Conventions of the Thriller in 'Once Upon a Time in America'

Once Upon a Time in America is a powerful American gangster story from the great Sergio Leone, whose roster of films includes the spaghetti westerns featuring Clint Eastwood (the music of which is intertextually referenced in Kill Bill: vol.2). The film in question stars Robert De Niro as Jewish prohibition era bootlegger David ‘Noodles’ Aaronson, once member of a notorious gang along with his childhood friends. In the film we see Noodles’ childhood, his rise to and holding of power in Brooklyn and eventual return in order to face the demons which continue to haunt him.

In the opening scene, Noodles’ apparent girlfriend emerges from the darkness -a darkness seen frequently in the murky light-lacking back alleys of Thrillers- she moves in suspenseful silence toward the bed. She unveils the first defining image of the film, a silhouette of bullet holes, connoting both the violent gang culture of the time and the displacement of Noodles from where he is expected to be. The corrupt and/or incompetent law officials we have learned to expect then arrive, and initiate the indiscriminating violence upon the girl. The willingness to kill and lack of concern for the human life makes us assume the cops share a collective psychopathy. The next scene is ushered in with yet more violence, at levels not normally seen in our naive scope of society, yet in Thrillers this amount of violence is archetypal.   

Conventions of the Thriller in 'Essex Boys'

Essex boys is an archetypal British gang movie released in 2000, based on true events revolving around the death of three drug dealers 5 years prior. The opening scenes begin with a narration from key character Billy (Charlie Creed-Miles) as he prepares to drive psychopathic Essex drug dealer Jason Locke (Sean Bean) to his next victim.

The opening is littered with aspects of the Thriller from the first few seconds. Though the setting may be far closer to home, it still shares conventions with other international Thrillers.

As the titles roll, sinister lines scrape across a black backdrop. These lines appear similar to keying the side of a car, suggesting teenage delinquency. The straight hatching of the strokes also hint imprisonment; brushes with the law are always present in Thrillers. Once the opening credits are done, the narration begins in a hardened Essex twang, associated often with exaggerated brutality in the news - that and Thatcher’s loyal cronies in years passed. The garage doors open into a decrepit hovel of cobwebs and rust, decay of every aspect of life. As Billy wipes the dirt from his van windows, Jason appears through the half-cleaned glass. The filth in which he becomes visible through mirrors his social status and pure lack of morals. The image of the white van is also an ominous and frequent one in the Thriller genre, hinting imminent danger and/or abduction. The abduction comes quickly along with generically raw acts of violence. The seedy activities of violent gangster types culminate at the victim’s dumping on the Essex marshes; the landscape is bleak, dead and featureless, a staple location of Thrillers. Jason’s hapless victim is hurled from the van, still blinded by bombardment by chemicals in the first of many gripping activities; the abandonment and sheer hopelessness of Jason and the roped in Billy’s victim can be found in other Thrillers, following a bleak and unavoidable incident. The character of Billy plays the core role of a fairly innocent young man drawn into the seedy gang culture, who suffers a huge emotional strain for his mistake.

Conventions of the Thriller in The Third Man

 Often regarded as one of the best films ever made, the 1949 classic The Third Man is a perfect example of early film noir. Joseph Cotton stars as Holly Martins, a failing pulp writer called to war-torn Vienna with a job offer by his friend Harry Lime (played by Orson Welles). After Holly arrives, it comes to light that Harry has apparently been killed in a car crash. As he interrogates the witnesses, holes in the story of how (and if) Harry was ran down begin to surface, and Holly starts to suspect that all is not as it seems. With the reluctant help of Harry’s lover, Anna (Alida Valli), Holly delves into the darkest corners of Vienna in a quest to find the truth. Welles’ performance as Harry Lime, much like his various other cinematic appearances, is extremely mem

orable and well-orchestrated. The film won the Grand Prize of the 1949 Cannes Film Festival, the 1950 BAFTA Film award for best British film and the 1951 Oscar for best cinematography in the Black & White category.

The Third Man is a prime example of film noir, and contains various shots displaying conventional characteristics of thrillers, this including the mystery-driven plot. As the film opens to the Third Man Theme on zither, as the initial voiceover from Major Calloway (Trevor Howard) describes the divided city, the seedy goings on about Vienna become clear. A flourishing post-war black market is hinted visually by the iconic image of the selection of watches; illegal and underground activity is at the centre of countless plots in thrillers. The expected plain and unforgiving view of death and violence is also glimpsed from the get-go; a body drifts in the tide beside the river Wien, signifying the dilapidated state of the city.

Apart from content, the shots in the film also subtly connote stereotypical assets of thrillers. The use of angles in Martins and Holloway’s conversation are very effective. The canted angle and over-shoulder pieces clearly show a conversation is taking place, confusion mounting in Holly’s mind. Holly is seen at a low angle to the man on the staircase when he arrives at Harry’s apartment, as he has no grasp of his surroundings or his peers’ languages; he is a stranger in a strange land. Shadows are utilised throughout the film; Harry is presented as if he is the Yang to Holly’s Ying. Shadows and silhouettes appear to follow Holly, constantly watching his investigation. Black comedy is also included in the ever-so-slightly menacing little boy as he chases Anna and Holly through the streets. The most famous sequence is that of the

sewer scene. The city appears to be a maze, Harry darting in and out of crevices like a cornered rodent. The rule of thirds is applied to focus our attention on Harry’s futile attempts to escape, and Chiaroscuro lighting bathes the waterways.

