11 December 2001
It starts with a classic camera pan: the city pans out before us, not daylight, not exactly dark, but half-lit as if at sunset. We are to be present for the very beginning of the story, as it must begin at night. Industrial stacks pour gray smoke into the air, providing a hazy veil under which the metropolis is teeming with sound and motion. Down at street level, a dirty-faced kid rummages in a back-alley trashcan for a bite of a discarded sandwich. Ducking into a warehouse to avoid being spotted by the policemen walking their beat, the orphan boy witnesses a card game in progress between several zoot-suited gangsters, each of whom bears the distorted face of a cartoon character. Although the style is unmistakably noir, no trace of the realism which hallmarks classic film noir has yet been revealed. The opening cityscape is cartooned, the characters too heavily made-up to be human. This is 1990’s Dick Tracy.
It has been argued that the term “film noir” can only truly be applied to a series of films made during the postwar years 1941-1953, and that no film made outside of that time period can legitimately be labeled as such. While I do not dispute that point entirely – I do see some usefulness in limiting the category in order to allow for certain cultural and contextual interpretation – it seems almost as if those who argue against the application of the term to more modern movies are playing a childish game in which they want membership in an exclusive club for their “pet,” or favorite, films. This cliquish attitude denies membership in the category to some recent films which seem to more adequately fit the specifications of film noir than their predecessors of the historical noir period.
That said, I do not argue for the inclusion of the 1990 film Dick Tracy into the genre. Although the film noir style is obviously alive and well in Hollywood today, it is apparent to me that a campy film based on a comic strip, in which the actors – largely big-name and respected celebrities – are unrecognizable underneath caricature makeup, cannot be equated with the realistic type of film which inspired the phrase film noir. There does seem, however, to be a connection between recent movies based on comics and comic books and those based upon the works of mystery novel writers such as Hammett, Chandler, and Spillane. Possibly this connection stems from a parallel between the original writings themselves.
The comic strip Dick Tracy debuted in October of 1931, the same year as the original publication of Dashiel Hammett’s The Maltese Falcon, upon which the movie of the same name was based. Both works, like others in their genres, featured a tough, ultra-masculine hero who is not confined to the strictly-ethical when in search of justice. Female characters in these works also share traits: clearly there was a growing feeling of distrust toward women during the period. Eventually both the square-jawed “tough” and the femme fatale became stock characters in the films based on the writings.
Hammett himself actually wrote a comic strip during that same era, titled X-9. Evidently the organized crime activity in the big cities during the period leading up to the repeal of prohibition was such pervasive and interesting news that it made popular subject matter for novels and comic strips alike (Whole Earth pars. 1-2). Although it is debatable whether the earliest film noir influenced the trend in comics (Whole Earth par. 3), or whether both media were simply influenced simultaneously by 1930’s society, the similarities are striking. And the crime-novel/ comic strip connection does not appear to have faded from existence.
Contemporary novelist Max Allen Collins, author of the best-selling Nathan Heller series of detective stories, has also worked in the field of cartooning and graphic novels. A writer for the syndicated Dick Tracy comic strip for fifteen years, starting in 1977 at the retirement of series creator Chester Gould, Collins recognizes the connection between crime fiction and comics, saying of his biggest influences in comic writing, “Will Eisner’s Spirit and the EC stories of Johnny Craig remain big influences on not only my comics writing, but any of my suspense writing. They are the masters of noir in comics…” (qtd. in Pierce). (Collins does acknowledge that Gould himself did not write particularly “noir,” only “quirky” (Pierce)). Incidentally, while working on the Dick Tracy strip, Collins also worked for a time on a new version of the comic book and strip Batman, another comic which spawned a movie with noticeable film noir stylings.
So, just what is the connection between comics, crime novels, and film noir? Collins gives one answer:
…one aspect is the manner in which comics fall between film and prose: film is an exterior medium — shows us the story from the outside — and prose is an interior medium — tells us the story from inside. Comics is the only form that can gracefully give us both the interior and exterior of a story. As Eisner has pointed out, the manner in which images can be frozen, in effect…the emphasis and rhythm that is possible, a manipulation of image…makes comics a storytelling medium without peer… (qtd. in Coville)
So Collins would have us view comics as a sort of bridge between the interior perspective of prose and the exterior one of film. Although I disagree with his interpretation of the media, Collins may have a point about the comic being a combination of prose and film aspects. The movie Dick Tracy seems to act like a comic strip as well as a film, using a certain rhythm mixed with long scenic shots to “freeze” certain images, focusing on them for their distinctive tone, which is often starkly noir.
The characteristic camera angles and lighting effects commonly noted from the film noir period are abundant in this film. Shots of the (unnamed) city from a high angle, shots of the city from a low angle — with the buildings slightly skewed to lean toward each other at the skyline – and lots of tight, almost claustrophobic interior shots lend some of the dark aspect. And although this work is in color, the use of color is so strictly limited (black, red, yellow, and blue, with occasional green or gray) that it actually appears as flat on screen as its noirforefathers, with their dark darks and stark lights.
