of Dashiell Hammet, as could be Laura, the femme fatale. For anyone who thinks that all of this transposed to a California high school will make it somehow laughable, think again. Imagine all of the social BS about high school and ramp it up an order of magnitude. The film reminds us that even our most All-American of institutions is not far removed from the dystopias of noir-cinema. It is simply a question of degree. The director (Rian Johnson) also uses the setting to comic effect, as when Brendan and the local dealer sit down for a meeting over apple juice served by the drug lords mother. We know what is at stake, as do the characters, but the mother has no idea what the “kids” are up to. And we are once again reminded of how closely the American Dream and film-noir really are.

you can see the trailer here: http://tinyurl.com/62tzqt

I like short reviews – particularly if most of your audience has not seen the movie. Also, such rarified debate is rather insular and alienating. Too many pundits and not enough humility here I fear. What matters is what is inside the frame on the screen to your average Joe. That seems to have got lost here somewhere…

As for Shakespeare and Woody Allen. I could never understand Shakespeare and find him unreadable – may be an Italo-Greek working-class kid from the back-streets of Sydney will never understand Shakespeare. I used to think Woody Allen’s dialog was very funny, but as you grow older and learn what really matters in life, his particular NY-centered egotistical concern with his own sex life and mortality is pretty tedious and the dialog forced. Give me Roth’s Portnoy over Allen and Shakespeare any day.

I do agree with Allan (I’m sounding like a broken record in this thread) that if you’re going to go after a film almost universally considered a classic, you do have to go after it thoroughly, but I understand the goal of brevity.

I feel like I should briefly respond to your comment about length, in a way that will probably offend everyone. A few months ago, I sat down and looked and my 3 month old blog and thought “what can I do to make this more readable.” And it was pretty obvious immediately what I should do: write shorter pieces.

And that’s what I do. If I write something longer than 600 words, I’ve left my parameters. My goal, in fact, is 400 words, which I always go over, but I attempt to meet.

I know that people have extensively praised longer pieces, such as Alexander’s “marathon” work on Out of the Past. I admired that piece very much…but I didn’t finish it. In Evan’s (or Luke’s) little leadup to that article, he wrote: “Here he meticulously breaks down one of noir’s towering achievements, so turn off the phone, lock the door, and get focused.” Which is just something that I don’t do on the internet. I skim, I skip around, I glance. I don’t read long pieces, and although it is my natural inclination to write them, I try not to.

You praised my piece on Mildred Pierce, but it was only 150 words longer. In fact, by my standards, it was actually too long. My goal is to write short pieces, because that’s what I read. It was not in any way supposed to be dismissive of the film. At most, I could have squeezed in one more short paragraph and kept it under the word limit.

I agree in some ways in principal with the provisional treatment on films, there are films we all take time to warm to. But the fact is that the rating of TNOTH is leaving yourself open to ridicule from far more able keyboards than mine.

You must realise that it wasn’t just the rating that was dismissive, it was the nature of the review, the very fact it was so brief was dismissive in itself. I write only brief reviews myself, but that’s because of time and space constraints.

However, having read your piece on Mildred Pierce earlier I found much to enjoy in it and agree with, and I’ll take NOTH as just a momentary blip. And now I really must say no more as I have really said too much here. It’s time other people got there ten penneths in. Enough is enough.

Seriously, I was being flippant in my remark about Allen’s dialogue, but not facetious. You named plenty of other candidates, although they’re not necessarily my favorites: I’d take Albee over Williams, Wodehouse over Wilde, I don’t speak French, etc. But I would say that Allen writes some of my favorite dialogue ever, if that’s alright with you guys. (Anyone want to defend Allen besides me? Anyone? Sam?)

Allan, I think you are making some things about my dislike of this film more clear to me. I think it’s an oversimplification to say that Expressionism “is borne out of the same darkened childhood fantasies as fairy tales,” there’s certainly some truth to that. But the Expressionistic masterpieces – like real fairy tales – are damn problematic pieces. In some of them “Evil” exists in a pure form, but pure good is hard to come by. And so if this is a child’s eye view of these events, it’s one that indulges in the wish-fulfillment of children in the Gish character. Which I just can’t buy, especially the final scene, in the face of Gish’s own belief that it’s a hard world for little things. It doesn’t end up being that hard of a world, after they encounter a mother figure who is far to good to be true. The counter to this is that they at least tried to make Mitchum’s character have multiple dimensions – but I wasn’t buying, again.

