Scarface and Double Indemnity: The Corporate Loss of American Morality

The 1920’s and 1940’s were economic boom periods in American history; in the 20’s this was due to the rapid growth of investment in consumer economics, in the 40’s it was due to the increased industrial production demanded to fight world war two, both economic booms however, produced similar predictable effects in American culture. In both decades there were plenty of legitimate opportunities to make an honest living but as always the allure of illegally making large sums of money quickly was too much for some to resist. These ill-gotten gains almost always come at the cost of having to dish out brutality to our fellow man sometimes innocent, sometimes not. While the gangster culture sponsors this immoral behavior outright, the corporate culture is no different, nurturing a highly competitive, cut throat culture that encourages taking any steps necessary to get ahead colleague and the competition, both while making as much money as is possible. Both Neff and Tony embody these respective ideals as both, albeit a little more blatantly on Tony’s part, commit violence against men who have done them no wrong in order to produce monetary gain. This is because the American gangster is, in itself, a dark parody of the American businessman just as the mob is a reflection of any given corporation. Scarface loosely uses the story of real life gangster Al Capone to tell its tale of how American consumer culture corrupts morality while Double Indemnity delves deeper into the idea of the corporate desire to come out on top and make money at all costs, even murder.

Scarface attempts to portray the seductive nature of the gangster lifestyle by presenting a not so subtly caricaturized version of gangster life in general and the life of one of America’s most famous gangsters, Al Capone. Tony Camonte is already a bad guy when the film begins; the first time we see him, in fact, is when he is murdering fellow Mafioso “Big” Louie Costillo on the orders of his friend and mentor, Jonny Lovo. From there Tony only becomes worse as he is seduced by the gangster culture, attempting to seduce Jonny’s girlfriend Poppy and becoming more violent toward those close to him, especially his sister, whom he beats for simply being out dancing with other men, and Poppy, whom he hauls off like a prisoner in their final on screen encounter. Ideals such as honor and loyalty are stripped away as his morality dwindles, once beloved friends such as Jonny and Guino Rinaldo see there violent ends at the hands of Tony as he has Jonny executed for betraying him and personally kills Rinaldo for having a relationship with his highly coveted sister.

While it would be easy to pass off these behaviors as the violent outbursts of an unstable immigrant or as a result of the intellectual lacking’s of a criminal mind, the true explanation lies in one of America’s societal pinnacles, the corporation. When the criminal element consolidated to form the mob, it was no coincidence that it mirrored a corporation’s organizational hierarchy. A clearly defined chain of command and specialized roles in the organization allowed for effective labor division and the adaptation of one immoral system to another. Corporations often use what could be considered aggressive sales and negotiation tactics when dealing with potential clients and competitors. A salesman with a conscience will have to put ideals before the company, and just like a gangster who put anything before his gang, that would end very badly. Tony embodies this business method perfectly in how he aggressively brought all of the local bar owners under his control, using physical violence and intimidation to jack up the volume of alcohol that each bar was purchasing and never taking no for an answer. In doing so Tony was actually taking over the entire function of the pre-prohibition alcohol trade, producing a product (booze) that the public desired and making it readily available while attempting to beat out the competition. Tony’s methods for reducing competition differed out of necessity from those used by actual corporations, where economic deprivation and smear campaigns were adequate for legal corporations, violence had to be asserted in the underground booze trade. Bars were bombed and shot to pieces in an attempt to stamp out competition, all of which was deemed morally acceptable as the only goals of the gangster were the same as those of the corporate business man: to continually gain a larger sum of money, social success, and power.

