The Killing By Sam Nivola

‘What’s the difference?’ is the powerful last line of Stanley Kurbick’s third feature film, the 1956 Film Noir the Killing. This line is muttered - almost inaudibly - by the film’s protagonist Johnny Clay, played by Sterling Hayden. 

The film has flown under the radar for most. Even people who, like me, really love Kubrick and claim to have seen ‘all of his films’ seem to have let this one slip. For the most part, I understand why. It came at a time when Kubrick was still developing his very distinctive style and wasn’t consistently churning out his hyper-stylized and colorful films of the 70s, 80s and 90s. It also came at a time that was way less sexy and flashy than the aforementioned decades: the 1950s. 

The defining aspect of this period was its lack of definition. The fathers and older brothers of this generation fought in the greatest conflict of all time and defended the world from fascism in a series of incredible European and Pacific adventures. The mothers and wives mourned and mourned some more.And when the dust had settled, all the children were left with was a failing sense of American patriotism, which turned quickly into indifference and maybe even nihilism. Combine that with a sense of conformity and lack of individualism and you get a bubbling collective angst – people wanting more from their somewhat pointless lives. 

This is a feeling that Kubrick captures masterfully, and is actually a throughline in all of his movies… even the flashier ones. 

Johnny Clay is true to his name in every sense. He’s an active soul that is ultimately turned passive – a ball of Clay to be manhandled by society, fate, or whomever, without his consent. The Killing is the story of a desperate attempt by Clay to exercise absolute control over his destiny and his identity, willing a path of life into existence that defies the pervasive ennui of the time. The entire first two acts of the movie show us just how he plans to do this: we see the makings of a foolproof heist, planned down to the minute, with every possible contingency already accounted for. And yet, the mysterious force that unravels his plan in the final minutes of the film comes in the form of a small dog, a beast so unpredictable that even Clay couldn’t have foreseen it.

These themes are complemented by the extensive use of dolly shots, following characters through doors, in and out of rooms, turning the world into a labyrinthine huis-clos for which we can see and imagine a floor plan. Despite Clay’s belief that he is in control of the world, the world is physically closed around him. Every space that he finds himself in has a set amount of entry and exit points (often one and never more than two), making his path one that is predestined from the get-go by the external environment. 

Ultimately, Clay and his gang have absolutely zero control over their fates. Clay presumably ends up in prison, while the rest of his crew die in a shootout. 

So what is good ‘ol Stan trying to say? At face value it would appear that the message is entirely pessimistic: if you try to carve your own path, the universe will hold you back. Life is nothing but a predestined, bored conveyor belt controlled by a cruel force that wants us to have a shitty time of it.

As a self diagnosed control freak, I must reject this interpretation. I think Kubrick isn’t quite such a nihilist. But I don’t think there’s anything positive about the film either. 

I think he’s trying to tell people like me to just be a little less uptight. He’s saying that for better or for worse, the more you try to bend fate to your liking, the harder it’ll snap back and whack you in the face. Despite it being far less interesting or sexy, there is value in accepting the things you can’t change and working within a rigid framework to fulfill yourself to the best of your abilities. 

Or maybe he isn’t saying anything, rather presenting the truth of our world and admitting that neither he nor anyone else, genius or not, has a solution to the deadly entrapments of the modern world and its masters.