The ‘Air-Tight’ Atmosphere: Urban Transportation as Liminal Space in
Strangers on a Train (1950) and Ascenseur pour l'échafaud (1958)
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This article argues that, in the novel Strangers on a Train (1950) and the film noir Elevator to the Gallows (1958), the urban transportation—the train and the elevator in particular—is constructed as a symbolic space in the context of liminality. In Victor Turner’s terms, ‘liminality’ refers to an ‘essentially ambiguous and unsettling’ transitional phase during which individuals are positioned at ‘a no-place and no-time that resists classification’. [1] Therefore, the temporal state of being in-between ‘two dominant spaces’ contributes to defining trains and elevators as liminal spaces.[2]
In the novel, Guy Haines’ psychology and emotions are strongly attached to the enclosed train. Similarly, the on-screen elevator symbolises Julien Tavernier’s anxiety and life entrapment, suggesting a sense of inescapability. Therefore, it is important to understand the relationship between the protagonists and the liminal spaces by comparing the train scene with the lift scene. Further, drawing on the idea of absurdity, the essay aims to develop an understanding of the connection between the threshold spaces and the philosophical visions in the literary noir and the film.
As liminal spaces, the train and the elevator are doubly constructed in both scenes. Not only do they function as a medium to physically transmit Haines and Tavernier but they also symbolise their problematic situations. Firstly, Haines’ train takes him on a journey to divorce his wife Miriam, and at the same time, it contains his hope of planning a new life with his lover Anne. Similarly, Tavernier’s lift carries his mission of tidying up the almost-perfect crime, and potentially fulfills his plan of uniting with his lover Florence Carala. In this respect, the sense of ‘almostness’ suggests the doubleness of their entrapment; while they are physically being passive passengers in the spaces, their lives appear to remain at a transformative stage. This further enables the protagonists to relate to the liminal spaces at an emotional level, thus reflecting their psychological states.
One prominent similarity between the two scenes is the concept of optical illusions, which creates a possibility for the reader or the audience to consider and imagine the link between the enclosed space and the protagonists’ inner world. Haines’ initial response to the train is intertwined with his thoughts of Miriam. There is a resonance between his emotions and his visions of the outside world. In his view, the prairie is like a ‘pink-tan blanket’, attacked and ‘casually shaken’ by the train. [3] Feeling the train tears along ‘with an angry rhythm’, his hatred for Miriam seems to be reinforced by the ‘irregular’ vibrations of the train, or in his view, by the ‘undulating prairie’.[4] Haines immediately associates the image of the ‘sullen and cruel’ prairie with Miriam’s ‘pink and tan-freckled’ face. This reveals the author Patricia Highsmith’s attempt to make the train reverse Haines’ views of inner and outer space. Therefore, this establishes a connection between his disturbed sights with his subsequent contemplation of divorcing Miriam—the concerns with ‘money’, his jealousy and hatred of her bearing ‘another man’s child’ and the ‘pleasant explosion’ of his imagined happiness with Anne.[5]
The similar design of optical illusion is also spotted in Louis Malle’s film. It is worth noting that the mixed utilisation of extreme high-angle shots (Fig.1) and extreme low-angle shots (Fig.2) emphasises the protagonist’s entrapment in the liminal space. From the high angle, the camera looks over the dark bottom of the elevator shaft. In the subsequent shot, the low-angle shot particularly captures Tavernier’s movements of descending from the rope. Also, the positioning of the camera essentially makes the scene appear suffocating. The montage of two opposite angles has created an illusion, casting a question for the audience: could Tavernier be hanging from above or remaining at the bottom? At the same time, the contrast between the enclosed concrete walls and Tavernier intensifies his vulnerability, and therefore answers the question: wherever he is positioned, there is little room to escape.
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Fig.1 High angle Fig.2 Low angle
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The sense of inescapability is embedded in the contradiction between mobility and immobility in both scenes. For Haines, the perpetual motion of the train seems to torture him throughout his journey. ‘Stuck’ in the train, even though he checks his wristwatch, the time has become pointless in his view—‘as if it meant anything’.[6] The situation even worsens after Bruno gets on the train and attempts to speak to him. The train ‘was slowing again’ (my italics), causing Haines to retreat from the potential conversation and ‘into the next car’, which is ironically still part of the liminal space. It is interesting to see how Highsmith creates a contradictory situation for Haines. The drawing room seems to be a ‘labyrinth’ within the space, where he first finds himself blocked by ‘suitcases and wardrobe trunks’. [7] In contrast, the train ‘kept on and on in a straight line, like something that would never stop’.[8] Consequently, his anxiety is intensified in such an environment. The facts that ‘there is no place to move in the room’ and that ‘the swaying of the train makes it difficult to stand upright’ together suggest a sense of immobility within the seemingly non-stop vehicle.
Different from Haines’ situation which is the ‘immobility within the mobility’, Tavernier’s one leads to his efforts to realise the ‘mobility within the immobility’. Interestingly, Tavernier’s initial reaction to his entrapment in the elevator is also to read his wristwatch (Fig.3), but apparently the situation leaves him desperate in a space of no-time.