While the film touches on the fact the media sensationalized the gangster culture, the reality of this glorification of men like Tony goes much deeper and is a large part of how the corporate nature of the gangster contributed to the moral degradation of American culture. The silver screen also played a large role in the rise of the gangster as, “films of the late twenties and early thirties offered the most vivid portrayals of gangsters’ businesslike appearance and setting” (Ruth) The gangster was a socially iconic consumer that the media flocked to as a modern day Robin Hood which rationalized all of the crime committed by the gangster. For evidence of this effect, one must look no further than America’s most famous gangster, Al Capone. Capone knew how to win the trust of the public, “the press followed Capone’s every move avidly, and he was able to gain public sympathy with his gregarious and generous personality” (History.com), generosity that included opening one of the first soup kitchens during the depression that produced headlines such as “’120 000 meals are served by Capone Free Soup Kitchen’ [in] the Chicago Tribune” (RHP). Acts such as this allowed Capone to remain a positive figure and “as anti-Prohibition resentment grew, a dissident who worked on the side of the people” (History.com), this status being ascribed to a violent gangster caused American morality to adapt to this new dark corporate system and contributed to the decline of American morality as a whole.

Double Indemnity provides a picture of how the corporate system itself wears down morality and twists men into cynical parodies of the helpful agents that they publicly claim to be. This bastardization can be seen in how all three of the film’s major company men, Norton, Keys, and Neff, act within the corporate system. Upon discovering that a double indemnity amount must be paid out to the widow Detrichson, Norton berates Neff for having sold the policy in the first place and attempts to set both Keys and Neff to the task of helping him find a loophole that the company can use to avoid paying off. Before Norton even makes his first and only appearance in the movie, Neff tells Phyllis that, “knows more tricks than a car load of monkeys”, which perfectly sums up the slimy tactics used by Norton in his meeting with Phyllis. Upon meeting Phyllis, Norton attempts to railroad Phyllis into signing a release saying that her husband’s death was suicide and that she voluntarily gave up her claim to the money, even though the company has no evidence to point toward suicide.

Although Keys never commits a crime or attempts to cheat actual victims, this does not mean that he has not been affected by the twisted nature of corporate America. He possesses a deep resentment for the company’s policy to selling insurance to anyone, even the clients who he perceives as being at risk of submitting a false claim. This twisted morality is lowered further still when it becomes apparent that Keys is not motivate by justice when pursuing false claims, but simply by a desire to come out on top, having never let a client put one over on him. This lack of compassion can also be seen in how he treats those close to him, especially his ex-fiancée, whom he had investigated and then dumped due to her low class background, allowing Neff to describe her as “a tramp from a line of tramps”. His only hints are staying with Neff (after calling the police to come arrest him) and the moment of despair he appears to feel in the films alternate ending, when, following Neff’s execution, he searches for matches to light his cigar and realizes that Neff will never be there to give him a light again.

The most dramatic example of moral degradation in the film is that of the main character, Walter Neff. Neff’s first moral chip fell away when, after many years of working to stop people from cheating the system, Neff began to think about how he could cheat the system and get away with it. Although he didn’t believe he was on the pathway to murder after the first time Phyllis mentioned wanting the policy for her husband, it wore on him until a short time later, “It dawned on me that I was still holding that red hot poker, I hadn’t walked out on anything, the hook was too strong”. After realizing that he would be killing Mr. Dietrichson for the insurance payout, the last bit of Neff’s morality seems to fall away. Neff gives into greed and decides on a complicated plan that, while paying out twice the normal insurance amount, has a much higher likelihood of failing. He also rationalizes the murder he has committed by simply believing that he could get away with it so why wouldn’t he do it, nothing about Phyllis’s abuse at the hands of her husband, nothing about wanting to hurt a corrupt system, just pure hubris. He feels no remorse for his crime and continues his relationship with Phyllis until Keys starts to apply the pressure that would ultimately be Neff’s undoing. Once Keys scrutiny becomes intense, Neff decides to cut ties entirely and devises a plan to rid himself of the situation. He decides to frame the boyfriend of the Mr. Dietrichson’s daughter, Nino Zachetti, for his role in the murder and hang Zachetti and Phyllis out to dry. In a dark twist, Neff is show to be so monstrous that upon Phyllis telling him that she wouldn’t let him leave, he threatens to kill her and, after she shoots his shoulder, follows through with his threat. Carrying his hubris to the very end, Neff attempts to escape justice by fleeing to Mexico, believing that the he is capable of overcoming even a physically devastating gunshot wound.

