Emotional contrasts in stark black and white

“Scene of the Crime: Photo by Weegee” is all about spectacle with a good dose of titillation, salaciousness and disdain thrown in to spice up grim, often gory stories of plain folks running amok or running into bad luck.

“Pictures for the Press,” a second photography exhibition at the J. Paul Getty Museum, focuses on even more horrible events -- nuclear explosions, napalmed villages, point-blank assassinations. Despite depicting some of the worst episodes of 20th century history, the unadorned news photographs are not as depressing as Weegee’s dramatically composed and garishly lighted shots of drunks, criminals and car wrecks.

The two shows emphasize the difference between tabloid sensationalism and serious news stories, rubbernecking versus soul-searching. Today, when it is increasingly difficult to disentangle news and entertainment, the paired exhibitions offer a thumbnail history of the popular media’s growing sensationalism.

The masterpieces of photojournalism trust viewers to make up their own minds about the information presented. They are based in the faith that no matter how bad things get, getting the story to the public matters: It may change the course of history or at least record the truth so that future generations might know it.

Weegee’s works never trust anyone. Nor do they hold out much hope for the future. The predominant thought they elicit is: “Thank God that’s not me. Now let’s get out of here.”

Several of the 57 images Weegee shot from 1937 to 1959 depict crime and disaster victims in the throes of suffering. “Fire Alarm / A Couple Driven Out From the Burning Tenement” shows a traumatized couple on a street corner in the middle of a cold night, the woman’s eyes wide with terror and the man clutching a change of clothes for both of them, his eyes looking out for even more misfortune. “I Cried When I Took This Picture” is a close-up of a mother and daughter wailing inconsolably as they watch a fire burn their home to the ground and take the lives of two relatives.

A hardworking journeyman, Weegee makes viewers witness a cornucopia of horrors, taking us, front and center, to a freshly killed suspect in “Off Duty Cop Does Duty, Kills Gunman Who Tries Stickup.” The dead man’s bloody face is pressed to the sidewalk, where his revolver, in the foreground, aims our eyes at his prone body.

The most egregiously gratuitous scene is depicted in before-and-after shots of a hit-and-run accident, the last moments of a vagrant’s life captured by the photographer who made a name for himself for seeming to know where the action was before it happened. Born Arthur Fellig, Weegee (1899-1968) got his moniker by vulgarizing “Ouija,” a popular board game that played on predicting the future.

“Sudden Death for One, Sudden Shock for the Other / Mrs. Dorothy Reportella, Accused of Hitting Bread Truck With Her Car” freezes the expression of guilt and disbelief on a driver’s face the moment she learns that the driver in the vehicle she hit is dead.

The accompanying image, “Wife of the Victim,” stands out because it doesn’t rub our nose in the suffering of strangers. That probably was not Weegee’s intention, but before he could stick his camera in the face of the dead driver’s wife, she collapsed into the shadows, her pain-wrenched body firmly gripped by two New York policemen. It’s a rare instance in which suggestion, rather than full-frontal exposure, enters the photographer’s prying pictures. This provides a touch of respect for personal privacy, which is nowhere to be found in the works that made Weegee famous.

A connoisseur of humanity’s base appetites, Weegee specialized in mean-spirited cynicism and exploitative voyeurism. In some photographs, he depicts crowds of looky-loos gazing at conflagrations as if they were watching fireworks displays.

“Their First Murder” more explicitly links death and entertainment. Having turned his back on the recently gunned-down corpse of a 22-year-old small-time gambler, Weegee photographed a crowd of Brooklyn schoolchildren in close-up. The expressions on their young faces suggest they don’t understand what has happened. In contrast, the dead man’s aunt, whom they surround, expresses crushing sorrow. The kids simply seem thrilled to have some excitement interrupt the schoolday.

Highbrow patrons of the Metropolitan Opera receive especially unflattering treatment, their elegant gowns and tuxedos failing to hide the whiff of moral corruption Weegee sniffs out and exaggerates. He makes the upper crust look venal, ridiculous and doomed.

Unlike many street photographers, whose work contrasts the pretentious social rituals of the rich with the raucous, authentic fun had by the poor in seedy watering holes, Weegee treats both social groups as despicable caricatures. Pictures such as “Billie Dauscha and Mabel Sidney, Bowery Entertainers,” “Songstress at Sammy’s” and “Shorty, the Bowery Cherub” serve up a seamy freak show for tabloid readers who want their workaday routines vicariously spiced up. Drunken couples kissing and groping with shameless abandon similarly dispense with tenderness and sympathy in favor of plain naked lust.

Weegee’s snide outlook is also evident in photos that include words. In one, firefighters struggle to douse a burning building on which an advertisement announces: “Simply Add Boiling Water.” Sarcasm drips from his picture of a sign that reads “New York Is a Friendly Town.” Being in on the joke and above the fray is the attitude to which Weegee appeals.

These qualities have spread from the pages of sleazy tabloids of the 1930s and ‘40s to much of today’s mainstream media. The style and substance of the news -- its focus on car chases, mayhem and the ever-present threat of terror -- have their roots in Weegee’s pictures, which leave little room for sober analysis and objective reportage because they exploit knee-jerk immediacy.

In contrast, the 36 photographs from 1944 to 1975 in “Pictures for the Press” combine the blunt effect of gut-wrenching imagery with the lasting demand that viewers understand something of the big picture. Where Weegee zeroes in on personal tragedy and random accidents, the photojournalists depict the consequences of political decisions, mostly made by the powerful and mostly suffered by ordinary folks.

The people in Barbara Gluck’s 1972 “Siege of An Loc, South Vietnam” -- wounded, battle-weary refugees -- have a lot in common with the victims in Weegee’s pictures. But their treatment could not be more different. Pain, grief, fear, exhaustion and incomprehension are palpable on their faces, but not a trace of sensationalism twists their responses. There is no one-note crescendo. Compassion, which is nowhere in Weegee’s work, draws viewers into the picture, demanding thoughtful engagement and raising tough questions about social justice and government culpability.

Similar stories unfold throughout the exhibition’s efficient survey of iconic images. These include harrowing shots of World War II and its aftermath by Robert Capa, Lee Miller and W. Eugene Smith, as well as heart-wrenching pictures of unspeakable cruelty and uncelebrated heroism in Vietnam by Eddie Adams, Huynh Cong “Nick” Ut, Malcolm Browne, Larry Burrows, John Olson and Hubert Van Es.

On the domestic front, images of the civil rights movement and of the assassinations of President John F. Kennedy and Sen. Robert F. Kennedy record the ups and downs of a tumultuous era no less volatile than our own.

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‘Scene of the Crime: Photo by Weegee’ and ‘Pictures for the Press’

Where: J. Paul Getty Museum, 1200 Getty Center Drive, Los Angeles

When: 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. Tuesdays through Thursdays and Sundays;

10 a.m. to 9 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays; closed Mondays

Ends: Jan. 22

Price: Free admission; parking $7

Contact: (310) 440-7300, www.getty.edu