The Genre That Never Sleeps…
By Reyshan Parker
A History of American Cinema
Now that we know where American film noir received its influences and what exactly is required of the genre, let’s now take a hard look at how American filmmaking utilized this new style. “Critics tend to identify the classic noir period as falling between 1941 and 1958, beginning with John Huston’s The Maltese Falcon and ending with Orson Welles’s, Touch of Evil.” In order to understand popularity of these films it is important to look at the social state of the country during film noirs rise to prominence. The country had been through many hard times leading up to this new surge in creative filmmaking, this can all be summed up as follows,
“The influx of German émigrés and the influence of expressionism; the influx of French émigrés and the influence of existentialism; Ernest Hemingway and the “hard boiled” school of writing; Edward Hopper and the “ash can” school of painting; Prewar photojournalism, wartime newsreels and postwar neorealism; the creators of Kane—Citizens Mankiewicz, Toland and Welles; the Wall Street crash and the rise of populism; the second world war and the rise of fascism; the cold war and the rise of McCarthyism . . . general American fears about bureaucracy, the bomb and the big city . . . the industrialization of the female workforce during the war and the escalating corporatism of American capital throughout the Forties.”
It was a mixture of all these things that pushed the American Psyche to look at and accept this new darker reality, in which the dream of equality was not a reality. A place where the things we normally looked past in our naiveté needed brought forth to the big screen. A place where the underlying mood of the country could be viewed as outside of oneself, yet could still fully identify with the psychological undertones in relation to their own existence. Yet still having the reassurance that one could walk away from that world and feel better about the lives they were living.
The exact attributes of the classic era involve:
“1. Chiaroscuro lighting (or low key lighting)
2. Screenplays set in urban milieus filmed mostly at night.
3. Frequent images of water and reflections of street life.
4. Inverted Frames (cameras held diagonally and/or vertically, reflecting the inner thoughts of the protagonist.)
5. Very complex and convoluted plots usually expressed in a voice over by a central character, a detective or femme fatale who ‘flashes back to the past’”
These attribute were created and defined not only as artistic decisions but financial ones as well. After World War II studios flourished and were spending lavish amounts of money on their productions. So much so, that smaller studios could not compete with lavish production design, chorus lines, and musicals that Hollywood was cranking out. This led to the emergence of the “B” movies, which were produced by independent studios and where film noir flourished. Because of the basic structure and attributes of film noir’s they were extremely cheap to produce and market.
“Since simplicity was the hallmark of such productions, mood pieces set against the darkened city streets, with illumination frequently provided by the flashing neon light of a cheap hotel or bar, studios could hold down budget costs and frequently shoot films entirely on the lot using cheap sets…. Noir vehicles provided an exciting mano a mano competition in which smaller studios could more readily compete against the giants.”
It was due to these frugal expenditures that the smaller studios such as RKO were able to get by. They did this by mastering the noir model and creating “lean and mean” films that were filled with compelling characters and plot structures. Eventually the studios would take notice and other independent companies who made many of the low and modestly budgeted noirs would often contract their films out to larger distributers such as MGM and Universal.
“Between the end of the thirties and 1946 the number of independent production companies in operation had risen to in excess of forty, a number that was to escalate rapidly during the following decade. This was due in part, at least in the early forties, to the free market provisions of the Consent Decree whereby each film, irrespective of budget, was now competing on an individual basis. There was a need in the lower budget end of the market “to carve out identifiable and distinctive styles” in order to differentiate the product from that of the established A feature production units at the eight big studios.”
This is how actress, Ida Lupino, established herself as the sole female director in Hollywood during the late 1940s and 1950s. She directed, The Hitch-Hiker (1953), under her production company, “The Filmakers”, that was then distributed by RKO. It is said to be one of the seven classic film noirs that was not produced by major studios and was selected for the United States National Film Registry. The others include a small-studio release, Detour, and four of the others were United Artists productions; Gun Crazy; Kiss Me Deadly; D.O.A. (1950), directed by Rudolph Maté; and Sweet Smell of Success (1957), directed by Alexander Mackendrick. This was the heyday of the classic noir. It is estimated that over 400 film noirs were produced during this period.
