MOVIES:
Steven Spielberg once said “the only thing better than seeing movies is
reading about them.”
We agree. This month:
Juan Marcos explains why Inglourious Basterds left
him Ingloriously disappointed.
DVD'S:
Rick asks the question, how do you feel about the American
versions of
State of Play and The Office?
MUSIC:
Phoenix, Wolfgang Amadeus
Phoenix
and
Florence + The Machine, Lungs.
BOOKS:
Margaret Atwood: The Year of the
Flood.
FOCUS:
Rick's,
I’m damned to feel the way I do. What have I done to fall
so hard for you? (You never get what you want, pt. 2).
SPOTLIGHT:
“I
have wanted to write a spotlight on Alfred Hitchcock for
quite a while and it occurred to me that writing one about
the undisputed Master of Suspense for our October issue made
perfect sense. Finally I had an excuse to sit down and do
something I’ve wanted to do for years: watch all of my
Hitchcock movies in chronological order.”
Starring: Brad Pitt, Mélanie Laurent, Christoph Waltz, Eli Roth, Michael
Fassbender, Diane Kruger, Daniel Brühl, Til Schweiger, Gedeon Burkhard,
Jacky Ido and B.J. Novak.
Some of you hardcore Tarantino fans might think that I must be crazy for
writing the following review. Unfortunately I have to stand by what I
believe in so here it goes. Sadly I thought Inglourious Basterds
was a big let down, not in the worst movie of the year category but
certainly one that I could have lived without. So where can I begin?
I’ll start with the power of the marketing campaign. Lately I’ve been
getting the distinct impression that the movies that have the bigger
marketing campaigns do so because they are not really that good. I guess
at some point during the screening process the heads of the studios
realize that the movie is not going to carry its own weight so they pull
out all of the stops and employ psychological tactics to bring the
people to see the film. Yes, if you see a movie poster enough times it
will spark your curiosity. This is the case with Quentin Tarantino’s new
flick as has been the case with hundreds of others.
I love Tarantino and I think he deserves all the respect of the movie
Gods not only for creating a new genre of film but for bringing his love
and knowledge of the seventh art form to millions of people. I haven’t
seen the original Basterds movie, but I’m pretty sure that
Tarantino has taken a lot of liberties to make the new version radically
different from the original. Not to say that the original was that
original, director Enzo G. Castellari and his team borrowed their
inspiration from the sixties film, The Dirty Dozen. I have to
admit that the first fifteen minutes of Inglourious Basterds had
me hook, line and sinker, and when they introduced “The Basterds” I was
giddy with excitement, but all of a sudden the story made a drastic turn
away from the most promising elements of the film and frankly the whole
reason why I paid the $12.50. I wanted to see “The Basterds” kick ass,
and for some strange reason that still puzzles me Tarantino decided to
focus his time and energy on two separate story lines.
One long sequence in a bar that while entertaining goes nowhere. And
another equally long sequence that follows a plan to kill the Nazi high
command in a movie theater. Unfortunately the plan was not planned and
executed by our Inglourious Basterds but by a young French woman
seeking revenge for the murder of her family. I feel that in the end our
Basterds were left with nothing more than cameo appearances in
their own movie. Not to mention the introduction of great characters
only to be killed moments later in what seemed to be silly
circumstances. The classic Tarantino elements were all present and
visually the film was stunning. Unfortunately, he dropped the ball when
it came time to write a cohesive script. The acting was superb and there
were some good times along the way, but overall the film was
unsuccessful at doing what it promised to do, show us why they call
themselves the Inglourious Basterds.
I’m a bit of an Anglophile. I love all things British and often wonder
how it’s possible that I was born on the left side of the Atlantic. As
such, I do love my BBC Television. Two of their greatest shows, and I
think two of the greatest shows ever, were “State of Play” and “The
Office.” Both shows have been remade in America, one into a film and the
other into a series, now beginning it’s sixth season. I always wonder
why we need to rush into remaking recent projects. I mean, okay fine,
the majority of Americans are lazy or xenophobic or stupid and won’t
watch a movie that requires subtitled translation. It’s very rare for
something like Amélie or Pan’s Labyrinth to break through
to the masses regardless of how much big city America loves them. But
when the basis for a remake is a British movie or show, it boggles my
mind. It’s in English! Why can’t we enjoy something well done instead of
remaking it? Particularly when remakes are rarely as good as the
originals. Aside from the failed remake of “Spaced” and a proposed
remake of the Helen Mirren series “Prime Suspect,” there is a remake of
Death at a Funeral in post-production when the original film is
barely two years old! So yes, upon hearing about “the American version”
of anything British, I’m pretty skeptical.
I was astounded to hear about last spring’s remake of State of Play.
Condensing the six part BBC series about a group of journalists trying
to uncover the truth about the death of a politician’s aide into a
two-hour feature seemed like a ridiculous idea. But State of Play
turns out to be a pretty good movie, although probably not as good as it
might be if you haven’t seen the original. As a fan of the original,
though, it just makes you want to re-watch the BBC version. In the film,
it seems like we only really get to know Russell Crowe’s journalist and
Ben Affleck’s Congressman. Rachel McAdams and Helen Mirren (though
delicious as a newspaper editor) are just sketches of characters
compared to Kelly MacDonald and Bill Nighy in the series. And oh, how I
miss James McAvoy as Danny, a character cut from the sequel. However,
it’s probably just because over six episodes, we get the opportunity to
linger, to spend time with characters considered just as important as
John Simm’s journalist and David Morrissey’s politician. The 2009 film
keeps the suspense and the smarts thanks to the writing team that
included Tony Gilroy (Michael Clayton) and Billy Ray (Shattered
Glass). In the end, as good and shiny as this new version is on DVD
with its deleted scenes and a behind-the-scenes featurette, I just
wanted to re-watch the BBC series. Which I did.
On the other hand, there’s “The Office.” I was curious about the
American version, thinking there was no way it could compare to the
original, but it surprised me (and I think, everyone) by being truly
funny. But what truly shocked me was that by the second season, I loved
this new “Office” better than the original. In fact, sometimes I forget
that it even began as a remake. What makes it so great is the attention
it pays to people outside the main characters. Yes, Michael Scott is
hysterically lame and Dwight is a nutty sycophant and Jim and Pam are
the most adorable couple ever, but the ongoing stories of Angela,
Phyllis, Oscar, Stanley, Kelly, Kevin and the rest are just as much fun
to watch. Every single cast member of the show has perfect comedic
timing. They are truly one of the best ensembles on television, one
without a single weak link. The fifth season adds a couple of great
performers into the mix, Amy Ryan, in her stint as HR rep/Michael’s
girlfriend absolutely shines and Idris Elba excels as the straight man,
a new district manager who takes no crap from anyone. A lot happens in
this season as Angela & Dwight continue their affair, as she plans her
wedding to Andy, Jim & Pam begin the season in different cities and end
it quite happily together, Ryan gets bleached blonde and Meredith… well,
a lot of things happen to poor Meredith. It is a great season, filled
with laughs. The DVD includes several commentaries and deleted scenes,
as well as a great compilation of great moments from the show’s first
100 episodes.
