Happiness Is a Cool Heart July 18, 2007
Posted by clydefro in : General Film , trackbackIncreasingly, I’m finding myself drawn to films that seem to lack “happy” elements, characters or endings. I’ve always realized that my sense of humor is dark and my worldview is cynical, but it’s actually writing about the things I watch that’s made me see the distinct pattern here. While it’s comforting to know I’m not alone, that many of the films I like are actually somewhat popular, my misanthropic side argues otherwise. My idea of entertainment is not a static one, constructed by the masses. So, aided with a healthy dose of self-indulgence, I’ll try to explore why I’m fascinated by unhappy cinema.
Aside from horror films, the most obvious area in movies where things usually don’t go too well is film noir. Of course, that’s mostly the point. We watch those films because we want dark themes, shadowy lighting and double crosses. The fascination of noir lies in how different the movies are from others of the same time period. I don’t want to see stuffy melodrama when I watch older movies. I prefer cold women with deadened souls and men too hopeless to resist them. The subversion of the expected is exactly why I find film noir so fascinating. An insurance man doomed by fate to encounter an unhappy wife who cajoles him into murder? Sign me up. A sap who thinks he’s saving a malignant beauty arguing with her con man boyfriend in the pouring rain? It’s the kind of thing that never gets old. These types of films work over and over again. There’s no one to root for because every character is always at fault and that’s exactly why I watch. It’s a self-loathing cynic’s dream!
“Fate, or some mysterious force, can put the finger on you or me for no good reason at all,” Tom Neal’s character in Detour laments near the end of the film. That line in Edgar G. Ulmer’s no-budget classic sums up the appeal of film noir perfectly. Coincidence, fate, or whatever the cause may be, bad things happen to good people and no amount of faith or karmic retribution will eliminate that. We’re all equals in the arena of luck, even if some of us might not choose the exact same paths as Walter Neff or Chris Cross. The usual audience requirement of being able to identify with the protagonist flies out the window, replaced with a voyeuristic curiosity to explore a life most will never know. The characters in these films start out unhappy and end up unhappy. At best they’re cautionary tales, at worst they’re the cinematic equivalent of old country music songs.
Though film noir is the one of the more noteworthy types of unhappy film, it’s far from being alone. A number of more mature, naturalistic westerns were popularized after World War II, first typified by the Anthony Mann-James Stewart films where Stewart is consistently angry and disenchanted. Mann continued without Stewart in Man of the West starring Gary Cooper as a former outlaw trying unsuccessfully to distance himself from a violent past. Those same themes would pop up decades later in Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven where our hero is a man trying to forget his ruthless history as a cold-blooded gunfighter. In between the two films, Sam Peckinpah laid the framework for showing stylized violence in downbeat films populated by unhappy characters.
Peckinpah’s men often struggle with the notion of redemption, whether it’s in their own eyes or the audience’s. In films like The Wild Bunch, Straw Dogs, and Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia, the protagonists attempt to fill a void of unhappiness through accomplishing some redeeming feat. The men we see could easily be described as losers, on the fringe of society, but they’re adamant in accomplishing a goal to set things right, if only in their own minds. This is in contrast to the outcasts found in some other films of the era, such as those by Robert Altman, who instead tended to present his characters as happily getting by while maintaining non-conformist ideals and actions. Many of Peckinpah’s films fit into my neat little cove of unhappiness by giving the audience men who have chosen their own path, usually without apology, and become faced with a challenge that ultimately does nothing to bring happiness to the characters or the audience.
Frequently, these are difficult films to digest. Even a popular filmmaker like Billy Wilder, who’s still considered maybe the most cynical of Hollywood directors, populated many of his comedic films with seemingly unhappy plot points. Though they’re played for laughs and the actors tend to seem more happy than not, Wilder’s comedies can be filled with depressing, even disturbing situations. The Major and the Minor is about a young lady posing as a 12-year-old who tries to woo a military Major in his late thirties. Good luck trying to get that made today. A Foreign Affair, though not entirely a comedy, focuses on a Nazi collaborator’s secret affair with a U.S. army captain and is highlighted by scenes of a bombed-out Berlin. The main characters in Some Like It Hot go on the run from gangsters by posing as women in an all-girls band. The Seven Year Itch, The Apartment and Kiss Me, Stupid center on infidelity and Irma la Douce is about a romance between the title character prostitute and a fired police officer.
