‘Nightmare Alley’: A Spurious Noir
Guillermo Del Toro’s Nightmare Alley is a carnival ride - fun, creepy, and always about to go off the rails. But it also serves as a sort of carnival trick, its star-studded cast serving as a distraction from a number of tonal miscalculations. To pay close enough attention is to be impervious to its gimmick. This is a noir film, and don’t expect to forget that about it. It seems to bang its shins on every coffee table in the genre - leaning into it a bit too much here or missing an opportunity there. Classic noir films - Casablanca, for instance - have a high rewatchability quotient and they tend to age like wine. And while there are parts of Nightmare Alley that tell a compelling story, this story is lynched to a character that isn’t. It makes it a bit more painful, knowing how much fun could’ve been had.
The film simmers in that noir-mystique marinade the whole time, checking all of the classic boxes; the piercing sounds of a struck match, the innumerate conversations in dimly lit rooms, and the soundtrack all conspired to be a little too much at times. Contrarily, there are passing moments that felt much more appropriate. About 15 minutes in, a contortionist dances on a stage as an unnamed protagonist wanders around his new community and into the frame. This dance is offputting, the man resembling a demon from a horror flick. The optic is nonetheless underscored with a lighthearted banjo - one of the uncommon moments in Nightmare Alley that was not accompanied by old-timey, 40’s blues music from a sonophone. A moment that, had it been recognized as an opportunity to express the style of the film, would’ve made fertile soil for such expression - the jarring, bendy movements a nod to the eerily enchanting posture of the movie itself.
Instead, that mystique is baked into the story - a tale about people who are only looking out for themselves, deception at every turn, all dipped in sex. The script is mostly clever, aside from a couple of lines, like Zeena’s (Tone Collette) “Tarot….very powerful stuff” as Del Torro and writing partner Kim Morgan foreshadow in a way that felt too deliberate. Or perhaps it was Guillermo’s decision to have her read it almost directly into the camera that made it feel this way. The cinematography was applaudable as well, Dan Laustsen really captured a beautiful story. The lighting is intoxicating - the moonlight pouring into the window of the therapist’s office, for instance. Appropriately, a lot of silhouetted characters - literally lurking in the shadows. There is a shot in the film where Cooper’s character is burying some dead chickens in a field and a Ferris Wheel can be seen some far-away distance behind him. It's dusk, and we get the shot in a low-to-high angle that might be among the finest frames I’ve ever seen in a movie.
The acting could’ve been better. Cooper never convinced me that he was anybody specific, and the audience is never let in on who Stanton Carlisle really is. And if this was Del Toro’s aim, then the ambiguity should’ve been played to more as well. “He loved that watch. That was his pride, my father” - one of Cooper’s lines that were delivered as though it were a cold-read. There just wasn’t a whole lot of intention between the lines, and we all know how good he can be. Cate Blanchett did a notable job as Dr. Lilith Ridder, adding the ‘elegant, mendacious and seductive’ spice that has been in the recipe for generations. Think Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct (1992).
Nightmare Alley was also about 40 minutes too long. I think if Guillermo Del Torro had let this one roast in the editing room for a while longer, allowing some meat to fall off the bone, the film would have been given time to reveal where the stylistic choices really belonged. It is not uninteresting, at least. A dark tale about a grifter, walking on thin ice and figuring he may as well dance.