Rebel Without a Cause: Examination and Action

Iconism: An Examination 

Having seen this film multiple times before, I had a very different take on it then I do with most Ray films. The newness was gone and I started to feel myself slipping into that critical phase of movie watching that is uncomfortable and inappropriate. I was fighting the urge nitpick, when something amazing happened. As James Dean was walking off screen someone in the front row was scooting out of the theater in step with him. He looked nearly identical to James Dean: Leather Jacket, slicked hair, and simple t-shirt. He even hunched over in a similar manner. The film instantly took on a new life. Are we a generation, unintentionally shaped by the iconism of former celebrity? I started watching the film as if it were the first time, as if it were a new exploration of pop culture in our generation. The implications were startling. Could Ray have known that he was orchestrating the sentiments of generations for decades to come? When Jim fights against his parents’ ideals, when he labors to make sense of their conflicting attitudes, he taps into an undying sentiment in youth culture. What does it all mean? He screams the line, “You’re tearing me apart!” and though it isn’t always articulated so melodramatically, people can relate to the extreme anxiety that Dean is expressing. 

A Personal View: Consumerism 

I continued watching as if the film were some encrypted message from the past, beckoning us to take our lives more seriously and see the traps that our predecessors were setting for us. How long before we all simply concede to the mentality that is marketed to us every day? How long before our consumerism eats us up? How much more of this can we tolerate as a society? Who is right? Who is wrong?  

Buzz: A Man of Action 

“We have to do something right?” Buzz Gunderson, played by Corey Allen poses the question coolly as he hops into his last joyride. Our generation could learn a thing or two (or three, or more) from this exchange. It isn’t about pacifism; it’s about getting to the root of the problem and doing something it about. It’s about feeling alive; it’s about regaining control. Buzz chose to aggravate, agitate, instigate and otherwise push the people around him to maddening limits. Without this accelerating personality he felt he might fall into the masses of pacifists who have lost a sense of worth. 


Meaning: Rebel Without Cause
What was Ray saying to the fifties generation? It’s clear that he wanted the youth culture of the time to be the next movers and shakers. It’s clear that he couldn’t help but be one himself. What can we, as a modern audience, take from these intimate moments? What was Nick Ray really trying to say? I’ll apply it to the standard of living that we adhere to today. I’ll look at it in terms of one man’s quest to explore his inner struggles and in doing so I’ll look at my own. Ray’s power of persuasion is impressive and I think that if we all look closely we can find that rebellion in all of us.

The Lusty Men: And Women

Epic Is as Epic Does 

This film has some fantastically exciting moments. I’ve become more and more  eager to watch the next film in Ray’s body of work because it’s like going on an Easter  egg hunt. After wading through conventions (no matter how delightful) there are  moments of genius nestled into places where I least expect it. Knowing that there was no  script, so to speak, it is both interesting and intriguing that this felt like one of Ray’s most  streamlined and complete films. The story was unusually focused and the depth of the  characters was fantastic.     Dreams: With Robert Mitchum

Robert Mitchum is a gem. Jeff McCloud is one of Ray’s most hopelessly romantic characters. There are so many delicate moments in a character that is so ragged. The way  that McCloud is always seen as removed and distanced is not as stereotypical as the lone cowboy character is often portrayed. He has a decisive demeanor that is constantly  planning and plotting. It keeps from being entirely lost and vulnerable and opens his character up to have more intimate moments. 
Badass Babe: You Win Some You Win Some

Susan Hayward has, in my opinion, has the best moment of the film. When she walks into the bar to save her marriage, there is a sense of empowerment in her character that fills the whole scene and steals the show. When she dumps her drink on (Babs?)  head, there was an audible reaction from the crowd. This is a rare moment in film when  people can’t contain themselves. It’s exciting and encompasses the feelings I have about  these “Ray moments.”  Arthur Kennedy has a fantastic transformation. It’s obvious from the conception of his scheme that he’s inviting hi own downfall, but it doesn’t make it any less interesting to watch. It’s great that you want to see him succeed in the competition even though that means he’s contributing to his own demise. From beginning to end this movie is great. It has a really streamlined plot, great  performances and is decidedly one of my favorite Ray films.  

On Dangerous Ground: Almost Horror(ble)

FIRST AND SECOND THOUGHTS: 

Blind girls and bad cops will always have a place in cinema. Should they fall in love in a snowy mountain cabin? I’m sadly going to have to say no. This film felt very short and incredibly devoid of character. I am a huge Robert Ryan fan but I felt like his character was completely lost in this film. Ida Lupino is a much better actress than this film would lead you to believe. I just can’t help but point a finger at Nicholas Ray and ask, “What happened?”

