I’ve halfway convinced myself that there is no more purely cinematic emotion than shame. This came to me today as I wrote about CASABLANCA (1942) and made the mistake of rewatching the “Le Marseilles” scene. As I nearly strangled on my own tears, I wondered what it is about the scene that always reduces me to a sobbing wretch. I realized it’s not the courage of Victor Laszlo, it’s not the camaraderie of the French expatriates gathered in Rick’s Cafe Americain, it’s not Ilsa Lund’s dewey-eyed appraisal of her saint of a husband… it’s the tears of lowly Yvonne, the French good-time girl who, spurned by Rick, has offered herself to the enemy. As Laszlo kicks up the house band (with Rick’s approval) to drown out the Teutonic braying of Major Strasser and his goon squad, the cutaway to her crying as she sings along nearly stops my heart. Her shame is so palpable that I am one with her for that moment, standing up to reaffirm my allegiance to the good fight, whether it makes me a new person or puts me in front of a firing squad.
I’m reminded of IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE (1946), which ends not with George Baily’s re-appreciation of the life he has led (that awakening comes on the bridge he was poised to jump from) but with the shame he feels as each person he (and we, using George as our surrogate) has mentally condemned throughout the film. Remember, the first person to put money into the hat to help George out of this jam is the angry Building & Loan customer who had previously demanded to withdraw his entire life savings in a moment of what we all thought was bad faith. How could he doubt George Bailey, we were all thinking, and here we find George thinking “How could I have doubted Bedford Falls?” Director Frank Capra doesn’t linger on this surprisingly mature coda (whose weight is usually missed by both the film’s fans and detractors) but the few seconds that it hangs in the air open a window of naked honesty that few Hollywood movies care to jump through.
In THE BICYCLE THIEF (1948), a man desperate to make money for his family in postwar Rome has his only means of wage-earning stolen from him, and he spends the rest of the film trying to get his wheels back, with his young son in tow. Antonio ultimately finds the thief but cannot prove guilt. In desperation, he steals someone else’s bicycle… and is promptly caught. Facing the wrath of the crowd, he realizes he has become the thing he has hated, and all in front of his own child. When it seems as though Antonio’s humiliation can be no more acute, his son pleads with the crowd for his father’s freedom, and secures it. Antonio is left to walk off to an uncertain future, his boy taking his hand, as the full force of all these pent up emotions tear through him. In its simplicity and verite, this scene may be the most devastating in movie history.
Other examples come to mind but I’m curious to hear your thoughts. What scenes of cinematic shame resonate for you?