More than anything else, Allan, I’m frustrated with your response to my statement that I’ve only seen this movie once, and I wouldn’t be the first to change my tune on it. Of course I’m in a position to review the film; I watched it and I’m knowledgeable about film in general and this era in particular. But you jumped all over me when I simply tried to acknowledge what we all know about every review and every reviewer: every review is provisional, and first reactions to acknowledged classics are probably the most so. If you think this is weakening my position, then fine, you have the high ground and you can lightsaber my limbs off at will. But I consider it having an open mind and acknowledging the problematic nature of movie reviewing in general and this instance in particular. At least, I find that preferable to “Nuh-uh Allan, I knowz better dan you!”

Just kidding. I completely agree with Allan that The Night of the Hunter is very much a dark fairytale. One of the great recurring thematic veins of the film is the susceptibility of adults to be taken in by cloaked evil, and how children can see through what many adults cannot. (Laughton in this way made the film from a child’s perspective, seeing the villainy in Mitchum’s character, looking beyond his collar.) It’s important to note the very rural setting you describe and find odd; characters in the Midwest at this time see the big, handsome preacher as inherently a force for good. (The prologue with the lesson of the false prophet taking people in is partly meant, I think, to illustrate how this process has worked in history, from the Biblican to the present.) The women note that he’s available and consequently approach him with tremendous interest, unable to see beyond his bogus front. Allan’s point about the Gish character representing “Good” importantly establishes how so many characters, such as Shelly Winters’ Willa, fall between the “Evil” and “Good,” like so many caught between the allure of “Evil” and the altruism of “Good.”

It is important that the people of this story are not of the cynical city, but of the simpler, more “innocent” countryside, as their immediate respect for a man of God, as a supposed avatar for Christianity, is only more believable coming from such a background, at this time especially.

And while I do not think of The Night of the Hunter as an archetypal noir at all, I do think a significant number of noirs have found the setting of the “innocent” country to be a satisfying place against which to play out, partly for the stark contrasts provided by that kind of world.

Were you being facetious about Woody Allen being the best writer of dialogue since Shakespeare? I’m just curious (and admittedly hopeful). I’ve always found Mercutio and Tybalt to be such endlessly fascinating characters, a part of me wishes more of “Romeo and Juliet” had been about them, haha.

Firstly on the “not in a position to judge it fully”. To this I say “why review it in the first place?” If you are saying, by quantifying the statement, that you may not be in a position to judge in the first place, then you are undermining your very critical foundations. If you really believed what you said, then go with it and present a more compelling argument why you are right and 90% of critics are wrong. I don’t believe you genuinely do feel you were not in a position to judge it, or you may admit that you should go back and watch it again before coming to such a summary dismissal.

As for the original critics, well they fall into the same category as the audiences, I’m afraid, many of them paid by their syndicates to write favourable reviews of given studios. The original critics have savaged many a masterpiece in their time and it’s no coincidence that many critics later reformed their opinions on it just as with other such misunderstood milestones as Powell’s Peeping Tom.

The one thing you don’t mention in all of this – until your final riposte – is that, in accepting its expressionistic touches, that expressionism is borne out of the same darkened childhood fantasies as fairy tales. This is what TNOTH is. Not to realise this is not to get the film. Harry Powell is exaggerated because he’s a vision of evil that children would be scared of as children are his target. Just as Lillian Gish is too good to be true as the old woman simply because the forces of light should be so good, and they can, in essence, fight the forces of evil by such simple practices as singing “Leaning on the Ever-Lasting Arms.” I won’t go into more detail, I’ll leave that to others as I’ve said too much on this topic already.

As for Woody Allen writing the best dialogue since Shakespeare. Well, if you say so. Most people would take Oscar Wilde, Feydeau, Molière, Williams, Guitry, Coward and various others over the Woodster, but he’s not too bad I suppose. And no-one is untouchable, some of Shakespeare’s dialogue is pretty mediocre, but luckily the vast majority is sublime. Kurosawa himself isn’t untouchable, a master for sure, but one of one all time great Japanese masters and arguably the least of the four.

As for getting all NC-17 on you, I haven’t and won’t, that’s not for this forum. I’ll stay at PG.

I absolutely love genre mashups. This is less a genre mashup than a mashup, period.

(As for this film, I haven’t seen it, but it sounds like my kind of thing. I’m a sucker for genre mash-ups.)