The moral failings of Neff and Tony are not just accepted, they are celebrated in American culture as they both strive to achieve the true American dream, an obscene amount of wealth. This twisted version of the American dream exists due to the corporate culture that wishes to be placed above the law so that it can profit without fear of backlash from the public. Films like these that portray criminals in this light show how the corporate culture serves to normalize crime and glorify it’s result (capital gain), thus degrading morality as a whole. As long as we as a culture continue to worship the all mighty dollar, as corporate America does, we will continue find our country to be morally lacking.

The (Not-So) Good Girls of Film Noir

Common in film noir are the binary oppositions between characters’ personalities and the visually mesmerizing images which often explode on-screen before the eyes of the audience. The high key lighting of a beautiful countryside, the low key lighting of a large city, a face half consumed by shadows, or a woman clad in all white with a soft angelic glow can tell one just as much as an entire scene of dialogue. But some of the most discussed and debated elements of film noir concern the roles of opposition between the femme fatales and the good girls. At the surface, the femme fatale would appear to be a figure of pure malevolence—lying, cheating, and killing her way to the top in pursuit of a position of wealth and power. But upon closer inspection, one can see that the femme fatale’s actions are often prompted by a painful past, an unhealthy relationship with an abusive lover, or a multitude of other reasons. Just as the femme fatales cannot be labeled as purely evil, the good girls who stand opposite them on-screen cannot be labeled as entirely innocent either. In contrast to the domination of the femme fatales it is often easy to over-look much smaller acts of deceit, but many of noir’s good girls are much more complex than would seem: from dishonesty to disguises, the good girls of film noir are often pursued by the protagonist in the end, for they represent a realistic compromise somewhere in-between the excesses of the femme fatales and the purity or dullness of a truly “good girl”.Pitted against the intense sexuality of the femme fatales, the good girls seem to be “desexualized”, dressing rather conservatively (Oliver, Trigo 29). Murder, My Sweet’s Ann Grayle, for instance, dresses primarily in singular color cotton or tweed ensembles, never showing any thigh as Helen Grayle does to attract Philip Marlowe’s attention. Double Indemnity’s Lola Dietrichson dresses similarly, as does Out of the Past’s Ann Miller who never wears a low cut outfit like femme fatale Kathie Moffat; Ann’s shirts and blouses always cling to her neck above the collar bone and she never even reveals her forearms. This basic code of conservative dress for the good girls conceals their sexuality, placing them in figurative shadows behind the luminosity and urgency of the femme’s. So, it is of little to no surprise that these good girls are of little notice or minor impact to the protagonists at the beginnings of each story, (even though Philip Marlowe occasionally comments on the “nice figure” of Ann Grayle). Instead, what is more impactful than the overt sexuality of the femme fatales, are the good girls’ bad-girl tendencies which are cloaked beneath their conservative attire. Not to be ogled at by every man who crosses their paths, the good girls’ rebel in their own, yet subtle ways.In Double Indemnity, as we first meet Lola, she is innocently playing Chinese checkers with her step-mother Phyllis. After becoming bored with the game, Lola tells her father that she is going roller-skating with a friend and exits the house after promising him that she will not be seeing the delinquent Nino Zachetti. But after insurance man Walter Neff exits the house that evening, saying goodbye to both Mr. Dietrichson and Phyllis, he opens his car door to find Lola sitting inside. She informs Neff that she has no intentions of going roller skating, but needs a ride so that she can meet Nino Zachetti for their date. Our first glimpse of Lola is as a young, innocent girl maybe in her late teens or early twenties, but we quickly discover that beneath her conservative attire, high-pitched soft voice, and batting eye-lashes, she is a woman whom will not surrender to the demands of her father’s patriarchal authority. A similar situation of mistaken identity occurs after Marriott’s death in Murder, My Sweet. Detective Philip Marlowe is immediately “confronted by a woman claiming to be a reporter who wants more information”, but as Marlowe soon discovers, it is actually Ann Grayle (Palmer 77). Like Lola’s innocence upon her first appearance, Ann Grayle is gentle in her approach to Marlowe. She is calm, cool, and collected, but the fact that Marriott’s death has just occurred is what tips-off Marlowe. When he insists on visiting the Grayle household with Ann, both Marlowe and the audience quickly forgets about Ann as the bombshell Helen steps into the foreground, her commanding, hyper-sexualized on-screen presence instantly casts a shadow on the “good girl” Ann, thus moving her into the background. In the cases of Lola and Ann, we can clearly see that this good girl persona is simply that—an act, dress, or disguise put on to hide their true selves or motives. They are neither overtly menacing nor deviant in any way (especially in comparison to the femme fatales), but there is definitely more to them than our first impressions. Adding to our notions