Noir Taffy

A puzzler, a teaser, stretched so far, and in so many directions, boomerang injury is always a possibility.It is nigh impossible to avoid  frequent discussion of nordic nations as exemplars of gender equality. In the most recent rating of countries in gender politics and equity, Iceland was ranked first with much of Scandinavia close behind. America, as is so often the case far behind. And in terms of the nordic noir phenomenon, it is often claimed that the presence of strong and "direct" female characters are a major reason for its popularity from Lisbeth Salander to Sara Lundt;  In fact, a recent New Yorker article on DR productions that included an interview with Sofie Goebol, reflected that 'kick-ass" female characters are so prominent that Scandinavians  have invented a specific category within fiction and film to account for these female cultural warriors. And Grabol's character has been described by some as the greatest fictional feminist ever. But simultaneously many struggle to account for the various psychic wounds these women almost invariably suffer from. The female lead of the cult hit The Bridge, is widely assumed to suffer from Aspergers Syndrome, for instance, and Sarah Lundt is in effect an utterly dysfunctional human being, relationship wise, both within personal and professional interaction. To be sure such flaws or limitations are also readily apparent in their male counterparts (Harry Hole's raging alcoholism, Wallander's profound levels of neurotic disposition etc), but certainly in discussing gender equality issues these alienating attributes seem to demand a specific level of attention or interpretive focus. In a recent online article, an American academic goes to great length (though with no great success) to argue that Sarah's loneliness is a deliberate sacrifice to benefit a greater good, and thus embodies the progressive dimension within Scandinavian cultures. A more persuasive analysis is presented by Kristin Bergman in her well-researched study Swedish Crime Fiction: The Making of Nordic Noir where she suggests that Scandanavian cultures have struggled to move beyond traditional concepts of female identity, despite the changing image of women mediated through art and statistical measures of equality.In this context it is interesting to note that Sofie Grabol struggled to play Sarah Lundt, having played so many emotional female characters, until hitting on the idea of playing her as a man. And she consciously conceived of the character as Clint Eastwood like. You figure it out.

Firewall:

Finished Wallander novel Firewall and found myself moved by the ending to a surprising depth.  It was a sustained elegiac meditation of considerable poignancy and pith, feeling that this penultimate novel was the true ending of the series arc, not the formal exit penned some 10 years later, though the final image of Wallander vanishing into the silent darkness of Alzheimer's was a fitting and apt final curtain. The ending of the novel has also been helpful in solidifying my understanding, at this preliminary point, of the flawed welfare state in Sweden, and beyond.  As Wallander reflects on his experience and the current state of affairs, he brings a bifocal perspective.  A society, despite its pretensions about itself, or perhaps because of these pretensions have brutally pushed a significant number of its citizens to the margins of society, and  in ghettoizing them, has in effect created a series of societal firewalls, preventing integration and harmony...and leaving these "citizens" adrift in a world of drugs, unemployment and societal indifference.  But at the same time, technology has brought people closer together, yet creating a social matrix that is highly vulnerable to sabotage and terrorism.  Probably worth noting the book was published in 1998 with YK2 looming large, and despite the failure of any of its dire predictions to find fruition, the ratcheted up anxiety engendered by this anticipated international meltdown, profoundly helped to shape the mood of the new century.  Even before 9/11 we were possessed by a deepening sense of dread and insecurity.  Since YK2 we were waiting for 9/11 to materialize and compel the realization that the world had changed forever.