It is important to note that the film noirs of the classic era were forced to work around the restraints employed by the Motion Picture Production Code, or more commonly referred to as The Hays Code. This was a moral code that restricted films from portraying certain types of behavior on screen, “The Production Code, under which classic films noirs were produced, severely limited what could be depicted, how it could be depicted, and perhaps most important, how it all came out in the end.” This lasted from 1930 until its abolishment in 1968 and consisted mainly of two separate parts. One dealt with general principles that focused on morality, while the other was more specific pertaining to particular applications that were basically a specific list of things that could not be depicted. This included the use of profanity; depictions of homosexuality; multi racial activity (especially concerning men and women); sexual relations outside of marriage could not be depicted in any favorable way; all criminal activity must be punished; authority figures had to always be shown in a favorable light. Essentially audiences had to be treated as children and shown that evil is always punished. This explains the endings and downfalls of our beloved anti-heroes. However, this did not stop filmmakers from finding creative ways around the code that in some respects may have been inspirational to their vision. For example, there was a rule that kissing could not last more then three seconds. So, in a scene from Alfred Hitchcock’s, Notorious, Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman kiss for not more then three seconds at a time and manages to create a two minute intimate encounter that goes far beyond any simple kiss that may have gone on for five seconds. This was an obvious slight to the Production Code on the part of Hitchcock. The Production Code may have been an absurd sentiment on morality and what the public could handle, but it did manage to push filmmakers to think outside of the box and try things they would under different circumstances have never thought of.
Three films from the classic era stand out in terms of style and acclaim that deserve a deeper analysis, they are, Double Indemnity, The Maltese Falcon, and Detour.
Double Indemnity, directed by Billy Wilder and released in 1944, is one of the quintessential film noir’s of the classic era. With a running time of 106 minutes, and based on James M Cain’s novel, it was nominated for five Academy awards including, best picture, screenplay, cinematography, soundtrack and a best actress nomination for Barbra Stanwyck. In the end the film lost out to a now almost unknown picture, Go My Way, directed by Leo McCarey. The irony is uncanny, as Wilder’s film is one of the most famous films of its time, while few even remember Go My Way at all.
The story itself revolves around Walter Neff, (Fred MacMurray) an insurance Salesman who meets femme fatale Phyllis Dietrichson the wife of a client. The two end up having an affair and Phyllis eventually proposes killing her husband and collecting the insurance money. Walter believing he is not only capable of getting away with the crime, but of doubling the insurance claim, agrees to do the deed. The police declare it an accidental death but Walter’s boss, Barton Keys, thinks differently and suspects Phyllis of the murder with the help of another man. Walter in his death throws delivers a complete confession on tape, before exiting the building and dying in Keys’ arms.
The components that made Double Indemnity such a success are the combination of the adaptation by Chandler and Wilder. Forced to work within the restraints of the Hays Code, they took the novel and actually improved upon it. They added the voiceover that drives the narrative and created an ending that was both empathetic and tragic. The Cinematographer, John F Seitz, took his “no fill” lighting techniques to near perfection with looming shadows and slanting shafts of light perfectly accented the mood of the film. The acting itself was pure chemistry between all the main characters, pushing the audience to align themselves easily with the almost archetypical characters that spoke with exaggerated dialogue, but were non-the-less captivatingly associable.
The scene I will examine from the film is the moment that Walter justifies his actions to his conscience. He has convinced himself that what he did was a sane and logical decision on his part. He is essentially explaining the why of his actions to the absent Keys. The scene takes place in Keys office where Walter speaks through a microphone continuing the recording of his confession. The film has transitioned from Walter’s apartment where he and Phyllis have just finished discussing murdering her husband. Making the transition with Walter’s voice over, “But I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” the edit dissolves from a dolly out of Walter and Phyllis on the couch of his apartment to a dolly in of Walter in the office. The “voice over” turns to live action as Walter continues talking, “because it was all tied up with something I had been thinking about for years,” he continues explaining how all the tricks of the trade he had learned could actually allow him to get away with the murder and double indemnity.
The scene takes place all in one shot. Walter is center framed as the camera pushes into a medium shot. Only one light seems to shine down across him, leaving the background in shadows. It is a perfect picture of film noir. MacMurray’s performance mixed with the lighting keeps what could be a boring scene very intimate. It is almost as if the audience is Keys and has no issues sympathizing with tragic character presented before us. The scene ends with a dolly out to a medium shot, as Walter explains his sympathy towards Mr. Dietrichson and that he had never done anything to him except, “he was married to a woman he didn’t care anything about,” then dissolves back to the couple on the couch in a wide shot.