of their goodliness or innocence is the fact that both Marlowe and Neff call Lola and Ann “kid” throughout both films; Marlowe himself “asks repeatedly about the fate of the ‘kid’…” (Palmer 81). One would normally associate the word “kid” with some strain of purity or child-like innocence, so when Lola and Ann are called “kid” by the protagonists, this re-enforces their good girl personas and we still see them as relatively pure in contrast to the femme fatales in control of the screen.In Out of the Past, it is easy to see Jeff’s Bridgeport love Ann Miller as a boring, flat character in comparison to that of Kathie Moffat. But like Lola, Ann Miller also rebels against the patriarchal authority. Her mother and father are heard yelling about their disapproval of Ann’s relationship with Jeff as we first meet her. And when Jeff is later accused of murder, Ann yells at her father, refusing to speak to him about Jeff or the present situation. Following that, Ann sneaks out of her house early one morning to meet Jeff in the woods, even though he is being pursued by both the cops and Whit. During their brief meeting, they are being spied on by Jim whom himself represents the law; in face of these risks and consequences, Ann still asks Jeff to go out on the lam with him. Although Ann Miller, Lola Dietrichson, and Ann Grayle have the capacities to be both deceptive and defiant, one thing remains constant in each of the three films: they provide both a sense of solace for the protagonists while representing a life of normalcy, balanced somewhere between the good and bad girl personas. In Out of the Past, Jeff’s flashback narration in the car with Ann “serves to locate Jeff’s affair with Kathie as the traumatic past which he has to repress in order to live a ‘normal life’” (Krutnik 104). Author Leighton Grist sees Jeff’s affair with Kathie as a transformation from a “seeker hero” to that of a “victim hero” (207). As the victim, Jeff tries to square himself with not only the law and Whit, but he also attempts to absolve himself of all his misdeeds and lies by his repentance and admittance to Ann. Ann then serves as Jeff’s last chance for salvation and a life away from his criminal past. It would even appear that Ann is attracted to Jeff partly because of his mysterious past—Jeff finding himself equally attracted to Ann because their relationship still provides Jeff with some links to his bad boy past: both Ann’s parents and Jim disapprove of their relationship, and the woman in the café of the opening scene comments that ‘no one will be seeing Jeff if he keeps hanging around Jim’s girl’. Ann’s sneaking out of the house to meet Jeff is another action of forbiddance that in some ways mirrors his past forbidden love affair with Kathie. Like Jeff who risks his life in order to return to see Ann, Marlowe returns to Ann Grayle in Murder, My Sweet even though he is being pursued by the cops and Amthor’s henchmen. He seeks information, rest, and solace in Ann, who is just as eager to figure out what is going on as Marlowe himself. In Double Indemnity, Walter Neff abandons Phyllis Deitrichson for step-daughter Lola, taking her to the hills outside of the Hollywood Bowl where Lola provides him with the information regarding Phyllis and Nino Zachetti’s secret relationship. In both films Murder, My Sweet and Double Indemnity, the good girls provide the protagonists with insights into which afford some clarity upon their current situations. This sudden transition in love-interests from the brutal femme fatales to the less wicked “good girls” is an interesting one to note: In Raymond Chandler’s novel, Philip Marlowe does not end up with Ann Grayle (Palmer 81), yet in the film version he moves from Helen to step-daughter Ann, and eventually ends up with her in the cab of the closing scene. Like Marlowe, Walter Neff moves from Phyllis to step-daughter Lola as she seeks to confide in Neff, and Neff can no longer risk being seen with Phyllis. Jeff Bailey moves from Kathie to Ann Miller, and arguably would have ended up with her in the end if not for the fatal wound inflicted by Kathie.The three films: Double Indemnity, Murder, My Sweet, and Out of the Past all depict “good girls” who are anything but that—they disobey patriarchal authority by sneaking out of the house and lying to their fathers. They mask themselves in conservative attire, and sometimes they even literally cloak themselves in costumes to conceal their identity. Although these “good girls” can be dishonest and rebellious, their characters are still much less forceful than the femme fatales. Which is why, perhaps, as the protagonists each fall victim to the traps of the femme fatales, they soon find themselves gravitating towards the “good girls” who come to represent a mild compromise between the excesses of wickedness and an angelic purity. Works CitedGrist, Leighton. “Out of the Past A.k.a. Build My Gallows High.” The Movie Book of Film Noir. Ed. London: Studio Vista, 1994. 203-212. Alden Library Electronic Course Reserves.Krutnik, Frank. “The ‘Tough’ Investigative Thriller.” In a Lonely Street: Film Noir, Genre, Masculinity. Ed. New York: Routledge, 1991. 103-112. Alden Library Electronic Course Reserves.Oliver, Kelly, and Trigo, Benigno. “Poisonous Jewels in Murder, My Sweet.” Noir Anxiety. Ed. Minneapolis, MN: U of Minnesota P, 2003. 27-47. Alden Library Electronic Course Reserves. Palmer, R. Barton. “Discovering the Darkness: The Noir Detective Film.” Hollywood’s Dark Cinema: The American Film Noir. Ed. New York: Twayne Publishers, 1994. 73-82. Alden Library Electronic Course Reserves.

