Jamie, Joseph, & Crispin

Discuss “teen-noir” and its capacity to portray the “underside of the American Dream” (Dussere,16) through its use of suburban space as zones of “noir ruination,” and sites of “consumerism and deviance,” (Klein,295) in relation to Brick (2005), The Chumscrubber (2005), and River’s Edge (1986).

It seems these days the word ‘noir’ can be used as a suffix for just about any sub-genre, or style, of film. As characterising film noir is such a arduous task, for the purpose of this essay, the term shall be used in reference to films which “portray the underside of the American Dream” [Dussere,16]. While only applicable to a relatively minor collection of films, ‘teen-noir’, and its dominant location, American suburbia, form the basis of this essay in respect to its capacity to illustrate the dark side of the American Dream, in terms of spaces portrayed as zones of “noir ruination,” and sites of “consumerism and deviance” [Klein,295]. The unravelling of the American Dream will be explored through Brick (Rian Johnson,2005), The Chumscrubber (Arie Posin, 2005), and River’s Edge (Tim Hunter,1986).


These three films offer up so much for discussion in terms of noir, neo-noir, postmodern-noir, or any number of noir related compounds, that, for fear of doing injustice to the films and their filmmakers, before I begin I must express my regret at being able to focus only on the use of space to create both a critique, and an exposition of the American way of life as “citizen-consumers” [Dussere,18].


The idea of a relationship existing between ‘teen-noir’ and suburbia is certainly not an entirely novel suggestion, as Klein argues, “the prototype for suburban noir in cinema is probably Rebel Without A Cause (1955), since so many of these stories involve teenagers in a state of rage” [298]. The ‘mystery’ which teen ‘detectives’, like their noir forefathers Philip Marlowe and Sam Spade, attempt to solve is one of identity, not only questions of ‘who killed who?’, ‘who stole what?’, ‘who has the drugs?’, but the all important coming of age question which has doggedly plagued noir protagonists, and teenagers throughout history: ‘who am I?’


The three films, Brick, The Chumscrubber, and River’s Edge, all feature what are loosely classified as traditional noir conventions – an alienated male protagonist, a femme fatale like character, excessive violence, obscured and hidden identities, mystery, and at least one dead body showing up within the first five minutes of each film to get the main narrative plot started. However, as mentioned above, these teen-noir films differ from their predecessors as they pack up and move away from the “pulsating nocturnal metropolis of neon signs and dark alleys” [Dimendberg,210] associated with traditional noir cities, and settle into the “tidy little clapboard houses on grassy plots” [Downs,53] that is American suburbia. Although, if you “start scratching the surface…the dirt you find under your fingernails is the same grime you’ll find in any clipjoint,” [Klein,296] behind the domestic facade the gritty and dysfunctional underworld still exists, which is what these films help both visually, and narratively, expose.


It is just as difficult to create a concrete picture of exactly what the American Dream entails/ed, as it is to pin down a definitive characterisation for film noir. However, one immediately calls to mind stereotypical images of a threat-free existence, success, an abundance of choice, the happy nuclear family, the shiny American branded car, and the house in suburbia with the white picket fence. Whether these images of the American Dream are adequate or correct is irrelevant, for the purpose of this essay they are, what matters is that Brick and River’s Edge show audiences what life is like when this type of dream is only partially achieved, while The Chumscrubber, provides insight into the ”dark side of savage capitalism;” [Dussere,16] what lurks just beneath the surface of those, apparently, already living out the American Dream.


The three films all feature a site of “noir ruination” which is not a physical space at all, even though it is actually reflected by one onscreen; it is the family unit and, by association, the family home. “The suburb is a world of dysfunctional working-class families,” [Klein,297] who generally try and hide “the disintegration of family…and especially [the consequence of] the absent father” [Jackson,151].


This idea helps explain the “syndrome of alienation and aimlessness… depicted in River’s Edge” [Levy,198], especially in the attitudes of brothers Matt (Keanu Reeves) and Tim (Joshua Miller). “Living empty and meaningless lives…[their] father has disappeared, [and their] mother…cares more about her dope than her children,” [Levy,246] their family unit is in ruins. Upon finding Tim and his friend shooting at shrimp in a bucket Matt asks “Why are you two such delinquents” to which his brother smugly replies, “Because of our fucked up childhood.” This lack of stability and permanence in the boy’s lives is reflected in their transient ‘home’ by the sliding glass door to their backyard which is never closed, even during one scene which takes place in the middle of the night. There is no security or refuge as people are free to walk in, and more importantly, walk out of the lives of the family, as they choose, leaving the boys with no single suitable male figure on which to base themselves.