            The first part of the film dives right in to the stereotypically angry cop from the city and doesn’t go anywhere with the character until it’s too late to do anything with him. I didn’t find the film hard to sit through though, totally the opposite. I was constantly waiting for something to happen. During the shots where Jim Wilson is driving his cop car around alone at night, I got this tremendously eerie feeling. It almost felt like a psychological horror film, where we can only see the relatable side of the killer until it’s too late. I kept expecting more brutality, more emotional drama, or at least a small  character or two that led the Wilson down an unforgiving path of mystery and adventure.

COME BACK TO YOURSELF RAY!

            Some of the most satisfying moments in Ray’s films are when characters with strong pent-up emotions let loose. When Donna Foster confronts Christabel Cane in Born to Be Bad, or Louise Merritt shoves the bimbo from the bar in The Lusty Men, there is a sense of empowerment and a reality that accompanies it. This film lacks both. I wanted to see Ida Lupino break out and scream. I wanted to see her character reach a breaking point that only Jim Wilson could fix. I wanted to see Robert Ryan’s character loose it the way Dixon Steele or Emma Small did. 

            I had an expectation for this film that I didn’t have for the other films and that may have distracted me. I can still say with confidence that this film didn’t live up to that expectation. None of the characters experienced at realistic change. That kind of change is inevitable in these kinds of films, but the importance isn’t that the change is made, it’s how the characters come to their realizations and how they deal with their situations when the change is happening. None of these characters catch on to their faults soon enough and that leads to flat performances with no room for character growth.

NOT A HOOK (UP): 

            I didn’t even want to see Jim Wilson and Mary Malden hook up (despite the beautiful babies I’m sure they’d make). There is no way of fully recognizing why the performances felt so empty or why the characters felt so incomplete, but in both cases I felt that way.

ALMOST HORROR: 

            On a different note, I truly enjoyed the cinematography and felt that the snowy mountain location would have been great for a horror film. In fact, a lot of this film gave off a really great horror film vibe, and had it been a little more perverse and a little less flat I think it would have made a great horror film. The scene where Jim Wilson flips the car is fantastic. Seeing him wake up in a frozen wasteland next to another abandon car is not only interesting, it’s eerie. I think had these elements been pushed to the limit I could have really gotten into it, but sadly I found myself distracted and dissatisfied. 

Born to Be Bad: Bad Wrap, Great Press

CAST: 

I truly enjoyed nearly the entire cast for this film. Joan Fonatine as Christabel is brilliant. Robert Ryan gives a great performance and I even love Mel Ferrer as Gobby. Immediately this film introduces a strong relationship between all the characters. The comfort level that Fontaine, Ryan, Scott, and Leslie exhibit is fantastic. Each role was balanced enough to give the idea that the character was fully developed. I felt like there was a huge cast, even though there were only a few main actors.

COMPARISON:

            This film was one of my favorite Ray films so far. Its representation of Christabel’s eventual downfall was not only interesting, but it was fun to watch. Much like Johnny Guitar, I wasn’t sad to see the complete demise of this female character. I think that Joan Fontaine had the ability to play the opposites of her character so well. Many times, especially in dramas, I feel like characters come across as too obvious, or one-dimensional. Though Christable’s character is already a complicated one, Ray’s direction only improves the character.

            Christabel is almost always seen in close proximity to a male character. It is rare that she is seen alone or with a female. I think this was an intentional choice that really pays off. There is the constant reminder that is she is always fighting for ad against the the same thing, her sexuality. As much as she sees herself as an intelligent capable woman, Donna is always just a little bit better. She’s smarter, more accomplished, and in a healthy happy relationship. Donna is often seen on screen alone or with other female characters. It’s like she has been accepted into the club.

SHIFTY: 

            Literally there is a group of women that usher Christabel in when she marries Carey. It’s incredibly interesting to see how quickly she starts taking her role a woman in a woman’s world, more seriously than she ever takes her role as a wife, girlfriend, or model, She is very good at hiding her true nature, but when it becomes obvious that she her deception is coming to an end, Ray makes some interesting choices.

            Fontaine actually has less and less screen time towards the scenes in the end. It’s almost as if she’s totally disappearing from the picture. People are moving on and repairing relationships and she’s nowhere to be found. For a film that so devotedly followed her, I thought it was bizarrely appropriate that she becomes nothing more than a scandalous work of art.