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Fig. 3 Reading the time
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In intensifying Tavernier’s disappointment caused by the failure to escape, Malle applied the Chiaroscuro lighting to the character’s face (Fig.4). The high-contrast lighting and deep shadows direct the audience’s attention to the protagonist’s frightened eyes. Here, the extreme close-up of Tavernier’s face invites the audience to imagine what lies ahead of him in such an air-tight environment. It also foreshadows the ‘unexpected’ mobility of the elevator and his eventual exhaustion.
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Fig. 4 Chiaroscuro lighting Miles Davis' soundtrack for the movie (1958)
In Malle’s film, the paradox between being mobile and not provokes a question about moral ambiguity for the audience. This is especially heightened by the dramatic moment of the scene: While Tavernier is desperate to descend from the traveling cable in order to escape the lift, the elevator is suddenly powered back on from the outside. The music scores by Miles Davis contributes to the pressurising atmosphere within the air-tight space. When Tavernier descends out of his own control, the tempo of the double bass increases with the sound of the cymbal. This symbolises the swift changes of his heartbeat, indicating Tavernier’s anxiety, fear and seemingly imminent death, which leaves both Tavernier and the audience breathless. Knowing that Tavernier has become a murderer, the audience observes his endeavors to escape the elevator with anticipation of his exposure as a killer. However, with the elevator approaching the low-angle camera, the sudden mobility of the space seems to become the Sword of Damocles for Tavernier, which could lead to his death. This also triggers the audience’s sympathy towards him.
Besides the spatial mobility, the interior look of Haines’ train and the mise-en-scene of Tavernier’s lift has reflected the ideas of the imbalance and the doubleness. In the train scene, the imbalance between Haines’ moral resistance and Bruno’s aggression is suggested by the depictions of the interior space. In Haines’ eyes, Bruno’s non-stop persuasion of committing murder makes Bruno become ‘a spirit of evil’ who keeps ‘growing indefinite at the edges’.[9] Simultaneously, the train has also become the evil’s dwelling space where its ‘heaviness’ immediately seizes Haines. [10] As Bruno’s ‘suffocating confidence’ expands, the interior walls seem to present ‘an unbroken surface’, which makes the room look like a ‘little hell’. This hence indicates Haines’ anxiety and powerlessness. Also, Bruno deliberately mentions the simplicity of turning people into murderers: ‘it just takes the least little thing to push them over the brink’.[11] Again, the recurrence of the symbolic moral borders—the ‘brink’ and the ‘edge’—suggests that Bruno’s plan for ‘motiveless’ crimes is disturbing Haines’ moral boundaries. Thus, the moral balance of innocence and evil appears to be violated in such an environment.
More importantly, the repetition of windows and mirrors suggests the spatial representation of the psyche in Freudian psychology. Within the suppressive train, Haines appears to be surrounded by windows and mirrors, which foreshadow his several encounters with his mirrored self. In responding to his own anxiety of divorcing Miriam, he seeks to ‘look out the window’.[12] The action of looking out seems to be his attempt of detaching from the space. However, his reflection in the window symbolises the fact that he has trapped himself among his memories: his disappointment with Miriam and his loneliness and helplessness without Anne. The memories of Miriam and Anne intertwined in Haines’ head, making his mind like an ‘impossible eternal city with buildings superimposed on one another’.[13] As the journey goes on, Haines’ anxiety is heightened by Bruno’s transgressive questions about his marriage. While hearing Bruno’s claim that ‘there’s two kinds of guys’, he catches ‘a glimpse of himself in a narrow panel mirror on the wall’ and his eyes look ‘frightened’.[14] Here, the mirror could be interpreted as Haines’ device to instinctively evaluate himself: what kind of man is he? He and his reflection in the mirror seem to suggest that the ‘two kinds of guys’ could be the same person, which ironically contradicts Bruno’s hateful judgment of women—that they all fall into the only category of being ‘two-timers’.[15]
In Malle’s film, the sense of imbalance and doubleness is achieved through asymmetrical framings and the usage of shadows and reflections. Tavernier is always decentred in the frame, either leaning against or facing the walls. The asymmetrical composition suggests that the character’s uneasiness could be triggered by the space, simultaneously making it possible to present the duality of his identities through the shadows on the wall and his reflection in the elevator panel. Therefore, it is perhaps reasonable to believe the enclosed and unsettling characteristics of the space lead to Tavernier’s transition from ‘hiding his own crime’ to ‘re-evaluating himself’. At the beginning of the entrapment scene (Fig. 5), Tavernier shows his temporal confusion mixed with calmness while facing the sudden suspension of the elevator. The shimmering light in the darkness shows Tavernier’s face and his own shadow, suggesting his identities as a calm Indochina veteran as well as the author of an almost-perfect crime.
