High Sierra A Death in Futility :The epilogue of the hero gangster

THE SHOOTING STAR THE DEATH OF IDEALS AND ASPIRATIONS; THE END IS A FUTILE DEATH AND THE DREAM IS QUASHED

High Sierra A Death in Futility :The epilogue of the hero gangster
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/High_Sierra_(film
)
http://movies.nytimes.com/movie/review?_r=1&res=990DE7DC163AE33BBC4D51DFB766838A659EDE&oref=slogin


http://filmsnoir.net/film_noir/a-shooting-star-the-noir-dialectic.html/comment-page-1#comment-7374
As a matter of fact—and aside from the virtues of the film itself—it is rather touching to behold the Warners pay such a glowing tribute, for no one has made a better thing out of the legendary gangster than they have. No one has greater reason to grow nostalgic about the bad boys of yesterday who, as one of the characters in "High Sierra" reverently remarks, are "all either dead or doing time now in Alcatraz." So, indeed, we are deeply moved by this honest payment of respects to an aging and graying veteran of the Nineteen Thirty banditti who makes his last stand his best. Somehow, it seems quite fitting.
Of course, that is exactly the way the Warners and every one concerned intended it should seem. For the story which is told is that of a notorious hold-up man who is sprung out of an Illinois prison by an old gangland pal who wants him in California for a big job. But the gunman has got some ideas about freedom and the joy of living. He wants to marry a simple little girl he meets on the road heading West; he wants to do good things because, you see, he really has a good heart.
Well, you know what that means. It's just as old "Doc" Banton tells him ("Doc" being the quack who tends "Big Mac"). He says, "Remember what Johnny Dillinger said about guys like you and him; he said you're just rushing toward death—that's it, you're rushing toward death." And that's the truth. For the big holdup job gets messed up by a couple of "jitterbugs" who are assisting on it, the girl turns out a great disappointment, the gunman is rendered a fugitive with a moll and a dog who love him and finally he is brought to bay on that peak in the High Sierras. And there he dies gallantly. It's a wonder the American flag wasn't wrapped about his broken corpse.
As gangster pictures go, this one has everything?—speed, excitement, suspense and that ennobling suggestion of futility which makes for irony and pity. Mr. Bogart plays the leading role with a perfection of hard-boiled vitality, and Ida Lupino, Arthur Kennedy, Alan Curtis and a newcomer named Joan Leslie handle lesser roles effectively. Especially, is Miss Lupino impressive as the adoring moll. As gangster pictures go—if they do— it's a perfect epilogue. Count on the old guard and Warners: they die but never surrender.

from the blog:

Seen a shooting star tonightAnd I thought of youYou were trying to break into another worldA world I never knewI always kind of wonderedIf you ever made it throughSeen a shooting star tonightAnd I thought of you
Seen a shooting star tonightAnd I thought of meIf I was still the sameIf I ever became what you wanted me to beDid I miss the mark or overstep the lineThat only you could see?Seen a shooting star tonightAnd I thought of me
Listen to the engine, listen to the bellAs the last fire truck from hellGoes rolling byAll good people are prayingIt’s the last temptation, the last accountThe last time you might hear the sermon on the mountThe last radio is playing
Seen a shooting star tonightSlip awayTomorrow will beAnother dayGuess it’s too late to say the things to youThat you needed to hear me saySeen a shooting star tonightSlip away
Bob Dylan – Shooting Star (©1989 Special Rider Music)
To my mind, if there is a noir dialectic it is Nietzsche vs. Redemption: the death of God vs. the rebirth of God; chaos vs. meaning. A metaphysical tension between despair and hope. In one of the great noir novels, ‘High Sierra’ by W. R. Burnett, a shooting star is a metaphysical event. Midway through the novel, the existential anti-hood Roy Earle, a guy “just rushing toward death”[1], sees a shooting star one night.
They all stood up and stared. They heard people calling to each other in the little settlement beyond the court. A woman screamed shrilly. Low in the sky and moving slowly eastward, parallel with the earth, was a huge flaming ball of green and white fire…
“Look how slow it’s moving and how bright it is,” said Velma. “Do you suppose it will hit the earth?” She was standing close to Roy. He reached down and took her hand. Her fingers clung. “Oh, but it’s scary.”
“Now, don’t you worry, honey,” said Pa, his voice trembling slightly. “It will go right on past.” Then, with a laugh, he added: “I hope.”
Roy laughed, too, but he didn’t feel like laughing. His old sense of insecurity returned. This might be the end of the world. Barmy said that stars and planets sometimes smashed into each other and busted all to hell. Just a puff of smoke and you’d be gone! He held Velma’s hand tightly.
“Look,” said Pa, “she’s spluttering. Don’t I hear a noise?”
They all stood listening, straining their ears. There was a roaring hiss, then the meteor flared up and went out. They all waited for it to hit, but nothing happened. In a moment the meteor appeared again far to the east, very low on the horizon and moving much faster, vanishing finally behind a high point in the desert floor.
Velma took her hand away and laughed.
But Roy’s rush towards death is unchecked, and at the end Roy is shot dead by a cop’s bullet.
Finally he was at the summit. He sat down and put his back against a big rock. He waited for a long time with his machinegun held in front of him, but nothing happened. He relaxed and lit a cigarette.
“My God, what a place!” Roy muttered. He bent over to look, but jerked back suddenly as a wave of dizziness swept over him. A thousand feet below he had seen Sutler’s Lake, like a silver dollar embedded in green velvet. “Baby, am I up there!”
He heard a strange flapping sound and looked up. A huge bird was flying over him, headed toward the abyss—an eagle!
“Brother,” said Roy, watching the eagle’s lazy effortless flight over the terrible chasm, “I wish I had wings!”…
Time passed. The sun began to get low in the sky and the giant peaks turned golden, then red. The big eagle flew lazily back across the chasm, sailed over Roy’s head, then disappeared above him up among the rocks.
Suddenly a voice shouted: “Earle! Come down. This’s your last chance.”
“Nuts to you, copper,” said Roy, leaning forward.
There was a short silence, then far off to Roy’s right a rifle cracked.
At first he sat without moving. The gun didn’t even fall out of his hands. The rifle cracked again and the echoes rolled off sharply, bouncing from rock to rock. Roy stood up, threw the machine-gun away from him, mumbled inarticulately, then fell forward on his face…
… It was all over now. He was falling down that black abyss. Suddenly a huge green and white ball of fire swept across in front of him and a hand reached out and took his hand. But the hand was not little and soft as it had been that other time. It was lean and firm. Marie! The hand checked his fall.
[1] John T. Irwin, Unless the Threat of Death Is Behind Them: Hard-Boiled Fiction and Film Noir (©2006 The Johns Hopkins University Press) p.116Read more: http://filmsnoir.net/film_noir/a-shooting-star-the-noir-dialectic.html#ixzz1DI74ToRS Under Creative Commons License: Attribution