FOR THE LOVE OF RYAN: 

            Robert Ryan did a great job playing a confident and assertive writer. I think his entrance was fun and set him up to be a likeable interesting character throughout the whole film.  He was a little bit aggressive from time to time and occasionally reminded me of Dixon Steele from In a Lonely Place. I think his aggressiveness and loyalty were only balancing the depths of deception that Christabel would go to get what she wanted.

            I also thought both Leslie and Scott were great together and in terms of the ensemble. I was really pleased with the interaction between Donna and Christabel. These women could have been portrayed in so many different ways, but I like that they were seen as equals.

GOBS of GOBBY: 

            I have to comment on Mel Ferrer as Gobby. I wish there was a version of this character in nearly every drama. His loose morals and questionable sexual orientation are not only charming and attractive, they are a great relief from the weight of the rest of the film. His character does indulge a stereotype, but it only works in favor of the character he portrays. It’s a great film with little to complain about. Even though certain moments of the film seem to spell out what may be better left unsaid. I had a great time watching it.

The Flying Leathernecks: I laugh and I cry

This film made me laugh. I can’t imagine that the intention was to take up a sarcastically humorous tone, but I found it ironic early on and I couldn’t take it seriously after that. Jay C. Flippen’s character, Maj. Sgt. Clancy was tiring. Every time Flippen was on the screen I got the feeling that he was delivering his lines to teach the audience valuable lessons about America, family, and the joys of alcohol.  Each time he comes in with a new “treat for the guys” I got more and more suspicious that he had some kind of social outcast complex that made him feel responsible for these people, but also stopped him from celebrating along with them.

            John Wayne’s role was flat. It wasn’t interesting. It was stereotypical and I had a time waiting for his line delivery to be over. It was shocking how long he could extend even the shortest lines into a longer amount of screen time. I laughed a few times at his exaggerated “piloting skills” and I must say I enjoyed those shots very much.

            Robert Ryan was also very obviously overacting (not to say that John Wayne was) but in any case, his performance was so strikingly different from any other film he did with Ray that I was really shocked. Some of his line deliveries were so painful I couldn’t help but laugh. He clearly wasn’t taking the role as seriously as he had in other films. Though it wasn’t distracting, (if that’s even possible to say about this film) it wasn’t the Robert Ryan that I had grown to love.

            The scene where the archival footage was inter-cut with the studio shot footage was terrible. The soldiers’ uniforms were different first of all. This alone was strange, but combined with the graphic nature of the actual soldiers fighting, contrasting with the well pressed and manicured soldiers on the studio lot was actually pretty chilling. It took me out of the film and into reality over and over again. It was hard to watch. It did however, force me to see how truly silly these actors looked. It made their whole situation so unrealistic that it stuck with me through the whole film.

            I would love to talk to the art director. How difficult would it be to put together such a lofty task when no one was interested? How did the interaction with Nicholas Ray effect the art direction of the film? There were so many blatantly obvious weak points that I can’t help but wonder who was calling all the shots. It was interesting to observe these gaps in logic and wonder weather or not they were on purpose.

Overall there isn’t much to be said about the film, other than it was obvious that if anyone (besides the studio) cared about making this film, they were outnumbered. The film seemed like it was about an hour and half too long and it used the same formula over and over again to keep the viewer watching (not interested, just watching). I can’t say I’m a fan of this film, but I’m not sure if anyone working on it was a fan either. 

Lightning Over Water: In too Deep

There’s no positive way to start or stop writing a about a subject that hasn’t yet settled into the grasp of my comprehension. I will be asking myself why I watched this film for a long time to come. I was resistant to the idea of sitting through it, so I told myself I could just turn it off. I told myself this as I sat through the long and painful hospital sequence (the real one) and then again when I was watching the even more terrifying film-set hospital scene. I couldn’t simply turn it off. I kept saying out loud, “why doesn’t someone stop this?” and then I realized… I was still watching. People would still be watching.

Just after Ray yells, “cut” I let my mind wander onto the set where the cameraman keeps rolling as Wenders tells him to. I try to identify with the crew huddled around a dying man. I stop myself from seeing only Nicholas Ray. Instead, I turn my attention to the people behind the camera and attempt to imagine the looks on their faces. Are they smiling? Are they crying, or worse, are they fully fixed on simply making a film?

Film sets uniquely showcase a fragile side of humanity that many mistake as strength. They work, for logical reason, to be flawless at their endeavor and are often blinded by this singularity. I imagine this crew and I see a sad monotony, something I’ve seen too many times before.  