The Function of the Male Gaze in Vertigo and Double Indemnity

The role and subsequent objectification of women in film have prompted extensive debate in modern media and film theory. In particular, many film critics focus on how the female body is often presented as a hyper-sexualized object for viewer pleasure. This phenomenon is dubbed the “Male Gaze”, which is the way women are objectified and viewed upon through the eyes of the camera itself. The Male Gaze is so prominent throughout traditional Hollywood that a test was devised to determine just how ingrained films were in this male fantasy: the “Bechdel Test.” To pass the Bechdel test, a film has to have at least two (named) women in it who talk to each other about something besides a man. Despite how staggeringly simple this test seems, a disproportionate amount of films fail to pass. In Vertigo, John Ferguson (James Stewart) is hired to follow Madeleine Elster (Kim Novak) and ends up falling obsessively in love with her. In Double Indemnity, Phyllis (Barbara Stanwyck) seduces insurance agent Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray), manipulating him to kill her husband after she secretly takes out an accident insurance policy on him. Not only do Vertigo (1958) and Double Indemnity (1944) fail the Bechdel test, but their female leads seem to only exist to further the narrative for the male protagonist and act as a sexual object for the audience’s aesthetic pleasure.

For both films the camera, while not intrusive, is set to represent a male perspective due to the way women are depicted on screen and the male point of view it often represents. Female beauty subsequently becomes about the individual parts of the woman, designed only to bring pleasure, completely devoid of any humanism. The audience therefore is viewing the plot and the characters within the film through the perspective of the protagonist male.As such, shots may linger on a woman’s form, pan across her body or show close-ups of certain features to portray women in an erotic way. When Scottie watches Madeleine in the flower store, there is a shot where she walks towards the camera, slowly turns and walks back in the opposite direction. This shot is reminiscent of a model on a catwalk, as Madeleine seems to be “showing off” her body for Scottie’s enjoyment. Throughout Vertigo Scottie falls obsessively in love with the image of a woman, not the woman in her entirety. While Scottie’s gaze over Madeleine is initially voyeuristic, in that he enjoys watching her from a distance, his gaze over Judy is more of a fetishistic gaze. When Scottie meets Judy, who looks similar to Madeleine, he tries to recreate her in the image of Madeleine—the image of Scottie’s perfect woman. Judy’s appearance in the story marks the point where the film shifts from a voyeuristic gaze to a fetishistic one. As Judy is being redone to look like Madeleine, the camera focuses on parts of her body—her eyes, lips, hair, hands. This tactic also appeared in the opening credits of the film, as the camera moves across the face of an unidentified woman, focusing on key parts of her face.In Double Indemnity, Phyllis, a “femme fatale”, is first shown looking seductive and alluring. She is dressed in nothing but her towel, skin bare save for the enticing anklet she wears. While Neff waits to speak with her, his fetishistic, controlling and erotic gaze is further evident when he narrates, “I was thinking about that dame upstairs and the way she had looked at me. I wanted to see her again, close, without that silly staircase between us.” The camera follows Neff’s gaze as he scans her body up and down, appraising her looks and form. Because Neff’s point of view is the spectator’s point of view, the spectator cannot escape the male gaze placed upon