Inside the theater, I sat behind two older women who were literally so excited about seeing the movie that whispering was not an option for them. They talked for at least ten minutes about Rita Hayworth; her beauty, her life, and how someone so beautiful could have such a sullen disposition in real life. This was an interesting conversation to hear considering I planned on focusing my review on Hayworth’s character Elsa Bannister. I had prior knowledge of Hayworth’s troubles with alcohol and doomed romance before seeing the film, and these ladies only heightened my interest. As the lights dimmed and the tiny screen at the front flickered, the volume was raised so high that I felt like the picture was consuming me. From the first moment Elsa appears in the scene, there is a dreamy air that surrounds her. Every close up of her is done in vignette, emphasizing the surreal nature of both the plot and the setting. As the protagonist Michael O’Hara narrates years later, it is made very clear in the first scene that Elsa is dangerous. The on-screen version of O’Hara (uninformed and naïve) offers her a cigarette. She says she does not smoke, but takes the cigarette anyway—a bold move on her part. This action is the first example of Elsa’s dominance of O’Hara. Like the cigarette, she has him in her grasp and can do what she wants with him.
At the end of the film, the rest of the audience took a moment to take in such a chaotic experience. It left me feeling slightly confused, disoriented even. There were people seeing it for the very first time, and others who defiantly wanted to feel nostalgia. The older ladies that were sitting in front of me continued talking about old movie stars as they got up from their seats, something my grandmother would do with her sisters. Being at Film Forum made me wonder about the future (which I wasn’t expecting). What will be established in 2064 (when I turn seventy) that will make me feel the way that those women feel? I had to put these thoughts behind me and catch a train. I was so disoriented I ended up taking the wrong train and ended up miles away from my house! In a town I have never been to, with a dead phone. In the dark murky shadows I had to use a payphone to call my friend for a ride. Talk about a noir experience!
Alana Holbrook
From afar, I see a gently blue lit title in a familiar 1970s kind of font, and realize I’m looking at Film Forum. Upon entering, I see my classmates sitting on a cozy couch against the side wall, others casually standing around and blissfully chatting; although we’ve never been here, we all seem comfortable. There are more moviegoers than I expected here, most bundled in their warm attire. Many are older in age and looking well versed in cinema; others are younger couples on an intimate date. I can tell that these guests are no strangers to the film world; something about their presence makes me think they come here often to escape from reality for a little while. A feeling of nostalgia rushes over me. We are surrounded by posters of classic films, red walls, blue columns, and dim lighting. The atmosphere is cozy and inviting, with a vintage-indie style and a scrumptious looking dessert bar. We prepare to assemble for the movie, and the line runs out the door. I definitely did not expect to see this many people at a film revival house on a cold, icy night- but then again, there’s no better time to watch a movie. This is not just any movie going; it’s a cultural immersion, a viewing of art, and an enlightening experience. I feel like a doe-eyed undergrad surrounded by dignified cinephiles. Let the movie begin.
Silvana Morra
I stepped into the Film Forum a little late. I had waited for a few friends to meet me and we had all messed up in one way or other. Judging from the somewhat bland name, Film Forum, I was not too sure what to expect. In the ticket counter I saw a few copies of A Separation, an Iranian Academy-Award winning independent film that I really enjoy, on sale by itself. I thought to myself, “These, these are my people. This is going to be great.” Only six dollars in my pocket, I had enough to buy one large popcorn (I was starving). Upon purchasing this popcorn I quickly learned they do not provide butter. I was all out of sorts.
We stepped into the theatre showing The Lady from Shanghai, found the first seats available and, so as to not disturb the other movie buffs with our lateness, took them off immediately. I stood in the row and took a second to take off my jacket. I was quickly told, with a certain amount of venom, to sit down. I was shocked. I could not have been standing very long; at least I was only standing as long as a person stands when removing a jacket, yet I was viciously reprimanded. Immediately I no longer considered these people “my people”, instead I thought they were just old, ornery blue-hairs, nostalgic for the “good ol’ days”. Eventually I sank into my chair, subsequently into my popcorn, and lastly into the film.
My opinion of the “Film Forum Folk” (as I will now refer to them) changed once again. The Lady from Shanghai is, objectively, a little silly at times, but also amazingly well-written—I think this was Orson Welles’ aim, as he is smarter than all of us—and it was interesting scanning the laughter of the crowd. I determined that we, the Film Forum Folk and I, would all laugh at the same time. However, I also realized, the times we laughed were probably not common amongst outsiders. We laughed both at the silly lines and the great ones. When Welles’ character openly admits to murder in the first few minutes and when Bannister says, “Killing you is killing myself. But, you know, I'm pretty tired of both of us,” received equal, but opposite, admiration.
Michael McCarville
It is safe to say that I thoroughly enjoyed watching The Lady of Shanghai, however it was not the film alone that made Thursday night a memorable experience but the entire journey as a whole. From the very moment I got on the train with my friend and project partner Valerie the night became magical. As we ventured deeper into the city eventually reaching Houston Street we were greeted by the sounds, sights, and smells of a unique community. Every person we passed had his/her own unique style and every restaurant or miniature eatery look more appetizing than the next. We eventually reached the Film Forum and my gaze was drawn to the retro billboard that listed all the movies playing that night, the sign harped back to old Hollywood, its minimalist design added to the ambience of the cinema. Walking in to the theater, I was taken aback by the intimacy of the seating arrangements. Rather than the sprawling ocean of seats, I had become accustomed too in modern theaters, I saw before me a room no wider than dorm, so when I sat down I was forced to sit next to another moviegoer, which is far from my usual practice of finding the most secluded seating area. The man I sat next to was probably in his 70s and he came to watch the film alone, which is something I personally have never done. However, when the film began to play it was easy to see the man was fully engrossed in the experience. Moments in the film that I found moderately funny, to him were hilarious. His laugh was one of nostalgia, as if each laugh was a joke shared between him and a lifetime friend. Seeing his enjoyment heightened my own experience as well and it was at that moment that I realized the Film Forum was much more than your average movie theater, it was a more like a museum of enjoyment.
Steven Nworjih
At the end of the film, the rest of the audience took a moment to take in such a chaotic experience. It left me feeling slightly confused, disoriented even. There were people seeing it for the very first time, and others who defiantly wanted to feel nostalgia. The older ladies that were sitting in front of me continued talking about old movie stars as they got up from their seats, something my grandmother would do with her sisters. Being at Film Forum made me wonder about the future (which I wasn’t expecting). What will be established in 2064 (when I turn seventy) that will make me feel the way that those women feel? I had to put these thoughts behind me and catch a train. I was so disoriented I ended up taking the wrong train and ended up miles away from my house! In a town I have never been to, with a dead phone. In the dark murky shadows I had to use a payphone to call my friend for a ride. Talk about a noir experience!
Alana Holbrook
From afar, I see a gently blue lit title in a familiar 1970s kind of font, and realize I’m looking at Film Forum. Upon entering, I see my classmates sitting on a cozy couch against the side wall, others casually standing around and blissfully chatting; although we’ve never been here, we all seem comfortable. There are more moviegoers than I expected here, most bundled in their warm attire. Many are older in age and looking well versed in cinema; others are younger couples on an intimate date. I can tell that these guests are no strangers to the film world; something about their presence makes me think they come here often to escape from reality for a little while. A feeling of nostalgia rushes over me. We are surrounded by posters of classic films, red walls, blue columns, and dim lighting. The atmosphere is cozy and inviting, with a vintage-indie style and a scrumptious looking dessert bar. We prepare to assemble for the movie, and the line runs out the door. I definitely did not expect to see this many people at a film revival house on a cold, icy night- but then again, there’s no better time to watch a movie. This is not just any movie going; it’s a cultural immersion, a viewing of art, and an enlightening experience. I feel like a doe-eyed undergrad surrounded by dignified cinephiles. Let the movie begin.
Silvana Morra
I stepped into the Film Forum a little late. I had waited for a few friends to meet me and we had all messed up in one way or other. Judging from the somewhat bland name, Film Forum, I was not too sure what to expect. In the ticket counter I saw a few copies of A Separation, an Iranian Academy-Award winning independent film that I really enjoy, on sale by itself. I thought to myself, “These, these are my people. This is going to be great.” Only six dollars in my pocket, I had enough to buy one large popcorn (I was starving). Upon purchasing this popcorn I quickly learned they do not provide butter. I was all out of sorts.
We stepped into the theatre showing The Lady from Shanghai, found the first seats available and, so as to not disturb the other movie buffs with our lateness, took them off immediately. I stood in the row and took a second to take off my jacket. I was quickly told, with a certain amount of venom, to sit down. I was shocked. I could not have been standing very long; at least I was only standing as long as a person stands when removing a jacket, yet I was viciously reprimanded. Immediately I no longer considered these people “my people”, instead I thought they were just old, ornery blue-hairs, nostalgic for the “good ol’ days”. Eventually I sank into my chair, subsequently into my popcorn, and lastly into the film.
My opinion of the “Film Forum Folk” (as I will now refer to them) changed once again. The Lady from Shanghai is, objectively, a little silly at times, but also amazingly well-written—I think this was Orson Welles’ aim, as he is smarter than all of us—and it was interesting scanning the laughter of the crowd. I determined that we, the Film Forum Folk and I, would all laugh at the same time. However, I also realized, the times we laughed were probably not common amongst outsiders. We laughed both at the silly lines and the great ones. When Welles’ character openly admits to murder in the first few minutes and when Bannister says, “Killing you is killing myself. But, you know, I'm pretty tired of both of us,” received equal, but opposite, admiration.
Michael McCarville
It is safe to say that I thoroughly enjoyed watching The Lady of Shanghai, however it was not the film alone that made Thursday night a memorable experience but the entire journey as a whole. From the very moment I got on the train with my friend and project partner Valerie the night became magical. As we ventured deeper into the city eventually reaching Houston Street we were greeted by the sounds, sights, and smells of a unique community. Every person we passed had his/her own unique style and every restaurant or miniature eatery look more appetizing than the next. We eventually reached the Film Forum and my gaze was drawn to the retro billboard that listed all the movies playing that night, the sign harped back to old Hollywood, its minimalist design added to the ambience of the cinema. Walking in to the theater, I was taken aback by the intimacy of the seating arrangements. Rather than the sprawling ocean of seats, I had become accustomed too in modern theaters, I saw before me a room no wider than dorm, so when I sat down I was forced to sit next to another moviegoer, which is far from my usual practice of finding the most secluded seating area. The man I sat next to was probably in his 70s and he came to watch the film alone, which is something I personally have never done. However, when the film began to play it was easy to see the man was fully engrossed in the experience. Moments in the film that I found moderately funny, to him were hilarious. His laugh was one of nostalgia, as if each laugh was a joke shared between him and a lifetime friend. Seeing his enjoyment heightened my own experience as well and it was at that moment that I realized the Film Forum was much more than your average movie theater, it was a more like a museum of enjoyment.
Steven Nworjih
It was a cold day, I had been lost on my way to the Film Forum and I had to ask for more specific directions concerning the whereabouts of this place. Being lost temporarily gave me the opportunity to see what the neighborhood near the Film Forum was like. Part of the area felt like being in little Italy in the Bronx, there were a few Italian restaurants, several church or religious areas. The environment was very calm and there wasn't much noise in the streets. People would walk by, others would relax while smoking outside. After a short struggle of being lost, from a distance I see what appears to be a miniature version of a modern day looking movie theater. The sign on top read “The Lady from Shanghai.” Upon entering the Film Forum, I felt like I was attending an actual movie theater. Although it is a revival theater it certainly felt like I was going to a movie theater like any other. The smell of popcorn was in the air. Being in the Film Forum felt like a connection between the past and the present. The revival of these older films in a setting like a modern day theater was the best combination of past and present I have ever experienced. Being in this place showed me that the past may be gone, but it is never truly forgotten.
…I did not get the luxury of attending the Forum with my classmates, and when I sat down I noticed that the majority of people attending the theater were much older than I was and they were all Caucasian individuals. I saw it as a group of people trying to reconnect with their past and it was a very good atmosphere to be around. It felt like I traveled back in time to see this film. After doing some observing of the environment inside of the screening area, the film began and as I was watching there was much less noise than one would find in a normal theater during the playing of the film. Everyone was focused on the film and enjoyed watching this movie. I enjoyed the film, I felt connected to the rest of the audience at the theater. I was able to follow and understand the jokes in the film. Whenever a moderately funny scene occurred, we all laughed in unison. Another interesting thing I noticed was that I never heard a single cell phone make noise at any point during the film. It was like everyone shut the world off during the playing of “The Lady from Shanghai.” Overall, the experience of attending the Film Forum was pleasurable and I am glad I got the chance to come. I definitely recommend a visit to the Film Forum if one is looking to escape the stress from the outside world.