So you say that you’re tired of the same old playlist? Well I’ve got the
perfect cure for those stale music blues. How does French pop rock with
a dash of Strokes, a hint of Killers and bit of Franz Ferdinand sound?
Not interested? Well neither was I until I saw the preview for the
upcoming film New York, I Love You. The song featured in the
trailer is “1901” by the French band Phoenix. Needless to say as soon as
I was done Googling the trailer info, I headed for the iTunes store and
purchased the last two Phoenix albums. All I can say is amazing,
especially the last album Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, which was
released earlier this year. Oddly enough I had heard the band years
earlier on the Six Feet Under, Vol. 2: Everything Ends
soundtrack.
Of course that Phoenix sounds nothing like the Phoenix of today. They
got their start as the backing band on a remix for the Air single “Kelly
watch the stars.” The first two albums United and Alphabetical
have heavy pop, R&B, rock and electronica influences. You could compare
their early sound with bands like Zero 7, Beck, Justin Timberlake and
Jason Mraz. The songs were well produced and very catchy, but it took a
total makeover of their sound for me to take notice. By the time It's
Never Been Like That was released in 2006 their new sound was
starting to take shape. So why should you give Phoenix a chance? Because
they are at the top of their game and they make retro pop rock sound
good. Did I forget to mention that they are French?
After being a sensation in Europe all summer long, Florence + The
Machine’s debut album Lungs finally makes its way to the US in
October. Singer/songwriter Florence Welch combines a stellar rock and
roll voice with killer hooks and dark wit, the least of which is heard
in the cheeky single “Kiss with a fist,” which was featured in the
recent film Jennifer’s Body. From the opening track, “Dog days
are over” to the finale, a cover of “You’ve got the love,” Lungs
is a non-stop album of fist pumping, ass shaking, foot-stomping AWESOME.
My favorite track is unquestionably, “Drumming song.” Even thinking
about it, “As I move my feet towards your body/I can hear this
beat/It fills my head up and gets louder and louder…” I am moved to
dance. And I. Don’t. Dance.
The fantastic “Blinding” haunts me. “Girl with one eye” and “My boy
builds coffins” are both morbidly funny 21st century blues.
The incredible “Howl” demands to be played loud. Louder! I cringe at the
thought that “Cosmic love” might become a favorite of Twilight
cultists because it is too good for your stupid teenage vampire
fantasies. The whole album is pure genius. It has been an impressive
year for great women in music: Regina Spektor, Anna Ternheim and now
Florence Welch. But only Lungs could make me say unequivocally:
This Is The Best Album Of The Year.
About once a year, I find myself reading a book by an author and then
realizing that I love them and have to read everything I can get my
hands on. Last year it was Julia Leigh, author of Disquiet.
Before that it was Ian McEwen. This year, clearly, it’s going to be
Margaret Atwood. I have a couple of her books on my shelf, just waiting
to be read. But I got a copy of The Year of the Flood, her newest
novel and decided to read it first. Initially I was hesitant, wary about
reading a book set in the future with a vaguely sci-fi vibe. What’s a
“pleebland” anyway? But I settled in and in no time was devouring page
by page the interweaving stories of two women, Toby and Ren, who
survived The Waterless Flood, a viral wave that has wiped out most of
civilization. As the novel follows these women through their lonely days
after the end of the world, it also takes us back into their past, a
shared history living among a group of people called God’s Gardeners.
The Gardeners are a group of people who have combined Christianity with
science, who have forsaken technology and returned to an extremely green
way of living, building rooftop gardens in one of the worst neighborhood
of the pleebland (big city). Scientists have played God with genetics,
creating rakunks (racoons & skunks), pigoons (giant pigs with human-like
organs to be harvested), and Mo’Hairs (sheep with great amounts of long
colorful hair to be used as hair extensions) and green rabbits. Some
scientists have even succeeded in creating humans. The streets of the
pleeblands are overrun with dangerous gangs and big corporations like
HappiCuppa and SecretBurger, which serves up burgers made up of – who
knows? It’s a secret. In these streets, Toby is left alone and has to
fend for herself, until God’s Gardeners take her in. While she doesn’t
completely convert to their beliefs, she remains with them and becomes
an important member of their community. Ren, meanwhile, grows up among
the Gardeners until a break takes her out of their fold and into a very
different lifestyle.
If these two women have survived, who else may be out there? How long
can they remain alone? Is it the end of all things? You’ll be dying to
know how it all ends and despite the dystopia, Atwood keeps you reading
with two compelling characters and a surprising dose of humor. I also
found myself really thinking about the ideas of God’s Gardeners – their
philosophy is actually sort of compelling. It turns out that The Year
of the Flood is the second of a trilogy that was started with 2003’s
Oryx and Crake. However, it’s not a direct sequel and you can
definitely read the new book first if you wish without feeling the least
bit lost. In fact, I think The Year of the Flood is a bit more
accessible than the excellent Oryx and Crake, so I’m glad I read
it first.
I’m damned to feel the way I do. What have I done to fall
so hard for you?
(You never get what you want, pt. 2)
So why
then? Why have all of your thoughts begun to revolve around the writer?
Why is he always at the edge of your mind, always subtly there like the
constant bass line of your pulse? You had noticed him as soon as you
started the job four years ago. Before the publisher, before the
musician and the man before that and the one before. Of course you had
seen him. How could anyone not, much to his apparent chagrin. Four years
working in the same building. Four years occasionally getting up the
nerve to say "hey." So why now suddenly is he the one person you hope to
see every day? Every ding that precedes the opening of the elevator
doors causes you to look for his face to appear. Turning every corner
you hope you'll see him. You wonder if it's because
of the publisher and the musician. Why be disappointed in other people
when you can wish for the impossible- expect nothing and you can't very
well be disappointed, can you? No. It's the wanting
that fills you with ache. The wanting makes you absolutely bloody
miserable. And what you're discovering is that after a while you hate
yourself. For wanting what you can't get and even more for setting
yourself up for the downfall.
Idiot.
That's
the bitch of it all. You're absolutely aware that you're being a fool.
But. But still you look for him, even if it's out of the corner of your
eye. Even more, you want to know about him, everything there is to know.