Phyllis. She is lit in a way that seems to emphasize her beauty and allure; a backlight causes her hair to glow brightly like a halo, which is an effect that becomes noticeable after the first cut to a medium shot of Phyllis. After this encounter, there is a scene that includes a narrative voice-over by Neff, recounting his version of the story. As Neff leaves the house, he narrates that he cannot stop thinking about her honeysuckle perfume. Her sexual image seems to be branded into even his olfactory memory. The vivid descriptions of Phyllis’ perfume are also for the audience’s benefit, providing one more dimension to the male viewer’s experience.

Scottie is the protagonist of Vertigo and rarely do we gain insight into other characters from a perspective other than his own. Even though we are first introduced to Madeleine in the 17th minute of the movie, we do not hear her speak until the 45-minute mark. In fact, Madeleine’s main function in Vertigo revolves around the way she looks and is presented to Scottie. She is initially compared to Carlotta through her identical hairstyle and supposed relation. In the second half of the film, every part of Madeleine and Judy’s appearance is placed under scrutiny to ensure that Scottie is creating his ideal woman, from the identical grey suit to the hair color and Carlotta hairstyle. Even the way Judy is ‘modeled’ must be perfect, with Scottie telling Judy to sit by the fire or the pair heading back to Ernie’s so Scottie can recreate his exact visual memory of Madeleine. The only shift in perspective we see in Vertigo is during the scene when Judy reveals the murder plot through a letter she writes for Scottie. However, these scenes still revolve around Scottie and the women’s motives are about wanting Scottie’s love, yet throughout the film, they do nothing to act on these feelings — they are passive.

Although it can be argued that Phyllis is somewhat of a less passive character, she is the one who initially devises the murder plot for her husband, she still ultimately falls under the control and power of Walter Neff. Phyllis is repeatedly objectified by Neff’s view of her, and as such, it is near impossible for the spectator to observe Phyllis’s body in a non-erotic way. In the first scene where Phyllis appears in nothing but a towel, Neff makes a somewhat crude remark about her not being “fully covered.” Rather than reacting negatively to his suggestive comment, or asking him to leave for his rudeness, she accepts the comment and agrees to continue speaking after getting changed. A few moments later we see Phyllis descending the stairs still buttoning her dress, giving him glimpses of the intimate act of getting dressed. She goes on to apply lipstick in front of him, while Neff gazes at her reflection in the mirror. It is obvious that Neff beholds her as a sexual object. Even as Phyllis attempts to manipulate Neff into murder for her personal benefit, she cannot escape the oppressive view of the male gaze.

From the very beginning of Vertigo the male gaze is evident, especially in the scene where Scottie first sees Madeleine. She is the only light blonde in a sea of brown-haired people, and her green clothing looks bright and extraordinary in a background of monotone colors. A slow tracking shot from Scottie’s point of view highlights his constant gaze, and the camera is drawn to Madeleine’s exposed back, showing how she is sexualized by her costume. There is an emphasis on her side profile which makes her look two dimensional, further transforming her into an aesthetic component of the scenery. Madeleine does not even get the chance to initially establish herself as a fully developed character with feelings and motivation, she is immediately characterized as a sexual object for Scottie to lust over.

