The following essay contains spoilers for The Big Sleep (1946), The Reckless Moment (1949), and The Big Lebowski (1998).

The Big Sleep​ introduces us to Detective Marlowe (Humphrey Bogart) in a scene where Carmen Sternwood (Martha Vickers) almost immediately throws herself at him. Not too much further into the film a woman working at a store follows suit after talking to Marlowe for all of two minutes. As the stoic, powerful, and isolated male detective, Marlowe attracts the attention of nearly every female character in the film. In doing so, ​The Big Sleep​ illustrates the command Marlowe has over the situation at all times. That is in conjunction with his actual investigative abilities, which receive near equal screen time. If he is not flirting, he is probably making an incredible deduction so casually that you can’t help but be impressed. Marlowe’s character is the blueprint for classical film noir detectives, a mentally sharp and silver tongued man, capable of overcoming any obstacle.

The companion to any such character is the femme fatale. In classic noir, the femme fatale is the detective’s other half, and often serves as one of his greatest mental hurdles in solving the case. Although initially mixed in with all of the other women the detective may encounter, the femme fatale quickly stands out. Oftentimes she will be the one doing the seducing and lead the detective astray. She will have a power and strength of her own, but it will only serve the narrative in regard to the main detective. Over time he will learn to conquer her independence and become immune to her poison. In ​The Big Sleep,​ Vivian Rutledge (Lauren Bacall) fulfills this role, and does just as previously described. She seduces Marlowe, leads him into trouble, he overcomes it, and finally they ride off together.

Then comes ​The Reckless Moment,​ a film that begins to challenge the genre’s foundational approach. With her husband off at war, Lucia Harper (Joan Bennett) must play the role of a protective mother and try to rectify the problem her daughter, Beatrice “Bea” Harper (Geraldine Brooks), creates when she accidentally kills a man. The Reckless Moment​ strips much of the agency away from the male characters. The one doing the investigating is a woman who currently has no husband figure in her life to lean on. She does the negotiating on her own behalf, deals with the police, and tries to scrounge up enough money to satisfy an attempt at blackmail. ​The Reckless Moment​ changed the classic noir structure to allow women to be the ones in control of the narrative.

The Big Lebowski​ further dilutes the original noir style and injects its own changes. Now the male detective has lost his motivation and wit, merely stumbling upon the correct answers. Maude (Julianne Moore) controls her father (introduced as a wealthy figure) through an allowance and uses The Dude (Jeff Bridges) to get herself pregnant. She does all of this without serving the plot, only acting as another attraction for The Dude until the film’s conclusion, where nearly no real progress has occurred since the opening scene. In this iteration of the noir, the male detective has lost his edge, the femme fatale only serves herself, and there is no grand reveal or prize at the end of the mystery.

Over the years the Classical Hollywood film noir has undergone many alterations. Once a genre near solely dedicated to showing off impressive male characters and their glory, it has now opened up. Women are detectives, male sleuths are lazy and bumbling, femme fatales are independent from the investigators, and the big reveal at the end takes a back seat to the journey. None of these changes completely replace the original format, but they open the genre up to a wider variety of stories, allowing more voices to shine and for greater artistic flexibility in the way films tell these tales.

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The following essay contains spoilers for Scarface (1932).

To truly kick off the violence, Hawks employs a shot of a firing Tommy gun laid overtop a flipping calendar. The shots are at half opacity, allowing both to be visible at once. They imply a rampage of violence across time in the most stylish of ways. This brutality culminates in the execution of the lineup of rival gangsters. Facing the wall with their hands above their heads, Tony’s (Paul Muni) gang swiftly guns them down from behind. Again, the audience only sees the men’s shadows, distancing us from the savagery. And to show us the rewards of such actions, Scarface gives us the shot of Tony leaving the theater. Once he decides to rise at intermission, the camera begins to pan to follow his exit, and a staggering number of his men stand in unison to follow. Through this shot the audience understands the immense power Tony now wields. For those affected most by the Great Depression, this represented everything they could not have.

With heavily stylized shots and techniques, Scarface became an outlet of escapism for those stuck in the Great Depression. Even though its titular character meets his demise in the end, unable to escape his wrongdoings forever, the grandiose life he managed to live prior to his death seemed worth it to those with no success of their own.

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The scene, and especially the background, has low-key lighting and a multitude of shadows (a staple of film noir). However, when the waitress moves from the foreground to the background to serve another patron, she also turns on a light positioned to appear as if over Marlowe’s head. The newfound light illuminates the background behind the pondering detective, casting away the shadows. Coinciding with the light’s arrival, Marlowe’s search for an idea ends and he heads to the phone to call General Sternwood (Charles Waldron), and winds up conversing with Vivian Rutledge (Lauren Bacall) instead. Hawks follows Marlowe’s movement with a panning shot to show the connection between the idea and the action, and the urgency it demands.

The shift in lighting symbolizes the formation of the thought in Detective Marlowe’s mind, and does it so evidently that it breaks the rules of Classical Hollywood Style. Classical Hollywood Style calls for invisible filmmaking and editing, in the hope audiences forget they are watching a movie. Hawks’ much more stylized approach to lighting in The Big Sleep ignores that convention and helps cement him as a legitimate auteur in the eyes of film critics. Not only do his films spanning many genres carry similar motifs, but they also carry the director’s mark. By breaking both Hollywood and genre conventions, Hawks proves himself to be more than simply another cog in the studio system.

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