Loubriel Ledesma
Although people were spread far apart and there was little noise, it was still very intimate; we were strangers, but it was like we shared a secret, for we were the only ones about to see a movie many have forgotten about, in a tiny theatre hidden in one of the most bustling cities in the world. There was no contemporary music playing in the background, and every picture on the screen prior to the previews advertised upcoming silent films festivals at the Film Forum. (I loved learning that they have a live pianist come in to accompany the silent pictures!) When the previews began, they were all black and white advertisements of dramatic movies, like Orson Welles’ Othello. There was also a short cartoon film about a cat preceding the film that was reminiscent of Walt Disney’s Tugboat Mickey cartoons. Though I was unable to go with my classmates due to the snow day, watching The Lady From Shanghai with my roommate Katie Franklin was very interesting, because neither of us had been to the Film Forum before, and neither of us was familiar with Film Noir, aside from the articles we read for class. Thus, picking out the different elements of Film Noir was challenging, yet exciting. It required that we pay close attention to the screen, for missing a moment of screen time could mean missing a subtle lighting cue or facial gesture.
Kathleen Hughes
Emerging out of the underground, and into the damp, frigid New York City night, I travel to the nearest street corner to find myself on the corner of Houston and Downing Street. Local university boys and girls fill the bars, as I wait for the light to change. Upon noticing the Film Forum’s neon blue sign ahead, I become eerily aware of the noir atmosphere surrounding me. Beneath the glowing golden hue of the streetlights, I march through the rain soaked streets in a trance. Unaware this sinister, tense mood would remain throughout the course of The Lady From Shanghai, Rita Hayworth’s alluring performance as the film’s femme fatale, along with the film’s captivating camerawork, would later leave a lasting impression upon me.
I was once told that Orson Welles is one of the 3 masters of cinema, along with Hitchcock and Kubrick, but personally I have never understood the full extent of his ingenuity until this film. I decided to approach the couple in the row in front of me, who, in their mid-60’s, I ignorantly assumed would have a better grasp of the film. I told them how, after initially seeing Citizen Kane, I exited my high school classroom with great admiration for the audacity of the film, but felt no connection to the story. They assured me that I was not alone in my sentiments, but that I should try to look at this film from a different perspective. The couple provided me with the entire backstory of the film, from Welles and Hayworth’s troubled relationship to Welles’ frustrated, misunderstood relationship with the studios. After parting ways with the couple, grateful for their shared knowledge, I marched through the streets basking in the noir setting of these dark, drenched streets. By recounting the history of the film, as well as providing detailed explanations for the confounding sequences, the couple transformed my experience at the movie theatre. After proceeding onto the subway platform, I sat in admiration not only of Welles’ directorial talents, but of the entrancing nature of experiencing a film in the theater.
Daniel Finnegan
Leaving the Film Forum, I was extremely satisfied, despite the whipping wind and frigid cold that met me at the door. At first, I attributed my satisfaction to the popcorn; it being some of the best I had ever had. But as I continued to reflect on the experience, i.e. the theater, the film, the journey there and back, the folks in the crowd, and the students I attended with, I realized that the whole of the experience is what left me so pleased. I truly felt I had viewed a classic film noir film in an appropriate cinematic environment with people all hoping to further their appreciation for old films, perhaps in particular film noir films. In addition to that, film Noir, as a genre, is for me one of the most intriguing. A guilty pleasure of mine has always been a good superhero flick, and in my preconceived notions of film noir, it seemed that the men depicted in film noir were much like superheroes but without any of the powers. These mysterious main characters would manage to “keep cool” in the face of serious adversity, all while wooing the seductive main female character and in the end saving her from an unfortunate fate. In a more general sense, I typically enjoy movies that may have some darker or more cynical themes or undertones. So the film noir genre is in many ways a perfect fit for the type of movie I enjoy to see.
Before the film began, however, I made an interesting observation about the crowd and some of their mutual motives in viewing the film, and then what those motives said about the film itself. A louder gentleman came in and sat down in the row behind me with a few of his friends. As he conversed with his film-mates, he began to notice the influx of collegiate moviegoers that surrounded him. It wasn’t long before I heard him declare: “No, there must be a film class or something here. This is ridiculous, they just better keep their young mouths shut”. I should add that he used a few more words outside of the vernacular I would like to stick to for this assignment. After chuckling to myself, I began to question my conceptions about film noir. Frankly, I thought that plot structures, normal character roles, and forms of narration were all fairly simple. In other words, if a few students whispered during the movie, I didn’t anticipate that would affect anyone’s complete understanding of the film’s progression. After seeing the entire film, I realized that even a moment of lapsed attention could have contributed to a lack of complete understanding in the scheme of the plot. Although the displeased moviegoer at my back was a bit abrasive and unreasonable, his concerns turned out to be more grounded that I had originally thought. In fact, his words before the movie ended up encouraging me to pay close attention to the film, to take note of any nuances, and to be wary that what is being said, may not actually be the truth.
Joe Burke
The experience of viewing a screening of The Lady From Shanghai at the Film Forum showed me how much an audience can influence how you view a film. When I saw the film I was surprised by how funny it was because I was not expecting there to be so much humor in a noir film. I initially thought that I was reading the film incorrectly, but then I noticed that everyone around me was also chuckling. The theater that night had a full house and given its proximity to NYU and neighborhoods like Greenwich Village and Soho where a lot of New York’s film industry resides, I was confident that they were lovers of cinema and had an appreciation for the film. Sitting amongst an audience of cinephiles made me feel more secure in my reactions to the film. The reactions of the audience around me really helped to draw my attention to the comedic aspects of the film, which I felt became very prevalent in the scenes involving characters that displayed the characteristics of a psychopath and left me unable to identify their true natures.
When the lights came back up at the conclusion of the film, I felt as if the audience had been released from a spell. People would turn to the person next to them and immediately start chattering on about the film. The Lady from Shanghai clearly invoked a response from the audience. The dynamic final sequence in the Fun House was visually stunning, but left us hanging with so many questions as the details of Elsa’s murder plot are never fully explained. Perhaps that is what is so attractive about film noir; the audience is drawn to the mystery and the ambiguity that surrounds these shady characters in a corrupt world. The audience at the Film Forum was clearly drawn to the theater that night because they truly love cinema and film noir is a genre that cinephiles and film scholars greatly admire. The experience of seeing a revival at Film Forum is very different than catching a new release at a mega-plex because there is an overwhelming feeling of being absorbed into a classic theater as you and the other patrons lose yourselves for an hour and a half in a piece of film history.
Victoria Garrity
…I did not get the luxury of attending the Forum with my classmates, and when I sat down I noticed that the majority of people attending the theater were much older than I was and they were all Caucasian individuals. I saw it as a group of people trying to reconnect with their past and it was a very good atmosphere to be around. It felt like I traveled back in time to see this film. After doing some observing of the environment inside of the screening area, the film began and as I was watching there was much less noise than one would find in a normal theater during the playing of the film. Everyone was focused on the film and enjoyed watching this movie. I enjoyed the film, I felt connected to the rest of the audience at the theater. I was able to follow and understand the jokes in the film. Whenever a moderately funny scene occurred, we all laughed in unison. Another interesting thing I noticed was that I never heard a single cell phone make noise at any point during the film. It was like everyone shut the world off during the playing of “The Lady from Shanghai.” Overall, the experience of attending the Film Forum was pleasurable and I am glad I got the chance to come. I definitely recommend a visit to the Film Forum if one is looking to escape the stress from the outside world.
Loubriel Ledesma
Although people were spread far apart and there was little noise, it was still very intimate; we were strangers, but it was like we shared a secret, for we were the only ones about to see a movie many have forgotten about, in a tiny theatre hidden in one of the most bustling cities in the world. There was no contemporary music playing in the background, and every picture on the screen prior to the previews advertised upcoming silent films festivals at the Film Forum. (I loved learning that they have a live pianist come in to accompany the silent pictures!) When the previews began, they were all black and white advertisements of dramatic movies, like Orson Welles’ Othello. There was also a short cartoon film about a cat preceding the film that was reminiscent of Walt Disney’s Tugboat Mickey cartoons. Though I was unable to go with my classmates due to the snow day, watching The Lady From Shanghai with my roommate Katie Franklin was very interesting, because neither of us had been to the Film Forum before, and neither of us was familiar with Film Noir, aside from the articles we read for class. Thus, picking out the different elements of Film Noir was challenging, yet exciting. It required that we pay close attention to the screen, for missing a moment of screen time could mean missing a subtle lighting cue or facial gesture.
Kathleen Hughes
Emerging out of the underground, and into the damp, frigid New York City night, I travel to the nearest street corner to find myself on the corner of Houston and Downing Street. Local university boys and girls fill the bars, as I wait for the light to change. Upon noticing the Film Forum’s neon blue sign ahead, I become eerily aware of the noir atmosphere surrounding me. Beneath the glowing golden hue of the streetlights, I march through the rain soaked streets in a trance. Unaware this sinister, tense mood would remain throughout the course of The Lady From Shanghai, Rita Hayworth’s alluring performance as the film’s femme fatale, along with the film’s captivating camerawork, would later leave a lasting impression upon me.
I was once told that Orson Welles is one of the 3 masters of cinema, along with Hitchcock and Kubrick, but personally I have never understood the full extent of his ingenuity until this film. I decided to approach the couple in the row in front of me, who, in their mid-60’s, I ignorantly assumed would have a better grasp of the film. I told them how, after initially seeing Citizen Kane, I exited my high school classroom with great admiration for the audacity of the film, but felt no connection to the story. They assured me that I was not alone in my sentiments, but that I should try to look at this film from a different perspective. The couple provided me with the entire backstory of the film, from Welles and Hayworth’s troubled relationship to Welles’ frustrated, misunderstood relationship with the studios. After parting ways with the couple, grateful for their shared knowledge, I marched through the streets basking in the noir setting of these dark, drenched streets. By recounting the history of the film, as well as providing detailed explanations for the confounding sequences, the couple transformed my experience at the movie theatre. After proceeding onto the subway platform, I sat in admiration not only of Welles’ directorial talents, but of the entrancing nature of experiencing a film in the theater.
Daniel Finnegan
Leaving the Film Forum, I was extremely satisfied, despite the whipping wind and frigid cold that met me at the door. At first, I attributed my satisfaction to the popcorn; it being some of the best I had ever had. But as I continued to reflect on the experience, i.e. the theater, the film, the journey there and back, the folks in the crowd, and the students I attended with, I realized that the whole of the experience is what left me so pleased. I truly felt I had viewed a classic film noir film in an appropriate cinematic environment with people all hoping to further their appreciation for old films, perhaps in particular film noir films. In addition to that, film Noir, as a genre, is for me one of the most intriguing. A guilty pleasure of mine has always been a good superhero flick, and in my preconceived notions of film noir, it seemed that the men depicted in film noir were much like superheroes but without any of the powers. These mysterious main characters would manage to “keep cool” in the face of serious adversity, all while wooing the seductive main female character and in the end saving her from an unfortunate fate. In a more general sense, I typically enjoy movies that may have some darker or more cynical themes or undertones. So the film noir genre is in many ways a perfect fit for the type of movie I enjoy to see.
Before the film began, however, I made an interesting observation about the crowd and some of their mutual motives in viewing the film, and then what those motives said about the film itself. A louder gentleman came in and sat down in the row behind me with a few of his friends. As he conversed with his film-mates, he began to notice the influx of collegiate moviegoers that surrounded him. It wasn’t long before I heard him declare: “No, there must be a film class or something here. This is ridiculous, they just better keep their young mouths shut”. I should add that he used a few more words outside of the vernacular I would like to stick to for this assignment. After chuckling to myself, I began to question my conceptions about film noir. Frankly, I thought that plot structures, normal character roles, and forms of narration were all fairly simple. In other words, if a few students whispered during the movie, I didn’t anticipate that would affect anyone’s complete understanding of the film’s progression. After seeing the entire film, I realized that even a moment of lapsed attention could have contributed to a lack of complete understanding in the scheme of the plot. Although the displeased moviegoer at my back was a bit abrasive and unreasonable, his concerns turned out to be more grounded that I had originally thought. In fact, his words before the movie ended up encouraging me to pay close attention to the film, to take note of any nuances, and to be wary that what is being said, may not actually be the truth.
