A Look at Why L.A. Cinema is So Depressing

Christian Bale in Knight of Cups

This Friday marks the long awaited release of director Terrence Malick's Knight of Cups. Following his Oscar-nominated sensation The Tree of Life, the reclusive director has been managing to release movies on a fairly frequent schedule. Whereas he used to take decades to complete one project, this is his third within five years (the other being To the Wonder) and he has another one in the works. It is encouraging, especially since he has a singular and meditative quality to his work that has been imitated, but never matched. With his latest taking place in Los Angeles, California, there is another question that is asked: What's so special about this city? Why do filmmakers turn to it for influence, often in pithy, dour noirish situations? Even if Malick likely won't make anything as gritty as, say, To Live and Die in L.A., there's a sense that his latest will continue that west coast remorse.
The only logical comparison point is New York. Los Angeles, commonly referenced as L.A., is often seen as the smutty and dirty alternative to the beautiful, artistic vision of New York. To be fair, the east coast features talents like Martin Scorsese and Woody Allen who have practically exploited every last city block for its profundity. There's plenty of west coast alternatives, but with exception to Randy Newman's "I Love L.A." song, the picture is usually far different and not singular to the Los Angeles county. For instance, cinema fans are likely to recognize San Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge (a constant place of peril) more than any skyscraper in L.A.. So what gives? Why is L.A. such a sad and depressing place?

To give some clarification,  I reside in Long Beach: a city that qualifies as L.A. County and is about an hour outside of the main hub of the attraction. I'm talking the place where the city is packed with traffic and celebrity culture. I merely exist on the outskirts of the city, but I do have a certain fascination when it comes to how the area is depicted. It is why I turned to an informative three hour documentary called Los Angeles Plays Itself, which technically only exists to reassure audiences that L.A. is a dangerous place and everything from crime to volcanic activity has happened here. Sure, we have some great films like L.A. Confidential or Chinatown, but all we have is tragedy.

It's a statement that doesn't make total sense when you consider what is supposed to be embodied in Southern California culture. It's supposed to be that liberal worldview where everyone's a little crazy. Steve Martin's classic L.A. Story is, while dated in 90's culture, the best embodiment of the more absurd sides of the coin, especially in how the choice for everyone to move and think faster doesn't often lead to better results. There's plenty of beautiful art, but there's also the traffic scene outside with everyone shouting profanely and a weatherman putting on a disingenuous smile. In fairness, there are a lot of great and humble films about L.A., but those that are, such as (500) Days of Summer, don't really exploit the beauty of the city outside of brief scenes. In the case of the aforementioned film, the protagonist takes a date to a park on a hillside to show off the beauty of the architecture. Even at its most romantic, it still somehow appears mechanical and, save for the Bradbury Building, there's not a lot that audiences are familiar with.

Most cities have a reputation. Boston for instance is full of people with accents and strange phobias. It only makes sense then that L.A., which borders Hollywood, is overeager to please and show off the talent. While there's plenty of optimistic behind the scenes movies about movies, most of them are in Hollywood and there's not a lot to dissect from the L.A. side of things. Even recently, Furious 7 had its third act in L.A., but chose to destroy buildings with killer drones. Of course, the series used to be about the simple things, starting off in 2001 with quaint car races that look tame by later standards. Even then, the films were about crime. It almost seems to be the depressing reality of the west coast where happy endings died somewhere back east on The Oregon Trail.

I am unsure why L.A. gets flagged with all of the negativity in modern cinema. It could be that the skyline is covered  in smog and makes for a devilish presence. It could be that everything feels impersonal and the desperation to please has made everyone more shallow. Directors like David Cronenberg explored this in Maps to the Stars, albeit with crass and perverted subtexts. It doesn't help that this is the culture that breeds from a mindset that "famous for being famous" can be a career path. Films like The Bling Ring can suggest that you can even be famous for trying to steal people's property and feeling a false sense of gratification in their wardrobe.

There is a sense that things could change and different sides to L.A. can be depicted to help improve the image. However, it still feels like too much of a cliche, going back to the film noir days. Even in recent acclaimed pictures like Tangerine, the protagonists are abrasive and rude. The city lacks redemption outside of cynical endings. It doesn't help that arguably the best Los Angeles film period, Chinatown, feels prescient after 40 years for its water control story yet still features an ending that suggests that evil is inescapable. It could be that the massive population creates tension and more problems. However, it still gets sideswiped by the need to be gritty.

I'll admit that L.A. doesn't have the allure of New York. The artists out here rarely have the impact of the east coast for whatever reason. It isn't like the society is failing. In fact, the art communities are definitely prominent. However, the cinematic depiction feels like a cliche unto itself and likely explains why every TV network gets by on having generic crime shows. Still, there's a sense that there's more to say out of the L.A. County than that things are looking bad. It feels like such a negative stereotype that Knight of Cups could easily be mistaken for something pretentious and lesser to a story like, say, The Wolf of Wall Street. L.A.'s depressing stories can't hold a candle to New York's. It could just be that there isn't as much positive embrace in mainstream film. 

However, I do ask one thing. If San Diego can have Ron Burgundy and Anchorman, why can't Los Angeles have something on par? There needs to be more of a positive icon by which the city can at least hope to turn around their image. I'll admit that maybe this view is a little too broad, but it is something that feels romanticized for the wrong things. Sure, there's work like Saturday Night Live's The Californians, but even that feels like an insult to the culture (even if it's accurate to outsiders). I'm not blaming Malick for giving into the self-reflective depression of L.A. cinema, but I just wish it wasn't such a cliche.