Few cities have such an immediate connection to Hollywood as Los Angeles. The City of Angels is not only the epicenter of blockbuster filmmaking, it is a city born almost completely out of the dreams of the big screen. But underneath the glitz and glam of Hollywood Boulevard is a seedy, gruesome city of death and despair, a festering wound just underneath the veneer of success. For every success story we here there are thousands of dashed hopes and desperate people, willing and capable of doing anything to get ahead in this world. The criminal underbelly that goes unseen to the casual layman is hard at work within the city, and when the sun sets the vampires are ready to show their teeth.
While Hollywood has never completely shied away from exposing this underbelly, there are few films that live completely within this contemptuous world. Films regarding the city can come in many forms, often leaning too heavily into a naval-gazing self-examination of the Hollywood machine, and at other times never taking the city as a whole, instead portraying each division as it’s own organism without the full context of the city. But with the three films discussed today Los Angeles is portrayed as a simmering cesspool of indecency, ready and capable of boiling over and burning everyone and everything that it touches. Collateral, Drive, and Nightcrawler take a look at the city as a whole, and in their portrayals come away with dark intrigue and warnings for those wishing to pursue their Hollywood dreams.
In Michael Mann’s 2004 film Collateral we follow cab driver Max (Jamie Foxx) as he is held captive by contract killer Vincent (Tom Cruise) and made to chauffeur the killer around Los Angeles as he takes out witnesses in a high profile criminal case. Throughout the night the dynamic between the two shifts from rivals to reluctant allies and back to rivals again, depending on the situation. Vincent uses his natural charisma to try and win Max over, at times encouraging Max to stand up for himself against his boss and to visit his mother. Vincent’s ploy to make Max more confident ends up backfiring when Max takes control of his life again and fights against Vincent to save his final target, a young ADA who coincidentally had used Max’s services earlier that night.
Collateral acts as a dissection of the city through the eyes of a traveler. Michael Mann is proudly born and raised in Chicago, and his interactions with Los Angeles are mostly through the window of a taxi, being chartered from one place to another. It’s a film that is informed about Los Angeles by the literal streets of the city. When we first meet Max we’re tuned into his intellect by his knowledge of the city, it’s inner workings and how to make the streets work in your favor. While it does take some time for him to take charge of his situation we always know what he is capable of because of his knowledge of Los Angeles. When he does turn the tables on Vincent, it’s through his understanding of the city as a living organism that gives him his edge.
Vincent, on the other hand, ends up losing in the final act due to his artificial life. Throughout the film we see him play various characters, from the charismatic businessman to the jazz aficionado to the forceful life coach. All of these are masks to hide his malevolent nature, and while he is able to swiftly infiltrate most situations with these facades, he is no match for genuine knowledge. Everything about him is artificial, even his bleach blond hair, as for his job he creates no attachments, no messes. But this becomes a pitfall when he goes against Max, for Max’s expertise gives him the edge in the L.A. underworld.
Here Los Angeles is portrayed as a vibrant organism that is self sustaining, and Vincent is an outside illness coming to infect it. While the organism of LA may not be perfect, as it has criminals, crooks, and scum, it does contain a balance that is thrown out of order by the introduction of Vincent. The criminals are chased by the police, the police work with the attorneys, the attorneys take taxis, taxis are robbed by crooks. It’s a messy, chaotic existence, but it’s one that Vincent presents an existential threat to. We’re introduced to Vincent in the airport, his arrival signaling that he is not of this city, not of this system. His outsider status, even in a city of outsiders, is what causes his defeat in the end. The underworld of Los Angeles demands conformity, and Vincent was nothing if not unique.
Conformity is something the character of Lou Bloom (Jake Gyllenhaal) strives for in the 2014 dramatic thriller Nightcrawler. Following Bloom, an amoral conman, as he dives into the world of cut and run crime journalism in the City of Angels. With a willingness to break all ethical codes and more than his share of laws, Bloom quickly rises in the community. Poorly masking his underlying sociopathy with a thick facade of charm, he recruits a third rate news programmer Nina Romina (Rene Russo) and a down on his luck homeless man named Rick (Riz Ahmed) in his quest to become the best in his new found career.
While Vincent was an outsider to the city and was ultimately done in, Lou shows that an infection that starts within the beast that is Los Angeles can quickly flourish. Lou is a bottom feeder, introduced stealing wire fencing to sell at bargain basement prices, and viciously attacking a security guard who tries to stop him. He’s a scavenger and a survivor, someone who has never had the opportunity to thrive, and so when he stumbles on something that could provide more than just survival, he’s willing to do anything to hold onto it. He’s just one person in a city made of desperation, and the only thing that separates him from the people he victimizes is his complete disregard for their well-being.