What made him want to write? What books does he read? Where did he come
from, how did he grow up? Did the other kids make fun of the way he
walked, all elbows and long legs if he's in a hurry, and of course
utterly charming as far as you are concerned. Who are his parents and
what do they do? And it's all so completely ridiculous, really, because
none of it matters. Not really. He may as well be a character in a
movie. You might as well be pining over Heathcliff or (please God don't
become that girl), Mr. Darcy. You wish that you had something to spark
his interest. Isn't there anything interesting about you? But you know
that in the end, you're just another girl who's moved to New York hoping
for something big. A girl working at a publishing house where young
hopeful girls are a dime a dozen. You write, too. Of course. As does he
and the person at the next cubicle and your boss and her
boss. Everyone you've met in this city is a writer. Furthermore, you're
just one more moon-eyed girl swooning every time he glances in your
direction. Only you've got the thrilling distinction of being the fat
one, haven't you?
Oh,
Sophie. Just be alone.
You
sometimes ask yourself what's wrong with you? Your wise friend Rhonda,
Queens born and bred, says, "Late blooms last the longest." She also
once remarked, "high school is never over." A horrifying thought, to be
sure, but in your experience as an adult, disappointingly true. The
daily humiliations, both self-inflicted and not, the cliques formed from
office to office, the gossip (sometimes so sophomorically vicious) and
competition for affections- all of it is so discomfortingly familiar.
Sometimes
you imagine yourself becoming the one among the flock who actually gets
published. Now that would be a way to get his attention, wouldn't it?
Only you really aren't a very good writer. You put on your headphones
and picture yourself on stage. He's in the audience, falling in love
with you just because of your song.
"I
hope you feel the way I do/ I hope you give yourself up, too/ I'm damned
to feel the way I do/ What have I done to fall so hard for you?
What you
love and why you listen to pop music: How one day you can hear a song by
chance that echoes the very thoughts you had the day before, crying in
the ladies room stall that seems to bear witness to your every defeated
moment. "Why do I like him so much? Why should I? What is it that allows
myself to continue this train of thought or feeling when it isn't even a
remote possibility?" What have
I done to fall so hard for you?
By Rick
Sayre
Song
lyrics from “What have I done” by Anna Ternheim
I have wanted to write a spotlight on Alfred Hitchcock for quite a while
and it occurred to me that writing one about the undisputed Master of
Suspense for our October issue made perfect sense. Finally I had an
excuse to sit down and do something I’ve wanted to do for years: watch
all of my Hitchcock movies in chronological order. Since I had to use up
some vacation days before I lost them, it all seemed to come together. I
was a film geek with a challenge: Could I watch the 42 Hitchcock movies
I own (plus 10 episodes of Alfred Hitchcock Presents that he
directed and 4 films I Netflixed) in 10 days?
September 4: The Silent Films
My challenge begins with the silent thriller, The Lodger (1927).
It’s only the second time I’ve seen this movie, but both times it has
reminded me of Hitchcock’s penultimate film, 1972’s Frenzy. Both
films begin with the corpses of murdered blondes on an embankment in
London. In The Lodger, a woman witnessed a tall man with a scarf
covering the lower half of his face near the scene of the crime. As the
city goes on the hunt for this scarf wearing killer known as The
Avenger, a mysterious young man (Ivor Novello, the silent film star who
was portrayed by Jeremy Northam in Robert Altman’s film, Gosford Park)
appears, wrapped in – you guessed it – a scarf (and looking quite
similar to 1930s pulp hero The Shadow), to rent a room from an older
couple. Right off the bat, the stranger is acting a bit creepy. Throw in
his attraction to couple’s blonde daughter and it’s clear that he’s
suspected of being The Avenger.
Silent films would probably make most people these days explode with
impatience (or laughter over the exaggerated physicality, which can be
jarring at times – not to mention the excessive amount of lipstick on
the male actors). There can be long stretches between the titles,
despite the characters on screen speaking to one another. The more
silent films I see, the more I find them interesting. The time between
dialogue and description titles can be quite intriguing, making the
films more open to one’s own interpretation. I suppose it’s why some
people believe that film before the advent of talkies had more artistic
merit. The Lodger notably has some early Hitchcock innovation;
while the landlord and his family are downstairs reading about the
murderer, the lodger is upstairs, pacing frantically. The family looks
up at the ceiling, suspicious, and Hitchcock allows us to see through
the ceiling by inserting a shot filmed from below Novello pacing on a
floor clear as glass.
The Lodger
is actually Hitchcock’s fifth film and it certainly points to the
direction he would take with his career; mystery, suspense, thrills,
voyeurism, murder and blondes. There is one more major ingredient
involved, but mentioning it would ruin the suspense, something Hitch
would never approve of. However, while The Lodger is very much a
Hitchcock thriller, his early career had its share of non-genre dramas,
such as the next film in my marathon, The Ring (1927). This is a
pretty straightforward drama about a romantic triangle involving a
carnival boxer (Carl Brisson) who risks losing his girl to a rival from
the ring. This movie has a much more authentic feel than it’s
predecessor, the performances in particular are more naturalistic and
less silent movie-ish. It starts off pretty strong, but isn’t one of my
favorites. Following The Ring is Easy Virtue (1928), which
I rented to see for the first time. Recently remade into a feature film
starring Colin Firth, Kristin Scott Thomas & Jessica Biel, Easy
Virtue is an adaptation of a Noël Coward play about an infamous
divorcée who marries a wealthy and younger man, much to his family’s
disapproval. Carl Brisson returns in front of the screen for Hitchcock’s
final silent film in 1929. The Manxman is another romantic
triangle. This time, Brisson is Pete, a sailor whose lifelong friend,
Philip, has feelings for Kate, Pete’s girlfriend. When Pete is thought
lost at sea, Kate falls in love with Philip.
September 5-7: British Talkies
Hitchcock’s next film, Blackmail (1929), actually began being
made as a silent film, but during the course of shooting, it was decided
that it would be a talkie. This is another film I hadn’t seen before
now, but what’s interesting is that the film’s sparse dialogue was
clearly added as an afterthought, so it’s this odd combination of silent
film and talkie combined. Some very signature Hitchcock moments take
place, as well as a murder scene that foreshadows his most famous one,
the shower scene in Psycho – a film he would make 31 years later.
Murder! (1930) is about a famous actor, Sir John, (Herbert
Marshall) who believes in the innocence of a young actress jailed for
murder and decides to uncover the truth about the crime. It’s a great
mystery with some surprises. Next up is 1931’s The Skin Game, a
drama about feuding families based on a play that had already been made
into a silent film in 1921. It’s followed by an odd dramedy called
Rich and Strange (1931) about a couple given enough money to travel
around the world. It lives up to the second half of its title.