There is a hint of what Ray sees as he looks past the cameras. For a moment a look of terror, disgust, and confusion contorts his face. Maybe he too recognizes something in the room. Maybe he sees the narrowness of their attention and loses faith in his ability to captivate. He could be miles away imagining about a million different things. He could be in the kind of pain that stops the most vivid imagination from functioning. Maybe this is a futile attempt to make sense of that one look. The beauty and agony is that I won’t ever know.

What I do know is that this film was painful to watch. It still hurts to think about. It’s sad that the film exploits a dying man in a rare circumstance, even worse that it’s Nicholas Ray. Ray’s obsession with defining his life in a cinematic way drags an eerie emptiness beside him wherever he goes. Wenders’ ability to capture this is unsettling but his ostentatious voice-over and eager involvement ruins even the quietest moments.

Truly captivating moments exist in the film, but viewing it feels like sacrilege. It reminds me of the kids who bought Kurt Cobain’s journal after he died. There is something strikingly wrong about invading the privacy he couldn’t protect. That’s how I feel about Lightning Over Water and more specifically about the final hospital scene. Ray, desperate to piece his life together, is blinded by his singularity (as so many filmmakers, including Wenders, often are.) I still can’t entirely process what I saw. I’m not sure I want to. I think maybe my analysis (and this film) are better left on the shelf.  

Johnny Guitar: Women and Film

This is one of my absolutely favorite Nick Ray Films. He takes a classic western genre and turns it on its side. Joan Crawford plays one of the most empowered female characters in the history of cinema. This film deserves more than just a synopsis, but I feel one is needed to really capture the heart of this film: 
Sterling Hayden, is a guitar-strumming drifter who was once the lover of Arizona saloon-owner Vienna (Joan Crawford). Though her establishment doesn't make a dime, Vienna doesn't care because the railroad is going to come in soon, bringing a whole slew of thirsty new customers. This puts her at odds with bulldyke rancher Emma Small (Mercedes McCambridge), who doesn't want any new settlers on her land. Hating Vienna with a purple passion, Emma will do anything to drive her out of the territory...and even worse, Emma's got the law and the other ranchers on her side. Hoping to keep Emma at bay, Vienna hires Johnny Guitar, who unbeknownst to everyone else in town is a notorious gunslinger. But Johnny prefers to bide his time, waiting for Emma to strike before he makes his move. As a result, Vienna endures several life-threatening experiences, culminating with a feverish chase through the Arizona wilds with lynch-happy Emma and her minions in hot pursuit. After the epic showdown we see that not all stories end in a happily ever after. 

In A Lonely Place: An Autobiography

 First things first, I just have to get it out of the way… I love Dixon’s apartment location. I’m not going to spend the entire journal spewing about the production design of this film, because between the use of props, set dress, and wardrobe I’d have six pages of babble that doesn’t even get at the heart of what I liked about this film. I will however spend just a little time on the apartment.
      There are so many different places that I can see a story like this taking place. This was not the location I would have chosen. I can’t however say that my choice would have been the best one. At first, when I saw his apartment I thought, “how contrived, how bland, and overly obvious.”  Then I let myself sit back and enjoy the film and was shocked at how fitting and interesting the location became. From the entryway to the final shot of Dixon Steele walking away, I fell in love with the simplistic sophistication that created Dixon’s space. The minimal art work, the rooms that never seemed to have closed doors, the spacious separation that gave this character control and separation amazed me in shot after shot. Each aspect of his place represented a piece of his personality and I developed an appreciation after just one viewing. I watched the film a second time and then I started reading some of the other projects Robert Peterson had art directed and I have to say I’m a fan.
      On to things that are more geared to Ray’s direction… This film was heartbreaking for so many reasons and I think some of the reasons are lost on a modern audience. In a world now full of super (or sub, depending on how you look at it) human entrepreneurs who know how to be so many different people on any given day, it’s hard to follow a character who considers himself and is considered by others to be have a specialty. Dixon Steele is a writer (not a filmmaker, not a businessman, not a combination of both) and his devotion to his work, his disposition, and the pain it causes him are singular in a way that modern film students aren’t often exposed to. With that in mind, Ray’s direction was captivating and left me at a loss for words.
      This was a story about Dixon Steele. In They Live by Night I appreciated and wanted to see development in the other characters but in this film I couldn’t care less. It’s not a negative thing. Gloria Grahame did a fantastic job as Laurel Gray, but for the purpose of this film it could have been any other decent looking actress of the day. Seeing Humphrey Bogart in this role was awe inspiring. In this film it’s hard to pick apart what was an acting choice from what was a directing choice, but in any event I would consider the collaboration epic. There is one moment that is and will forever be one of my favorite moments in film. When Dixon is sitting at the table in the restaurant after he proposed to Laurel and she walks over to the table, he knows something is wrong. His vulnerability in this moment, that one look, stopped me. It actually hurt to watch and I felt something I’ve never felt in the movies before. It’s unexplainable after that, but I would say it’s one of the most breathtaking scenes I’ve ever seen.