Dick Tracy is, of course, a period piece. Although the strip is actually still in production and some writers have tried to update the story lines in order to modernize the comic (Pierce), the movie is set squarely “in the day.” The men wear hats, the women wear skirts, and the cars are huge. References to alcohol and gambling prohibition are plentiful as the police try time and again to raid Big Boy’s (Al Pacino) nightclub. The hero’s hat is as much a prop as a wardrobe piece; what film noir would be complete without the quintessential image of the detective donning his hat just as he turns a chiseled profile toward the door?
Other characters have their classic moments, as well. Our heroine, Tess Trueheart (Glenne Headley), makes a beautiful gesture of sacrifice to the man she loves, telling him to “Go…go on” to his primary love, detective work, as he receives a call on his wristwatch/radio. Breathless Mahoney, the femme fatale, stands face to face with Dick Tracy (Warren Beatty) on a waterfront platform in the classic shot which allows the view of just her face over his shoulder, then alternately his over hers. They stand in the yellow circle cast by an overhead streetlamp, and the sounds of water hitting dock pilings, and boat bells and foghorns, underlie the throaty dialog. 88 Keys, the love-struck piano player, is perfect in his innocent “wannabe” role as messenger and pawn of the evil NoFace. This is camp, no doubt about it, but it is done with such openness and finesse that it cannot be called parody or mocking. It is instead a tribute to film noir, a good-natured nod to an enduring connection between comics and crime novels and their relationships to movies.
One of the most intriguing noir aspects of Dick Tracy is the femme fatale, Breathless Mahoney, played beautifully by Madonna. Oozing sexuality, in contrast with the more refined Tess Trueheart, this character saunters in and out of scenes, with no apparent effect, for the vast majority of the movie. Two-thirds of the way through the film, when Breathless stands kissing Tracy in his apartment as a stunned Tess Trueheart happens in, we are left wondering whether Breathless has any real importance at all, besides window dressing. Tess’s separation from Dick Tracy never seems destined to last, so we are relatively unconcerned that Breathless has engineered the encounter in order to imperil the love-therefore-salvation angle. It begins to look as if Breathless Mahoney is just another shiny distraction.
Yet, true to the noir vision of woman as dark temptress, “amoral destroyer of male strength” (Cowie 123), the anti-heroine finally emerges as a very important figure. Although unable to tempt Tracy into infidelity, Breathless is at last revealed to be the evil NoFace, the criminal mastermind who framed Dick Tracy and kidnapped Tess Trueheart in order to gain control of the racketeering business in the city. In a setting reminiscent of Hitchcock, Edgar Allen Poe, and the creators of “Rocky and Bullwinkle,” Big Boy has tied Tess to the huge cogwheel of a drawbridge works. In bold blocks of gray, black, and red, the scene plays out with Big Boy shooting NoFace, and then falling to his death over the railing of the bridge. Tracy, together with the requisite Kid, saves Tess, and then unmasks the dying NoFace to find that “he” is none other than the sexy songstress herself. Breathless dies, of course, and the camera rises upward to linger over the image of Dick Tracy standing over her lifeless body, giant cogwheels casting giant black shadows on concrete walls and four squares of light framed by a black window shadow on the ground beneath his feet. Surely the movie should end there; it is a stunning image. Unfortunately, there must be redemption for the hero, in the form of a marriage proposal and hints of future family life with the Kid and Tess. The effect is lost in the aftermath.
Dick Tracy is a visually cool movie with less plot than style, a fact that marks it as influenced by the film noirstyle (Schrader 225). Although it is campy, modern, shot in color, and even musical – all things film noir is reputed not to be — it also incorporates many specific elements which were inherent in the film noirofferings of the 1940’s and ‘50’s. This list includes a macho male lead who becomes involved (through no fault of his own) with a dangerous woman who (it is eventually revealed) frames him for a murder he did not commit. This woman has a more traditionally feminine counterpart, with whom the hero eventually resolves his crisis of identity and is “integrated into the cultural order through marriage” (Krutnik 87). There are stark shadows, black silhouettes, spinning headlines (yes, my personal favorite) and machine-gunners riding down the street in long hulky cars. But it is the overall feel of this movie that marks it as a respectful admirer of the film noir of the past. Dick Tracy is darkly scenic and comically flat, a holdover from its comic strip days. It is, overall, an entertaining strip of a movie with a gritty texture but no rough edges.
Works Cited
Coville, Jamie. “An Interview With Max Allen Collins.” Collector Times.com. 6.9 (Oct. 2001). 10 December 2001. Web.
Cowie, Elizabeth. “Film Noir and Women.” Shades of Noir. Ed. Copjec, Joan. London: Verso, 1993. 121-65. Print.
Dick Tracy. Dir. Warren Beatty. Perf. Warren Beatty, Madonna, Al Pacino, and Glenne Headley. Buena Vista, 1990. DVD.
Krutnik, Frank. In a Lonely Street: Film Noir, Genre, and Masculinity. London: Rutledge, 1996. Print.
Pierce, J. Kingston. “Killers, Coverups, and Max Allen Collins.” January Magazine. (Sept. 1999). 10 Dec. 2001. Web.
Schrader, Paul. “Notes on Film Noir.” Film Genre Reader II. Ed. Barry Keith Grant. Austin: U of Texas P, 1997. 213-26. Print.
“Two Prehistories.” Whole Earth. (Spring 1998): 25+. Ebscohost. 5 Dec. 2001. Web.