While all the family units in The Chumscrubber experience and express some type of disconnection or breakdown, it is Johnsons and the Bratleys, who live across the street from each other on “Sunnycrest”, who provide the most tangible examples of the breakdown physically reflected by their homes. Over at the Johnson’s, despite Troy (Joshua Janowicz) having such a large house he could’ve shared with his mother (Glenn Close), no mention is ever made in the film of Troy’s father, he chose to live out in the small backyard cabana, no longer even redising in the same building as his mother. After repeating throughout the film to friends and neighbours, “I just thought you should know that, in no way whatsoever, do I blame you for Troy's death,” his mother tears down the final remains of the perfect pearl-wearing suburban housewife ideal she has been upholding at Troy’s memorial finally admitting; “It's all my fault. I didn't even know him.” Despite benefiting from ‘Terri’s Interior Visions’, Teri Bratley’s (Rita Wilson) home expresses nothing but the emptiness of her consumer driven life. In an early scene Terri arrives home and goes about her tasks the camera remains in one place, but pulls back rather slowly to reveal nothing more than an increasingly large and decidedly empty space, as she walks in and out of frame, talking to no-one but herself.


“1250, Vista Blonka, the ink blotter, on the desk in the den, in the basement, of the house with the tacky mailbox” is Brendan Frye’s (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), description of The Pin’s (Lukas Haas) house in Brick. There is no cohesion in the house, both mother and son aim for their own vision of the American Dream but neither really succeeds. In the kitchen the Pin’s mother (Reedy Gibbs), aims for small-town America with a bowl of cornflakes and milk, and “country-style” apple juice served in a “little country glass”, while her son, with his almost surreal, Lynchian basement office with the very low ceiling, wood panelling, plush carpet, and chair which is far too small for the tall black cloaked, cane clutching, Kingpin of capitalism the Pin aims to be, aims for business successes. The two rooms of one house seem completely different locations, just as his mother seems to have no idea of her son’s standing in the local teen drug community as she kisses him on the cheek as if he were just anybody’s little boy.


“A car was status, freedom, and personal identity,” [Downs,95] and more just than what it stood for individually, it became a symbol of the American Dream. The car as a symbol in these teen-noirs certainly holds as an ideal of the American Dream, and as such as an example of “consumerism and deviance” in terms of what the car represents to others, and what it means to the owner. Layne’s (Crispin Glover) car in River’s Edge is a beat up piece of junk, an old Volkswagen beetle, a foreigner, but as Layne reiterates “It’s my car”, in the “consumer space” [Dussere,18] of America it is better to have a piece of junk then to have nothing at all, there is the insatiable need to own, to be an owner. The downside to this dream of ownership is that it makes owner and possessions complicit with one another, so ultimately you are left with nothing. Layne’s ownership of a car, and his position as (self-appointed?) group leader, sees him insist “none of you know what’s going on,” while in reality his attempts to protect Samson (Daniel Roebuck) in the hope of maintaining group loyalty, stability, and keeping some notion of his own dream alive, are completely misguided.


The cars of Tug (Noah Fleiss), and Billy (Justin Chatwin), the character sources of violence in Brick and The Chumscrubber respectively, may on the surface look like shining examples of cars upholding the American Dream, but under further scrutiny these ideals no longer seem so idyllic. Tug’s black Mustang is sleek and successful looking, but underneath it is simply a fast and out of control machine, representative of Tug himself. Meanwhile Billy’s green Chevy Blazer is big, loud, and intimidating, another not so encouraging reflection of its owner, and the greater American society of ‘citizen-consumers’ at large. The Pin’s decadent van with the superfluous table lamp is nothing more than a reflection on the want for material objects people don’t actually need.


When discussing the American Dream and the specific iconic American frames of reference there is of course the “most distinctly American consumer space, the supermarket” [Dussere,18]. All three films deal with the idea of consumerism and by association capitalism and its darkside in varying ways, but always using space to discredit these icons.


“This was the best of all possible worlds,” the opening narration of The Chumscrubber claims, “but even they needed a little help.” “The supermarket, massive and materialistic” [Dussere,19] of the people of the “Hillside Communities” actually exists in the school grounds, managed by Troy, as the teenagers need to purchase and consume drugs to maintain their state of “Carefree Living”. Upon his suicide the school, and indeed the suburban community, is thrown out of “balance”, they are unable to cope without their supermarket, the system of supply and demand that this version of the American Dream has advocated for so long breaks down.


The ‘Stop N Go’ and the ‘Beer, Wine & Liquor’ convenience stores frequented by the characters in River’s Edge suggest there is a need not only for consumers to have the product they want, but that there is a great emphasis on the now of it. There is an insatiable need to have everything now, Samson’s use of the gun at the ‘Stop N Go’ is not only an expression of the increasingly destabilisation of his mind, but also of the American Dream his society has instilled in him that everything can be his when he wants it. When want outweighs wait there is nothing left to do but take.


