Black and White movies were often one of those far more than the other...

Please note that this week's film has been rated  15  in the UK.

One of the hallmarks of the "noir" film style has to be its stark and very distinctive black-and-white cinematography.

Black and white was by no means unique to film noir, but there were few other film styles of the era that made such constructive use of the contrast between light and shadow.

A lot of this was of course a legacy of the German Expressionist style, which had exerted an outsized influence on many of the film-makers who found themselves in Hollywood in the 1930s and 40s. Shadows in noir are not just a side-effect of room lighting; they are almost characters unto themselves, advancing the story, establishing the dynamics between characters and giving noir its distinctive flavour.

This is what Expressionism means. The images themselves are telling the story.

Black and White. But Not Necessarily in That Order.

When talking about noir (or about any aspect of cinema from this particular era in American history) there is a reality that must inevitably be acknowledged.

Black and White movies had a tendency to be rather... monochrome.

The era of "Classic Hollywood" (basically, the era of the studio system, when American movie making was arguably at its zenith) was long before the Civil Rights era, at a time when racial inequality was enshrined into law, and all of the patriotic platitudes about "freedom" and "liberty" and "justice for all" were apparently not applicable to many segments of the population. 

Perhaps it was the "all" bit that tended to confuse people...?

It is not my intention to dissect the history of American race relations in the next few paragraphs, but it is an issue that cannot easily be untangled from every other aspect of American culture; especially when discussing a form of entertainment as popular and high profile as cinema.

Representation of non-white Americans was conspicuously sparce in movies of the 30s and 40s, and when they did make an occasional appearance, those appearances were often (not always) worse than their absence.

(It's worth noting that there was an entire parallel film industry producing segregated "Race Movies" just for black audiences, with substantially less funding and less exposure. That does not make the legacy any better.)

There is nothing to be gained by trying to deny the evils of America's history. These are things that happened (and, unfortunately, continue to happen) but that fact does not invalidate the quality of the work that was often produced in the midst of that very problematic society.

The writer and linguist John McWhorter recently published an article about the magnificent architecture of Detroit's (now restored) early 20th Century railway station. His thoughts about the structure are directly on point:

I once sat in on a course about Black film in which the main theme class after class was how each movie exemplified negative stereotypes. The artistry, the richness, the reasons the films were meaningful to Black people were considered of lesser interest.
[...]
I would hate to see anyone put that kind of teaching to use when entering Michigan Central Station — to internalize the idea that upon encountering that magnificence, one’s thoughts should be primarily about injustice. Certainly the Black porters there worked under less than ideal conditions; white passengers often saw them as barely human. (The convention back in the day was to call all Black porters “George,” because who cared what they called themselves?) It’s important to remember these facts. But even amid that bigotry, Black people had the same capacity as white people to see beauty. And they have the same capacity today.

I am raising this point now because the next film I plan to show is literally a "noir of another colour". It was made by a different generation of film-makers, and it tells a story that would never have been told by film-makers of the older era.

Except that it's exactly a film of that era.

Devil in a Blue Dress is quintessential noir in nearly every respect. 

Set in 1948, it follows Ezekiel "Easy" Rawlins who, shortly after losing his job, is asked to help track down a missing white girl as a "favour to a friend".

Almost before he realises what has happened, he has been dragged into a dark and murky underworld of violence, corruption and double-dealing, with (of course) beautiful, mysterious women who are not remotely what they appear to be.

This is a beautifully crafted, lovingly devised pastiche of the "noir" era that successfully evokes any number of specific classics of the age. On one level, this could very easily have been an actual noir of the 1940s.

Except, of course, for one small detail.

In a very real sense, Devil in a Blue Dress is a film that Hollywood should have made a long time ago. If all of that pomposity about "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" had been worth the paper it was printed on, then this film would have been a classic of its time, alongside Double Indemnity and Criss Cross and Out of the Past.

And this brings us back to John McWhorter's remarks about the "capacity to see beauty".

Because Carl Franklin (who directed Devil in a Blue Dress) and Walter Mosley (who wrote the novel) grew up on classic noir and hard boiled crime fiction. Society may have excluded them, but it couldn't prevent them from appreciating (and adoring) the quality of the work that was produced.

And now, finally, they can make it their own. That's a victory for everyone who appreciates good storytelling and good film-making wherever they find it.

This isn't "pastiche" noir at all; this is actual noir. If it's arriving in cinemas a little late, well... just put that down to "Liberty and Justice for All."

We will screen Devil in a Blue Dress at 7.30 on Thursday, the 26th of June at the Victoria Park Baptist Church.

Once again, please note that this film has been rated  15  in the UK.