Joe Burke
The experience of viewing a screening of The Lady From Shanghai at the Film Forum showed me how much an audience can influence how you view a film. When I saw the film I was surprised by how funny it was because I was not expecting there to be so much humor in a noir film. I initially thought that I was reading the film incorrectly, but then I noticed that everyone around me was also chuckling. The theater that night had a full house and given its proximity to NYU and neighborhoods like Greenwich Village and Soho where a lot of New York’s film industry resides, I was confident that they were lovers of cinema and had an appreciation for the film. Sitting amongst an audience of cinephiles made me feel more secure in my reactions to the film. The reactions of the audience around me really helped to draw my attention to the comedic aspects of the film, which I felt became very prevalent in the scenes involving characters that displayed the characteristics of a psychopath and left me unable to identify their true natures.
When the lights came back up at the conclusion of the film, I felt as if the audience had been released from a spell. People would turn to the person next to them and immediately start chattering on about the film. The Lady from Shanghai clearly invoked a response from the audience. The dynamic final sequence in the Fun House was visually stunning, but left us hanging with so many questions as the details of Elsa’s murder plot are never fully explained. Perhaps that is what is so attractive about film noir; the audience is drawn to the mystery and the ambiguity that surrounds these shady characters in a corrupt world. The audience at the Film Forum was clearly drawn to the theater that night because they truly love cinema and film noir is a genre that cinephiles and film scholars greatly admire. The experience of seeing a revival at Film Forum is very different than catching a new release at a mega-plex because there is an overwhelming feeling of being absorbed into a classic theater as you and the other patrons lose yourselves for an hour and a half in a piece of film history.
Victoria Garrity
Before I even walked into Film Forum, I knew I would enjoy seeing a movie there. The theater’s Wikipedia page describes it as the only autonomous nonprofit theater in New York City, and I am automatically predisposed to any nonprofit that makes it easier to see art-house films. When I found out the theater revives older films based on their historical importance to their genre, I knew The Lady from Shanghai would be a noir film worth seeing (which I will expand on later). The Village Voice interview with Karen Cooper further piqued my interest, particularly the section where she talks about introducing new filmmakers to New York audiences. It is important for new artists to have their voices heard, and I applaud this aspect of Film Forum’s mission (also, as an avid reader of the late, great Roger Ebert, I was reminded of how that critic had the same mission for the city of Chicago). For all these reasons, I was primed for a positive experience at Film Forum before I even left my dorm.
The actual experience of being at Film Forum gave me a renewed sense of the value of independent movie houses. The theater is in the heart of Greenwich Village, surrounded by brownstones, giving it the feel of a neighborhood institution. It has an old-style marquee listing the movies being shown, jarring in an age when theaters like the AMC Empire 25 multiplex in Times Square are the norm. The Forum seemed to cater to a cosmopolitan clientele, niche markets of people who routinely spend Thursday nights watching restored classic films. Before the movie started I heard audience members discussing Orson Welles and fellow auteur Otto Preminger, so I knew I was in a knowledgeable crowd.
John Bonazzo
I can understand why Film Forum chose this movie to showcase. Rita Hayworth alone is always dazzling, no matter what role she is playing, and Welles is bound to bring his own fans to the box office. The theater was smaller than I thought it would be. I felt a bit claustrophobic when I sat down, but that was only because of the amount of people that managed to fit into the small space. I was surprised to say the least to see that many people had shown up to watch this on a Thursday night. I recognized a lot of people from the class, but there was a lot more people who were there, I assume, for their own reasons.
It was different from watching a new movie in a regular theater. It was sort of like going to an exhibition at a museum. I could feel that the people around me were genuinely interested in what was going on and what they were seeing. It felt a bit more purposeful because the people who wanted to see this movie had to actually want to see this movie. It was not some new release that was playing in five different theaters all at the same time. There was a specificity to it that was oddly uniting. Watching the movie itself brought me to a different time and place. I felt like I caught a glimpse at what it must have felt like to watch this movie when it originally aired.
I enjoyed watching the movie more than I enjoyed the movie itself. The atmosphere within the theater felt right. It reminded me of seeing a comic book movie in a room filled with comic book fans. In this case, I watched it with my classmates and some curious cinephiles. The feeling was still the same. I went in as a completely blank slate because I did not want to spoil myself or hinder my reaction to the movie. I had no idea what it was about or what was going to happen. I only knew that it was a Film Noir. The only expectations I had were in regards to what I expected from the genre. The femme fatale was there, as was the criminal connections, but the city landscape was oddly missing until the end of the movie. It lacked a lot of the dark, grittiness I had come to expect from Film Noir. In short, it was different. The entire experience of seeing it was different as well, but it was not a bad kind of different. I rather enjoyed myself. The dark, old theater and the dark, old movie fit each other perfectly well.
Amanda Laboy
Seeing Orson Welles’s The Lady From Shanghai at Film Forum was a great experience I have seen movies there every time and the magic never wears off Upon arriving at the theater I was struck by a sense of camaraderie. It is unique (especially when compared to the typical movie theater) because everyone there is there for the same reasons They all love film and are ‘cinephiles’ to some degree, and watching a film with a large group of like minded people is incredible.
Quinn Harris
Despite giving myself thirty minutes to spare on top of the travel time Google maps told me, as is my routine when attempting to go to something new, when I walked out of the Bleecker subway I was unable to find the theater until I pulled out my phone and followed its instructions. When I finally got to the theater I went to the box office and tried to ask the clerk about my ticket, since I was part of a group of students and didn’t know if the professor was carrying them for us. He stared at me with confused eyes until at last he found a response for something that wasn’t routine: “Go stand over there.” This sweeping statement was accompanied by a half-hearted wave of his hand towards the lobby.
I followed that instruction, awkwardly standing in lobby and attempting to busy myself by looking around while not attempting to standout. Admittedly, this is a feat doomed from the start when you are over six feet tall, broad, wearing a bright red jacket and have a naturally red mohawk. Eventually I went to the restrooms, which was an interesting experience since the male and female bathrooms were right next to each other and they have no door covering the entrances. I was thus forced to overhear two older women gush over a film that they had just saw while I was in the restroom.
I was able to find a seat by people from the class when I discovered the one painful flaw that would haunt my memory of this theater and prevent me from ever going back there: the leg room was not wide enough. While this may not sound like a big deal, I spent the whole film attempting to both tuck in and angle out my legs so my knees were not digging in the back of the seat in front of me and failing miserably. This problem was not the theater’s fault, for how could they have known that someone of above average height would wish to see their films, but the experience was enough to never make me want to go back to that theater despite their admirable mission to bring classic films to the masses.
Zac Chapderlane
The viewing experience was also something that I wasn’t entirely accustomed to. When walking into a movie you might know about the plot or a quick summary about the story, but I am certainly not accustomed to paying attention to camera angles or the significance of the music selection. It was also nice to view the movie with a group of people who were also picking up the characteristics of film noir while following the plot line. I noticed the conversation after the film ended lasted longer than an average movie. My classmates and I conversed about what parallels we noticed between the readings and the movie, long after the movie had ended. I believe Film Forum chose to show this movie for that exact reason. For those that are familiar with film noir, this movie presents the viewer with distinct characteristics associated with the genre. It also encourages the viewers to discuss their thoughts and reactions afterwards because the plot thickens and twists in a way that is characteristic of the director himself, Orson Welles.
Gabrielle Vella
The Film Forum is one of those places that evokes an unearned sense of nostalgia. Its brothers are gaslight diners and Vegas casinos. The Film Forum “doesn’t exist separate from the films it’s played” according to Karen Cooper herself, and the relationship is made plain when watching a classic noir. The showing room’s cramped space, cushiony seats, and boxed 4:3 screens create a sense of smaller-world coziness. The theater feels like a plane in the golden days of air travel. That comforting sense that everything will turn Hollywood despite the growing contrivances and complications to the plot is relayed physically by a narrow seating hallway and peripheral structure pillars. The theater feels squashed, confined, closed in like a tightly paced film should. The good films all feel contained squashed within their medium.
The movie-going experience works better as curated goods than a shot in the dark approach to the megaplex. It should feel tailored to a message; otherwise it’s all sound and fury. Buying popcorn at a 1900% profit margin stings a lot more when the film falls flat. Forget the options to excess, bring a meaningful choice. Shanghai might have been chosen for the way its quaintness slots into the Forum's anachronistic architecture, or perhaps for its "cultural and historical significance" as per the AFI. Regardless of the rationale, it all coheres nicely to create a pleasant evening. The Forum would also make for a decent conversational piece should one find a way to work it into a conversation sans snoot.
Kevin Zebroski
The actual experience of being at Film Forum gave me a renewed sense of the value of independent movie houses. The theater is in the heart of Greenwich Village, surrounded by brownstones, giving it the feel of a neighborhood institution. It has an old-style marquee listing the movies being shown, jarring in an age when theaters like the AMC Empire 25 multiplex in Times Square are the norm. The Forum seemed to cater to a cosmopolitan clientele, niche markets of people who routinely spend Thursday nights watching restored classic films. Before the movie started I heard audience members discussing Orson Welles and fellow auteur Otto Preminger, so I knew I was in a knowledgeable crowd.
John Bonazzo
I can understand why Film Forum chose this movie to showcase. Rita Hayworth alone is always dazzling, no matter what role she is playing, and Welles is bound to bring his own fans to the box office. The theater was smaller than I thought it would be. I felt a bit claustrophobic when I sat down, but that was only because of the amount of people that managed to fit into the small space. I was surprised to say the least to see that many people had shown up to watch this on a Thursday night. I recognized a lot of people from the class, but there was a lot more people who were there, I assume, for their own reasons.
It was different from watching a new movie in a regular theater. It was sort of like going to an exhibition at a museum. I could feel that the people around me were genuinely interested in what was going on and what they were seeing. It felt a bit more purposeful because the people who wanted to see this movie had to actually want to see this movie. It was not some new release that was playing in five different theaters all at the same time. There was a specificity to it that was oddly uniting. Watching the movie itself brought me to a different time and place. I felt like I caught a glimpse at what it must have felt like to watch this movie when it originally aired.
I enjoyed watching the movie more than I enjoyed the movie itself. The atmosphere within the theater felt right. It reminded me of seeing a comic book movie in a room filled with comic book fans. In this case, I watched it with my classmates and some curious cinephiles. The feeling was still the same. I went in as a completely blank slate because I did not want to spoil myself or hinder my reaction to the movie. I had no idea what it was about or what was going to happen. I only knew that it was a Film Noir. The only expectations I had were in regards to what I expected from the genre. The femme fatale was there, as was the criminal connections, but the city landscape was oddly missing until the end of the movie. It lacked a lot of the dark, grittiness I had come to expect from Film Noir. In short, it was different. The entire experience of seeing it was different as well, but it was not a bad kind of different. I rather enjoyed myself. The dark, old theater and the dark, old movie fit each other perfectly well.
Amanda Laboy
Seeing Orson Welles’s The Lady From Shanghai at Film Forum was a great experience I have seen movies there every time and the magic never wears off Upon arriving at the theater I was struck by a sense of camaraderie. It is unique (especially when compared to the typical movie theater) because everyone there is there for the same reasons They all love film and are ‘cinephiles’ to some degree, and watching a film with a large group of like minded people is incredible.
Quinn Harris
Despite giving myself thirty minutes to spare on top of the travel time Google maps told me, as is my routine when attempting to go to something new, when I walked out of the Bleecker subway I was unable to find the theater until I pulled out my phone and followed its instructions. When I finally got to the theater I went to the box office and tried to ask the clerk about my ticket, since I was part of a group of students and didn’t know if the professor was carrying them for us. He stared at me with confused eyes until at last he found a response for something that wasn’t routine: “Go stand over there.” This sweeping statement was accompanied by a half-hearted wave of his hand towards the lobby.
I followed that instruction, awkwardly standing in lobby and attempting to busy myself by looking around while not attempting to standout. Admittedly, this is a feat doomed from the start when you are over six feet tall, broad, wearing a bright red jacket and have a naturally red mohawk. Eventually I went to the restrooms, which was an interesting experience since the male and female bathrooms were right next to each other and they have no door covering the entrances. I was thus forced to overhear two older women gush over a film that they had just saw while I was in the restroom.
I was able to find a seat by people from the class when I discovered the one painful flaw that would haunt my memory of this theater and prevent me from ever going back there: the leg room was not wide enough. While this may not sound like a big deal, I spent the whole film attempting to both tuck in and angle out my legs so my knees were not digging in the back of the seat in front of me and failing miserably. This problem was not the theater’s fault, for how could they have known that someone of above average height would wish to see their films, but the experience was enough to never make me want to go back to that theater despite their admirable mission to bring classic films to the masses.
