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

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

28.03.2013 Views

Figure 100. Out of the Past This particular image of Bridgeport, where the camera catches the couple in a tender moment by a peaceful lakeside, is the actual location of the movie. We might note about noir films that they are usually not shot on location but instead prefer to use studio backgrounds and other artificial settings. Most of the Bridgeport we see is the real place, which contributes to a different inflection of the theme and a heightening of the mood of the film. Thus, the opening scenes of the film, with this idyllic scenery and low-key lighting, suggest that film noir’s most iconic images need not be its darkest. The first glimpse of Jeff Bailey in these pastoral, bucolic scenes accentuate his new immersion in the landscape, as a way of constructing visual alternatives to the dark alleyways, blind corners, and expressionistic shadows. However, in the same sequence of scenes, the spectator understands that all is not well when Bailey’s expression turns to a perpetual frown as a sign of uneasiness. In the scene above (fig. 100), his body is pushed back in the two dimensions of the frame against a leafless weather-beaten tree trunk. Their smiling faces become troubled and pensive with Jeff’s remarks about his past, contrasting with the clear open waters of the lake, its promising vastness, and the mountains in the background as a symbol of a natural retreat, but one which cannot be reached. According to film noir convention, a retreat or escape to the countryside is either unfeasible, disenchanting, or ill-fated. As their conversation goes 348

on, Ann, who represents his hope for a future life, steadily feels threatened. She asks him several questions and he gives her mainly vague answers, thus establishing the mystery that veils his character. The camera moves slightly away from them both only to make the contrast between their disquiet with the peaceful scenery, emphasising Jeff’s laconic and lethargic look. The existential figure of the secretive Jeff seems to mirror the mystery of the plot itself. The viewer is constantly unsure of Jeff’s feeling and intentions until the very end, as I show later. The narrative is organised in such a way that we cannot truly make out the many different places Jeff has been to (“one too many,” as he tells Ann) or the reason why Joe Stefanos (Paul Valentine) has decided to come to Bridgeport. All these explanations are unknowable until the flashback. Nevertheless, the kind of displacement in terms of points of view in the film (especially the switch that occurs from a subjective viewpoint – that of Jeff while he is with Ann – to an objective one – when he is in front of Whit’s mansion in fig. 106) coincides with Jeff’s entrapment and heightens even more the narrative confusion. 96 The Kid Jimmy, who works for Jeff at the station, also seems to be elusive. He does not have much influence on the plot; however, in a secondary role he manages to fill a gap in “the circuit of language and information”, as Fujiwara notes. Although mute, the Kid establishes a limit to the flow of information and speculation that goes on throughout Out of the Past. Just like Helen in The Spiral Staircase, he is deprived of a voice thereby compellingly signifying the act of enforced repression. The film opens with Joe Stefanos asking him “Where’s Bailey?” (the question seems to insist upon the multiple locations the main character has been to), and from this beginning to the very end (as I will show in the conclusion of this chapter) the Kid is a figurative presence, so to speak, showing the audience that “we are in a labyrinth of reciprocal false communications - the world of film noir” (Fujiwara 1998:142). Ultimately, the final act of entrapment (this time both physical and psychological) is that of the hero, expressed by malign fate: “My timing was a few minutes off”, Jeff says sorrowfully to Petey (Wallace Scott), the taxi driver in San Francisco, after coming from the apartment building where he found Eels (Ken Niles) dead. Chris Fujiwara shares the 96 Tourneur once commented that “The script was very hard to follow, and very involved; often in this type of film the audience is deliberately confused, because if your story becomes too pat then it’s often dull” (Fujiwara 1998:141). 349

on, Ann, who represents his hope for a future life, steadily feels threatened. She asks him<br />

several questions and he gives her mainly vague answers, thus establishing the mystery<br />

that veils his character. The camera moves slightly away from them both only to make the<br />

contrast between their disquiet with the peaceful scenery, emphasising Jeff’s laconic and<br />

lethargic look.<br />

The existential figure of the secretive Jeff seems to mirror the mystery of the plot<br />

itself. The viewer is constantly unsure of Jeff’s feeling and intentions until the very end, as<br />

I show later. The narrative is organised in such a way that we can<strong>no</strong>t truly make out the<br />

many different places Jeff has been to (“one too many,” as he tells Ann) or the reason why<br />

Joe Stefa<strong>no</strong>s (Paul Valentine) has decided to come to Bridgeport. All these explanations<br />

are unk<strong>no</strong>wable until the flashback. Nevertheless, the kind of displacement in terms of<br />

points of view in the film (especially the switch that occurs from a subjective viewpoint –<br />

that of Jeff while he is with Ann – to an objective one – when he is in front of Whit’s<br />

mansion in fig. 106) coincides with Jeff’s entrapment and heightens even more the<br />

narrative confusion. 96<br />

The Kid Jimmy, who works for Jeff at the station, also seems to be elusive. He <strong>do</strong>es<br />

<strong>no</strong>t have much influence on the plot; however, in a secon<strong>da</strong>ry role he manages to fill a gap<br />

in “the circuit of language and information”, as Fujiwara <strong>no</strong>tes. Although mute, the Kid<br />

establishes a limit to the flow of information and speculation that goes on throughout Out<br />

of the Past. Just like Helen in The Spiral Staircase, he is deprived of a voice thereby<br />

compellingly signifying the act of enforced repression. The film opens with Joe Stefa<strong>no</strong>s<br />

asking him “Where’s Bailey?” (the question seems to insist upon the multiple locations the<br />

main character has been to), and from this beginning to the very end (as I will show in the<br />

conclusion of this chapter) the Kid is a figurative presence, so to speak, showing the<br />

audience that “we are in a labyrinth of reciprocal false communications - the world of film<br />

<strong>no</strong>ir” (Fujiwara 1998:142).<br />

Ultimately, the final act of entrapment (this time both physical and psychological)<br />

is that of the hero, expressed by malign fate: “My timing was a few minutes off”, Jeff says<br />

sorrowfully to Petey (Wallace Scott), the taxi driver in San Francisco, after coming from<br />

the apartment building where he found Eels (Ken Niles) dead. Chris Fujiwara shares the<br />

96 Tourneur once commented that “The script was very hard to follow, and very involved; often in this type<br />

of film the audience is deliberately confused, because if your story becomes too pat then it’s often dull”<br />

(Fujiwara 1998:141).<br />

349

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