Why it's not film noir, and what is
*** This post contains spoilers ***
In my review of Ministry of Fear ("Accent on thrills, not fear"), I say, "It certainly is not film noir, though Universal marketed the VHS release under that rubric." Since many of the other reviews and forum posts here refer to it as film noir, I feel an obligation to explain why I say it isn't and what I think film noir is.
We need to bear in mind that although the 1940s are known as the film noir period, no film of the 40s was originally released as film noir or made with that concept in mind. The term film noir originated in French criticism in the latter half of the decade, and it was not generally recognized as a descriptive category until much later. Film noir was not anyone's creation, but a discovery made by looking back on an accumulation of films and noticing what they had in common. We today need to discover it in the same way. It's like noticing a family resemblance in a number of faces. No single description fits all the faces, but there's a network of traits that connects them as a group.
If there's one very general term that does apply to all unquestioned film noir, it's grown-up. This doesn't mean the films are "adult entertainment," as adolescent entertainment is commonly called. It means the characters have been around, they've lost their innocence, they know the odds against a happy ending. It would be going too far, though, to say that there are no happy endings in film noir. The movie that's widely regarded as the first true example of the type, Stranger on the Third Floor (1940), ends in smiles and hopeful departures. In contrast, The Maltese Falcon (1941), which is generally closer to the Hollywood mainstream, has an ending that practically defines that element of film noir: two world-weary lovers -- or lusters -- descending separately by elevator and stairs; one, to face a murder charge; the other, to face a more hardboiled life than ever; both departing for a lower hell. What is essential is that, on the way to either kind of ending, the characters drink from a bitter cup in a world where there's not much else on the menu.
Traits commonly attributed to film noir include physical ones like urban settings and shadowy lighting, but what matters most is the characters' sense of belonging in those urban shadows. Suppose that, as you passed by an all-night bowling alley between a slumbering cigar store and a dozing bus station, you found the ghosts of the damned going in and out on furtive errands but never bowling. That would be the afterlife in the realm of film noir. Even the good people of the story belong here. They're not adventurers from the realm of innocence.
This is where Ministry of Fear most clearly fails the film noir test. It doesn't fail to be a good film, mind you, it just isn't noir. We meet the hero -- a word that doesn't suggest itself in connection with film noir -- as he's being discharged from a mental hospital. About twenty minutes into the story, he reveals that he was sent there for the murder of his wife. That sounds promising, but wait. The next moment he reveals that she was suffering with a terminal illness and begged him to end her life. His crime is supposed to have been mercy killing. That still works, but wait. He goes on to reveal that he didn't kill her after all. He had obtained a drug intending to do the deed but couldn't go through with it. His wife found the drug and took it herself. He was a devoted husband all along, and apparently when his wife was dead he shielded her memory from the stigma of suicide by confessing to homicide. We even hear that he wasn't insane at all but had to be committed because the law required it. Having been thus assured that our "man just out of a mental hospital" has no history of mental illness, let alone a stain on his character, we can put our minds at ease and simply enjoy the thrills until good triumphs over evil. This trick of having it both ways to keep the show within the comfort zone of the general public is typical of mainstream cinema. It's alien to film noir. For some comments on the visual qualities of Ministry of Fear, which suggest the noir style without really achieving it, please see my review.
Film noir is a magical medium that creates a disturbing illusion of reality without conveying anything particularly realistic. The sets are pretty much like other movie sets, except that some have ceilings which we glimpse in low-angle shots. The casts contain the usual proportion of familiar Hollywood faces. The dialogue, whether gaudy or flat, would turn heads if anyone sprang it in the real world. The events, while more plausible than in Ministry of Fear, are more coherent and more abundant than in reality. Perhaps, after all, we find film noir realistic because it appeals to a grown-up taste the way the bitterness of coffee does. There's nothing of the fairy tale about it, or of the Boy's Own adventure, as there is about Ministry of Fear.
If the reality of film noir is a cloud of disturbing illusion, the cloud suddenly materialized before the eyes of someone I knew years ago. We were both working as ushers at a small suburban movie theater in the US. One night when the other boy had the last shift and was cleaning up after the show, he took out the trash -- and found three respectable-looking corpses in the parking lot. Two were those of a man and a woman who had been to the movies together. The third was that of the woman's husband. All had been shot to death with the husband's gun.
What I felt when I heard about that incident is akin to the feeling I get from film noir. In any film, a crime of passion may be shocking and tragic. In film noir, as in reality, it's also mesmerizingly sordid. We're repelled and transfixed with equal force. It's as if we had forgotten that this mortal world is a world of sin, and then a corner of the social cover had been turned back to remind us. We wouldn't want to see such a sight, really -- and yet we wonder how the bodies looked. And had that usher seen the lovers in the theater lobby when they were still people and not yet bodies? Probably so, even if he didn't remember it. Imagine that! And what state did the dead leave their homes in? Somebody had to go in and sort things out. Even if it was somebody who loved them, the work must have been a drag. In reality, we may actually think such thoughts. We don't think them while watching film noir, because we know it's make-believe (having been around a bit ourselves), but we're put in the mood for thinking them.
Finally, here's a personal list of films that define film noir better than my words can. I've arranged them in the order in which they most strongly represent the "film noir family" to me. Other lists will be welcome.
Out of the Past (1947)
More rural scenery than usual, but alarmingly infested with urbanites.
Crossfire (1947)
Visual and moral gloom that's almost opaque, eerily illuminated by a scene with Paul Kelly.
Force of Evil (1948)
Genuine tragedy, genuinely noir.
Double Indemnity (1944)
Self-assured self-corruption in the gun-toting middle class.
The Enforcer (1951)
A story of crime-busting rather than moral rot, but dominated by the criminal element.
Also:
The Woman in the Window (1944)
This is on the polite fringe of the film noir world and could even be seen as a pastiche of it, but the noir atmosphere does become intense.
As for Ministry of Fear, I own a copy of it and enjoy watching it. I can't get enough of its fortune-telling, its séance, its secret menace, or its intrepid hero in the person of Ray Milland. It's just that I think those things add up to a thriller, not a work of film noir.