We are back in familiar territory with another suspenseful film,
Number 17 (1931), in which a group of strangers (including a
homeless war vet, the girl next door, a mysterious deaf and mute woman
and a lifeless body) are brought together in an empty and creepy house
one dark night. While it has its moments, especially the thrilling final
chase sequence that involves a train, a bus and a ferry and some
excellent work with miniatures, in general it’s a very confusing
picture. Hitchcock’s Reign of Terror truly began with the original
version of The Man Who Knew Too Much from 1934. A British couple
on holiday in St Moritz stumbles upon plans for espionage and their
daughter is kidnapped to keep them quiet. Many people prefer this
version to Hitchcock’s own 1956 remake and most of the time I’m one of
them, but it may just be that I prefer Edna Best to Doris Day and enjoy
Peter Lorre as the villain.
I think that the first movie where Hitchcock truly comes into his own is
1935’s The 39 Steps. For the first time, he combines suspense,
comedy and romance into an absolutely perfect concoction. One of his
very favorite themes, The Wrong Man, drives The 39 Step, which
follows Canadian Richard Hannay on the run through the Scottish
Highlands after a mysterious woman is murdered in his London apartment,
leaving him as the main suspect. Robert Donat is the first of those
charming leading men out to prove their innocence, a role that Hitchcock
would later cast many an actor in, most notably Cary Grant. Madeleine
Carroll plays the blonde swept up in the intrigue, who will of course
inevitably fall for our hero. The 39 Steps foreshadows
Hitchcock’s films Young & Innocent, Saboteur, and the classic
North by Northwest. Carroll and Peter Lorre would return to star
alongside John Gielgud and Robert Young in Secret Agent (1936).
The three make a fantastic team of spies, with Gielgud and Carroll
pretending to be married and Peter Lorre as the girl-crazy “General”
steeped in espionage and intrigue in Switzerland. Once again, Hitchcock
combines mystery and comedy, with a funny and memorable performance by
Robert Young as a man shamelessly smitten with Carroll. Confusingly
enough, following Secret Agent is a film called Sabotage
(1936) based on Joseph Conrad’s novel, The Secret Agent. (Which
was later filmed as Joseph Conrad’s The Secret Agent and starred
Bob Hoskins, Patricia Arquette & Christian Bale) As was his way,
Hitchcock made the novel his own. He preferred to read a book once, take
the things he liked and throw the rest away. So his Sabotage is
set in a London movie house run by Sylvia Sidney (who some of you may
recall as the chain-smoking afterlife coach, Juno, in Tim Burton’s
Beetlejuice). She suspects that her quiet husband is actually a
terrorist and discovers the truth after a terrible accident involving
her young brother. 1937’s Young and Innocent is another tale
about a wrongly accused man on the run trying to prove his innocence.
This time the blonde is Nova Pilbeam, who was last seen as the kidnapped
child in 1934’s The Man Who Knew Too Much. Pilbeam’s character is
another Hitchcock archetype: The plucky young lady, resourceful and
smart, a Hitchcock fixture in Shadow of a Doubt (which was his
favorite), and Stage Fright. The same sort of character features
in Hitchcock’s final British talkie, The Lady Vanishes (1938).
Margaret Lockwood befriends a sweet old lady, Mrs. Froy on a train.
After falling asleep, she wakes up to find that Mrs. Froy has
disappeared. Furthermore, no one admits to having seen her in the first
place! Only quirky musician Michael Redgrave believes her and helps her
uncover the truth. Again, the combination of comedy and suspense is
pitched perfectly, and two British travelers, Charters and Caldicott
threaten to steal the whole show. (In fact, these two characters went on
to have their own adventures in non-Hitchcock related films, including
Crook’s Tour, a 1941 film included on Criterion’s edition of
The Lady Vanishes.) Of course, one more Hitchcock trademark features
in this movie: A train. From the finale of Number 17 to landmark
films Strangers on a Train and North by Northwest,
Hitchcock set some of his greatest scenes on the tracks. After the
success of The Lady Vanishes and having conquered Britain,
Hitchcock planned to travel to America and begin a partnership with
legendary Hollywood producer David O. Selznick. However, first he’d
make a strange costume drama called Jamaica Inn (1939) in which a
young orphan travels to live with her aunt and uncle, only to find that
they are involved with a band of smugglers. It was an adaptation of a
story by Daphne Du Maurier, whose work would be the basis for The
Birds and Hitchcock’s next spectacular film.
September 7- 9, 2009: Hollywood, 1940s.
The first collaboration between Selznick and Hitchcock is the haunting
adaptation of Daphne Du Maurier’s novel Rebecca (1940). From its
very beginning the film is dreamlike and filled to the brim with
mystery. As it’s nameless protagonist, played by Joan Fontaine, recalls
meeting the mysterious Maxim De Winter (Sir Laurence Olivier, who
petitioned strongly to have his lover, Vivien Leigh play the lead),
falling in love with him and being taken to his glorious manor,
Manderley, where the memories of his late wife Rebecca may as well be a
ghost haunting the halls. Hitchcock gets a magnificent performance from
the young Fontaine, Olivier is perfect as the imperial Maxim and George
Sanders is remarkable as a slimy cousin of the late Mrs. De Winter.
However, it is character actor Judith Anderson as Rebecca’s strangely
devoted servant, Mrs. Danvers, who leaves the most lasting impression.
Rebecca is an essential film, not just for Hitchcock fans but
also for anyone interested in cinema. Later in 1940, Hitchcock made
Foreign Correspondent. Featuring Murder’s Herbert Marshall,
Joel McCrea and once again, George Sanders and set at the dawn of World
War II, the film follows a journalist who tries to prove that a shocking
assassination was staged to cover up a kidnapping. Especially nice is a
turn by Sanders, who was typically cast as a villain, as one of the
heroes and a truly thrilling climax aboard a crashed airplane in the
ocean that points to Hitchcock’s 1944 film, Lifeboat.
The next movie is probably the oddest one in Hitchcock’s Hollywood
career, but is also one of my favorites: Mr. and Mrs. Smith
(1941). While Hitch often had comedy in his films, and 1955’s The
Trouble with Harry is more a dark comedy than anything else, Mr.
and Mrs. Smith is the only straight-out comedy he made. Shot as a
favor to the film’s star, Carole Lombard, the story is about a couple of
married New Yorkers (Lombard & Robert Montgomery) who discover that
their wedding was not legal. He finds it amusing and a bit thrilling.
She kicks him out and takes up with someone else to make him jealous.
