James Naremore

If the idea is to see if you have an appetite for more, then this definitely worked for me. Luckily, Naremore has a longer book on the same subject (More than Night: Film Noir in Its Contexts).

Although this is a “very short” book (108 pages), Naremore goes pretty broad spectrum. He starts off with a discussion of the definition of “film noir.” I think it makes noir more interesting that it is difficult to define, somehow appropriate to what it is, and that followers argue about what show more movies fall into or out of the category. Some films — The Maltese Falcon, Double Indemnity, Out of the Past, Gun Crazy, . . . — are paradigm examples. And those suggest common elements — black and white cinematography, toughness, down and out or doomed characters, cityscapes, . . . .

But what about films made after the 40s and 50s, even made in color (e.g., Chinatown)? What about recent movies like LA Confidential or Reservoir Dogs? What about movies like Pulp Fiction or Sin City that ride the edge of parody? What about science fiction, like Blade Runner? What about non-American films, like Rififi or M?

Some of those seem obviously noir, and some not so much, but it’s hard to say why in a way that will hold generally. Naremore points to the sub-genres like neo-noir or sci fi noir, etc. as ways to decide without deciding. Maybe we don’t need to decide.

Naremore gives some great history, the landmark films, the context of World War II (and then McCarthyism and the Cold War), and how exactly a French term like “film noir” became associated with Hollywood films (that in turn borrowed from German expressionism).

Part of the history is censorship, under the Production Code Administration. The strictures of the code had their own influence on how the movies were crafted, e.g., the “between the lines” treatments of homosexuality and sex in general or the questionable and often compromised moral that “crime doesn’t pay.” The history of Hollywood production codes is worth a book in itself (luckily again, there’s a good one on life before the code and the effect that the code had subsequently, Forbidden Hollywood, by Mark Vieira).

Naremore also does a great job of relating noir film and noir literature, with discussions of Hammet, Cain, Chandler, Highsmith, Greene, and more. Some of those discussions are going to send me to the bookstore for some great reading.

And the book wraps up with a discussion of noir’s “afterlife,” where it becomes a matter of history and comment as much as active genre. Actually, the chapter preceding that last one warms up the topic with discussions of films in which noir becomes something to allude to in “pastiche” (e.g., Body Heat or Miller’s Crossing) or to parody in “pasticcio” (e.g., Pulp Fiction or Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid).

All in all, it’s an appetizer. Lots of great references to movies that you may have seen but want to see again, maybe with added context from Naremore’s discussions. And I especially liked the references and discussions re noir literature — the classics as well as some things that are a little off the beaten path (I’m going to hunt down the 1950s comic book series, Crime Suspensestories that Naremore mentions). There’s a helpful chapter-by-chapter list of references and recommendations at the back of the book. show less

Reading this book was a pleasing introduction to the British Film Institute's series of classic film studies. For aficionados of celluloid or serious students of film, this series deserves special attention. The smooth dark plum and pale dove-gray cover of the slim paperback that holds "Sweet Smell of Success" speaks to a certain classiness. The content of the book is also classy in its own way, giving equal weight to a close analysis of the film as well as a look at what went into its show more making, and what was going on in America at the time of its conception.

"The Sweet Smell of Success" is a classic black-and-white film from the mid-1950s starring Tony Curtis and Burt Lancaster. It was based on a novella by Ernest Lehman and was ahead of its time in terms of addressing issues and portraying characters that had been kept in check by the censors.

A New York press agent and a questionable gossip columnist (based more or less on the infamous Walter Winchell) are the main characters in the film which takes a close look at celebrity as well as the dark side of Broadway. This is all set in an America just beginning to recover from the repressive McCarthy era.

The author, James Naremore is a past professor at Indiana University who has written extensively about film. His take on the "Sweet Smell of Success" is notable for its analysis of the story line, his examination of how American culture and politics influenced the film, and his extensive look at how "Sweet Smell" came to be written and produced gives the book great weight. Also noteworthy are his thoughts on the choice of actors, comments on the way the film is acted, and interesting notes on cinematography, direction, and marketing.

Lastly, the photographs from the film that are included in the book are numerous and well selected; they complement Naremore's analysis quite well. Even if one has not viewed "The Sweet Smell of Success," by the end of the book one feels as though the lights will soon be up in the theatre and one can walk out the door having experienced an entire film. show less

Prodigy. Iconoclast. Genius. Exile. Orson Welles remains one of the most discussed figures in cinematic history. In the centenary year of Welles's birth, James Naremore presents a revised third edition of this incomparable study, including a new section on the unfinished film The Other Side of the Wind. Naremore analyzes the political and psychological implications of the films, Welles's idiosyncratic style, and the biographical details--both playful and vexing--that impacted each work. show more Itself a historic film study, The Magic World of Orson Welles unlocks the soaring art and quixotic methods of a master. show less

Everybody talks about the curse of The Misfits, but nobody talks about the curse of Sweet Smell of Success, probably because for most people career death is not as spooky as actual death.

Ernest Lehman sold his original story to Lancaster with the understanding that he would write the screenplay and direct. Lancaster never really had any intention of letting Lehman direct (well, that's Hollywood!), and eventually forced him off the project and hired Mackendrick to direct and Odets to rewrite show more the script. Lehman went on to write the screenplays for North by Northwest, on of Hitchcock's best movies, and Family Plot, one of his worst. He finally got his first (and only) chance to direct in 1972. I haven't seen Portnoy's Complaint myself, but Roger Ebert called it "a true fiasco."

When Lehman's story was first published in Cosmopolitan in 1950, his Hunsecker was apolitical--the McCarthyite angle that gives the film its enduring relevance was added by Clifford Odets. The editor, uneasy about the word "smell," had the title changed to "Tell Me About It Tomorrow," which tells you something today about the intelligence of Cosmo editors.

Odets of course was the quintessential social-consciousness playwright of the Thirties, on whom the Coen Brothers based Barton Fink. (Barton Fink's Bare Ruined Choirs: "We'll be hearing from that kid, and I don't mean a postcard." Odets's Sweet Smell of Success: "My experience I can tell you in a nutshell, and I didn't dream it in a dream; dog eat dog!") Many people considered him to be washed up by the time he was hired for this film, and he was certainly washed up afterwards. His last produced screenplay was Wild in the Country, in which Elvis Presley plays a talented young novelist (!?).

Before Sweet Smell of Success, Alexander Mackendrick directed some of the best-known comedies to come out of Ealing Studios, including The Man in the White Suit and The Ladykillers. Afterwards, he directed a few mediocre films before taking refuge in academia as director of the filmmaking program at CalArts.

I was never sure whether Susan Harrison's deer-in-the-headlights look was intentional, or the result of being scared to death of working with Lancaster and Curtis. Judging by the brevity of her subsequent career, most of it in television, I suspect the latter, but if so, Mackendrick did a brilliant job of making the best of her nervousness and limited range (he underlines Susie's subservience to the domineering men in the film by having her never once make eye contact with another character). It's a shame, since Harrison's understated beauty was a welcome change from all the over-made-up divas of the time.

Naremore's little book provides concise analysis of the film, background information on the cast and crew, and information about Walter Winchell, the model for J. J. Hunsecker, including his feud with Ed Sullivan and his use of his column to hound his daughter's suitor, a situation that parallels the story of J. J. Hunsecker, his sister Susan, and Steve Dallas. show less