Zac Chapderlane
The viewing experience was also something that I wasn’t entirely accustomed to. When walking into a movie you might know about the plot or a quick summary about the story, but I am certainly not accustomed to paying attention to camera angles or the significance of the music selection. It was also nice to view the movie with a group of people who were also picking up the characteristics of film noir while following the plot line. I noticed the conversation after the film ended lasted longer than an average movie. My classmates and I conversed about what parallels we noticed between the readings and the movie, long after the movie had ended. I believe Film Forum chose to show this movie for that exact reason. For those that are familiar with film noir, this movie presents the viewer with distinct characteristics associated with the genre. It also encourages the viewers to discuss their thoughts and reactions afterwards because the plot thickens and twists in a way that is characteristic of the director himself, Orson Welles.
Gabrielle Vella
The Film Forum is one of those places that evokes an unearned sense of nostalgia. Its brothers are gaslight diners and Vegas casinos. The Film Forum “doesn’t exist separate from the films it’s played” according to Karen Cooper herself, and the relationship is made plain when watching a classic noir. The showing room’s cramped space, cushiony seats, and boxed 4:3 screens create a sense of smaller-world coziness. The theater feels like a plane in the golden days of air travel. That comforting sense that everything will turn Hollywood despite the growing contrivances and complications to the plot is relayed physically by a narrow seating hallway and peripheral structure pillars. The theater feels squashed, confined, closed in like a tightly paced film should. The good films all feel contained squashed within their medium.
The movie-going experience works better as curated goods than a shot in the dark approach to the megaplex. It should feel tailored to a message; otherwise it’s all sound and fury. Buying popcorn at a 1900% profit margin stings a lot more when the film falls flat. Forget the options to excess, bring a meaningful choice. Shanghai might have been chosen for the way its quaintness slots into the Forum's anachronistic architecture, or perhaps for its "cultural and historical significance" as per the AFI. Regardless of the rationale, it all coheres nicely to create a pleasant evening. The Forum would also make for a decent conversational piece should one find a way to work it into a conversation sans snoot.
Kevin Zebroski
While waiting for the film to begin, the older couple seated next to me had a conversation about the nature of The Lady from Shanghai, for neither of them had seen the film before. The man was concerned that it would be boring and have a slow-moving plot, a concern which, by the end of the film, I could see was certainly unwarranted.
I really enjoyed watching The Lady from Shanghai amongst a large group of other movie lovers. Hearing other people’s reactions to the film was interesting for me, for there were times when I wasn’t sure if what was happening onscreen was actually funny or if I was simply misunderstanding the plot or was naïve about the production value of the 1940s. It was comforting to hear other people laughing at the little parts that I found funny! Also, I was happy to see that people were respectful of other audience members by not talking or using their cell phones during the movie. This was very different from my recent experiences at regular movie theaters, and I was appreciative of the change.
Although the experience of seeing a film at Film Forum was exciting, I also truly enjoyed The Lady from Shanghai, for it was visually captivating and had a fascinating plot.
Deirdre Hynes
The experience was interesting because the fact that I was alone allowed me to focus more strongly on the experience of being at the Film Forum. In regards to the elements of the movie, Borde and Chaumeton write about this notion of “psychological reference points” that are removed as a result of various role reversals from conventional story lines. With this in mind when I attended the movie, I felt as though I had some of my own psychological reference points removed in my experience at the film forum. Borde and Chaumeton write that there through the removal of the audiences psychological references point there was an effect of alienation that caused those that watched to gain a different perspective.
I experienced this when I went to the Film Forum. The movie theaters that I have gone to my whole life have had significantly bigger theaters, many more movies and advertisements, and different concessions. At the Film Forum there was a much different feel about the movie theater, a much older feel. At the forum there much fewer movies available to see at any given time and it did not seem like the advertisements for them were not intensely trying to capture the eyes of the viewers that walk through the theater. In conventional theaters today the posters are bright, lit up, and sometimes accompanied but large cardboard cutouts. In comparison, the Film Forum posters for the movies they were offering were much less distracting, more focused on the film and less focused on trying to market the movie as loudly as possible in order to attract viewers. But as odd as it may sound, what struck me most were the concessions offered and how they differed from today’s concessions. I thought that it was odd that at the Film Forum they offered pastries, tea and coffee for sale and also odd that they did not offer large varieties of candy. This gave me the sense that this was probably the way that it was a long time ago, maybe during the time The Lady from Shanghai would have been viewed at a theater. Before there were so many different types of candies as there are today movie theaters still probably sold sweets as concessions which would make sense why the Film Forum would offer things like pastries as well. Some of the aspects of conventional movie theaters that do not exist at the Film Forum were psychological references points of mine, and being removed, caused me to have a different perspective on theaters and their purposes.
Joey Gonzalez
I really enjoyed watching The Lady from Shanghai amongst a large group of other movie lovers. Hearing other people’s reactions to the film was interesting for me, for there were times when I wasn’t sure if what was happening onscreen was actually funny or if I was simply misunderstanding the plot or was naïve about the production value of the 1940s. It was comforting to hear other people laughing at the little parts that I found funny! Also, I was happy to see that people were respectful of other audience members by not talking or using their cell phones during the movie. This was very different from my recent experiences at regular movie theaters, and I was appreciative of the change.
Although the experience of seeing a film at Film Forum was exciting, I also truly enjoyed The Lady from Shanghai, for it was visually captivating and had a fascinating plot.
Deirdre Hynes
The experience was interesting because the fact that I was alone allowed me to focus more strongly on the experience of being at the Film Forum. In regards to the elements of the movie, Borde and Chaumeton write about this notion of “psychological reference points” that are removed as a result of various role reversals from conventional story lines. With this in mind when I attended the movie, I felt as though I had some of my own psychological reference points removed in my experience at the film forum. Borde and Chaumeton write that there through the removal of the audiences psychological references point there was an effect of alienation that caused those that watched to gain a different perspective.
I experienced this when I went to the Film Forum. The movie theaters that I have gone to my whole life have had significantly bigger theaters, many more movies and advertisements, and different concessions. At the Film Forum there was a much different feel about the movie theater, a much older feel. At the forum there much fewer movies available to see at any given time and it did not seem like the advertisements for them were not intensely trying to capture the eyes of the viewers that walk through the theater. In conventional theaters today the posters are bright, lit up, and sometimes accompanied but large cardboard cutouts. In comparison, the Film Forum posters for the movies they were offering were much less distracting, more focused on the film and less focused on trying to market the movie as loudly as possible in order to attract viewers. But as odd as it may sound, what struck me most were the concessions offered and how they differed from today’s concessions. I thought that it was odd that at the Film Forum they offered pastries, tea and coffee for sale and also odd that they did not offer large varieties of candy. This gave me the sense that this was probably the way that it was a long time ago, maybe during the time The Lady from Shanghai would have been viewed at a theater. Before there were so many different types of candies as there are today movie theaters still probably sold sweets as concessions which would make sense why the Film Forum would offer things like pastries as well. Some of the aspects of conventional movie theaters that do not exist at the Film Forum were psychological references points of mine, and being removed, caused me to have a different perspective on theaters and their purposes.
Joey Gonzalez
On Needing More than Luck in Shanghai
The first thing that struck me about The Lady from Shanghai is the whiteness of said Lady. Elsa Bannister is undoubtedly white, something emphasized in both the lines spoken in the movie—she calls herself and her lineage “white Russian”—to the fact that, as this is a black and white film, her (presumable) blondeness appears in shades of stark white and graduating shades of light grey. The viewer learns that she, pasty Mrs. Bannister, is in fact the “Lady From Shanghai,” and this complicates the viewer’s perception, and the expectations on who this individual named in the title of the film might be.
The title of the film is not “The White Lady of Russian Descent who Spent Some Time in China”; she is, rather, identified as a person of Chinese origin. I think that this illustrates a conscious decision made by Welles in the creation of this film: he links Elsa Bannister to Chinese and Eastern culture, and in doing so, he creates a divide between those cultures and “normal” American or Western ethics, attitudes towards Western cultural standards of the time, and gender roles—and implies that we the viewers should see Elsa as an outlaw and a foreigner, similarly dangerous to an American system of ethics.
Her association with the city of Shanghai is deliberate; I would argue that Welles is inviting his viewers to see her invitation to Michael O’Hara to join her and her husband’s crew as shanghaiing him. The definition of “shanghai” is “to put aboard a ship by force often with the help of liquor or a drug” or “to put by trickery into an undesirable position.”
In addition to her relationships to men, her interactions with those in Chinatown, her friendly and familial relationships with the Bannister household help, and her murky past and fluency in the Chinese language—elements of “racial blackness or other-ness,” contributing to the atmosphere and classification of this film as noir—also define Else Bannister as being outside of the American social structure, and existing around the same, “unassimilable” edges as the inhabitants of Chinatown and the “mysterious” Eastern culture. She says, upon first meeting Michael O’Hara, that you “need more than luck in Shanghai,” and through the violence and the racial elements of the noir, it is clear that Mrs. Bannister has “more than luck” at her disposal.
Alyssa Carolan
The Lady of Shanghai was an especially intriguing Film Noir, and a part of what made it intriguing was the femme fatale, Elsa. I was interested by Elsa’s dualistic character. At the very beginning, Elsa is awesome because she emasculates Michael. At the same time, viewers see a fragility about her in the scene where she is singing to herself on the boat. There are many characteristics about Elsa that make her interesting to audiences: her ability to emasculate Michael, the mystery of her former life in China, her cunningness that has helped her to survive, and her sheer beauty. But audiences also feel great sympathy for her because Arthur Bannister has locked her into marriage. In the scene where Elsa sings while she is laying down by herself in the lower level of the boat, she appears like a caged bird, singing for her freedom. When Arthur blackmails Elsa in front of Mike, the audience gets the sense that she is in her current situation because she prostituted herself when she was in China. This makes audiences more sympathetic toward her because she’s had to do the best with what little choices she has had. Arthur finds it amusing to always call Elsa “lover.” One sadistic purpose of referring to her as “lover” is that it reminds her that he has her blackmailed and owns her. It also shows that he acknowledges that she doesn’t really love him and probably wants to kill him, but finds this entire situation humorous. These small verbal attacks also cause viewers sympathize for her. Audiences are drawn by her in moments when she appears as both strong and weak.
In the end, viewers see that Elsa was the mind behind murders and manipulated Michael. Interestingly, viewers don’t know what happened between her and Arthur in China, so it would be impossible to make a judgment about whether her actions were prompted or not.
Melissa Tan
The first thing that struck me about The Lady from Shanghai is the whiteness of said Lady. Elsa Bannister is undoubtedly white, something emphasized in both the lines spoken in the movie—she calls herself and her lineage “white Russian”—to the fact that, as this is a black and white film, her (presumable) blondeness appears in shades of stark white and graduating shades of light grey. The viewer learns that she, pasty Mrs. Bannister, is in fact the “Lady From Shanghai,” and this complicates the viewer’s perception, and the expectations on who this individual named in the title of the film might be.
The title of the film is not “The White Lady of Russian Descent who Spent Some Time in China”; she is, rather, identified as a person of Chinese origin. I think that this illustrates a conscious decision made by Welles in the creation of this film: he links Elsa Bannister to Chinese and Eastern culture, and in doing so, he creates a divide between those cultures and “normal” American or Western ethics, attitudes towards Western cultural standards of the time, and gender roles—and implies that we the viewers should see Elsa as an outlaw and a foreigner, similarly dangerous to an American system of ethics.
Her association with the city of Shanghai is deliberate; I would argue that Welles is inviting his viewers to see her invitation to Michael O’Hara to join her and her husband’s crew as shanghaiing him. The definition of “shanghai” is “to put aboard a ship by force often with the help of liquor or a drug” or “to put by trickery into an undesirable position.”
In addition to her relationships to men, her interactions with those in Chinatown, her friendly and familial relationships with the Bannister household help, and her murky past and fluency in the Chinese language—elements of “racial blackness or other-ness,” contributing to the atmosphere and classification of this film as noir—also define Else Bannister as being outside of the American social structure, and existing around the same, “unassimilable” edges as the inhabitants of Chinatown and the “mysterious” Eastern culture. She says, upon first meeting Michael O’Hara, that you “need more than luck in Shanghai,” and through the violence and the racial elements of the noir, it is clear that Mrs. Bannister has “more than luck” at her disposal.