While the other characters in the film are general amoral or at least morally ambiguous, they do still have the basic tenements of humanity that keep them grounded. They’re willing and capable of exploitation, but they are able to convince themselves of their integrity through the distance of the video camera. Nina quickly loses all journalistic integrity when presented with more and more depraved content, Lou’s influence making her bloodthirsty. A fellow nightcrawler Joe Loder (the late, great Bill Paxton) becomes increasingly competitive and trying to buy out Lou, only for Lou to cause him to be in an accident and selling the footage of him almost dying. Rick holds onto his humanity the most out of the characters, but his desperate situation forces him to do as he is told and not question Lou’s orders, only for this trust in Lou to cause his death in the end. Each of these characters can justify their own role in the blood and guts market, and it’s their justifications that allows Lou to take advantage of them.
Lou is a motormouth, a consummate salesman, constantly selling himself and his ideas with no regard to whether the person seems interested in buying whatever he’s selling. He’s a force in every sense, whether it’s pushing his way into having people buy obviously stolen goods or inserting himself as Nina’s only possible source for career security. His willingness to do or say whatever is needed is what causes him to excel in the seedy underbelly that is nightcrawling. He never hesitates, never questions what his next move is. He exists purely on instinct, and through years of scavenging and surviving his instinct has sharpened into a sharp and dangerous weapon. Through osmosis of working with Lou the other characters begin to sharpen this tool as well, but they are always a few steps behind him.
Nightcrawler shows Los Angeles as a place with no room for grace or forgiveness. While presented as an unfortunate necessity, nothing our characters capture or play on the news are actually newsworthy. They show the worst days of people’s lives for entertainment and quick cash, never considering the harm that has been inflicted. It shows that the selfishness and narcissistic tendencies that often characterize the Hollywood stereotypes can be found in every person in the city. In a city built on desperation and an endless drive to succeed, everyone is predator and prey in equal measure.
This infection is seen spreading not just in Nightcrawler, but in the 2012 art-thriller Drive. Following a nameless Driver (Ryan Gosling), a stuntman who moonlights as a getaway driver for anyone willing to follow his rules and pay, the Driver forms a bond with his neighbor Irene (Carey Mulligan) and her young son. When her partner (Oscar Isaac) is released from prison, bringing with him certain demons from his past, the Driver tries to help, only to be caught in the machinations of little men trying to be big. Murder, blood, and death follow as the Driver does everything he can to protect the family he has but recently found.
The Driver is a near silent figure in the film, a man who watches everything, an observer of action and people. Under his calm exterior is a broiling fury, a violent monster that is ready to spring forth when called upon. While he works for criminals at times, he has distinct rules that separate him from the criminal element. He won’t carry a gun. He won’t work outside of his time frame. He won’t sit in on the planning. He is a driver, and that is all he allows himself to be. The moment he is forced to be more, the moment he’s provoked, an entire criminal enterprise is set to fall.
The Driver encompasses the city of Los Angeles. His motives are equally mysterious and concrete, intangible and all too real. While he projects a romantic silence, he is a force unto himself. This mirrors the shimmering alure of Hollywood, the glitz and glam of Beverly Hills, while not denying the underlying horror that exists in the poverty stricken areas and the places plagued by crime and drugs. There is truth on both the Driver’s melodic yearning and in his determined brutality. While it is appealing to be enticed by the beauty that can be found, it is dangerous to fall for someone (or somewhere) that contains an unimpeded rot under the surface.
Every one of the supporting characters in Drive carry this duality that contradicts their truth. The Driver’s boss Shannon (Bryan Cranston) is a motor-mouthed low class schemer who dreams of making it big in whatever his next con is. Bernie Rose (Albert Brooks) is a violent gangster who hates the act of killing, seeing it as a bitter and unfortunate consequence of his career. Nino (Ron Perlman) is a smalltime gangster, a Jewish man who wishes to break free from the Italian mafia who still sidelines him because of his heritage. All of them envision themselves as something they are not, and their inability to accept their truth leads to their downfall. The only characters who are true to themselves are Irene and the Driver. They both recognize who they are, the love they feel for each other, and how they could never be together in this world. The film is ultimately about exposing the truths, and no city needs it’s underbelly exposed more than Los Angeles.
With these three films we are given three visions of a city under the cover of night. When the sun sets in the City of Angels, the devils come out and the city becomes something other than the place of dreams and fantasy. Under the yellow glow of fluorescent lights, these stories flourish. And while these stories are not only about the city, as they tell of people that can exist anywhere and everywhere, they use the city to beautiful effect in enhancing their themes. From exploring a city from the outside, to corrupting the world with greed and determination, to the dangers of lying about the core of your being, all these stories reflect the city of Los Angeles in compelling and mostly unseen ways.