It’s a lot of fun, mostly because Hitchcock had a great knack for comedy
and the fact that Lombard and Montgomery are two of the best comedic
movie stars ever. As great as Mr. and Mrs. Smith is, it does
stick out like a sore thumb in Hitchcock’s filmography. Having second
thoughts about marriage is a theme that carries over into Hitchcock’s
next film, a very different 1941 release called Suspicion. Joan
Fontaine reappears as a respectable, responsible woman who meets (on a
train) and then marries dashing Cary Grant. In time, she discovers that
he is not the man she thought he was and suspects she made the wrong
choice, eventually fearing for her life. It’s the first collaboration
between Hitchcock and Grant, who would go on to make several amazing
films together, some of them true cinema classics. Grant is mysterious
and charming and Fontaine is a stronger and more assured actress than
she was in Rebecca.
Hitchcock’s 1942 film, Saboteur, is the first film he made for
Universal Studios, a studio he would return to time and time again for
the remaining 30 years of his career. Saboteur is another of
Hitchcock’s man on the run films, his first set in America and one that
began filming only two weeks after Pearl Harbor brought the US into
World War II. When an airplane factory worker (and Jason Behr lookalike)
Robert Cummings is falsely accused of a traitorous act, he flees Los
Angeles as a wanted man. He makes his way across the country (with an
initially untrusting Priscilla Lane) pursued by the authorities. Along
the way they have a truly wonderful encounter with the cast of a
traveling freak show. It all leads to a spectacular and suspenseful
climax set where Cummings confronts the real terrorist at the Statue of
Liberty. Critics thought he was simply rehashing The 39 Steps and
Hitch was initially unhappy with Universal for making him use Cummings
and Lane, but Saboteur is one of my favorite Hitchcock films,
filled with enjoyable performances, sympathetic characters and a fun
screenplay with contributions by Dorothy Parker.
Hitchcock’s favorite of his films was the 1943 suspense film Shadow
of a Doubt. Set in small Santa Rosa, California, the movie revolves
around Teresa Wright’s charming young Charlie, named after her favorite
uncle (Joseph Cotten), she is thrilled when he arrives for a visit.
However, she soon begins to suspect that her beloved Uncle Charlie is
not the wonderful man they all think he is. The more she learns, the
more suspicious she becomes that he might actually be the Merry Widow
Murderer and Hitchcock amps up the suspense until it’s unbearable. It’s
a wonderful film that shows how evil and darkness can exist where we
least expect it – in normal families, in nice little houses, in small
town America, foreshadowing David Lynch’s Blue Velvet and Twin
Peaks by almost fifty years. It also shares a common theme with
other Hitchcock films: people discussing murder as if it were a game.
Charlie’s father (Henry Travers) and his friend (Hume Cronyn) have
recurring debates about the best ways to commit murder. In Rope
and Strangers on a Train, methods of murder will be party
conversations.
Lifeboat
(1944) is quite a different film. Hitchcock tells the story of eight
people surviving on a lifeboat after Germans sink their ship during
World War II. Hitchcock was interested in telling a story that was
incredibly self-contained, almost claustrophobic. He would try this
again with Rope in 1948 and had at one point entertained the idea
by writer Larry Cohen to film a story that would take place entirely in
a phone booth, an idea that Cohen kept working on that eventually ended
up as the Colin Farrell film Phone Booth. One of the survivors in
Lifeboat, played by brassy Tallulah Bankhead, is a frivolous
reporter. There is a great anecdote about the shooting of the film,
which was filmed in a water tank at 20th Century Fox, and has
to do with Bankhead, who had a tendency not to wear underwear. When a
cameraman mentioned to Hitchcock that whenever she parted her legs,
Bankhead sometimes revealed, shall we say, too much of herself,
Hitchcock replied, “Should I call wardrobe, makeup, or hairdressing?”
And that anecdote is my favorite part of Lifeboat.
Hitchcock would reteam with David O. Selznick and work with two amazing
actors, Ingrid Bergman and Gregory Peck in the 1945 thriller
Spellbound. Peck arrives to take over the psychiatric institute
where Bergman is a doctor. Only we soon discover that Peck is not the
expected Dr. Edwardes. In fact, Edwardes has been murdered and Peck
knows something about it, but it is locked deep in his subconscious. Of
course he will be the chief suspect in the murder and only Bergman will
believe him, helping him discover what memories has hidden away.
Spellbound is deeply steeped in psychology, so knowing a bit about
Freud is helpful. A most memorable part of Spellbound is a dream
sequence in which Hitchcock collaborated with artist Salvador Dali.
Although it is not as bizarre as originally planned, it’s still quite an
indelible part of the movie. Both of the stars are just as phenomenal as
you’d expect, and Hitchcock must have enjoyed working with them; Peck
would appear in The Paradine Case a few years later and Hitchcock
would follow Spellbound with another Bergman collaboration,
Notorious (1946). From the outset you can see that Bergman is
playing the complete opposite from her rather uptight and reserved
character in Spellbound. This time, she is the daughter of a man
convicted of war crimes after the Second World War. She drowns her
sorrow in drink and partying until Cary Grant, a government agent,
convinces her to go undercover and spy on her father’s former
colleagues, Germans who have fled to Brazil. Of course she is drawn to
Grant, but when her target, Claude Rains, proposes marriage, she
accepts. After a suspenseful and wonderfully shot scene at a party,
Claude begins to suspect that Bergman is up to something. It’s one of
Hitch’s finest films and some consider it to be his best.
Hitchcock’s 1947 collaboration with Gregory Peck, The Paradine Case
doesn’t fare as well. Peck plays a married lawyer drawn to a woman
accused of murdering her husband. Between Notorious and my
favorite Hitchcock film, 1948’s Rope, The Paradine Case is
a bit disappointing. Rope is far more entertaining, telling the
tale of two young (and if you read between the lines, gay) men, who
murder an old college chum and then entertain his friends and family
while his body is stuffed in a trunk being used as a buffet. The film is
shot in a series of continuous ten-minute takes, with clever edits, so
it plays in what we now call “real time.” James Stewart is the college
professor who begins to suspect that the boys are hiding something from
him. Farley Granger and John Dall are excellent as the young men, Dall
arrogant and smug and Granger coming apart at the seams over the course
of the evening. Rope once again finds Hitchcock perfectly
balancing humor (albeit dark humor) and suspense. Hitchcock’s last film
of the 1940s was, much like his last film of the 1930s, a costume piece
that didn’t quite work. Under Capricorn (1949) tells the story of
a man who befriends a married couple in Australia during the 1800s.
Ingrid Bergman is sensational as the anxiety-ridden wife and Joseph
Cotten plays her strong-willed husband. It has elements of suspense, but
is for the most part a very ho-hum melodrama.
September 10-12, 2009: Hollywood in the 1950s.