Alyssa Carolan
The Lady of Shanghai was an especially intriguing Film Noir, and a part of what made it intriguing was the femme fatale, Elsa. I was interested by Elsa’s dualistic character. At the very beginning, Elsa is awesome because she emasculates Michael. At the same time, viewers see a fragility about her in the scene where she is singing to herself on the boat. There are many characteristics about Elsa that make her interesting to audiences: her ability to emasculate Michael, the mystery of her former life in China, her cunningness that has helped her to survive, and her sheer beauty. But audiences also feel great sympathy for her because Arthur Bannister has locked her into marriage. In the scene where Elsa sings while she is laying down by herself in the lower level of the boat, she appears like a caged bird, singing for her freedom. When Arthur blackmails Elsa in front of Mike, the audience gets the sense that she is in her current situation because she prostituted herself when she was in China. This makes audiences more sympathetic toward her because she’s had to do the best with what little choices she has had. Arthur finds it amusing to always call Elsa “lover.” One sadistic purpose of referring to her as “lover” is that it reminds her that he has her blackmailed and owns her. It also shows that he acknowledges that she doesn’t really love him and probably wants to kill him, but finds this entire situation humorous. These small verbal attacks also cause viewers sympathize for her. Audiences are drawn by her in moments when she appears as both strong and weak.
In the end, viewers see that Elsa was the mind behind murders and manipulated Michael. Interestingly, viewers don’t know what happened between her and Arthur in China, so it would be impossible to make a judgment about whether her actions were prompted or not.
Melissa Tan
On The Lady from Shanghai as a satire of Film Noir
There was a lot of laughter happening during the screening of The Lady from Shanghai at the Film Forum, and it was sometimes hard to tell whether or not the movie was intentionally meant to be funny. There were some scenes that were purposefully comic in nature, like the courthouse scene. This scene was filled with humorous antics and recurring jokes, like the old woman who kept standing up to complain that she could not see what was going on. This scene is clearly meant to be funny, but not every scene that made the audience laugh followed the same formula. The audience was constantly cackling at the way Elsa, played by Rita Hayworth, delivered her lines. Hayworth is a famous actor, and during most dramatic scenes her delivery was masterful. However, sometimes her delivery on lines that were meant to be exclamatory or surprised came out oddly cheesy. This cheesiness was increased by Welles’s overly dramatic camera angles, which would accompany Hayworth’s peculiar delivery. People would also constantly laugh at Welles’s strange Irish brogue, which sometimes sounded fine, but at other times resembled something close to a leprechaun.
Seeing the audience laugh during what were meant to be dramatic scenes can make any observer wonder if they were supposed to be funny or if Welles had failed in his attempt to incite a dramatic reaction. However, this is impossible; after all, Welles is responsible for Citizen Kane, which is considered one of the greatest dramatic films of all time. How could he miss his mark so greatly with this film? This question continued to boggle my mind until the last scene of the movie. The funhouse and mirror scenes, which may have been the most interesting parts of the movie, made it clear to me that Welles was very much in on the joke. Throughout the entire movie, it was hard to tell if Welles was taking himself too seriously or if he was not taking anything seriously at all. However, by having the plot culminate in a funhouse, Welles was letting his audience know that he was poking fun the entire time. The funhouse was very much like the movie itself; it was meant to be odd and a little confusing in order to elicit a reaction from the audience. It was a great tongue-in-cheek metaphor for storytelling. It was this last scene that helped me realize that this film was not merely a mess, but it was actually an interesting mess—a mess that when cleared up had an obvious goal.
In many ways, Welles was satirizing the noir genre, which would make sense since it has been rumored that he was very bitter while making this film because it was a studio mandate. If Welles used a noir-esque theme in The Lady from Shanghai, he made it look rather cheesy or used it to his advantage in some other way. He had a bulk of the film take place on a boat sailing the Mexican coast, rather than a dark, dank city; however, he did not avoid the traditional theme of having the protagonist survive while the femme fatale is destroyed. The Lady from Shanghai was a very interesting film noir, mainly because it was so different from Welles’s other dramatic works like Citizen Kane and Touch of Evil. While it was not perfectly put together, and it is far from his greatest work, it was very interesting to see Welles satirize his own genre.
Gino Siniscalchi
On Noir Versus Western
Before seeing Welles’s film I was uncertain with which lens I was going to analyze it My mind was somewhat on my group project (which is focused on westerns) and it wasn’t until the film began that I noticed a unique trait of film noir My analysis will focus on body language in the film noir genre compared to that of westerns; both types of films emphasize solitary characters but I argue that the way this is portrayed on film creates different themes for each In short, westerns imply presence while film noir movies imply absence
One of the primary features of both westerns and film noir is the solitary male lead but while both utilize the same visual idea, westerns aim to portray strong, towering, and grandiose characters while film noir movies (such as The Lady From Shanghai) aim to portray lonely, isolated, and solitary characters In film noir, such as Orson Welles’s The Lady From Shanghai, shadow plays an important role in obscuring the character For example, Figure 1b shows Welles directly in the center of the frame, clearly the focal point yet his figure is bathed in shadow and his body shifted sideways This is an interesting contrast to the western films (Figures 2b and 2c), which also feature single characters, yet they are directly facing the camera and seem to be powerful as opposed to the hidden Welles
This relates to the presence/absence dichotomy of film noir and westerns In all of the first three figures (1a, 1c, and 3b) there is an element of hiddenness In the first, a character is hardly seen behind Welles In the second, Welles crosses the screen and we see, only briefly, a character behind him And in the third, from Double Indemnity, the woman is clearly hidden behind the open door
This ‘hiddenness’ that becomes relevant when more than one character is on the screen seems to be in direct contrast with that of westerns When multiple characters are on the screen in a western, as in the films in column four (figures 4a, 4b, and 4c) they stand open bodied (as opposed to the often hunched film noir figures) and exude grandiose qualities. In short, everything about the body language leads towards the presence of the characters; they are meant to be noticed, they are meant to be feared (or at least respected), and most of all they are meant to be there.
Quinn Harris
There was a lot of laughter happening during the screening of The Lady from Shanghai at the Film Forum, and it was sometimes hard to tell whether or not the movie was intentionally meant to be funny. There were some scenes that were purposefully comic in nature, like the courthouse scene. This scene was filled with humorous antics and recurring jokes, like the old woman who kept standing up to complain that she could not see what was going on. This scene is clearly meant to be funny, but not every scene that made the audience laugh followed the same formula. The audience was constantly cackling at the way Elsa, played by Rita Hayworth, delivered her lines. Hayworth is a famous actor, and during most dramatic scenes her delivery was masterful. However, sometimes her delivery on lines that were meant to be exclamatory or surprised came out oddly cheesy. This cheesiness was increased by Welles’s overly dramatic camera angles, which would accompany Hayworth’s peculiar delivery. People would also constantly laugh at Welles’s strange Irish brogue, which sometimes sounded fine, but at other times resembled something close to a leprechaun.
Seeing the audience laugh during what were meant to be dramatic scenes can make any observer wonder if they were supposed to be funny or if Welles had failed in his attempt to incite a dramatic reaction. However, this is impossible; after all, Welles is responsible for Citizen Kane, which is considered one of the greatest dramatic films of all time. How could he miss his mark so greatly with this film? This question continued to boggle my mind until the last scene of the movie. The funhouse and mirror scenes, which may have been the most interesting parts of the movie, made it clear to me that Welles was very much in on the joke. Throughout the entire movie, it was hard to tell if Welles was taking himself too seriously or if he was not taking anything seriously at all. However, by having the plot culminate in a funhouse, Welles was letting his audience know that he was poking fun the entire time. The funhouse was very much like the movie itself; it was meant to be odd and a little confusing in order to elicit a reaction from the audience. It was a great tongue-in-cheek metaphor for storytelling. It was this last scene that helped me realize that this film was not merely a mess, but it was actually an interesting mess—a mess that when cleared up had an obvious goal.
In many ways, Welles was satirizing the noir genre, which would make sense since it has been rumored that he was very bitter while making this film because it was a studio mandate. If Welles used a noir-esque theme in The Lady from Shanghai, he made it look rather cheesy or used it to his advantage in some other way. He had a bulk of the film take place on a boat sailing the Mexican coast, rather than a dark, dank city; however, he did not avoid the traditional theme of having the protagonist survive while the femme fatale is destroyed. The Lady from Shanghai was a very interesting film noir, mainly because it was so different from Welles’s other dramatic works like Citizen Kane and Touch of Evil. While it was not perfectly put together, and it is far from his greatest work, it was very interesting to see Welles satirize his own genre.
Gino Siniscalchi
On Noir Versus Western
Before seeing Welles’s film I was uncertain with which lens I was going to analyze it My mind was somewhat on my group project (which is focused on westerns) and it wasn’t until the film began that I noticed a unique trait of film noir My analysis will focus on body language in the film noir genre compared to that of westerns; both types of films emphasize solitary characters but I argue that the way this is portrayed on film creates different themes for each In short, westerns imply presence while film noir movies imply absence
One of the primary features of both westerns and film noir is the solitary male lead but while both utilize the same visual idea, westerns aim to portray strong, towering, and grandiose characters while film noir movies (such as The Lady From Shanghai) aim to portray lonely, isolated, and solitary characters In film noir, such as Orson Welles’s The Lady From Shanghai, shadow plays an important role in obscuring the character For example, Figure 1b shows Welles directly in the center of the frame, clearly the focal point yet his figure is bathed in shadow and his body shifted sideways This is an interesting contrast to the western films (Figures 2b and 2c), which also feature single characters, yet they are directly facing the camera and seem to be powerful as opposed to the hidden Welles
This relates to the presence/absence dichotomy of film noir and westerns In all of the first three figures (1a, 1c, and 3b) there is an element of hiddenness In the first, a character is hardly seen behind Welles In the second, Welles crosses the screen and we see, only briefly, a character behind him And in the third, from Double Indemnity, the woman is clearly hidden behind the open door
This ‘hiddenness’ that becomes relevant when more than one character is on the screen seems to be in direct contrast with that of westerns When multiple characters are on the screen in a western, as in the films in column four (figures 4a, 4b, and 4c) they stand open bodied (as opposed to the often hunched film noir figures) and exude grandiose qualities. In short, everything about the body language leads towards the presence of the characters; they are meant to be noticed, they are meant to be feared (or at least respected), and most of all they are meant to be there.
Quinn Harris
On the Noir Experience, the 70s Noir Revival, and Cyberpunk
Watching noir often feels like a dream to me. The lighting, style of voiceover narration, and unconventional segmentation helps to reinforce this atmosphere of something being just slightly off about the world I enter into every time I watch a film in the genre. Being the uncultured swine that I am, I rarely enjoy movies made before the 1970s, but film noir is the exception to that rule, and I believe that most of my attraction to the genre can be attributed to its dreamlike style. Noir exists in a sweet spot between the real world and the dream world, where the experience is just close enough to reality to feel true, but just far enough away for us to see the jarring contrast. Noir is a genre that loves walking the line between two sides. The protagonist often walks the line between the world of the rich and the poor, or the good and the evil, and the infamous femme fatale often walks the line between victim and perpetrator. However one final line that noir walks is that between mass media appeal and intellectual depth. Noir has all the makings of a popular film, sex, violence, plot twists, scheming, etc., but also has themes that are genuinely worth exploring. While other major genres of the 40s and the 50s, such as the western or the musical, have faded from the public conscious in the decades since, the influence of noir still holds some ground in niche audiences. The Film Forum is one such niche, attempting to create an atmosphere that fully prepares the audience to leave the own world in exchange for a surreal one. Every facet of the experience is controlled to emphasize this aesthetic. Attendees at The Film Forum could have just as easily watched the movie on their computers or TVs at home, and skipped the trek into The Village, but they chose to go out of their way to come there, to capture the experience of noir to the best of their ability.
Despite my strange affinity for noir, I expected to feel very out of place here. Noir is my indulgence in unexplored feelings of nostalgia for a time I never lived in, yet for the moviegoers at The Film Forum, at was an active, modern-day hobby. Yet despite all this, their enthusiasm didn't make me feel like an outsider, but instead welcomed. After putting some thought into it, I found the point of comparison, one that I had originally wanted to do the group project on: cyberpunk. Cyberpunk is a sub-genre of Science Fiction that developed in the late 1970s and early 1980s, right around the time of noir revivals. The most well-known work of cyberpunk fiction is Ridley Scott's 1982 film Blade Runner, set in a distopian 2019 version of LA. Yet, despite its clear Sci-Fi themes, Blade Runner follows almost all of the genre tropes of a noir film. Some have classified Cyberpunk as an offshoot of noir, but I would argue that it really is just noir with a Sci-Fi coat of paint. Blade Runner has just as much excessive smoke and camera angles that play with dark and light as the most quintessential noir film, and replaces the persistent black-and-white aesthetic with its own use of a turquoise-blue filter. Many cyberpunk works follow a similar pattern, such as Deus Ex – Human Revolution, a 2011 cyberpunk video game that applied a sepia filter over everything the player saw. Both of these works, and nearly every other cyberpunk work ever created, draw very heavily from classic noir themes. I enjoy noir occasionally, but I flat-out love cyberpunk, it is easily my favorite genre across all mediums. That said, cyberpunk has had its time in the spotlight, and has faded in popularity since its height in the 1980s. Every new work of cyberpunk fiction feels old, pulling from 1980s themes and aesthetics. Even when I watch a cyberpunk classic like Blade Runner or read Neuromancer, I still feel that same sense of nostalgia for a time I never lived in, I can feel its age, much like I can with noir. I believe those same retro aesthetic that is involved by modern cinephile revivals of noir is very similar to the modern, if underground, revival of cyberpunk through games such as Deus Ex or Cyberpunk 2077. With this realization, I felt a great deal of kinship with these revivalists, who go to great lengths to watch an old film the way it was before, and it reminds me of the hours I spent trying to get ancient cyberpunk games to run on my new PC, just to have that same experience. Seeking that authenticity is part of the experience.
Stephen Rubio
Half-predator, Half-prey?
I found that part of Mrs. Bannister’s character that is illustrated as corrupt is stronger than the part of her which appears as a prey. Her villainous acts take over her character to the point in which they somewhat hide the part of her one would want to sympathize with. At the end of the film, the only thing on my mind was that Elsa was corrupt. I was no longer focusing on her victimization anymore. Although it might be hard to declare whether or not the femme fatale in other film noir movies is the victim or the destroyer, Elsa Bannister in The Lady From Shanghai is definitely depicted as the dominating predator being that she controls the fate of three men by the end of the film. When the movie was over and the lights came on in the theater, I felt as if I were in another world. I got so into the movie that I had almost forgotten where I was. The experience of seeing this film on the big screen enlightened my understanding of the film noir genre, especially when it comes to the femme fatale. The movie made it clear to me just how much a film of this genre can be different from another one in the same genre, being that there is no true definition of a noir film and its most common traits. I truly loved the experience of attending a movie at the Film Forum and I hope I have the opportunity to do so again in the near future.
Olivia Caponigro
On Corpus Delecti
I also want to draw attention to the references of corpus delicti in the film. In Naremore’s article, he references the significance of the social commentary on the empirical world of the director. Fatefully, the day after I watched the film, I was assigned a reading in my Law and Psychology class that actually talked about corpus delicti. The Americans adapted this rule in The rule was eventually heavily criticized and replaced in 1954. Now looking at The Lady from Shanghai, we see that it was released in 1947. From the timeline of this law, it would seem that it faced many negative views, and The Lady from Shanghai was one of many critics of the law before it was eventually replaced 7 years after the film.
William Chen
Watching noir often feels like a dream to me. The lighting, style of voiceover narration, and unconventional segmentation helps to reinforce this atmosphere of something being just slightly off about the world I enter into every time I watch a film in the genre. Being the uncultured swine that I am, I rarely enjoy movies made before the 1970s, but film noir is the exception to that rule, and I believe that most of my attraction to the genre can be attributed to its dreamlike style. Noir exists in a sweet spot between the real world and the dream world, where the experience is just close enough to reality to feel true, but just far enough away for us to see the jarring contrast. Noir is a genre that loves walking the line between two sides. The protagonist often walks the line between the world of the rich and the poor, or the good and the evil, and the infamous femme fatale often walks the line between victim and perpetrator. However one final line that noir walks is that between mass media appeal and intellectual depth. Noir has all the makings of a popular film, sex, violence, plot twists, scheming, etc., but also has themes that are genuinely worth exploring. While other major genres of the 40s and the 50s, such as the western or the musical, have faded from the public conscious in the decades since, the influence of noir still holds some ground in niche audiences. The Film Forum is one such niche, attempting to create an atmosphere that fully prepares the audience to leave the own world in exchange for a surreal one. Every facet of the experience is controlled to emphasize this aesthetic. Attendees at The Film Forum could have just as easily watched the movie on their computers or TVs at home, and skipped the trek into The Village, but they chose to go out of their way to come there, to capture the experience of noir to the best of their ability.
Despite my strange affinity for noir, I expected to feel very out of place here. Noir is my indulgence in unexplored feelings of nostalgia for a time I never lived in, yet for the moviegoers at The Film Forum, at was an active, modern-day hobby. Yet despite all this, their enthusiasm didn't make me feel like an outsider, but instead welcomed. After putting some thought into it, I found the point of comparison, one that I had originally wanted to do the group project on: cyberpunk. Cyberpunk is a sub-genre of Science Fiction that developed in the late 1970s and early 1980s, right around the time of noir revivals. The most well-known work of cyberpunk fiction is Ridley Scott's 1982 film Blade Runner, set in a distopian 2019 version of LA. Yet, despite its clear Sci-Fi themes, Blade Runner follows almost all of the genre tropes of a noir film. Some have classified Cyberpunk as an offshoot of noir, but I would argue that it really is just noir with a Sci-Fi coat of paint. Blade Runner has just as much excessive smoke and camera angles that play with dark and light as the most quintessential noir film, and replaces the persistent black-and-white aesthetic with its own use of a turquoise-blue filter. Many cyberpunk works follow a similar pattern, such as Deus Ex – Human Revolution, a 2011 cyberpunk video game that applied a sepia filter over everything the player saw. Both of these works, and nearly every other cyberpunk work ever created, draw very heavily from classic noir themes. I enjoy noir occasionally, but I flat-out love cyberpunk, it is easily my favorite genre across all mediums. That said, cyberpunk has had its time in the spotlight, and has faded in popularity since its height in the 1980s. Every new work of cyberpunk fiction feels old, pulling from 1980s themes and aesthetics. Even when I watch a cyberpunk classic like Blade Runner or read Neuromancer, I still feel that same sense of nostalgia for a time I never lived in, I can feel its age, much like I can with noir. I believe those same retro aesthetic that is involved by modern cinephile revivals of noir is very similar to the modern, if underground, revival of cyberpunk through games such as Deus Ex or Cyberpunk 2077. With this realization, I felt a great deal of kinship with these revivalists, who go to great lengths to watch an old film the way it was before, and it reminds me of the hours I spent trying to get ancient cyberpunk games to run on my new PC, just to have that same experience. Seeking that authenticity is part of the experience.
Stephen Rubio
Half-predator, Half-prey?
I found that part of Mrs. Bannister’s character that is illustrated as corrupt is stronger than the part of her which appears as a prey. Her villainous acts take over her character to the point in which they somewhat hide the part of her one would want to sympathize with. At the end of the film, the only thing on my mind was that Elsa was corrupt. I was no longer focusing on her victimization anymore. Although it might be hard to declare whether or not the femme fatale in other film noir movies is the victim or the destroyer, Elsa Bannister in The Lady From Shanghai is definitely depicted as the dominating predator being that she controls the fate of three men by the end of the film. When the movie was over and the lights came on in the theater, I felt as if I were in another world. I got so into the movie that I had almost forgotten where I was. The experience of seeing this film on the big screen enlightened my understanding of the film noir genre, especially when it comes to the femme fatale. The movie made it clear to me just how much a film of this genre can be different from another one in the same genre, being that there is no true definition of a noir film and its most common traits. I truly loved the experience of attending a movie at the Film Forum and I hope I have the opportunity to do so again in the near future.
Olivia Caponigro
On Corpus Delecti
I also want to draw attention to the references of corpus delicti in the film. In Naremore’s article, he references the significance of the social commentary on the empirical world of the director. Fatefully, the day after I watched the film, I was assigned a reading in my Law and Psychology class that actually talked about corpus delicti. The Americans adapted this rule in The rule was eventually heavily criticized and replaced in 1954. Now looking at The Lady from Shanghai, we see that it was released in 1947. From the timeline of this law, it would seem that it faced many negative views, and The Lady from Shanghai was one of many critics of the law before it was eventually replaced 7 years after the film.
William Chen
On the Courtroom Scene
The movie progressed, eventually arriving at Michael O’Hara’s murder trial, an eccentric courtroom scene, and a captivation of my attention. The scene begins with a witness, Officer Peters, being addressed by O’Hara’s defense attorney, Arthur Bannister. Bannister approaches Peters apologetically, stating “I don’t wish to keep you from your wife and children any more than the District Attorney who was so concerned about them a moment ago.” Immediately following this statement, Bannister asks but one question of Peters, “Have you a wife and children?” Once Office Peters responds in the contrary, the courtroom erupts in laughter and Bannister dismisses Peters from the witness stand. Officer Peters defied traditional perceptions of a man being meant to take on familial responsibilities, allowing The Lady from Shanghai to dispute domestic assumptions.
A rejection of conventional family framework continues when Elsa (Mrs. Bannister) is subpoenaed as a witness to the proceedings. The District Attorney emphasizes Mrs. Bannister’s lack of children, before going on to interrogate her on topics such as divorce and infidelity. Keeping in mind that this is supposed to be a homicide trial against Michael O’Hara, it seemed strange to have the District Attorney invest so much time highlighting domestic matters, of no obvious relevance to the determination of who murdered George Grisby.
Arthur, acting as Michael’s defense attorney, cross examines himself at the witness stand, while jurors sneeze, people openly chat, and others continuously insert rambunctious interjections. Instead of portraying the American court system as a strict, no-nonsense, temple of justice, the scene depicts a circus of sorts. It shows a court case in which the lawyers engage in aggressive banter, jurors distractedly fidget, and the judge laughs out loud during testimony.
Katie Franklin
On Michael O’Hara’s Irishness
The other aspect of the film that I found most interesting was Orson Wells’ choice to use an Irish accent throughout the film. It wasn’t until after re-watching a few scenes that I was struck by distinctness of his voice compared to the rest of the characters. Comparatively, his form and dialogue has more smooth and flowing sense about it, he talks fast and it seems to come out very smoothly. This is juxtaposed with a character like Grisby, who talks rather slow and choppy, with a great deal of fluctuation in the tone and pitch of his voice. It is not smooth, it seems very slow and thought out, as if he rests and contemplates every word he says. Despite the strangeness of Wells’ Irish accent, it makes sense for his character. It builds a sense of confidence around him when he is able to speak quickly and speak exactly what he seemingly intended to say. Not to mention the fact that by making the main “hero” character foreign it adds to the mystery behind him, casting seemingly another shadow over him.
Quincy O’Connor
I felt that the portrayal of both immigrants Elsa and Mike sought to differentiate between European and other non-European immigrants. By associating Elsa with Shanghai, the film used foreignness to make Elsa into a corrupt character. However, the Mike’s accent did not impede his character; thus, reaffirming that European immigrants were still more trustworthy and good than non-European immigrants.
Elsa’s ability to freely intermingle in Chinese makes her appear powerful in this situation. She has agency over her and Mike’s future. However, she chooses to act maliciously and to take Mike away. Mike’s confusion makes him sympathetic and relatable. Audience members related him to “not knowing any better” because he has obviously been away from America or was new to America, while, Elsa became demonized for her behavior.
Kimberley Mahadeo
The Scooby-Doo Rule
Being fooled my first time watching Film Noir, and now understanding how its mystique works, I am going to start watching noir like I do Scooby-Doo. I will deem any character that seems suspicious from the onset as innocent and those who seem to have a spot clean record as the main antagonist. This seems to work well when I watch Scooby-Doo, and from my first noir film, it seems like it will work for noir too.
William Chen
On the Noir Psychopath
The character in The Lady from Shanghai that most embodies the noir theme of the psychopath is George Grisby. I think Grisby most resembles the second group of film noir psychopaths mentioned in Raymond Durgnat’s article “Paint It Black: The Family Tree of the Film Noir”: the unassuming monsters. Throughout the film you can never get a solid read on Grisby’s motivations. When he first approaches Michael on the boat and questions him about murder, my first assumption was that Grisby was considering hiring Michael to kill Arthur Bannister because only moments before we saw him spying on Elsa Bannister through his binoculars. Grisby then becomes just another character in pursuit of Elsa, looking to possibly murder her husband in order to have her all to himself. This image of Grisby is completely shattered though when we learn who it is that he wants Michael to murder. Grisby tells Michael that he is the person whom he wants Michael to murder. There is something almost comedic about Grisby as Orson Welles utilizes several close-ups of his face in this scene and others where he seems to have an almost wild look in his eyes. These close-ups paired with his ridiculous way of speaking make him seem like a more comedic figure than a threating one. Grisby seems insane as he talks about wanting to be murdered and it is not clear to the audience right away that Grisby only wants to fake his murder. Then we get that moment when the music Welles uses when Grisby walks away from the cliff makes it seem as if Grisby just jumped to his death. The Grisby character fills the audience with two very different feelings, he is a character that seems like a fool that we can laugh at, but the underlying feeling of insanity that he exudes whenever he is on screen also makes him seem like a threat.
