Precious Bodily Fluids

Dark Passage: The City as Haven

Labeled

This one’s loaded, and up there with some of the great San Francisco films noir, including Thieves’ Highway and, Dark Passage‘s 1946 contemporary from Orson Welles, The Lady from Shanghai. Like the latter, Dark Passage includes a few of those kaleidoscope shots that disorient the viewer with a collage of somebody’s face. This is particularly effective in a film that hides the main character’s face through nearly its first half. Problems of identity make noir in part what it is, and Dark Passage quite literally embodies this rupture in Bogart’s character Vincent. Vincent undergoes plastic surgery that reconstructs his face in order to render him unrecognizable and offer him pedestrian autonomy. The viewer is sutured to Vincent’s point of view in about the first third of the film, but not primarily to hide Vincent’s pre-reconstructed face before we see it later. Rather, we enter into Vincent’s myopic perspective as a man on the run, surrounded, confused, and aimless.

Crowded

Myopia is part and parcel to noir, too, and the viewer’s anchoring to a single subjective outlook creates a sense of frustration corresponding to the character. This kind of cinematic effect encapsulates the shift that took place in film right around 1945. Rather than revolving around the film texts themselves, Dark Passage illustrates a new mode, one in which the film’s effect on the viewer becomes primary and the narrative takes the back seat. Hence the kaleidoscope shots, the crooked camera angles, and the intensely subjective POV shots. (Kristen Daly’s essay, “Cinema 3.0: The Interactive Image” has plenty to say about cinema’s three phases – Cinema Journal, Vol. 50.1 Fall 2010.)

Eye contact

As far as noir and the city go, Dark Passage toys with the idea of the city not simply as a terrifying concrete jungle but also as a safe haven. When Vincent initially escapes from prison, he makes it his goal to head into San Francisco, which involves crossing the Golden Gate Bridge. Does Vincent long for the city directly on account of his criminal status? This is doubtful, since we quickly learn that he was wrongfully convicted. The city is a kind of jungle, one in which a man like Vincent is able to find corners, nests, and rooftops to lodge temporarily. A trope within Dark Passage presents itself early and remains consistently present throughout, consistent with the image of the city as a haven: the fellow urban-dweller as friend. Vincent is assisted throughout his urban travail, by: Bacall’s character, the cab driver, the disgraced plastic surgeon, the diner operator, the stranger who asks for a light, and the hotel clerk. At numerous junctures, Vincent addresses others and is addressed by others by the name, “Friend.”

Urban nesting

The overwhelming force that is on Vincent’s trail cannot be chalked up as “the law,” since other, more sinister, forces are also pursuing him. There is rather an overarching force that is not so much objectively large but subjectively. Granted, the newspaper headlines are dominated by news about Vincent, but in the noir world the overblown size of such headlines can be explained by the subjective lens through which we see them. So, the individual city dwellers are in fact the antidote to urban sickness, or, perhaps better, the safety nets in urban danger. Vincent’s survival depends on their help, a help they’re not only willing to offer but seem obligated to extend. An unwritten code binds them together as fellow survivors in a hilly, overpopulated, concrete desert of artificiality. Vincent’s eventual exit not only from the city but from the country reflects an ultimate inability for him to remain in a city that, at best, can only function as a haven. The rupture in his identity, the impossibility of demonstrating his innocence, and the inescapability of his own history render his bodily transformation only superficial, insufficient ultimately to survive. As with so many other noirs, the permanent haven is found in a more exotic space: South America.

Buddy

Trippin

Faceless

A new me?

Bridge-building?

Evil justice

Free & easy in the tropics

Advertisements
This entry was published on January 11, 2011 at 1:59 pm. It’s filed under 1940s Cinema, American film and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

3 thoughts on “Dark Passage: The City as Haven

  1. Dark Passage indeed was a competent noir. It might not rank as Bogart’s best work, but the film did have the actor doing a damn good job. Okay, the ending did screw up the experience a bit for me, but the rest of it played out exceedingly well. And the first half an hour or so, which had the film playing from Bogart’s point of view – now that was damn innovative and sure likened the film to me. Very well written as always with some terrific screencaps doing the rest!

  2. What are your thoughts regarding Dark Passage’s commentary on the urban in relation to the images of urban decay in Tarkovsky’s Stalker?

  3. Ooo, I like it, Stielmann. Nothing more fun and deconstructive than relating two films that have no causal connection whatsoever. (Note how I’m avoiding an answer since I definitely need to watch Stalker again, an idea on which D is surely not keen.)

    But really, Tarkovsky’s visual style and philosophical overtones probably have a great deal in common with the rather typical noir philosophy and visuals of Dark Passage. Both are dealing with an inner, human breakdown manifesting itself at a larger level. Perhaps it’s fair to say that Stalker takes noir to the next level, amplifying the surreal and emphasizing the uneasy wedding between human thoughts and emotions. Noir touches on these as well, but, perhaps because of its immediately post-WWII context, it’s looking at the world at a more socio-urban level. Tarkovsky takes this further, I think. He gets very “interior” regarding humans and humanity, and seeks a kind of medicinal rural environment to treat the urban malaise.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: