1936's Fury: Noir in Its Infancy

Recently I watched 1936's Fury, director Fritz Lang's first American film. Although one would not know from the early passages of the film (which are in a rather different vein from the rest of the film, but still excellent, especially when performed by two such wonderful performers such as Spencer Tracy and Sylvia Sidney), this film could be called the first Noir. From the moment when Tracy's car is stopped by a small-town policeman while e (tracy) is on his way to meet Ms. Sidney after a long time apart, the whole film changes course. Little details in the first 20 minutes (Tracy's habit of eating peanuts, his constant mix-up of the words memento and momentum, an engagement ring, a hole sewn with blue thread) begin to become important. The lighting becomes increasing darker. The musical score becomes more tempestuous. Tracy has been wrongfully accused of a kidnapping and no one in the small town believes in his innocence. Tensions and tempers start rising, and ultimately the locals build a lynch mob and burn down the jail. But, against all odds, Tracy survives. (His ill-fated dog, Rainbow, was played by the dog who would later play Toto in The Wizard of Oz) But he is a changed man. He has become one of the first noir characters, an anti-hero out for vengence. Gone is the idealistic character of the opening passages, here now is a vindictive character keeping a low profile so that the 22 "killers" will end up getting the death penalty for a murder which never happened. Meanwhile, Sylvia Sidney has gone through mental troubles sinces she was one of the eyewitnesses to the heinous event, and still believes for much of the film's runtime that her boyfriend had died among the flames. Tracy has not even bothered to tell her that he is alive. In the courtroom, the "killers" reveal their true natures by refusing to say they were involved until an incriminating newsreel turns up which shows their behavior on film. It is during one of these courtroom scenes that Sylvia finds out that Spencer is still alive (because of a letter with his typical memento/momentum typo), goes to him, and begs him to reveal that he is still alive. After he fights with her, and is then haunted by what he was planning to do in several hours of gloomy introspection, he reveals his secret in the film's final scene and is embraced by Sylvia who he plans still to marry. But this is not  a truly happy ending. While the 22 individuals are no longer charged with murder, they still killed Tracy's trust in other people, his humanity, and his belief in justice. Despite the embrace, one wonders whether Tracy's troubles have just begun. Certainally, he is no longer the happy-go-lucky character that the audience was introduced to. Nor is Sylvia Sidney the same. And the townspeople, if not murderers, are still guilty  of wrath and vengence, arson, battery, and attempted murder. Like a noir, the ending of Fury leaves one uneasy for the future.