Out of the Past (1947)

Posted by Markham

Ah, Out of the Past. What a better way to kick off the New Year with in my opinion the greatest film noir ever made, or at least what I feel is the greatest one.

This movie means a lot to me, it was the one that got me hooked on film noir and made me truly love movies. Before viewing this, I was your typical, shallow so-called ‘film buff’ who thought most black and white movies suffered from horribly melodramatic acting. Ugh, can’t believe myself. When looking for the real deal after watching the neo-noir Chinatown, I narrow-mindedly dismissed a few great noirs (now of which are my favorites), but this one did it for me.

Boy, what a ride the film was. I actually wasn’t blown away upon viewing it the first time, but weeks later, the thoughts of those powerful final scenes and the romantic flashback sequence crept up on me. Tourneur creates some truly haunting images that really stick with you. Since that time last year, I’ve seen it countless times (to the extreme), and let me tell you, I still can’t get enough of it.

For one thing that makes it stand out among the rest is the fact that it breaks down the standard noir basics and either puts them to a new use or reinvents them. Best of all, at times it seems the film is consciously doing so. I love the opening of the flashback, Joe Stefanos (Paul Valentine) is giving a quick monologue about his frustrations with the press’s nosiness towards the attempted murder of Whit. He’s spitting his words out in the standard noir hard-boiled way, that sort of B-dialogue delivery with an edge. Then Whit cuts him off with a priceless deadpan retort: “-Like you? Smoke a cigarette Joe.” Perfect. The whole pulp style is thrown out and what is replaced is a better alternative for this certain film, natural and underplayed acting. Both the story and dialogue seem so fresh and original, even though it is heavily influenced by its predecessors.


To me, the film’s greatest strength is of its mysterious characters, who they really are behind their facades. The reasons behind both Jeff’s and Kathie’s actions are ambiguous, there is no monologue provided to explain where each other’s loyalties and goals lie. The lack of explanation works to its advantage, its adds to the mythic feel of these ideal noir characters. I never feel for a moment that Jeff, Kathie, Whit et all are not complex and human (due to the astounding performances of the leads), but it’s quite an accomplishment that they can be so and yet remain ambiguous in their nature.

Visually, this film uses its light and shadow to full advantage. It can be argued that certain film noirs’ visual style is due to their low budgets and lack of ‘quality’ lighting. Never once do I feel that that is the case here. The shadows, first and foremost, heighten the characterizations (notice how Kathie nearly always emerges from the shadows, or how Jeff moves between areas of extreme lightness or darkness). Take a look at how the lighting at the cabin (pretty much solely from the source of a fireplace) heightens Kathie’s erotic excitement as she watches Jeff and Fisher rough each other up. Also, effectively contrasted by use of shadows is between the bright and sunny world of Bridgeport and the dark, corrupt streets of San Francisco.

The bit players are a real treat. Theresa Harris, Tourneur’s stock player, has a great brief scene. Like their other two collaborations (Cat People, which gives her some great noir dialogue, and I Walked with A Zombie, which shows high admiration for Caribbean culture), Harris’s role tackles Hollywood’s depiction of blacks: here she’s classy, smart, sharp, and downright sexy. Mary Field as the hash slinger Marny sports some razor sharp dialogue, as does Wallace Scott as the cabby Petey. John Kellogg as the ‘sensitive’ Lou Baylord gets one of the films best moments, in which Jeff punches him out cold on arrival. It’s great to see even those unbilled all got a chance to shine and to be noticed.

I feel the need to provide a brief section for the film’s most underrated character, Ann, played so luminously by Virginia Huston. This sort of character, the redemptive woman is, by far, is the weakest archetype found in film noir. Fortunately, Ann is far different from the usual Coleen Gray-ish role. She possesses a sort of wisdom that the other characters lack, an ability to see things clearly whereas everyone else (with the exception of The Kid) act upon their own impulses and destructive behavior. To add to the film’s tragic feel, we can see through Huston’s subtle performance that she knows, and yet, accepts that Jeff will never end up with her, due to his sealed fate and repressed obsession of Kathie. Whereas the “good woman” would become frenetic seeing their man fall so easily, Ann in the end sacrifices her wishes for Jeff’s fate to play out the way she knows has to. In their last rendezvous, she asks to go to Kathie and find out how he really feels, bowing out of the game (“I can’t go”), allowing Jeff to make the decision on his own.