The scene is a genius way of incorporating exposition and genre conventions in a way that set the precedent for films that would follow. It manipulates time with a flash-forward and a flashback; it has voiceover, low-key lighting, simple shot design and stylized dialogue making it an almost perfect film noir scene.
The Maltese Falcon, directed by John Huston and released in 1941, was a 100 minute adaptation almost to the word of Dashiell Hammett’s novel of the same title. Huston is credited with the adaptation, but after several failed screenplays, he was instructed by Howard Hawks to make the film exactly like the book. Huston actually had his secretary break down the book into basic shots using the novel word for word. The result was a perfect adaptation of Hammett’s work.
The story is centered on a private detective named Sam Spade, (Humphrey Bogart) who is hired by femme fatale Miss Wanderly, (Mary Astor) to follow her sister. But when his partner Miles Archer (Jerome Cowen) is found dead in an alley Sam is caught between his desire and mistrust of Miss Archer. Discovering that she is surrounded by a plethora of dangerous men and shady behavior, he pushes her to reveal the truth about her intentions and the mysterious statue called, “The Maltese Falcon”. Twisting and turning his intentions by playing all sides of the investigation, Sam eventually gets the falcon only to have it be revealed as a fake.
The film was nominated for three Academy awards including best adaptation, best picture and best supporting actor for Sydney Greenstreet in the role of fat man, Kasper Gutman. The success of the film is seen easily through the popularity of the novel, excellent casting and the strong directorial prowess of Huston who sketched every set up in the film. He sidestepped the norm and shot the whole movie sequentially, using unnerving medium shots in low angles, and playing in depth with his wide shots that hold the mood of entire scenes.
The scene I will examine takes place after Archer’s murder. Sam has just returned home when there is a knock on the door and two cops come in to discuss the case. They play good cop bad cop at first as they ask for information. The conversation quickly turns accusatory as Sam begins to get defensive. The three finally reconcile their differences over a drink.
The lighting is low-key, relying on practical’s to create fill and shadows, as Sam turns on lamps within his apartment. The scene opens in a long low angle pan right and dolly in on Sam entering his apartment. This cuts with the knock on the door, to a wide shot of the door and Sam entering frame to answer it. The shot then dolly’s back and pans right with the characters as they move to the center of the room and sit. The shot settles into a medium tail-on three shot of Sam sitting centered between the two cops. Sam leans back on the bed to profile looking left to right at the opened faced cops. This is held for about a minute before the scene begins to become more dynamic jumping from shot to shot in rapid succession as the conversation intensifies. It goes to a profile two shot of the cops, back to the three shot tail on Sam, to a close up of the good cop, to a reverse head-on three shot on Sam between the two cops. This continues throughout the rest of the scene pausing on the original three shot composition to breath when the conversation’s intensity lulls. Finally the scene ends in high angle over Sam to the cops, as they cheers, and fade to black.
The scene’s dialogue is very stylized, and fast paced, which coincides with the edit. Particularly, Sam’s lines such as “turn the dump upside down if you want to, I wont squawk,” “what’s your boyfriend getting at Tom?” and “Sorry for getting up on my hind legs, but you fellas trying to rope me made me nervous,” create a tone that is unmistakably film noir. There is no score or music overlaying the action so the dialogue and edit are used to create the sole rhythm of the scene.
Overall, it is a very complicated and well-structured three-character scene that carries a perfect arc from beginning to end, pushing the plot forward and entertaining audiences at the same time.
Detour, directed by Edgar G. Ulmer and released in 1945, was a 68 minute black and white masterpiece, shot in 6 days with a $117,000 budget. Ulmer’s ability to run an efficient production under a tight budget while producing an amazing film with great characters and story is one of the key components to the success of the film. It was the first “B” movie chosen by the Library of Congress for its National Film Registry in 1992 and the first Hollywood “Noir” honored.