They Live by Night: An Unholy Debut

  

There were so many aspects of this film that I found fascinating. The relationship between Bowie and Keechi was fast to say the very least. I found it interesting that such a fixed female character would even consider Bowie’s marriage proposal. When the two smoke in the garage she shows her attraction to him but she doesn’t hide her apprehension either. This led me to believe that it would take a little more than a gift and a proposal to get her in bed.

Her character’s arc was unrealistic, but I must say, kind of dreamy.  I know a lot of “tom boy” girls who had the romantic notion of being swept away and becoming a more feminine beauty type. I think O’Donnell engages that role, but her arc was underplayed and almost flat-line toward the end. At least there was more than one dimension to her character.  

Though the film’s focus isn’t Keechie and her transformation, I still find it

interesting that she did transition. I think, in a very focused way, she became more and more of the woman that Bowie dreamed about having in his normal life. So, in terms of character development I think her purpose was to be more of a mirror to Bowie’s character. Ray’s direction is brilliant in the way that he has Keechie innately make choices that reflect what’s going on in Bowie’s head. It’s a great use of characterization and really fascinating.

Granger gives an interesting performance as Bowie. Because Keechie’s character is representing one side of his duality, he is free to show the different facets of his “darker” side. Ray’s choices for Bowie’s character were so fully realized. He had a child like stubbornness and naiveté that got him in and out of nearly every situation throughout the film, but he also has an established sensibility and belief system that seems more worn out than other people his age. The way that he plays this duality was only strengthened by the blocking of the scenes. Flipping back through the images it’s obvious when Ray wants him to be seen as a man and when he wants him to be seen as a child.

I really think this is the strongest quality of the film and Ray perfected directing that duality throughout his career.  I really liked the location for the newlywed couple. There was something about  the father-son duo that was comforting and ominous at the same time. Knowing that  Bowie and Keechie weren’t going to live happily ever after put their little home in an  eerie perspective. It was almost a Stepford scenario. Throughout the film I kept thinking they were going to be given away by the either the father or son. I was glad in the end that the heavy responsibility of turning them over to the police was left to a darker character.

Speaking of darker characters... all I have to say is Mattie Masfield. She’s the super-hero of dark and relentless devotion. She’s not the typical housewife; she’s not the typical rat; but she plays both with such a heavy conscious that she singlehandedly brought a new level of emotion to the film. There was heartbreak in her character that shaped the choices she made. This is incredibly deep for such a small (but pivotal) character. I feel that she too was a character device, serving only to reflect Bowie’s journey and eventual decline, but what a great rich character nonetheless. The final scenes seemed to pick up pace and rise and fall on her intentions. She has an opportunity to make a choice that gives the story a happily ever after ending and the fact that she chooses to serve her best interest raises a lot of questions and sets the film on a different level. I loved Ray’s attention to this smaller role.

Tribute: Nick Ray

      Nicholas Ray was more than a film director and he knew that his films were more than just genre films. Working within the RKO studio system in the 40s and 50s couldn't have been easy for someone with such a foreign take on what films are and should be. This blog will chronicle his filmography in comparison to other modern (and maybe sometimes not so modern) filmmakers. 
       Nick Ray is someone I have always looked to up to, he has shaped my opinions of how to make films, and more importantly why to make make films. More than ever his work is relevant to the youth culture of today. 
       At a screening of his film, In a Lonely Place, I heard a Ray fan gushing about how beautiful his film was. In a whirr of excitement I rambled on about how I just experienced one of the most epic moments in film. How his films, "made me feel something, and it was weird."  The crowd fell silent as we all thought about what it meant to our generation to be able to identify with such lusty devotion all these years later. Another guy in the crowd said, " That's how all Nick Ray films for me, they make me feel something, and yes it is weird." We all started clapping... because I think we all came together for one reason: a tribute. In our own inarticulate ways we did what we could to express out speechlessness. Something so profound is often so hard to explain. In this blog I will do my best to give it a shot.