The heart of the film lies within Jeff and Kathie at their most intimate, like during the brief rekindling of their romance at Meta’s penthouse. Jeff and Kathie are in near silhouette, and for that moment we are forced to ignore the film’s stunning atmosphere and the beauty of Jane Greer, and listen only to the dialogue and actions between both characters. Because of that, we (for once) clearly see these two characters at their most tragic, longing to return to happier times of romance in Acapulco, and for that moment hopelessly try to convince themselves that they can be together again. Yet the sad tone in their voices show they are well aware of the current trap they lie in, and that it will bring them nothing but more heartbreak (especially for Jeff).

The next chance in which they are alone together with one another is during the film’s final climax, perhaps the greatest moments of the film lie during these minutes that seal it into legendary status. Jeff and Kathie share their darkest moments with one another. The interplay of dialogue between the two is perhaps the film’s very best, recounting their whole fatal relationship, the love, the heartbreak, and the hopeless idealization and trust of Kathie. Jane Greer is at her finest here, Mitchum at his most mysterious.

Kathie: Remember the mountains? Higher then these, with always snow on them…We should have stayed there.

Jeff: I’m trying to remember something else.

Kathie: I never told you I was anything but what I am. You just wanted to imagine I was. That's why I left you. Now we're back to stay.

Jeff: And I have nothing to say about it.

Kathie: Have you? Whit’s dead, bundle of papers will do you no good, if Joe was around you could use him but Joe’s dead too. So what are you going to do about Eels and Fisher, that matter what are you going to do about this? Someone has to take the blame, nothing on me but I’d make a fine witness for the prosecution. Don't you see you've only me to make deals with now?

Jeff: Build my gallows high, baby.

Kathie: No, no, we're starting all over. I want to go back to Mexico. I want to walk out of the sun again and find you waiting. I want to sit in the same moonlight and tell you all the things I never talked to you - till you don't hate me, till sometime you'll love again.

Jeff: They'll always be looking for us. They won't stop till we die.

Kathie: I don't care. Just so they find us together. If you're thinking of anyone else, don't. It wouldn't work. You're no good for anyone but me. You're no good and neither am I. That's why we deserve each other.

Click to play a clip from Out of the Past

(This paragraph is my own theory of the nature of Jeff, something that has no definitive answer) They would always have Acapulco, but fate and each other’s destructive natures would make such a place all but an ill memory. Jeff has found new love, and a reason to live, in that of Ann, but even that pales comparison with the power of Kathie. On a certain level, Jeff still has a strong love for Kathie (seen by his fond memories of the flashback and the scene at Meta’s penthouse), but with the new love of Ann, and the lies, backstabbing, and selfishness of Kathie, Jeff realizes that Kathie’s promise of new life in Acapulco will never bring the happy ending that they were supposed to have, for the damage has been done. Does he call the police for that reason? No, maybe not, but by the time he finds Whit’s body it seems as if Jeff has given up all hope of making it out of there alive.

While I have nothing but praise upon this film, I do need to mention its flaws, two in particular. First, the film has a moment where it drags (big time), in which Jeff hides Eel’s body. It’s only a two minute segment, but that’s the issue here: it drags out something that could have taken 45 seconds. Second is the dreadful performance of Richard Webb as Jim, Ann’s former boyfriend. It is a smaller part, but this guy simply reads his lines, he puts no emotion or even effort into anything. I normally don’t care when I find these kind of performances in B-movies, but here, where every principal is at their very best, he sticks out like a sore thumb. It’s a wonder why such a bland actor is billed over more prominent characters/performances of Paul Valentine, Virginia Huston, Steve Brodie, and Dickie Moore.

But really, who cares with two tiny things such as those? This film, while not known to the common man as “Maltese Falcon” is, has made its place in film lore. It is film noir’s Casablanca, plain and simple.


I’d highly recommend for further reading:

Jacques Tourneur: The Cinema of Nightfall by Chris Fujiwara (FANTASTIC analysis)

Bright Light’s Film Journal’s in-depth article on its unique structure