The films central story revolves around a piano player named, Al Roberts, (Tom Neal) who decides to hitchhike to L.A. to surprise his girlfriend. A traveling salesman named Charles Haskell picks him up, but suffers a heart attack along the way, hitting his head and leaving Al to assume that he will be accused of murder. Al leaves the body in a ditch and assumes Haskell’s identity. However, as fate would have it, Al picks up his own hitchhiker. A femme fatale named Vera, (Ann Savage) who seems nice enough at first, but turns out to have ridden with Haskell before Al. She blackmails Al into a series of events leading him to his unfortunate downfall and eventual arrest.
It contains all the key components of a successful “noir” film of the time. Compelling characters, especially a quintessential femme fatale, a heady strait forward dialogue that pushed the twisting fatalistic plot. A hearty voice over that is both untrustworthy and pessimistic leaving the audience with a foreboding and unease from the very opening of the film. The lighting design is filled with shadows influenced by Ulmer’s expressionist days and complements the dark undertones of the story and the character’s themselves.
One scene in particular stands out as a key moment in the film. That is the beginning of the second act, when Al first meets Vera at the gas station and offers her a ride. The inciting incident having already occurred with the death of Charles Haskell, the tables are now turned on Al. The scene begins innocent enough with a chance encounter but eventually leads to the reveal that Vera is actually the woman Haskell had mentioned as she accuses Al of murdering him. The scene is pushed forward via Al’s voice over that is maintained throughout the scene.
The scene begins with Al pulling into the gas station in a wide establishing shot, the camera pans right with Al to reveal Vera standing by the road. The shot plays in-depth keeping Al in a medium shot and Vera in an extreme wide standing in the background. The camera punches in with a medium shot on Vera as Al comments, “there was a woman.” Then back to the wide, then to back to her medium which tracks her as she walks to the car after Al offers up the ride. As she reaches the car, the edit returns to the original wide shot and pans left as Vera gets into the car leaving the two in a medium two shot, then panning right again as the car pulls away.
Once inside the car the scene is covered by four major angles, a head-on two shot, a tail-on two shot, a profile two shot from Vera to Al, and a reverse two shot of Al to Vera, with the exception of one profile close up of Vera looking from left to right as Al’s voice over comments on Vera’s appearance. The scene cuts between these two shots for the entirety of the scene. The scene ends with a dissolve from the tail on two shot to a close up of Al at the bar where he is delivering his narrative voice over. The camera dolly’s back to a medium close up as he finishes his monologue about fate. The motivation for the progression of two-shots is there to show that these two characters are going to be bound together as they are both trapped with one another within the frame. This metaphor holds true for the rest of the film as Al tries to get away from her but to no avail. Fate has put them together and that is how they will remain.
The neo-noir or new noir era is a little more difficult to define. Film critics argue between three different motion pictures being the quintessential beginning of the movement, Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho, 1960, Jack Smight’s Harper, 1966, and Roman Polanski’s Chinatown, 1974. Any of these three films could easily be argued as the starting point of neo-noir that has carried its way through to our modern era.
The cycle or trend of independent production companies turning out low budget hits re-emerges during the neo noir period. Now freed from the Production Code filmmakers took everything to the next level. The neo-noir era can be said to have built upon or updated the classic style with its own set of attributes or hallmarks,
“1. Color and the latest projection technology.
2. A less restrictive rating system.
3. Remakes from the old ‘hard broiled’ school of detective fiction.
4. Instead of good/bad detectives, screenplays deal with good/bad cops.
5. The emergence of the serial killer.”
This re-emergence of film noir opened up the doors for more creative freedom in terms of the style and ability to create even more reality based films that could now include a more graphic portrayal of characters and acts that had previously been taboos in the past. Sex became more graphic, as did the use of profanity. The “bad guy” took to becoming the anti-hero that audiences could root for, getting away with crimes in light of corrupt government and the notion of “the man” being out to get you.
That experimentation had been possible in the mainstream productions of the late sixties and early seventies was largely a result of the uncertainty that permeated the Hollywood studios in the aftermath of the collapse of the studio system. As the industry was restructured and stability returned in the wake of conglomeration and diversification, however, the standardized patterns of production and formularized narrative content traditionally associated with Hollywood cinema also reappeared, so bringing to a close the brief period of renaissance. In the wake of the fiscal uncertainty of the late sixties, the mid to late seventies was a period of retrenchment and restabilization in the American film industry, prior to a renewed spate of mergers and takeovers and the streamlining of existing conglomerates during the eighties and nineties.