Getting back to the book and nordic noir, these works would have us believe, as Zizek and numerous other cultural critics never tire of proclaiming, the Swedish model, and related models within other nordic nations, to secularly design utopian models for post WWII resurgence is a failed experiment.  Surmising from a variety of nordic crime writers the ultimate source of evil (to use an old fashioned word) is seen as resting within the very social structured long admired and attacked as welfare statehood.  At times, the state appears to have inadequate laws to inhibit crime, particularly on the global, financial level.  At other times, and this also applies to corporate, privileged criminal activity, the corrupting influence of neoliberalism, and its inherent exploitation of the vulnerable and less powerful, becomes the focal point.  But it is never a simple, cut-and-dry situation.  At times though perhaps on a secondary tier of significance, the attempt by the state to assume such vast responsibility for the welfare of the citizenry, in areas once seen the province the family, the neighborhood, the church, the drive to nationalize so many activities and institutions, including that of the police, creates, paradoxically, not contentment, but a type of entropy or malaise.  One one hand the state often seems defined by an unsettling mixture of incompetency and corruption, and the sense that a variety of traditional institutions, including the family have  been undermined or weakened. So without these personal connections, once you become marginalized by the state, you are lost and lost within a crime environment impossible to overcome.   Ironically, then, the left critique of the welfare state, at least superficially overlaps portions of right wing critique in conveying a state exerting a stultifying influence on the individual consciousness.  But this impact does not result from frustrating the entrepreneurial spirit, as often claimed by free market advocates, but rather the preeminence of capitalism enterprise, particularly within Sweden, undermines the potential for authentic social engagement .

Of course, it's easy to lose oneself in such ruminations, so  lets choose a very simple incident involving individuals who are neither victims or perpetrators of crime.  A variety of authors within both the arts and even the legal or judicial establishment have commented how the tendency to decriminalize certain transgressions against society provokes a sensibility that "justice" as a traditional and cohesive concept ceases to exist.  If some transgressions aren't punished, or some transgressors treated with extreme leniency then justice no longer exists, and thus past understandings of society becomes,, in some minds, inoperative. But at the same time a lack of faith in the new state creates another level of uncertainty, a sort of limbo between past and present-becoming future. Not coincidently, this parallels the fracturing of time in classic noir.

Playing in the Dark

I take this title from Toni Morrison from a book in which she argues that American literature can be understood only by realizing the significance of a racialized other within the country, that shaped, animated, and impacted its literature. Thus a black presence, an enslaved presence, at the height of the American Renaissance, and a disenfranchised one in post-bellum times,provided an indispensable "surrogate" and "shadow" for white authors as they were defining a country's literature and identity. Similar concepts can easily be applied cinema, where after all the interplay of light and shadow predominates, and much groundbreaking research is currently being done in this very field, including a compelling work by Alice Maurice entitled The Cinema and Its Shadow: Race and Technology in Early Cinema. Maurice, however, explores not simply the portrayal of blacks in these early days, but, more radically, how a racialized other shaped film technique, and continues to do so throughout film history.These are complex issues far beyond the scope of this blog, but it is impossible, even on the most superficial level,  to ignore how film noir (black film) so powerfully illustrates this racialized perspective suggested by both Morrison and contemporary film scholars.  I find it compelling to speculate that the dialectical interplay of shadow and light in these films , in their hyperbolic expressionism, render them so suitable  for a vast array of ideological/political interpretation (queer studies, gender, marxism etc)

Zizek and Noir

Even Slavoj Zizek gets off on Noir.  Like many of us he seems to have a very broad and vague definition, including Arsenic and Lace, Casablanca, and even It's a Wonderful Life.  I was intrigued by his understanding of a new age of noir in America in the 70s and 80s..  He explores this neo-noir through two films Blade Runner and Angel Heart, and in the process articulates his own-post-ideology perspective with some interesting wrinkles along the way.  As he reads these films, they utilize a similar story arc in that a character investigating a particular crime  in a matter of speaking  ends up exploring new dimensions about his very identity.. Mickey Rourke's character, through the benefit of black magic, is quite literally searching for himself, and assuming, Decker to be an android/replicant (as Zizek does), he is an android-killer eliminating his own kind, administering a test, which he himself never submits to, and which he can never pass. Zizek focuses, with tremendous effect, on the moment in the film when Decker, reflecting on Rachael, wonders how anyone, including replicants, could not know who they are. The sort of riddle that Philip K. Dick, a self-defined philosopher using the tools of science fiction to pursue his thoughts, loved to embed in his writings, though in far more ambiguous terms than Zizek allows, but more of that later. Zizek's interest in this neo-noir identity is directly related to the following philosophical query: when "I think," who exactly is thinking me? This is why Dr. Tyrell is so important in this interpretation, as a Frankenstein-like figure controlling the army of replicants he creates, few whom have any idea of the true nature of their creation, embedded with and manipulated by programmed memories. Not insignificantly, Zizek's noir meditation is from a book entitled Tarrying with the Negative, where he argues that we must face the hollowness at the center of our identity (taking the concept from Lacan, who he considers the greatest philosopher of the 20th century)before we can achieve any semblance of authentic individuality vibrancy and connection to others .But I can't help but wonder whether this theory changes at all in terms of Blade Runner if we assert that Decker never resolves the issue of his identity, as is the case in the novel.  Interestly whatever side of this question you come down on (one that has engaged critics and fans for decades), it is undeniable that cyber punk dystopian views, engendered by a technology non-existent during classic noir, are totally consistent  with the  imagistic and thematic patterns identified with it.