The transformation from his initial determination of escaping to the giving-up of plans is shown through the ending of the elevator scene (Fig. 6). It is interesting to see the character firstly turning to his reflection on the elevator panel instead of trying to leave the space. Like Haines, he also carefully reads his reflection in the mirror. The subtle moment, in which he runs his fingers over his tired face, has suggested that the energy of committing the crime, the desires of uniting his love and of escaping the tormenting space are supposedly drained due to his lost battle with the liminal space. The mirror has not only become a device for his self-pity but also likely a tool to awaken his self-awareness. He pities himself for the pointless attempts overnight and questions himself; Is he the victim of the entrapment or did he essentially imprison himself in the liminal space? Even if he can finally escape the elevator, is he still morally trapped by his own crime?
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Fig. 5 Shadow Fig. 6 Reflection
The two liminal spaces are essentially associated with the ideas of pessimism and absurdity. In the ‘underlying mood of pessimism’, the scene of Tavernier’s entrapment presents ‘an overpowering sense of frustration’ because a kind of ‘world weariness’ constrains his every move in the space.[16] The protagonist’s entrapment also invites the audience to reflect on the absurdity of life. Thomas Nagel believes that humans’ life situation becomes absurd when there appears ‘a conspicuous discrepancy between pretension or aspiration and reality’. [17] In fact, Tavernier’s perfect murder plan is affected by his incapability to extricate himself from the situation, and Haines is never able to enjoy his privacy ‘in order to think’.[18] Based on Nagel’s idea of absurdity Sanders further states that, at times, the noir protagonists’ acceptance of the absurdity has shown that the characters are ‘supreme ironists—serious and playful simultaneously’.[19] For both Haines and Tavernier, the aspirations seem unapproachable, and so they have to not only accept the spaces but also battle with their own feelings: hope versus despair, calmness versus anxiety and so on. This exemplifies Nagel’s view that ‘absurdity derives not from a collision between their expectations and the world, but from a collision within themselves’.[20]
Overall, setting the characters in the train and the elevator is a way to achieve the noir aesthetics of intensifying the complexity of the characters’ emotions and the sense of moral ambiguity. The features of the liminal spaces, including the physical structures, atmosphere, and mobility, symbolise the characters’ life situations and psychological states. Through comparing the two scenes, it is firstly important to understand how liminal spaces in the literary noir can be imagined and visualised on screens. Also, it is possible to believe that the dramatic tension between the anxious protagonists and the enclosed spaces convey a sense of absurdity, which satirises noir characters’ pointless endeavours to struggle, therefore attempting to make the audience realise the realistic messages embedded in the scenes.
References:
Primary resources
Elevator to the Gallows, dir.by Louis Malle. (Lux Compagnie Cinématographique de France, 1958)
Highsmith, P., Strangers on A Train. (London: Vintage Books, 1999)
Secondary resources
Dale, K. & Burrell, G., The Spaces of Organization and the Organization of Space: Power, Identity and Materiality at Work. (London: Palgrave, 2008).
Frey, H. ‘Louis Malle and the 1950s: Ambiguities, Friendships and Legacies’, South Central Review, 23(2), (Summer, 2006), pp.22-35
Nagel, T., ‘The Absurd’, The Journal of Philosophy, 68(20). (Oct. 21, 1971), pp. 716-727.
Oliver, K. & Trigo, B., Noir Anxiety, (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota, 2003)
Sanders, S. ‘Film Noir and the Meaning of Life’, The Philosophy of Noir, ed. Mark T. Conard, (Lexington: The University Press of Kentucky, 2007), p.100.
Turner, V., Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors: Symbolic Action in Human Society. (London: Cornell University Press, 1974).
[1] Victor Turner, Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors: Symbolic Action in Human Society. (London: Cornell University Press, 1974), p.274.
[2] Karen Dale & Gibson Burrell, The Spaces of Organization and the Organization of Space: Power, Identity and Materiality at Work. (London: Palgrave, 2008), p.238.
[3] Highsmith, p.7.
[4] Ibid.
[5] Ibid.
[6] Ibid.
[7] Ibid. p.21
[8] Ibid. p.29
[9] Ibid. p.30.
[10] Ibid.
[11] Ibid. p.26
[12] Ibid. p.9
[13] Kelly Oliver & Benigno Trigo, Noir Anxiety, (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota, 2003), p.214.
[14] Ibid. p.24.
[15] Ibid. p.25.
[16] Steven M. Sanders, ‘Film Noir and the Meaning of Life’, The Philosophy of Noir, ed. Mark T. Conard, (Lexington: The University Press of Kentucky, 2007), p.100.
Hugo Frey, ‘Louis Malle and the 1950s: Ambiguities, Friendships and Legacies’, South Central Review, 23(2), (Summer, 2006), p. 23
[17] Thomas Nagel, ‘The Absurd’, The Journal of Philosophy, 68(20), (Oct. 21, 1971), p.718.
[18] Highsmith, p. 11.
[19] Sanders, p.100
[20] Nagel, p.722.