The movies I will examine for this period are, Chinatown, and Pulp Fiction, two films that inspired their own eras and set the tone for what neo-noir was, and what it would become during their respective eras.
Chinatown, directed by Roman Polanski, and released in 1974, was a 131-minute tribute to its predecessors. With a Hammett inspired plot, and a Chandler like feel, the film was an inspiration to the neo noir movement throughout the 70’s.
A detective murder mystery in the classic sense, the film’s plot revolves around a classic private investigator character named J.J. Gittes, (Jack Nicholson) or Jake. He is hired by a phony Evelyn Mulwray (Diane Ladd) who suspects her husband of cheating, and gets on the case. But when Mr. Mulwray is found dead, Jake discovers the real Evelyn Mulwray (Faye Dunaway) and a seething plot of murder, incest and corruption all involving the water supply of Los Angeles.
The film succeeded on many levels. The wholehearted rewrite that created the finite structure of the film by Polanski himself made the film a marketable piece of work from the convoluted original screenplay by Robert Towne. Polanski’s decision to shoot the film in a 30’s style, but from a 70’s style perspective, put a new and modern twist on a classic format that worked well with audiences and put a new light on the city of Las Angeles itself. Polanski’s decision to replace cinematographer Stanley Cortez with a faster and more efficient John A. Alonzo, added to the overall style and feel of the film and created a faster production schedule, saving time, money, and the films esthetic. The film was nominated for eleven Academy awards including best art direction, best cinematography, best costume design, best director, best editing, best original score, best sound, best picture, Jack Nicholson for best actor, and Faye Dunaway for best actress. Ironically Robert Towne was the only one to walk away a winner with a best screenplay award.
The scene I will examine is the scene in which Jake confronts Noah Cross, (John Huston) with Mulwray’s glasses that he found in Cross’s pond. Jake accuses Cross of the murder and discovers the truth about his plans for Las Angeles and the water supply. The true plot of the film is revealed in this scene as Jake has essentially solved the mystery behind the murder. But Cross is so powerful there is nothing he can really do about the situation especially after he is strong-armed to give up the glasses.
The scene all takes place in one spectacular shot that plays in depth with the actors and camera’s blocking. Starting out in a wide shot looking down into the living room of a Cross’s mansion, Cross walks in depth into a medium shot as Jake enters frame left and the camera pans right into a medium two shot of both characters with Jake looking right to left at Cross standing open faced to the camera as he inquires about “the girl”. The camera pushes into an over the shoulder of Jake to Cross, as he hands him the obituary from the newspaper, then rolls around to a profile two shot as Jake accuses Cross of Mulwray’s murder and shows him the glasses. This is the major confrontation between the protagonist and antagonist. The camera language reflects this intention. Cross, tries to evade Jake by telling the story of how Mulwray was infatuated with moving water to the dessert. The camera follows him panning right and looking into an already set sun in the background. Jake walks back into frame to the left of Cross as he solves the mystery, then turns to him in another profile two shot as the confrontation continues. The majority of the reveal takes place here with Cross confessing his scheme. Cross then has his goon take the only evidence, the glasses, from Jake, as the camera pans left and pulls back to a medium three shot with Jake stuck in-between the two men. As the goon in the left of frame points a gun at Jake’s head he finally decides to give up the glasses. The scene ends with Jake stuck between a rock and a hard place.
There is no music, only the sound of ambient night sounds, crickets, wind, etc. This keeps the intensity on the dialogue and allows the crucial information being revealed to take center stage as the camera language accents the beats of the scene.
Pulp Fiction, directed by Quentin Tarantino, was released in 1994 to rave revues and has since become a classic. At 154 minutes, the film manages to intertwine separate stories that are all somehow interconnected. Tarantino’s structure sets the film apart from all other non-linear plot structures up until this time. His use of narrative was original and a refreshing surprise for audiences of the time.
The plot actually revolves around several characters. There is Jules Winnfield (Samuel L Jackson) and Vincent Vega, (John Travolta) two hit men working for Marsellus Wallace (Ving Rhames) to retrieve a briefcase that has been stolen from him. Then there is Butch Coolidge, (Bruce Willis) an ageing boxer whom Marsellus pays off to throw a fight and who double-crosses Marsellus. There is Mia Wallace, (Uma Thurman) Marcellus’ wife who is taken on a date by Vincent and who ends up overdosing on the hit man. The stories play out with a slight overlap that begins in a café, and ends in café, which is all really taking place on the first day of the action, while the rest continues throughout the next day.
