By Garrison Frost

Now that August is fading fast, and Labor Day is out of the way, Los Angeles is making its annual descent into that sinister mood for which it is well known. In the Hollywood Hills, a lonely set of headlights wends its way down a steep and windy road. On a desolate street in the Valley, a truck pulls to a stop and waits. On the Eastside, the young man sitting alone grinds out a cigarette on scorching hot cement knows many, many things. And in Redondo Beach, a woman stands on a cliff in a stiff warm breeze and watches a dark ocean send wave after wave.

Noir is now, in these smoldering days of September and October, these in-between days, these lost days, these empty days. Noir is now, because it wasn't a month or so ago, when the sun stood high and kids played in the ocean and people ate hot dogs and talked about lucky they all were. Noir is now, because it won?t be later when we're stuffing our faces with turkey and diving in and out of parking lots in the search for a shirt that will really, really, somehow make him happy. Noir is now, because it certainly won't be a few months into the new year when color returns to the trees and kids are dreaming of sleeping in and sports are played on thick, wet grass.

Los Angeles is known for many things, and there are other times for them. There will be other times for surfing, volleyball, bright sunlight, hope, roller skating, barbecues, family gatherings, sunbathing, action movies, baseball, joy, soccer games, ocean views, chats in front of the fireplace and large community events where kids are the only ones dancing on the grass to the live bands playing cover songs. But now is the time for the cigarette to burn itself out in the ashtray, the shadow, the echo, the ticking clock, the worry, the resignation, the tense fear.

The weather certainly has a lot to do with things. While everyone loves warm weather – and usually associates it with happy things – the warm weather of September and October is different from the warm weather of July and August in that it feels more, for lack of a better word, hostile. Warm September nights tend to be uncomfortable. When the winds do come, more often than not they fail to bring any relief. In fact, they often make things worse. These winds are a big departure from the November and January winds that snap and make you feel alive. No, these winds seem to drain your spirit and make you feel lonely and isolated: perfect noir winds. In September and October, the winds also seem to absorb any sound that might give you comfort, leaving a tense quiet that only seems penetrable by the disturbing footfall, the gunshot in the distance, the wavering barking dog. When the rains come – and they will come on occasion during these months – they come suddenly, darkly, and there is no comfort in the warm and misty water. These aren't the rains of spring, which seem to be synonymous with life. These are something entirely different.

Summer is a time of relaxation, diminished expectations and reflection. But as we transition to fall, things crank up again – schools reopen, vacationers return to work, year-end goals are reassessed. While many might see opportunity during these months, to many others these months are a time of anticipated failure and disappointment. Others are just tired. The year has worn on for nine, ten months. The fact that it gets darker earlier just lends to the overall sense of dread. And when it is light outside, it's a different kind of light. It's not the warm, soft glare that Los Angeles usually wraps itself in. No, the light of September and October comes from stark angles and casts long shadows, a perfect light for noir.

(September 10, 2004)

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