In 1950 Hitchcock made Stage Fright, starring Jane Wyman and
Marlene Dietrich. It begins with Dietrich showing up at Richard Todd’s
doorstep in a bloodstained dress, saying, “He’s dead!” He helps her get
away and then, finding himself being pursued by police, seeks the
shelter of drama student Jane Wyman and her eccentric father Alastair
Sim. Wyman decides to use her acting skills to prove her friend’s
innocence and gets deeper and deeper into the muddle, falling for a
charming detective along the way. It’s a fun mystery and Wyman gets to
do quite a bit of fun acting along the way. It also features Hitchcock’s
daughter Patricia in a bit part. Patricia would have a more vital role
in Hitchcock’s next film, the essential Strangers on a Train
(1951). Also returning to work with Hitchcock is Farley Granger, this
time as Guy, a confident tennis star in love with a politician’s
daughter, but stuck in a marriage to an adulterous wife. On a train
journey he meets creepy Bruno (excellently played by Robert Walker),
who’d give anything to get rid of his father. Bruno suggests they take
care of each other’s problems and Guy humors the stranger. Little does
he realize that Bruno is dead serious until his wife is found murdered
at a carnival. Bruno reappears, flaunting Guy’s lighter- the piece of
evidence he will plant if Guy doesn’t live up to his end of the bargain.
It’s a diabolical good time. It’s also the beginning of Hitchcock’s most
amazing period that would produce films destined to be classics
(excluding his next film, I Confess and The Wrong Man).
From 1951’s Strangers on a Train right through until 1963’s
The Birds (and some would argue, the following year’s Marnie),
Hitchcock rarely made a false step. However, I Confess (1952)
doesn’t qualify as a classic. In fact, my most lasting memory of I
Confess is more about the beautiful city of Québec, not so much of
the story of Father Logan (Montgomery Clift), who takes confession from
a German immigrant who has killed a fellow priest. Logan does not break
his vow of silence even when he is accused of the crime. However,
reviewing the movie now, I realize that I’ve given it an unfair chance.
The cast is great, particularly Karl Malden as a detective investigating
the murder and Anne Baxter as a married woman who has ties to Father
Logan’s past. The flashback of her recounting their history together is
a bit of a melodramatic drag, and probably accounts for my memories of
I Confess being a bit dull. Still, it is one of the few movies of
Hitchcock’s career in the 1950s that did not reach classic status.
One that did was 1954’s Dial M For Murder. Remade in 1998 as A
Perfect Murder, Hitchcock tells the tale of a married man who hires
a killer to dispose of his wife, Grace Kelly, after discovering her
affair with mystery author Robert Cummings. However, during a struggle,
it is the killer who loses his life and Kelly is suspected of murdering
her blackmailer. It’s up to Cummings and a London detective (John
Williams, who would go on to be a Hitchcock regular) to discover the
truth. I personally think that Dial M’s classic status is a bit
overrated. It’s a very good suspense film, but I don’t think it compares
to the best of Hitchcock’s work. Hitchcock’s other two films with Kelly
would be much better, particularly their next collaboration, Rear
Window, released later in 1954. This one deserves its place in the
canon, not only of Hitchcock films but the history of cinema. This time
Kelly is a resourceful heroine, the girlfriend of James Stewart, a
photographer confined to a wheelchair after an accident. With nothing to
do to fill his time, Stewart finds himself spying on the neighbors on
his Greenwich Village apartment building, much to the chagrin of
scene-stealing Thelma Ritter as his nurse with “a nose for trouble.”
However, Stewart eventually suspects that a neighbor has murdered his
wife. It’s a mystery in a confined space (although not as confined as
Lifeboat or Rope) with a large dose of voyeurism and a
healthy dollop of romance. While Kelly was a nervous victim in Dial M,
this time she takes your breath away every time she’s on screen,
graceful and capable and utterly gorgeous. Technically, the thing that
catches your eye is the apartment building set, a life-size structure
built in the studio, and there is life in every window. (Except for the
one where the murder took place.) It was also Hitch’s first
collaboration with screenwriter John Michael Hayes, who went on to write
the next three of Hitchcock’s films, including Kelly’s final film with
Hitch, To Catch a Thief (1955). In this movie, Kelly would meet
her match in beauty and charm: Cary Grant. Add the setting of the South
of France and you have the most glamorous movie ever. Grant plays a
retired thief known as The Cat. When a series of robberies take place on
the French Riviera, he is the main suspect. Hiding from the police and
trying to prove his innocence, he follows The Cat’s trail to a resort
where Grace Kelly and her mother (the truly wonderful Jessie Royce
Landis) are on holiday. When the two of them meet sparks fly and
fireworks literally go off. They are the perfect combination of movie
stars and To Catch a Thief is a great vehicle for their talents.
In October of 1955, a new television series premiered on CBS: Alfred
Hitchcock Presents. There was the iconic opening sequence to the
tune of Gounod’s “Funeral March for a Marionette,” which would become
the tune most associated with Hitchcock, followed by a weekly appearance
by Hitch himself, clever and darkly humorous introductions to that
week’s story of suspense or mystery. Hitchcock directed several
episodes, including the very first one, “Revenge.” An engineer moves to
a seaside town with his beautiful wife (Vera Miles) who is recovering
from a nervous breakdown. On his first day of work, he leaves her home
alone and returns to find her badly beaten, in a catatonic state,
repeatedly saying, “He killed me.” The local doctor suggests that they
leave their new home for a bit and go to a hotel. On the way, the woman
sees a man walking down the street and says, “That’s him!” You can tell
from the episode’s title where the story goes from there, but nothing
will prepare you for the ending. It’s a completely perfect thriller
neatly wrapped up in thirty minutes. One needs only to watch “Revenge”
to understand why Hitchcock is known as The Master of Suspense.
Literally the day after “Revenge” aired, Hitchcock’s next film, The
Trouble with Harry (1955) opened. A black comedy about a day in the
life of several residents in a tiny Vermont village and their
interactions with Harry, a corpse left in the woods. Shirley MacLaine
was introduced to moviegoers with Harry,as a young mother
who has a connection to the corpse’s past. MacLaine’s performance is the
highlight of this movie, as she sparkles with freshness and adorability.