The success of the film must really be placed with Tarantino himself. As the writer and director, he understood something about the new younger audience that other filmmakers at the time did not. He took huge risks with the narrative structure, the casting and the production design, all of which paid off big time in the end. Its overindulgent use of drugs, violence and creative dialogue gave the film an edginess that was perfect for “generation x” viewers. It was however, critically acclaimed as well. The film was nominated for seven Academy awards including, best director, best editing, best picture, John Travolta for best actor, Uma Thurman for best actress, and Tarantino and Roger Avery won for best original screenplay.
The scene I will examine is the third scene of the film, sometimes referred to as the “say what again!” scene. Jules and Vincent have found the thieves of Marcellus’ briefcase. Even though the two characters are hit men in the film, they still represent the detective characters of old. They have solved the mystery of where the briefcase is, and now they have arrived at the thieves’ apartment to retrieve the case. We are net privy to the actual events that lead them there, that it is not important. What is important is showing who these characters are through the way in which they do their job. A dialogue heavy scene that is compelling and sets the tone and the themes of the rest of the film, violence, deceit, crime, power, mystery and murder are all rolled together here.
The scene opens with a close up two shot of the back of the hit men’s heads as the character of Marvin answers the door. Flipping to the reverse and revealing their faces as they enter the apartment, then back to the original shot as they enter on Jules’s line, “Hey kids.”, gives us all the information we need to know about who the people in the apartment are. Once we are through the doorway the edit switches to a wide master as the hit men move into the space of the apartment. Two other young men sit in the room, one on the couch, “Flock of Seagulls” and the other at a table, Brad, about to eat his breakfast. The scene then jumps into a series of medium close ups as Jules begins his interrogation of the thieves. As he inquires about hamburgers the frame cuts between a close up of Jules and a reverse medium close up of Brad as Vincent wonders in the background behind brad rolling a cigarettes. This shows the power of Jules over the situation and also the feeling that the two men have the thieves surrounded; yet they are nonchalant about the situation. It is obvious that they are in charge. The conversation about the burger demonstrates just that, and is cohesive with the blocking and the camera direction. The display of power is solidified as Jules downs Brad’s sprite. Switching back to the wide master of the room, the mood of the scene changes here. What was seemingly a casual encounter now turns more threatening as Jules reveals why they are there and orders “Flock of Seagulls”, to tell him where the briefcase is. He tells him that it is under the sink and Jules retrieves it. As he works the combination the edit cuts to a close up revealing the combination to be 666. This may partly allude to the contents of the case, but that is never actually revealed. All the audience knows is that a bright golden light illuminates on Vincent’s face as he opens it in a medium close up to peer in. The whole scene revolves around an approaching and receding pattern of editing, as Brad tries to explain himself to Jules, who then shoots “Flock of Seagulls” to make his point clear, the drama intensifies. Here the scene has moved to its violent conclusion. The hit men are there to kill them and there is no talking their way out of it. Now, the editing cuts between close ups as it intensifies, then returns to its approaching and receding pattern, close ups, two shots, wide, two shot, close up etc. as Jules takes action flipping the table and yelling at Brad. The angles are low and dutch; reminiscent of noir’s of the classic era but with color making it far more violent and intense. This pattern continues as Jules begins to give his Ezekiel speech to Brad. When he is finished he and Vincent both shoot Brad multiple times. The edit cuts to reaction shots from Marvin and a new character that is seen holding a large gun. The edit cuts to a two shot of Jules and Vincent right before flipping to a wide dolly on the man with the gun running out of the bathroom and unloading his gun towards the camera. The two hit men, unharmed by the attack raise their guns and shoot the man dead. After which the two hit men end up in theoretical conversation about divine intervention. As they argue, the two men who have differing opinions on the matter are put into their own frame. Vincent frame right, looking left, and Jules, frame left, looking right. This shows us that each man is of his own opinion by separating them the camera language reinforces their individual viewpoints. Finally, Vincent concedes and he, then Marvin, then Jules, each walk out the door in a medium close up, closing the door behind them and ending the rollercoaster of a scene.
I hope you enjoyed the article.
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