Conventions of the Thriller in 'Kill Bill: Vol.2'

Kill Bill: Vol.2 is renowned cult movie director Quentin Tarantino’s sequel to the insanely over-the-top and highly influential revenge story Kill Bill: Vol.1. At the end of the first film, Uma Thurman as the wronged and rampaging assassin known only as The Bride has narrowed her ‘to kill’ list down after facing off with Lucy Liu, and is swiftly progressing to her primary target, ex-boss Bill (played by David Carradine), but her nemeses will do everything in their power to delay their inevitable reduction to literal blood fountains. And this time The Bride’s daughter is thrown into the mix. Incorporating an intricate set of revealing flashbacks, brutal fight scenes, unforgettable dialogue and intertextual nods to Tarantino’s admired directors, both films have a pride in place on the wall of great Thrillers, with a huge cult following to boot. The sequel bagged two Golden Globe nominations; one for best actress and the other for best supporting role.

The scene analysed in our media course was that of The Bride’s attempt at killing Budd, Bill’s less than desirable redneck brother. But Budd is wittier than we are led to believe, waiting for The Bride’s path of espionage and slaughter to come to his dirt-ridden trailer. The scene inevitably ends in our heroine’s incarceration.

As the scene begins, Budd rolls into view in his rusty old car to the camera. Straight away we as the consumers see the conventions of a Thriller bleed through; a barren and featureless landscape, one where we can be watched from all angles by evil eyes; next, an unsettling image of the car headlights nearing us, applying a sort of morbid anticipation for the danger ahead. The shape comes out from the darkness like some demonic spectre in search of prey; the light and dark chiaroscuro tones also apply, plus the gunk and erosion about the car hint toward the moral decay of such low places in society. As Budd starts to suspect company, he retreats into the trailer -itself a symbol of his ‘loser’ status and seedy activities, ever present in Thrillers- allowing the Bride to rise up from the low and claustrophobic spot where she has hidden. As she prepares to have a stab at Budd, he looks out of his blinds onto the savanna, projecting a cold and artificial light in prison-like bars. He switches on a tape of the Johnny Cash song ‘I Don’t Hurt Anymore’ (oh, the irony!) and waits, shotgun cocked, for The Bride to storm in. Gun beats sword, quite blatantly. What follows is a carefully selected set of dialogue shots to place Uma’s character at a lower level of power, at the mercy of the film’s loser, and difficult spots like these crop up again and again during a Thriller’s run time.



Conventions of the Thriller in 'Witness'

Directed by peter Weir in 1985, Witness is a modern thriller telling the story of an Amish boy (a young Lukas Haas as Samuel) who witnesses a murder. Harrison Ford plays John Book, the cop tasked with protecting Samuel until the trial, who must swiftly go into hiding in the Amish community; else he and Samuel could meet the same fate at the hands of the corrupt figureheads of the police force who committed the crime. The film is revered as one of Ford’s best performances, and is a notable part of the Thriller genre. The film went on to win the Oscar for best editing and best writing.

The particular scene analysed in class was that of the murder witnessed by Samuel, committed by Danny Glover’s character James McFee. It contains many generic conventions of the Thriller.

First of all, the scene in question takes place at 30^th street station, Philadelphia, an iconic symbol of the bustling city life and a setting used in many other movies. A man in the bustling crowd exposes a tattoo on his hand, connoting a form of hidden corruption in the city amongst the high rise buildings and hordes of passersby. Samuel approaches a Jewish man believing that he is Amish, and backs up in disdain when he realises he is mistaken. The multiculturalism of the city is happily present, and the crowded city is a prime setting for s Thriller. When Samuel enters the lavatories, you see another convention of Thriller setting; the seedy nooks and crannies of the city. The toilets are ran down and vandalised, and not a very comfortable place to be in. Suspicious characters line the walls, ready to attack unsuspecting victims and provoke a sense of shock from the audience. When Samuel enters the toilet cubicle, the completely generic presence of claustrophobic spaces arises. All of these factors begin to build tension, until the murder is committed. Thrillers are typically littered with excessive yet believable acts of violence, this scene included. The culprits are also members of the police, as Thrillers tend to contain seemingly innocent villains. As McFee opens the cubicles, we fear for Samuel’s life, the cinematography highlighting his fearful gaze. Another generic point, the hero is presented with impending pain or death, yet manages to escape narrowly at the last minute.



Definition: Femme Fatale

Femme Fatale, French for deadly woman, is the term generally used to describe one of the archetypal female characters in Thriller and Film Noir movies, like the character of Anna in The Third Man. Femme Fatales tend to lure in men with their beauty and seduction, and into a gruesome demise, or danger. They tend never to show affection for the protagonist, and draw him into often fatal situations by driving him to obsession and irrationality.