Ahearne, writing before many of the earliest noirs from the early 30s were available (his essay pre-dates THE FRENCH HAD A NAME FOR IT festivals by at least five yeara) is not aware of the purely European sources for French noir (Georges Simenon, Dostoevsky, etc.) but does provide an intriguing linkage for how Luchino Visconti became aware of James M. Cain's The Postman Always Rings Twice (which, of course, led to his compelling Ossessione).
on 10/9/2025, 1:43 pm
https://medium.com/p/eaa01d86163d
It's a good article, a bit too colloquial in its current form to make into established on-line (or academic print) publications, but it's encouraging to see a greater open-mindedness toward precepts concerning the true history of film noir as a path first fully formed in France.
Beckett has not made the connection to the earliest examples of French noir, following instead the footsteps of William Ahearne (who cribs from the pioneering Charles O'Brien) to trace the French noir of the later 1930s. A look at Ahearne's take on O'Brien's research can be found at this link:
https://www.williamahearn.com/streetsparis.html
Here is an except from Beckett's essay, focusing in on the escalating noir sensibility and technical approach in Carné's late 1930s films:
It is the careful balance between these romantic elements and the film’s crime plot, alongside its dreamy formal attributes and its bluntly bleak philosophies, that makes Port of Shadows a pretty overpowering film. Just as Carne’s Daybreak (aka Le jour se leve) predated a film like Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane in its vivid cinematographic techniques, here Carne is somehow also early in getting to almost all of the key elements of what would become film noir just under a decade later. Marking himself once more as a director ahead of his time, Carne’s film is a work of stunning beauty. There is a rhythm to it, a poise and elegance that feels both at odds with and beautifully suited to the often nasty world of Port of Shadows, a film full of memorable visuals which emphasise the overbearing feeling of characters wandering blindly towards their brutal fates. That connection between fate and Carne’s visuals can be seen in one particular sequence when one character prepares to leave Le Havre for his own safety. He stops to say goodbye to another character, and one shot drags the viewer’s attention away from the characters and instead to a door as it closes on them. It is immediately clear, in that one image of a closing door, that these characters are doomed, that their fates have caught up with them in this exact moment.
Carne’s ability to communicate so much by choosing to emphasise an image that usually would mean very little points out his mastery of cinematic technique. His ability to evoke intense moods, to create grounded characters and to submerge them in such a gritty atmosphere is brilliant to witness. Port of Shadows is a film as beautiful as it is tragic, its immersive visual style matched by the Shakespearean qualities of its plot which sits back as its characters all walk themselves blindly towards their ends. Its emotional catharsis is particularly intense for a film released in the 1930s, with the film’s climax still deeply moving today due to Carne’s seemingly intuitive ability to know precisely what to focus on narratively and visually. The end of the film does not place us with any of the key characters--instead, Carne find a way to emotionally gut-punch his audience one last time by focusing on one element that, up to this point, was seemingly innocuous.
Port of Shadows is a wonderful film, not only impressively made but also bound to leave a lasting impression on its viewer. His characters are well realised, the direction is stunning, the performances are relatively minimal but strong and certain moments are likely to linger in memory permanently. It boasts almost everything that any great film could want--a dense atmosphere, a gripping storyline, strong characters and beautiful visuals. All of this, almost 80 years ago!
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