Interestingly, Zizek theorizes that in order for noir to "reboot" after the classic era, it needs to combine itself with other forms such as sci-fi,fantasy, cyberpunk (and we easily add police procedurals and a number of others).At one point he images noir as similar to a biological parasite, feeding off these genres for a period before fading away to reemerge at a later period.  Not a genre in itself, more a sensibility, a way of seeing and acting, that helps engender hybrid forms.  And in the 21st century, hybrids of noir are dramatically evident wherever we turn, particularly under the marketting rubric of "nordic noir."

Ida

Taking a day off from noir films, watching one of this year's Oscar winners, Ida, a Polish film about a beautiful young woman about to take her final vows, having been raised in a Catholic orphanage during the Nazi occupation, not realizing she is in fact a Jew.  A stunning film in exquisite black and white cinematography.  While watching it I begin to sense how bit by bit I am gravitating toward the sensual basis of art--and life itself perhaps, I don't know.  I can't help but think about Roger Ebert's comment about how the subject of the film is less important than its tone, its atmosphere, its style.  This is simplistic and Ebert, for all his quality, had a certain anti-intellectual quality, draining films of their ideological content.  But I find myself in the midst in my work on noir to be drawn in this direction.  And Ebert's definition of the essence of film is very much in sync with what some of the finest noir writers and scholars assert.  Not a genre, though there are some who continue to blow this old horn, but a way of seeing, a sensibility, a mood, an indelible and unique atmosphere. A look and a feel unique to itself. As Paul Schrader writes in his brilliant Notes on Noir, this style becomes the means of resolving the thematic levels inherent in the films. Style and content seamlessly identical.  So there's apparently no escape.from noir and its shadowy harmonics.

The Postman Always Rings Twice

To get to nordic noir you need to start with film noir (french called) but America called it melodrama.  Tainted with death of war and unknown peace. I was rhapsodizing on the Garfield film when I broke out this: "As I watch these noir films a from 55-65 years ago, it's hard not to laugh at first, but is this not also true in contemporary noir-like crime drama?  Cliches raised to an art form, and language so clipped, and jagged at times it approaches self-parody. But I don't see this as a knock on these films, what I more and more understand as "a profound triteness."  Humanity in all its diversity and nuances reduced into a few basic tropes of need, passion, love, desire and greed, creating an inescapable matrix--this dark levelling, which nonetheless never changes us.  We continue as do the characters, to believe in our own decency and dreams, to struggle to escape a fate that we/they know is impossible, and this is when the melodrama envelops us all in a descent that is overwhelming, but also enchanting, and seductive, and erotically and passionately charged.  That which is most primal in us is last to die or surrender.  And if to reach that level requires envisioning the collapse of all social mores, order and distinction, so be it for at least the two hours or less of the filmic experience.