Victoria Garrity
On the Noir Hero's Code of Ethics
...even after they land in San Francisco, he continues to interact with the people he dislikes. This personality trait reflects the “passive” and “masochistic” stereotype of the noir male protagonist.
However, unlike Naremore’s definition, there may be some similarities between Michael O’Hara and the heroes in Western Films. Like John Wayne’s character’s, Michael does seem to guide his actions with his own personal moral cod: he makes it clear to Grisby, during their conversation on the cliff, that he is particular about who exactly he kills, when Elsa flirts with him in the beginning, the narrator quips that he likes his girlfriends to not have husbands. Although Michael is not a generic hero, these examples reveal how he does have an internal moral codes that he abides to.
Maria Coluccio
The movie progressed, eventually arriving at Michael O’Hara’s murder trial, an eccentric courtroom scene, and a captivation of my attention. The scene begins with a witness, Officer Peters, being addressed by O’Hara’s defense attorney, Arthur Bannister. Bannister approaches Peters apologetically, stating “I don’t wish to keep you from your wife and children any more than the District Attorney who was so concerned about them a moment ago.” Immediately following this statement, Bannister asks but one question of Peters, “Have you a wife and children?” Once Office Peters responds in the contrary, the courtroom erupts in laughter and Bannister dismisses Peters from the witness stand. Officer Peters defied traditional perceptions of a man being meant to take on familial responsibilities, allowing The Lady from Shanghai to dispute domestic assumptions.
A rejection of conventional family framework continues when Elsa (Mrs. Bannister) is subpoenaed as a witness to the proceedings. The District Attorney emphasizes Mrs. Bannister’s lack of children, before going on to interrogate her on topics such as divorce and infidelity. Keeping in mind that this is supposed to be a homicide trial against Michael O’Hara, it seemed strange to have the District Attorney invest so much time highlighting domestic matters, of no obvious relevance to the determination of who murdered George Grisby.
Arthur, acting as Michael’s defense attorney, cross examines himself at the witness stand, while jurors sneeze, people openly chat, and others continuously insert rambunctious interjections. Instead of portraying the American court system as a strict, no-nonsense, temple of justice, the scene depicts a circus of sorts. It shows a court case in which the lawyers engage in aggressive banter, jurors distractedly fidget, and the judge laughs out loud during testimony.
Katie Franklin
On Michael O’Hara’s Irishness
The other aspect of the film that I found most interesting was Orson Wells’ choice to use an Irish accent throughout the film. It wasn’t until after re-watching a few scenes that I was struck by distinctness of his voice compared to the rest of the characters. Comparatively, his form and dialogue has more smooth and flowing sense about it, he talks fast and it seems to come out very smoothly. This is juxtaposed with a character like Grisby, who talks rather slow and choppy, with a great deal of fluctuation in the tone and pitch of his voice. It is not smooth, it seems very slow and thought out, as if he rests and contemplates every word he says. Despite the strangeness of Wells’ Irish accent, it makes sense for his character. It builds a sense of confidence around him when he is able to speak quickly and speak exactly what he seemingly intended to say. Not to mention the fact that by making the main “hero” character foreign it adds to the mystery behind him, casting seemingly another shadow over him.
Quincy O’Connor
I felt that the portrayal of both immigrants Elsa and Mike sought to differentiate between European and other non-European immigrants. By associating Elsa with Shanghai, the film used foreignness to make Elsa into a corrupt character. However, the Mike’s accent did not impede his character; thus, reaffirming that European immigrants were still more trustworthy and good than non-European immigrants.
Elsa’s ability to freely intermingle in Chinese makes her appear powerful in this situation. She has agency over her and Mike’s future. However, she chooses to act maliciously and to take Mike away. Mike’s confusion makes him sympathetic and relatable. Audience members related him to “not knowing any better” because he has obviously been away from America or was new to America, while, Elsa became demonized for her behavior.
Kimberley Mahadeo
The Scooby-Doo Rule
Being fooled my first time watching Film Noir, and now understanding how its mystique works, I am going to start watching noir like I do Scooby-Doo. I will deem any character that seems suspicious from the onset as innocent and those who seem to have a spot clean record as the main antagonist. This seems to work well when I watch Scooby-Doo, and from my first noir film, it seems like it will work for noir too.
William Chen
On the Noir Psychopath
The character in The Lady from Shanghai that most embodies the noir theme of the psychopath is George Grisby. I think Grisby most resembles the second group of film noir psychopaths mentioned in Raymond Durgnat’s article “Paint It Black: The Family Tree of the Film Noir”: the unassuming monsters. Throughout the film you can never get a solid read on Grisby’s motivations. When he first approaches Michael on the boat and questions him about murder, my first assumption was that Grisby was considering hiring Michael to kill Arthur Bannister because only moments before we saw him spying on Elsa Bannister through his binoculars. Grisby then becomes just another character in pursuit of Elsa, looking to possibly murder her husband in order to have her all to himself. This image of Grisby is completely shattered though when we learn who it is that he wants Michael to murder. Grisby tells Michael that he is the person whom he wants Michael to murder. There is something almost comedic about Grisby as Orson Welles utilizes several close-ups of his face in this scene and others where he seems to have an almost wild look in his eyes. These close-ups paired with his ridiculous way of speaking make him seem like a more comedic figure than a threating one. Grisby seems insane as he talks about wanting to be murdered and it is not clear to the audience right away that Grisby only wants to fake his murder. Then we get that moment when the music Welles uses when Grisby walks away from the cliff makes it seem as if Grisby just jumped to his death. The Grisby character fills the audience with two very different feelings, he is a character that seems like a fool that we can laugh at, but the underlying feeling of insanity that he exudes whenever he is on screen also makes him seem like a threat.
Victoria Garrity
On the Noir Hero's Code of Ethics
...even after they land in San Francisco, he continues to interact with the people he dislikes. This personality trait reflects the “passive” and “masochistic” stereotype of the noir male protagonist.
However, unlike Naremore’s definition, there may be some similarities between Michael O’Hara and the heroes in Western Films. Like John Wayne’s character’s, Michael does seem to guide his actions with his own personal moral cod: he makes it clear to Grisby, during their conversation on the cliff, that he is particular about who exactly he kills, when Elsa flirts with him in the beginning, the narrator quips that he likes his girlfriends to not have husbands. Although Michael is not a generic hero, these examples reveal how he does have an internal moral codes that he abides to.
Maria Coluccio
On the Femme Fatale
Rita Hayworth’s Elsa Bannister was the most interesting character in The Lady from Shanghai, yet I believe she was the most underused. Elsa Bannister was the femme fatale that Orson Welles’ Michael O’Hara swooned and pined over and that was all the movie allowed her to be, an object. She was the title “Lady from Shanghai”, but the audience does not get any more information about her other than that. While it is common course within a noir to have the femme fatale character be a woman of mystery and intrigue, all she was was mystery. She was hardly a woman or a female character at all. The audience never finds out what happened in Shanghai, what she did, why she was married to Bannister, why she wanted to kill him, why she was using Grisby to help her, or any of the thousands of questions that popped up during the movie. Her motivations were unclear. Her intentions were even less so. Her wants and desires were chalked up to a feeble “I just want to be with the main male character”. She existed as a plot device and hardly as an actual character.
Any answers to the questions I posed earlier can only be inferred from select scenes and characters within the movie. Elsa never answers them herself. The audience finds out Mr. Bannister is using some sort of blackmail against his wife, Elsa, but the audience never finds out what that blackmail is or how he is holding it against her. It is hardly addressed at all, despite it possibly being the reason she wants to kill him. Film Noir is not a genre known for its answers. It is known for its twists and turns, but this was the first Noir I have ever seen where I was completely baffled at what was going on. Every other character was clearly defined aside from Elsa. I had no idea who or what she was supposed to be. Was she supposed to be a wilting flower who needed Welles’ rugged Irishman to save her? Or was she a hardened criminal who could save herself and was just using the people around her to do it? I want to believe she was a complex character who could embody both traits, but the film never blended the two.
In the beginning scenes with her and O’Hara, Elsa explains that she was from Shanghai and makes it clear that it was not an easy city to live in. Why then, does she let those men rob her carriage? Why did she throw the gun away? She said that she hoped O’Hara would find the gun and save her, but why? Was it just an act? Why would someone who grew up in Shanghai, a place that is implied as seedy and criminal and who made it clear that she could handle herself, not actually handle herself when confronted in the beginning? It makes no sense. She lets out a weak “Help! Help!” and waits to be rescued. Was it all an act? Did she stage the whole thing hoping to find someone she can use? Did she see O’Hara and think she could use him in her games? After she was robbed, she was completely calm and collected. This would lend some credence to the idea that the entire thing was staged, but Elsa never confirms this. A normal person, even one who was used to living in a rough neighborhood, would be a bit frazzled at being manhandled to say the least. Elsa was not.
At the end of the movie, the person in charge usually reveals his or her plan. The motivations are laid clear, questions are answered, and the audience can let out the big “Oh!” they were holding in. The movie laid out in the beginning that Elsa came from Shanghai and was from a mysterious and implicitly criminal background, but it did not do much more than that by the end of it. She was supposed to further Michael O’Hara’s story, not deliver her own. The movie did not give her character any real development. Did her character change in any real concrete way from the beginning of the movie to the end of it? At the start, she claims that she did not know how to use a gun. That was a lie because she is wielding one with accuracy by the end of it, which means she was probably lying from the beginning. She started playing power games with Michael when they first met, and by the end she is still toying with him. Were her pleas of loving him genuine? Or was she just trying to use his own feelings for her own purpose? She was a manipulative, lying, criminal at the start of the story, and by its end she is the same manipulative, lying, criminal. She was supposed to be the femme fatale, the woman who got the lead male character into trouble, and that was all she was allowed to be despite her having the most possibilities in terms of character development. She had the most interesting back story, the most complex character motivations, and yet very little of that was used except for throwaway lines here and there. The audience does not find out what kind of person Elsa Bannister was because all the movie needed the audience to know was what kind of character Elsa Bannister was supposed to be: the femme fatale. It is a stereotype more than it is an actual character. She was wilting and pretty when the plot needed her to be, and she was deadly and dangerous when the plot needed her to be. Her actual character was not important.
Amanda Laboy
Elsa’s characterization as a mastermind late in the film feels unwarranted. She seems to be more of a volatile element than a manipulator. Her inconsistent temperament and oft emotionally weighed responses to plot developments give credence to this take. Then again this film was written pre-feminism, and these character traits might be the byproduct of a bygone era’s fascination with women they were too afraid to talk to.
Kevin Zebroski
The femme fatale can essentially be viewed as a commentary on what was considered traditional womanhood at the time. The femme fatale, a voluptuous and devious creature, declines playing the role of loving mother and dedicated wife that popular society advocates for women. In the noir genre, the typical femme fatale considers marriage to be constricting and loveless. This disinclination towards marriage leads the femme fatale to use her sexual promiscuity and cunning to attain her individuality. However, her strive for independence almost always leads the femme fatale to rely on murder in order to free herself from her often times insufferable relationship. When faced with her own inevitable ruin, the femme fatale is unrepentant till the end; she epitomizes the idea of womanly defiance and refuses to be treated like a possession by men. In “The Lady from Shanghai,” Elsa (Rita Hayworth) portrays a perfect illustration of this idea of the femme fatale.
Rita Hayworth was a well-known actress at the time that the film was made, and her legendary long, red hair had been cut short and dyed blonde specifically for the role. In my opinion, she gave an exemplary performance as Elsa. I felt that her sexual cunning on-camera and the influence of her strength only thinly masked her sense of helplessness.
Tom Shetler
Rita Hayworth’s Elsa Bannister was the most interesting character in The Lady from Shanghai, yet I believe she was the most underused. Elsa Bannister was the femme fatale that Orson Welles’ Michael O’Hara swooned and pined over and that was all the movie allowed her to be, an object. She was the title “Lady from Shanghai”, but the audience does not get any more information about her other than that. While it is common course within a noir to have the femme fatale character be a woman of mystery and intrigue, all she was was mystery. She was hardly a woman or a female character at all. The audience never finds out what happened in Shanghai, what she did, why she was married to Bannister, why she wanted to kill him, why she was using Grisby to help her, or any of the thousands of questions that popped up during the movie. Her motivations were unclear. Her intentions were even less so. Her wants and desires were chalked up to a feeble “I just want to be with the main male character”. She existed as a plot device and hardly as an actual character.