Perhaps the most quintessential example of Madeleine’s role as a sexualized object comes in the transformation scene in the hotel room. Scottie coerces Judy to transform back into Madeleine, molding her hair, dress, and makeup to look exactly like Madeleine. Scottie is indifferent to her as a person, seeing Judy rather as an object he can use to recreate and act out his fantasies on of his “dead” love. Out of love and helplessness to do much else, Judy transforms herself for Scottie. As she emerges from the bathroom, Scottie’s face is overcome with lust and control, while Judy seems to be overcome with blank pain and sorrow, unable to please the man she loves as her authentic self. In many Hitchcock films, including Vertigo, the male gaze is not just evident — it also forms part of the film’s story. Scottie is hired to literally watch Madeleine and through this voyeuristic process, becomes obsessed with her based on her looks alone. Scottie has complete power over Madeleine, and when he loses some of that power as the murder plot unfolds for him, Scottie is completely overcome with anger and rage. He has finally completely lost his fantasy love, and his entire interpretation of reality has come crashing down. Madeleine is painted as a treacherous villain, willing to disrupt the social order of male power simply to make money.

The fact that the narrative is told through Scottie’s point of view is again of considerable importance; the events of the story thus far may not actually be “what happened,” but rather how Scottie has perceived them. It is of importance to note that there are scenes establishing Scottie’s mental instability, which might lead him to be an unreliable narrator. In a similar fashion, Neff’s final encounter with Phyllis is tainted by his lust and hatred for her. As Phyllis pulls a gun on Neff, he realizes he has been duped, and manipulated to her will. As Neff’s feeling of control over Phyllis slips away, his belief in her malevolence overrides his fetishization of her. Instead of viewing her as a sexual object, he views her as an object with a guilty secret, worthy of being punished. Subsequently, the spectator sees Phyllis Dietrichson through a voyeuristic male gaze as a guilty object that deserves to be punished. Of course, the spectator still views her as an erotic object as well. Phyllis is not only indirectly guilty of murder, but she is also guilty of betraying the patriarchal order of society by using her sexuality to seduce Neff and manipulate him into helping her murder her husband. In the scenes, during Neff and Phyllis’ altercation, Phyllis is literally and metaphorically lower than Neff. Neff, not Phyllis, is the one who actually killed her husband, yet the seductress is made to suffer the more definitive punishment despite the fact. Phyllis no longer seems like a glowing angel from above. Now, she is lit the same way as Neff. She shoots him, and this is when the camera once again embodies Neff’s gaze towards her: she is beautiful, yet menacing, bathed in shadow. The use of a phallic object (gun) by a woman in an attempt to disrupt the power imbalance should not go unnoticed. Neff reacts by taking the gun she dropped and then shooting, and killing her. She no longer has control of his fetishizing gaze.

Within Vertigo and Double Indemnity, women are viewed upon through the camera primarily through the male perspective, enacting the male gaze. These films encourage the male spectator to identify with the male protagonist as his on-screen surrogate through aligning the camera with the gaze of the male protagonist.The male gaze focuses on and objectifies the images of women, leaving women to largely function for aesthetic pleasure rather than compelling narrative progression. With Vertigo, the unreal, obsessive quality of Hitchcock’s blonde heroines does not show women as they are, but the woman as Hitchcock wished them to be. In Double Indemnity, Neff’s defense mechanism is to turn Phyllis into a fetish object, and there are several moments of erotic contemplation to prove this. Thus, though these films have different subject matter, the similarity in their plots and characters allow them to closely embody Mulvey’s theory of the male gaze in Hollywood cinema. Once we are aware of these themes as spectators, they lose their importance – they become nothing more than one aspect of an entertaining film, and, hopefully, remnants of a bygone era.