John Forsythe plays a handsome and quirky artist who has wonderful
chemistry with Shirley; their dialogue is full of cheek and double
entendres. The two of them, with the help of an old ship’s captain and a
spinster, each of whom believe that theyare responsible for
Harry’s death, attempt to hide Harry from the local police, burying and
exhuming him more than once over the course of the day. Harry
wasn’t very popular with American audiences when it originally ran, but
it’s one of my favorite Hitchcock pictures, a darkly funny and
beautifully filmed masterpiece. About a month later, another
Hitchcock-directed episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents,
“Breakdown” aired. This time the tale is a story that’s been told again
since, that of a rather mean man (Joseph Cotten) who gets into a car
wreck, is paralyzed and is mistaken for dead. Told mostly through
Cotten’s voiceover thoughts, it’s very, very creepy and also
vaguely cheesy. Hitch also helmed “The Case of Mr. Pelham” in which
businessman Pelham (Tom Ewell) discovers that he has a double, a man who
has been living his life. Or is he just insane? It’s another sensational
episode and Ewell gives a fantastic performance. Hitchcock’s final
contribution the first season of Alfred Hitchcock Presents was
“Back for Christmas” in which a man murders his wife and believes that
he’s gotten away with it. Until he receives a letter to his victim and
realizes his crime was not so perfect.
In 1956, Hitchcock remade his earlier film, The Man Who Knew Too Much.
He transplanted the family on holiday (now American) to Morocco rather
than Switzerland and changed the kidnapped daughter to a son. While the
film has the star power of James Stewart as the child’s father, the lack
of anyone capable of filling Peter Lorre’s shoes as villain and the very
sentimental choice of Doris Day as the child’s mother lead me to prefer
the earlier version. However, the film is a classic, and the recreation
of the attempted assassination at London’s Royal Albert Hall is superior
and even more suspenseful than in the original. Hitchcock next directed
the first episode of the second season of Alfred Hitchcock Presents,
“Wet Saturday,” in which a man attempts to cover up his unstable
daughter’s murder by setting up a family friend for the blame.
Hitchcock’s next film would be a drama based on a true story, The
Wrong Man (1956). Despite the fact that it isn’t a genre film, it
does of course focus on a recurring theme from Hitchcock’s work, the
wrongly accused man. The film centers on Henry Fonda as a nightclub
musician mistakenly fingered for armed robbery. His trial and subsequent
imprisoning destroys his life and the sanity of his wife, Vera Miles.
Fonda is, as always, an astounding performer, his integrity on display
throughout as a man trying to prove his innocence and keep his wife
sane. Miles steals the show, though, as she sinks deeper into
depression. In fact, Hitchcock was quite taken with Miles and was
grooming her for stardom. He wanted her to star in his next picture,
Vertigo, but when she announced that he was expecting, Hitch was
forced to recast the film. It would be a while before he got over the
disappointment, but a few years later, he cast the actress in a rather
large role in Psycho.
Hitchcock directed two more episodes for the second season of Alfred
Hitchcock Presents: “Mr. Blanchard’s Secret,” in which a
mystery-obsessed writer with an overactive imagination suspects that her
new next-door neighbor is a wife-murderer, and “One More Mile To Go,”
which tells the story of a man who actually has killed his wife
and tries to get rid of the body, but things get complicated once he’s
pulled over for a broken tail light. “One More Mile” is especially
interesting because of something that would hardly ever be attempted on
television today (outside of the dearly departed Buffy the Vampire
Slayer) – the first ten minutes are almost entirely silent. For the
show’s third season, Hitchcock would direct three more episodes,
beginning with the season’s third episode, “The Perfect Crime.” Vincent
Price plays a brilliant detective (who, like characters in Rope
and Shadow of a Doubt before him, is fascinated with the idea of
a perfect murder) celebrating his most recent conviction, only to
discover that he has sent the wrong person to the electric chair.
Hitchcock’s next episode, “Lamb to the Slaughter” is a true classic that
featured a teleplay by Charlie and the Chocolate Factory author
Roald Dahl. Featuring Barbara Bel Geddes, who would go on to co-star in
Vertigo, as the sunny, pregnant wife of a police officer who
comes home one night and announces that he’s leaving her. In a
hysterical fit of desperation, she uses the leg of lamb she was
preparing to cook to bash his head in. When she comes to her senses, she
cancels their dinner plans and goes to the market as the murder weapon
broils in the oven, returning later to “discover” the body and notify
her husband’s fellow police officers. Along with “Revenge” it deserves a
special place in history as one of the best television episodes ever.
The final Hitchcock directed episode of season three is called “Dip in
the Pool.” The episode, which features Fay Wray, star of the original
King Kong, follows an American tourist on a Trans-Atlantic ocean
liner who gambles big with his traveling money and his life.
It is now Day 9, September 12, and today is a big thrill because I plan
on watching some of Hitchcock’s very best pictures, every one a classic
of cinema: Vertigo, North by Northwest, Psycho,
The Birds, and yes, even Marnie. In 1958, Hitchcock made the
movie that is typically considered his greatest film ever, Vertigo.
The film opens with San Francisco police detective, Scottie Ferguson
(James Stewart) dangling from a rooftop in the course of a chase. He
soon quits the police force after developing acrophobia (fear of
heights). However, an old college chum asks him to follow his beautiful
wife, Madeleine (Kim Novak), who he suspects has been possessed by an
obsession with a woman named Carlotta Valdez. Scottie saves Madeleine
after she tries to drown herself and becomes smitten with the sad
beauty. However, his fear of heights prevents him from stopping her from
jumping from an old mission tower. Consumed by grief and guilt, Scottie
happens upon a young woman called Judy, who is Madeleine’s double and
obsessively transforms her into an exact duplicate of the dead woman.
Stewart is a raw nerve, the most vulnerable he has ever been on film,
Novak gives a perfectly pitched performance, which couldn’t have been
easy because one senses that she was as much Hitchcock’s puppet as Judy
is Scottie’s. Barbara Bel Geddes is quietly stellar as Scottie’s friend
and one time fiancée, clearly still loving him but doomed to be his
platonic gal pal. The photography and Hitchcock’s use of color are
spellbinding and his shots of San Francisco and the Bay Area
breathtaking. Aside from the mystery and romance, it is without a doubt
the most beautiful looking film that Hitchcock ever produced. But
the point of Vertigo is the mystery, the romance, the obsession
and no one could have brought it all together better than Hitchcock. It
stands in my mind as his artistic peak.
The next year brought lighter fare, North by Northwest (1959).
Another take on the man on the run/mistaken identity theme, this one
stars Cary Grant as a snappy New York ad man Roger Thornhill, who is
mistaken for a government agent named George Kaplan. The error leads to
Thornhill being abducted at gunpoint. The villains who are behind his
kidnapping, James Mason and his psychotic right hand man, Martin Landau,
are certain that they’ve got Kaplan and there is no help in sight. He
eventually finds himself wanted by authorities for an assassination at
the United Nations and hiding away on a cross-country train in the
company of the beautiful Eva Marie Saint, who isn’t any random traveler.
Two of Hitchcock’s most iconic chase scenes are from North by
Northwest: Cary Grant being pursued by a crop duster and the final
climactic sequence on Mount Rushmore. Grant proves once again to be the
perfect movie star for Hitchcock’s brand of suspense and comedy.