Eva's Black Canvas

Finished reading Eva's Eye this evening, Karin Fossum's first Inspector Sejer Novel.  At first I felt distracted and occasionally bored, feeling that Fossum hadn't yet found the right pitch and angle, and she hadn't yet discovered the staple of the following novels, the Sejer/Skarre relationship.  But then, suddenly and without much warning, the book bowled me over; in fact, it's no exaggeration  to claim the reader becomes almost disoriented as the book suddenly careens in a number of disturbing directions amidst the mundane quietude of a small town/city in Norway. It is pretty obvious from the beginning that the neurotic and struggling artist Eva has some connection to the death of a prostitute (her former best) and the murder of a man named Enarsson, whose body is found floating in the river that divides the town--discovered by Eva and her young daughter,who refuses to report the discovery to the police and later lies about it.  But initially we struggle to understand what this connection might be;Eva seems as far removed from a murderess as possible, and Fossum remains tantalizingly vague about the nature of the connection until  the prostitute explodes into  in the middle of the novel, She is confident, intelligent, and utterly unapologetic about her profession which she sees no more scandalous than other vocations, and delivers some wonderfully caustic observations of art being a far greater prostitution than the selling of one's body--a selling, as she puts it, of soul and emotion. She is such a fresh, unorthodox and unexpected presence, that Fossum wisely presents a long sustained flashbook of the relationship of the two women, relegating the traditional, yet empathetic, Sejer to the margins of the novel until the closing chapters.  The book is hardly a procedural novel at all.  In, fact Fossum has indicated she was halfway into the writing of the novel before she decided to turn it into a mystery. Rather it is its best as a meditation (Fossum was originally a poet and a social worker) on primal emotions and passions lurking in the most prosaic and conventional of environments, providing some interesting observations on female sexuality, repression, and prostitution. In short, in a brief period of time eva comes close to becoming a part-time prostitute, only to witness her friend's brutal murder, and flees, but only after grabbing much of the money hidden about the apartment, and engages in the beginning of a full blown vendetta against the man she mistakenly believes to be the killer. Her killing of this man, in the book's greatest irony, is the most brutal act in the novel--or at the very least, matches the brutality of the original murder.  In a Jungian sense, she and the "whore-killer are shadows of each other.

At one point Eva undertakes an odyssey northward, to a cabin owned by her friend, in hopes of locating several million kroner hidden there.  In a book of eerie psychological transferences, Eva has become her prostitute-friend, or at least sees it her right to appropriate what her friend achieved in power and promised freedom, after years of denying herself and her daughter, pursuing an art that pushes her to the fringes of the town's society. In return, as stated earlier, she will kill her friend's killer. As she travels well into the Norwegian forest we rather how far these events have carried her, deep within the very darknessof her soul.  Darkness, not as a designation of evil, but an unknown, othering, beyond and prior to words and reason. As cinema itself does.

At one point, she barely escapes discovery by the enraged husband of her friend, in search of the same money. She hides from him, in what is possibly one of the most stunning images in nordic noir, by sinking down, her entire body, into the collected waste beneath an outdoor toilet.  A primeval death and rebirth scene if there ever was one, plunging to the most elemental depths of human existence.

To be sure the intense melodrama that resides at the center of the novel is hardly Fossum's most sophisticated writing, but there is an unrelenting power in this sustained flashback, although it documents a radical shift in self-identity that at times stretches credibility, that communicates stunning levels of psychological insight and power. The very rawness of the book provide Fossum a space into which to entertain so many vivid reflections on female sexuality and psychology.  And these two women, with all their vulnerabilities, are possibly her two most authentic female characters.

There are certain resonances to the book that reflect poignantly on noir tradition both in general terms as well as within the particular parameters of nordic noir, particularly in its emphasis on primal  arcs of descent.

In addition to this and imagery of unmasking, the peculiar art form practiced by Eva, to an extent emblematic of the entire noir enterprise.  She creates a canvas of total and absolute blackness, and then scrapes away layers of paint, uncovering assorted shapes, angled designs and glimmer of light.

A few interesting points. Eva's sense that people don't deliberatelystep over ethical and moral boundaries, but stumble over them, and once there cannot turn back.

Also, the notion that the cause of aggression is always fear.