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Joaquim da Silva Fontes, Significação e Estabilidade do Género no ...

Joaquim da Silva Fontes, Significação e Estabilidade do Género no ...

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in the popular imagination. While the screenwriter and director may conjure up the vision,<br />

it is the <strong>no</strong>ir cinematographer who brings it to life. In the case of Charles Laughton’s <strong>no</strong>ir<br />

The Night of the Hunter (1955), for example, cinematographer Stanley Cortez employs an<br />

expressionistic shooting style that concentrated on heavy symbolism and contrast and<br />

which acts out the vision of terror and eeriness of the plot (see fig. 92 on p. 330). Menacing<br />

lighting and long depth of field along with an array of camera angles all contribute to<br />

enhance the particular vision of opposing forces (good and evil) that are present in the film.<br />

Apart from the way that these films were photographed, there are certain images of<br />

set pieces and objects that are recurrent in <strong>no</strong>ir productions and delivered with such<br />

expertise that their visual prominence in the narrative defines their importance in any<br />

discussion of the <strong>no</strong>ir phe<strong>no</strong>me<strong>no</strong>n as a style. The recognised settings of lamp-streets in<br />

the night-time city just after rainfall or rays of flashing neon signs streaming through the<br />

venetian blinds of win<strong>do</strong>ws in empty offices are just the most repeated visual patterning<br />

that we retain as being common to most <strong>no</strong>ir films.<br />

I have discussed some of these elements here; some other symbols will also be dealt<br />

with in more detail in Part IV. Until <strong>no</strong>w, I have shown images that are just familiar in <strong>no</strong>ir<br />

narratives: bridges and stairs, alleyways and deserted <strong>do</strong>cklands, luxurious apartments. In<br />

them, we often see impeccably dressed women, with their lipstick and furs, watches and<br />

keys, telephones ringing. In almost every single <strong>no</strong>ir film telephones of all sorts – “pay<br />

phones, office phones, bedside phones, restaurant and nightclub phones that are brought to<br />

one’s table” – are symbolic objects that “are often connected in the films to questions of<br />

privacy and secrets; they are emblematic of the mystique of communication in a world<br />

which is clamorous with sound and at the same time, at its deepest level, eerily silent”<br />

(Christopher 1997:92). In Litvak’s Sorry, Wrong Number, the telephone is used as a vital<br />

device with which Leona (Barbara Stanwyck) is able to remain in control and to connect<br />

with the outside world.<br />

We also see the bent-brimmed hats of men with their trench coats, and indisputably<br />

the scenes enveloped by cigarettes smoked in abun<strong>da</strong>nce everywhere. Indeed everybody is<br />

always smoking in film <strong>no</strong>ir; the films are constantly enshrouded in smoke – in The<br />

Shanghai Gesture, for example, Poppy’s descent into corruption is revealed by her<br />

slovenly pose, as she sits over a bar top with a cigarette <strong>da</strong>ngling from her mouth; or in Out<br />

of the Past, in which Jeff Markham and Whit Sterling smoke angrily at each other. At one<br />

203

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