September 12- 13, 2009: The Best and the Rest, 1960-1976.
The one film everyone can name when it comes to Alfred Hitchcock movies
is of course 1960’s Psycho. Audiences today know all about the
story: Marion Crane (Janet Leigh) spends the night in a creepy hotel and
gets killed in the shower by Norman Bates (Anthony Perkins). But when
Psycho opened, the film must have been a complete revelation.
Audiences were not permitted in after the movie had begun, because
Hitchcock felt it needed to be seen from beginning to end. People were
going to see a film starring Janet Leigh, so when the iconic murder
scene takes place, they don’t know what to think. She can’t really
be dead! She’s the star of the picture! (The closest thing to that
recently was the opening sequence of the first Scream movie. Drew
Barrymore’s face had been all over the ads and posters for the film, the
movie opens and she is the first character we meet. Then… well, you
know: slice and dice. Since then, it’s been done and done again.) It’s
an audacious move to make, followed by a shift of focus to characters
we’ve met briefly (Norman, his unseen mother and Marion’s handsome
lover, Sam) and introducing two other major characters, Detective
Abergast (Martin Balsam) and Marion’s sister, Lila (Vera Miles). His
entire cast is brilliant, none more so than Anthony Perkins as the
awkward hotel clerk, Norman. Hitchcock’s tremendous talent for creating
suspense and Bernard Herrman’s indelible score of stabbing strings will
have you trembling in terror, no matter how many times you’ve seen it.
It’s completely understandable that Psycho would be Hitchcock’s
most popular success.
It was three years before he would release his next film, The Birds,
in 1963. A horror film based on a story by Rebecca author, Daphne
Du Maurier, Hitch cast his latest discovery/blonde, Tippi Hedren in the
lead. She plays a high society gal from San Francisco, who has developed
a reputation for being a real wild child. She meets cute with Rod Taylor
and ends up following him to his family home in Bodega Bay, where he is
spending the weekend celebrating his young sister’s birthday. Upon her
arrival, a seagull almost immediately attacks her. Soon enough, birds
are attacking people everywhere. It’s a great scary movie and one that
was full of creativity and innovation; live birds and animation had to
do in this pre-CGI world. The final sequence, in which Hedren finds
herself locked in an attic with birds attacking her from all over, is a
harrowing experience. (Although, I imagine most of all it was a
harrowing experience for Ms. Hedren.) Hitchcock collaborated with Hedren
again in Marnie in 1964. This time she played the title
character, a woman who changed her identity, got jobs in different
businesses and then made way with as much money as she could several
times. However, she doesn’t fool Mark Rutland (Sean Connery). He’s
attracted to her, though, so rather than turning her in, he blackmails
her into marrying him. But Marnie has wounds that run deep. She doesn’t
like thunder and lightning, the color red inspires moments of sheer
terror and she can’t stand to be touched. Eventually Connery tries to
discover the truth about Marnie’s past and her fractured relationship
with her mother. Marnie is a film that seems to be either
disliked or adored. It grew on me little by little, but every time I see
Marnie, I found myself liking it even more. I wonder if one of
the reasons people dislike it has to do with Connery’s character. It’s
hard to understand how he is attracted to her one minute, leaving her
catatonic on their honeymoon the next, and genuinely concerned about
helping her the next. I guess it isn’t for everyone and it is a bit
long, but I have ended up being quite a fan of Marnie.
I can’t say the same for many of Hitchcock’s final films. With the
exception of Frenzy, the final four pictures are all a bit
substandard, especially from The Master of Suspense. The final day of my
challenge will prove to be the most difficult. Perhaps I should have
watched them in alphabetical order instead?
First up is 1966’s Torn Curtain. Starring Paul Newman as an
American nuclear physicist who abandons his fiancée, fellow scientist
Julie Andrews during an international conference in Norway. She follows
him behind the Iron Curtain, and discovers that he has defected to the
communists. Of course, all is not what it seems and Newman and Andrews
find themselves knee deep in espionage. While the film isn’t one of his
best and tends to drag at times, there are two remarkable sequences. One
is when Newman is in a farm in the middle of nowhere to meet a contact
and is followed by a Communist agent. It is a thrilling fight scene
ending with a brutal murder. The other is a sequence in which our heroes
get a ride on a bus operated by an underground resistance network. The
scene is filled with Hitchcock’s combination of humor and suspense. (I
am also fond of the bit where they meet Lila Kedrova as a Polish
countess trying to leave East Berlin for America.)
Hitchcock’s humor is pretty much absent from his next film, my least
favorite, 1969’s Topaz. It’s more Cold War espionage, only overly
long and confusing, following a French spy from Washington D.C. to New
York to Cuba to Paris. The cinematography is quite beautiful, especially
when a double agent is killed and we watch from above as she sinks to
the ground, her purple dress spreading out around her like a pool of
blood. 1972’s Frenzy is the highlight of Hitchcock’s post-Marnie
work, a return to his favorite subjects: murder and the wrongly accused
man. This time the murder takes place in London with a body left on the
side of the water bringing us all the way back to 1927’s The Lodger.
A man (Barry Foster) has been killing women by strangling them with
neckties. His friend (Jon Finch) is accused of being the killer. It’s a
good suspense film and the last great film Hitchcock made. His final
film, 1976’s Family Plot is entertaining, but in more of a guilty
pleasure sort of way. A movie with more comedy than suspense, Family
Plot follows two couples on a crash course towards each other: a
phony psychic (Barbara Harris) and her con artist boyfriend (Bruce Dern)
and a couple of jewel thieves (William Devane & Karen Black) who have
committed a kidnapping. Set in Southern California in the mid-1970s, it
may have been unavoidable for the film not to look like an
episode of “Charlie’s Angels” but it really does. Harris and Dern are
particularly entertaining, but it is certainly lighter fare and doesn’t
have much of the Hitchcock touch.
From his earliest work as a title designer in 1920 until his final film,
Family Plot, in 1976, Alfred Hitchcock worked in cinema for 56
years. From silent pictures to talkies, black and white to color,
Hitchcock made films from the time they began until Steven Spielberg’s
Jaws and the first Star Wars changed the face of the film
industry forever. Hitchcock’s work was innovative and original, paving
the way for all of the filmmakers who would come after him. It’s an
impressive feat to work in movies for almost 60 years, but quite another
to have created some of the most important, most iconic motion pictures
ever. The cinema of Hitchcock was overflowing with greatness: suspense,
comedy, drama, romance and intrigue all combined perfectly and
beautifully into movies that were, more often than not, works of art.
There wasn’t anyone like him before he started making films and there
will never be another one like the great Alfred Hitchcock.