There is the well worn phrase someone, or something, is as “American as apple pie”. Brick takes this icon and reveals the other side of this much worshipped image. In one single scene the film succeeds in visually determining the dark side of the American Dream and the cracks in a consumer driven society. Brendan is sent to the store “Coffee And Pie, Oh My” to find Dode (Noah Segan). The front of the store is established in a single stable shot; very clean, straight lines, lace curtains hang in the windows, green bushes surround it. The audience is given a picture of small town middle America, accompanied by a hillbilly banjo on the soundtrack. This whole serene tone dissolves completely when the camera moves behind the facade to the rear of the store, as the dark side of this particular American Dream is revealed. Local youths, stoners, undesirables, are lurking behind the store, not even really lurking, simply existing, but just beyond the sight of the Dream. To enter into what is essentially Dode’s ‘office’ Brendan must pass through a ‘doorway’ formed by two trash dumpsters, where he finds Dode sitting on his ‘throne’: an overturned shopping cart. The idyllic illusion of the American Dream, capitalism, and consumerism all destroyed in one short scene, in one small film.


Teen-noir provides a perfect example of what Marc Auge would describe as “non-places”. The idea of being a teenager is essentially being trapped in a non-place, it is a transient state, fully of uncertainty and confusion between the innocence of childhood and the importance of adulthood. These non-places are represented in these films as public places which are strangely deserted, even during daylight hours, especially noticeable in Brick and River’s Edge. Parks, arcades, schools, carparks, roads, football fields, are all places where people should rightly be but these films express them as empty, just like the houses of The Chumscrubber, people are vaguely existing there, but not living.


Noir, and indeed the video game/cartoon rendering of the Chumscrubber as a character, provide “an abiding, underground American character as resistance to the mainstream consumer culture” [Dussere,18]. The Chumscrubber says during the opening of his television show: “One morning, I awoke to find my head was no longer attached to my body. I'm not dead, but who could call this a life?” The metaphor of the teenager who has lost his head but continues on anyway is one which resonates well not only with the teenagers in ‘reel’ life, but also with their ‘real’ counterparts. The Chumscrubber is the antithesis of the American Dream, his success is in loss, devoid of goals and dreams; he just is. He only exists because his capitalist society was destroyed, and while in his world he despises the source of his downfall, ironically, in the outside world, he himself has become an image to be consumed, a commodity to be traded by all the teenagers in the film. The headless teen symbol is prevalent in the world of the teenagers throughout the film; dolls, t-shirts, hats, video games, posters, comic books, television shows, and even in Dean’s recurring hallucination of Troy. The Chumscrubber’s final scene quite literally shows the destruction of the American Dream in suburbia. The Chumscrubber walks through the ‘real’ world and overlooks the “Carefree Living” of “Hillside Communities” from the ridge. The image of suburban bliss flickers from real to virtual, to real to half deconstructed virtual homes, to real to foundations of the virtual, to a blank virtual landscape as the camera zooms out further and further. The archetypal suburbia is revealed, and then reduced, to nothing more than a myth created by technology. The final voiceover narration of the film serves as either a warning, or a promise to teenagers and society in general, he won’t let our world be destroyed the way his was out of a greed for power. “So I will do what I have to in this city of freaks and subhuman creatures, and this time I will not be ignored. I am The Chumscrubber.”


Noir can be a lot of things, and mean even more. Personally teen-noir serves as a “surreal cautionary tale about an alienated youth forced to confront the disconnection between parents and teenagers in suburbia”. Although this quote refers directly to The Chumscrubber, having been taken from the back cover of the dvd case, it effectively sums up the aim of noir in general, to serve as a warning, against closing your eyes and succumbing to the American Dream, against capitalism, against becoming a ‘citizen-consumer’, it doesn’t matter. But, like all noir, it asks the audience to be careful of who, or what, they trust.


REFERENCES:

• Auge M, 1995, Non Places Introduction to an Anthropology of Supermodernity, Verso, New York.
• Dimendberg E, 2004, ‘Simultaneity, The Media Environment and the end of Film Noir’ in Film Noir and the Spaces of Modernity, Cambridge University Press, London.
• Downs H, 1998, The American Dream, The 50s, Time Life Inc, USA.
• Dussere E, 2006, ‘Out of the Past: Into the Supermarket’, in Film Quarterly, Fall, vol 60, no.1.
• Jackson K, 1986, Images of Children in American Film, Scarecrow Press, New Jersey.
• Klein N, 1997, The History of Forgetting: Los Angeles and the Erasure of Memory, Verso, London.
• Levy E, 1991, Small Town America In Film, Continuum, New York.


FILMOGRAPHY:

• Brick, 2005, Rian JOHNSON, USA, Bergman Lustig Productions.
• Rebel Without A Cause, Nicholas RAY, USA, Warner Brothers.
• River’s Edge, 1986, Tim HUNTER, USA, Hemdale Film.
• The Chumscrubber, 2005, Arie POSIN, USA, El Camino Pictures.