Any answers to the questions I posed earlier can only be inferred from select scenes and characters within the movie. Elsa never answers them herself. The audience finds out Mr. Bannister is using some sort of blackmail against his wife, Elsa, but the audience never finds out what that blackmail is or how he is holding it against her. It is hardly addressed at all, despite it possibly being the reason she wants to kill him. Film Noir is not a genre known for its answers. It is known for its twists and turns, but this was the first Noir I have ever seen where I was completely baffled at what was going on. Every other character was clearly defined aside from Elsa. I had no idea who or what she was supposed to be. Was she supposed to be a wilting flower who needed Welles’ rugged Irishman to save her? Or was she a hardened criminal who could save herself and was just using the people around her to do it? I want to believe she was a complex character who could embody both traits, but the film never blended the two.
In the beginning scenes with her and O’Hara, Elsa explains that she was from Shanghai and makes it clear that it was not an easy city to live in. Why then, does she let those men rob her carriage? Why did she throw the gun away? She said that she hoped O’Hara would find the gun and save her, but why? Was it just an act? Why would someone who grew up in Shanghai, a place that is implied as seedy and criminal and who made it clear that she could handle herself, not actually handle herself when confronted in the beginning? It makes no sense. She lets out a weak “Help! Help!” and waits to be rescued. Was it all an act? Did she stage the whole thing hoping to find someone she can use? Did she see O’Hara and think she could use him in her games? After she was robbed, she was completely calm and collected. This would lend some credence to the idea that the entire thing was staged, but Elsa never confirms this. A normal person, even one who was used to living in a rough neighborhood, would be a bit frazzled at being manhandled to say the least. Elsa was not.
At the end of the movie, the person in charge usually reveals his or her plan. The motivations are laid clear, questions are answered, and the audience can let out the big “Oh!” they were holding in. The movie laid out in the beginning that Elsa came from Shanghai and was from a mysterious and implicitly criminal background, but it did not do much more than that by the end of it. She was supposed to further Michael O’Hara’s story, not deliver her own. The movie did not give her character any real development. Did her character change in any real concrete way from the beginning of the movie to the end of it? At the start, she claims that she did not know how to use a gun. That was a lie because she is wielding one with accuracy by the end of it, which means she was probably lying from the beginning. She started playing power games with Michael when they first met, and by the end she is still toying with him. Were her pleas of loving him genuine? Or was she just trying to use his own feelings for her own purpose? She was a manipulative, lying, criminal at the start of the story, and by its end she is the same manipulative, lying, criminal. She was supposed to be the femme fatale, the woman who got the lead male character into trouble, and that was all she was allowed to be despite her having the most possibilities in terms of character development. She had the most interesting back story, the most complex character motivations, and yet very little of that was used except for throwaway lines here and there. The audience does not find out what kind of person Elsa Bannister was because all the movie needed the audience to know was what kind of character Elsa Bannister was supposed to be: the femme fatale. It is a stereotype more than it is an actual character. She was wilting and pretty when the plot needed her to be, and she was deadly and dangerous when the plot needed her to be. Her actual character was not important.
Amanda Laboy
Elsa’s characterization as a mastermind late in the film feels unwarranted. She seems to be more of a volatile element than a manipulator. Her inconsistent temperament and oft emotionally weighed responses to plot developments give credence to this take. Then again this film was written pre-feminism, and these character traits might be the byproduct of a bygone era’s fascination with women they were too afraid to talk to.
Kevin Zebroski
The femme fatale can essentially be viewed as a commentary on what was considered traditional womanhood at the time. The femme fatale, a voluptuous and devious creature, declines playing the role of loving mother and dedicated wife that popular society advocates for women. In the noir genre, the typical femme fatale considers marriage to be constricting and loveless. This disinclination towards marriage leads the femme fatale to use her sexual promiscuity and cunning to attain her individuality. However, her strive for independence almost always leads the femme fatale to rely on murder in order to free herself from her often times insufferable relationship. When faced with her own inevitable ruin, the femme fatale is unrepentant till the end; she epitomizes the idea of womanly defiance and refuses to be treated like a possession by men. In “The Lady from Shanghai,” Elsa (Rita Hayworth) portrays a perfect illustration of this idea of the femme fatale.
Rita Hayworth was a well-known actress at the time that the film was made, and her legendary long, red hair had been cut short and dyed blonde specifically for the role. In my opinion, she gave an exemplary performance as Elsa. I felt that her sexual cunning on-camera and the influence of her strength only thinly masked her sense of helplessness.
Tom Shetler
On Water, Waves and Aquariums
The first thing I noticed was the large amounts of water in the film, because the opening credits are superimposed with waves and the ocean.
In Welles’ “The Lady from Shanghai,” water is used as a stylistic to portray the unnerving feelings of danger, ambiguity, and unpredictability. Water is fluid; the ocean is fast, moving, uncontrollable, and dangerous. This works perfectly as an image and symbol in film noirs, because the films illustrate dangerous, unpredictable, and disorderly plots. Specifically in “The Lady from Shanghai,” Welles uses water to bring confusion to the plot and characters. In the shark picnic scene, Mr. Bannister, Mrs. Bannister, and Mr. Grisby’s judgment and morals are all questioned, while water splashes in the background and sweat covers the men’s faces. In the aquarium scene, Mrs. Bannister has a lot of close ups, and her faux innocence is juxtaposed next to the dangerous fish, and murky waters. These two scenes express the importance of water in film noir and how it will remain as a beautiful style stroke and symbol.
In the shark scene, the characters’ fates are foreshadowed and the water acts as a discomforting and unavoidable element. The water is black, similar to the way O’Hara describes the ocean in his story “so darkened with blood it was black.” When he says this, the images of the black ocean immediately feel bloody, and the scene suggests crime, death, and fear. Mr. Bannister and Mr. Grisby are drenched in sweat, and seem uncomfortable. Mr. Bannister tries to relax on a hammock, but his arm rests over his face, as if he is trying to hide from the heat. Mr. Grisby sits awkwardly and sweat covers his crooked face. Mrs. Bannister has no sweat, and the camera frequently films her alone in shots, with the ocean waving in the background. By filming her alone and dry, her character remains distant and ambiguous. Mr. Bannister and Mr. Grisby are both obviously dangerous, so things become confusing when O’Hara calls her and her male counterparts out on being dangerous and shark-like. O’Hara gives a monologue on a time he went fishing in Brazil, and saw a “sea made of sharks… the beasts took to eating each other, in their frenzy, they ate at themselves, you could feel the lust of murder… I never saw anything worse until this little picnic tonight. And you know, there wasn’t one of them sharks in the whole crazy pack that survived.” By comparing the three to the pack of sharks, O’Hara foreshadows their deaths and points out the threat they hold on each other. The sweat on the men’s faces signifies the discomfort felt throughout the film, and Mrs. Bannister’s depth and deceptive character begins to develop.
The aquarium scene further unravels Mrs. Bannister’s murky character by presenting her wide-eyed “damsel in distress” face beside the dangerous marine creatures’ faces. By placing the two inside the aquarium, this is the first scene with the camera directly looking into the water, not just above it. The water no longer covers or hides the creatures below it, making the audience feel closer to the shark story, as we get a glimpse of inside the dangerous murky waters. Similarly, we are getting a glimpse of Mrs. Bannister’s identity. Yet, there is an unshaken feeling of being trapped and controlled, as Mrs. Bannister points out that O’Hara has gotten “dragged into” a trap. The aquarium and water acts as an inescapable element, like the future crime and Mr. Grisby, Mr. Bannister and Mrs. Bannister’s inescapable deaths.
Valerie Meyer
The first thing I noticed was the large amounts of water in the film, because the opening credits are superimposed with waves and the ocean.
In Welles’ “The Lady from Shanghai,” water is used as a stylistic to portray the unnerving feelings of danger, ambiguity, and unpredictability. Water is fluid; the ocean is fast, moving, uncontrollable, and dangerous. This works perfectly as an image and symbol in film noirs, because the films illustrate dangerous, unpredictable, and disorderly plots. Specifically in “The Lady from Shanghai,” Welles uses water to bring confusion to the plot and characters. In the shark picnic scene, Mr. Bannister, Mrs. Bannister, and Mr. Grisby’s judgment and morals are all questioned, while water splashes in the background and sweat covers the men’s faces. In the aquarium scene, Mrs. Bannister has a lot of close ups, and her faux innocence is juxtaposed next to the dangerous fish, and murky waters. These two scenes express the importance of water in film noir and how it will remain as a beautiful style stroke and symbol.
In the shark scene, the characters’ fates are foreshadowed and the water acts as a discomforting and unavoidable element. The water is black, similar to the way O’Hara describes the ocean in his story “so darkened with blood it was black.” When he says this, the images of the black ocean immediately feel bloody, and the scene suggests crime, death, and fear. Mr. Bannister and Mr. Grisby are drenched in sweat, and seem uncomfortable. Mr. Bannister tries to relax on a hammock, but his arm rests over his face, as if he is trying to hide from the heat. Mr. Grisby sits awkwardly and sweat covers his crooked face. Mrs. Bannister has no sweat, and the camera frequently films her alone in shots, with the ocean waving in the background. By filming her alone and dry, her character remains distant and ambiguous. Mr. Bannister and Mr. Grisby are both obviously dangerous, so things become confusing when O’Hara calls her and her male counterparts out on being dangerous and shark-like. O’Hara gives a monologue on a time he went fishing in Brazil, and saw a “sea made of sharks… the beasts took to eating each other, in their frenzy, they ate at themselves, you could feel the lust of murder… I never saw anything worse until this little picnic tonight. And you know, there wasn’t one of them sharks in the whole crazy pack that survived.” By comparing the three to the pack of sharks, O’Hara foreshadows their deaths and points out the threat they hold on each other. The sweat on the men’s faces signifies the discomfort felt throughout the film, and Mrs. Bannister’s depth and deceptive character begins to develop.
The aquarium scene further unravels Mrs. Bannister’s murky character by presenting her wide-eyed “damsel in distress” face beside the dangerous marine creatures’ faces. By placing the two inside the aquarium, this is the first scene with the camera directly looking into the water, not just above it. The water no longer covers or hides the creatures below it, making the audience feel closer to the shark story, as we get a glimpse of inside the dangerous murky waters. Similarly, we are getting a glimpse of Mrs. Bannister’s identity. Yet, there is an unshaken feeling of being trapped and controlled, as Mrs. Bannister points out that O’Hara has gotten “dragged into” a trap. The aquarium and water acts as an inescapable element, like the future crime and Mr. Grisby, Mr. Bannister and Mrs. Bannister’s inescapable deaths.
Valerie Meyer
On the Ending
I found the hall of mirrors scene and the last scene to be very interesting and telling. Earlier on in the movie, she says that human nature is eternal and one who follows his nature keeps his original nature at the end. Michael says to Elsa in one of the last scenes, before the shootout, “One who follows his nature keeps his original nature in the end. But haven’t you heard ever of something better to follow?” Elsa replies, “No.” She is a bloodthirsty shark, just like her husband, and her true nature of corruptness and evil comes out as she has surrendered to badness. This may not have always been her nature but it has become that way. Michael challenged her to aim for something better than her original nature and stand up rather than give up and give in, but she declines. She believes in following her original nature to the end and satisfying her greed and pretending to love him rather than actually loving him. Even after admitting her true nature, she still tries to plead with Michael and gain his sympathy, in true femme fatale manner.
Celia Popescu
I found the hall of mirrors scene and the last scene to be very interesting and telling. Earlier on in the movie, she says that human nature is eternal and one who follows his nature keeps his original nature at the end. Michael says to Elsa in one of the last scenes, before the shootout, “One who follows his nature keeps his original nature in the end. But haven’t you heard ever of something better to follow?” Elsa replies, “No.” She is a bloodthirsty shark, just like her husband, and her true nature of corruptness and evil comes out as she has surrendered to badness. This may not have always been her nature but it has become that way. Michael challenged her to aim for something better than her original nature and stand up rather than give up and give in, but she declines. She believes in following her original nature to the end and satisfying her greed and pretending to love him rather than actually loving him. Even after admitting her true nature, she still tries to plead with Michael and gain his sympathy, in true femme fatale manner.
Celia Popescu