Your other complains I think I can deal with as well. First, it was Sam who introduced the idea of “too arty,” but I ran with it because I knew what he meant. Obviously, all works of art are works of art; the problem with this one is that it’s highly stylized images sometimes make its storytelling problematic. I think that “too arty” is a pretty accepted shorthand for this.

Shakespeare is untouchable, but people routinely complain that Woody Allen’s movies are too talkie, and he writes the best dialogue since Shakespeare.

Finally, you say I didn’t give any reasons, but in my response to Sam I advocated a pretty clear reason for my dislike of the film (strengthening a reason I also gave in my review): this movie is a hybrid that doesn’t work, a frankenstein monster that doesn’t get off the ground. Is it naturalism or realism? Is it a fairy tale? Is it expressionism? Is it nihilistic or redemptive? You could certainly perceive this ambiguity as a strength, but for me – in only one viewing – all these disparate elements don’t fly.

There. Chew on that, really read what I said, and then you’re welcome to get all NC-17 on me.

As for the film being too arty? Well, in the words of General Sir Anthony Cecil Hogmanay Melchett, BUGGER ME WITH A FISH FORK. And what is wrong with art? That’s like saying Shakespeare is too talky, where’s the action, Will? None of the balcony baloney, give us a few more fights to the death between Tybalt and Mercutio and make it happen on stage this time, not in the bleedin’ wings.

Then there’s the “at the time it was reviled” argument. Not only would that not stand up in court it wouldn’t lie down in court. You’d need OJ Simpson’s lawyer and then some to get away with that one. I mean, audiences are known for their cinematic appreciation…see the revulsion greeted by La Règle du Jeu, Bringing up Baby, Duck Soup, Intolerance, The General, and numerous other bona fide object lessons in cinematic perfection that myopic audience sof the time dismissed.

There’s only one problem with attacking the holy, and that’s that you must make an argument one agrees with. My favourite critic David Thomson says things about great films that make me want to throw his printed word against the wall for, but one can agree with some of the things he says. I can’t agree with anything you have written, beyond the excellent grammar.

However, the guys running the site will be pelased, as such argyments are bound to provoke debate, and relatively hostile debate, far more than my meagre efforts. My friend Sam will tell you this is me in pacifist mode, a PG certificate version when we have arguments that normally run to NC-17 and beyond.

Sam says he can’t toss you a life preserver, the only thing most people would be tempted to toss would be an iron chain with a breeze block attached to it. Should you take the opportunity to attack some other cherished work of art and not bring together a remotely convincing argument to back it up, we can only offer one question…

WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE CREMATED OR BURIED AT SEA?

I do want to latch on to one thing: the fact that this film is a “bit too arty.” I didn’t always think it was too arty; as you said, it has a really glorious look to it at times. But I was I tried to emphasize in my (brief) review it seemed like this was a movie constantly struggling with itself, in the manner of love and hate. I didn’t think Mitchum worked as a killer of ladies AND a lady killer. I didn’t think the movie worked as a latter-day dreamily expressionist film AND a gritty, naturalistic film. And most of all, I didn’t think it worked as a bleak, nihilistic document AND a glorification of Love winning out over Hate. All those elements didn’t work synergistically or dialectically, but rather in direct opposition to each other, and I was left feeling disoriented.

The film is a fascinating, truly unique work, part gothic horror film, part religious parable, part fairytale, part noir. Robert Mitchum is absolutely terrifying as the phony preacher. Admittedly, Laughton’s audacious visual style–he borrowed from D.W. Griffith (interestingly enough, Lillian Gish’s favorite director) and the German expressionists–is a bit too arty, but there are still moments of amazing visual beauty, like the haunting multi-plane shot when the canoe carrying the runaway children floats downstream. Of course the film’s most famous sequence has always been the LOVE and HATE tatoo self hand wrestling, to evince th eternal struggle.
The film has received superlative reviews through the years by our greatest film scholars, critics and film historians. The great and incomparable PAULINE KAEL opines in her canonical volume “5001 Nights at the Movies” that NIGHT OF THE HUNTER is “one of the most frightening movies ever made…..” and she followed it with equally fanatical praise; Stanley Kauffmann has praised it and the great Enlish/American critic David Thomson in his famed volume “Biographical Dictionary of Film” calls NIGHT OF THE HUNTER one of the indesputed “masterpieces of American cinema.” In France, the critics have always praised the film as a kind of second coming. It goes on and on.

Does this make your own opinion (and this very fine review you penned) less significant? Of course not. You are just as important as anyone else. But you are swimming against the tide my friend, and I can’t throw you out any kind of a life-preserver at this point.