All of these are comedies and all have their moments of hilarity, yet each presents a situation of extreme discomfort for its characters. I can’t imagine it’s very easy being happy when you’re fleeing the mob, trying to keep your wife from sleeping with Dean Martin, or realizing your boss is fooling around with the woman you love in your own apartment. Somehow, though, Wilder made us laugh through these situations and prevented the audience from feeling unhappy themselves. Most impressive is that the joy we derive from their unhappiness isn’t a result of emotional manipulation or mean-spirited comeuppance. Wilder comes by his audience satisfaction honestly, through good story and characters. We don’t want these people to be unhappy, and unlike film noir there is usually a sense of hoping things work out positively, but we’re okay with laughing and smiling through their plight.
Prior to Wilder, and aside from some of the harebrained situations found in screwball comedy (a genre that acts as a counterpoint to my love for these “unhappy” films, proving the blood running through my veins is indeed nice and warm), the most successful proponent of sad film comedy in the sound era may have been Charlie Chaplin. Though Chaplin is frequently cited as overly romantic and sentimental, I would argue that he more often presented harsh reminders of how difficult life can be. Prior to talking pictures, he gave us devastating looks at poverty and the superficial nature of love in The Gold Rush and City Lights. Both are very funny, but also quite depressing, especially the latter which contains perhaps the most heartbreaking ending in film history. Then, in Modern Times, the industrial age was savagely critiqued, almost frighteningly so.
Chaplin’s remaining films all have varying degrees of poignant, unhappy looks at the world, told through biting social commentary. The Great Dictator is terrifying if you take into consideration that it was made in 1940, at an extremely uncertain time in our history. His incredibly moving monologue, sometimes cited as being overly preachy, plays to me like a call to arms and a necessary one at that. Chaplin turned Hitler into a buffoon, risking his life and career in the process. By Monsieur Verdoux, he was supremely confident in his comedic handling of another delicate subject matter, this time a serial killing Bluebeard. It’s no surprise that audiences didn’t warm to such a vile character, but the film is a creative triumph, turning a most unhappy subject into a decidedly black comedy.
Chaplin’s final two screen characters are not quite so heartless, but both give viewers little to be happy about. Limelight shows Chaplin as Calvero, an aging and washed-up music hall comedian who struggles to sell tickets or captivate his audience. In many ways, the film is a depressing look at the bygone days of entertainment and the sad futures of forgotten entertainers. Calvero descends from great star to unemployable drunk. Despite the downbeat themes, Limelight works beautifully as a wistful deconstruction of the romantic myth of the entertainment industry. Chaplin’s final starring role, in A King in New York, is less heralded but still effective. As the deposed king of a fictional country, the actor is funny and charming in a film that really looks astonishing today in its straightforward attacks on everything from HUAC collaborators to the insanity of reality television.
These are pointed films unafraid to make strong statements, even if ostensibly taking place within the confines of comedy. Once again, unhappy characters often placed in unhappy situations and not always with neat, satisfying conclusions. Exactly the kind of thing I enjoy. I find it much better than perfect, unrealistic situations or overly dramatic and ridiculous plot contrivances. Frequently, I don’t want happiness in my movies. I don’t want to be merely entertained. A good movie should entertain me, but there’s more than one way of doing it. Provoking thought or anger can be just as entertaining as boy meets girl and they live happily ever after. I think internal tension is more compelling than a flurry of explosions. The good guys don’t have to always win and the guy doesn’t have to get the girl. For me, that’s entertainment (and happiness).
Comments»
If you like “Double Indemnity” check out Barbara Stanwyck in “Clash by Night”.
Suprisingly, I really didn’t like Clash by Night. I think it was the adultery theme and Paul Douglas that killed it for me. It’s my least favorite Fritz Lang film that I’ve seen, even though it has two actors I’ll usually watch in anything - Stanwyck and Robert Ryan.