You learn a lot about a noir character by their coffee: sugar? cream? more whiskey than caffeine?
I’m cataloging every noir scene where coffee plays a role — rote and ritual, soul-dark or cream and sugar, served from dingy diners to shiny penthouses.
Coffee as a clue, a reveal, a window into the dark undercurrent of the soul?
That’s noir, baby! And that’s Mississippi Mermaid (1969).
“I can’t say that I’m happy with her . . . but I know I’m unable to live without her.”
I looked at how the oner works on ShotZero . . .
but the psychology is even more fun! Louis (Jean-Paul Belmondo) and Julie (Catherine Deneuve) have communicated via letters and a single photo before Julie arrives and the two are married.
Something feels off, but Louis can’t quite put a finger on it until their first morning breakfast:
Coffee service becomes a regular interlude in the film, establishing how time passes. But its first appearance in the above, lovely staged oner is the first signal Julie is not who Louis thinks she is, the moment which sets off the whole unexpectedly zig-zagging film,
Because there’s no way someone who hasn’t drunk coffee their whole life suddenly, casually starts.
It’s not that kind of drink.
Coffee is just as wildly important when it makes an appearance in the final scenes two hours (film time) and several months (life time) later.
If someone in your life has suddenly begun drinking coffee, or changed their order significantly eg. ‘soy cappuccino with one’ to a ‘long black’ . . . I’m not saying they’re out to steal your fortune, ensnare your heart, turn you into a murderer, and perhaps poison you.
But I am saying keep your eyes open