Well, dear readers, how many films can you truly call audacious – films that did something that no film had done and did it in such a way that basically it led the way for countless other films. Last night, I watched one such film, entitled Psycho. The youngsters today can be heard saying that Psycho isn’t all that, that they don’t understand what all the fuss is about, and all the usual drivel. But the fact is, Psycho is all that, and in the summer of 1960 when it opened, it was much more than all that – it was shocking, perverse, funny, suspenseful, and the film-going public had never seen anything like it. The word-of-mouth was beyond incredible and so were the lines at all the theaters. The stars were aligned perfectly for the release of Psycho. It’s well known that Hitchcock screened the edited but not yet scored film for his wife, daughter and the composer Bernard Herrmann. He was, apparently, ready to shelve it or to cut it down and air it on his TV series. After all, Hitchcock’s 1950s successes were all glossy Technicolor films, all great, of course. Yes, we’d had the black-and-white films, Strangers On A Train, I Confess, and The Wrong Man, but it was the color films with their big stars – Dial ‘M’ For Murder, Rear Window, To Catch a Thief, The Man Who Knew Too Much, the box-office disappointments The Trouble With Harry and Vertigo, and then the huge smash North by Northwest – those were what was in the public’s conscience. But for Hitchcock to suddenly make a low-budget black-and-white film from a lurid Robert Bloch novel, shot with his TV crew after the immense success of North by Northwest, was not only audacious it was insanity. But Herrmann begged him to not do anything until he scored the film, and the rest is, of course, history. Herrmann’s score took the film and elevated it into an all-time classic. Those who’ve read Kritzerland know that just prior to seeing the film on its opening day’s first showing at the El Rey Theater, I’d read the novel. So, I knew what I was in for, sort of, but as soon as that jarring and incredible Saul Bass main title began I forgot everything about the book. And there we all sat while the film’s first forty minutes unfolded slowly and methodically. We became involved in the plight of the film’s leading lady, Janet Leigh, as she stole money, went on the lam, and ended up at the Bates Motel. And then the unthinkable happened – and if you haven’t seen the movie stop reading right here. Yes, the unthinkable happened and the film’s purported leading lady is killed off – the person with whom we’ve been asked to identify totally is gone and her whole story, one realizes, is meaningless and the film’s real story takes over. And the way in which she is dispatched may seem tame today, but then it traumatized people, me included. It was sudden, it was shocking, and thanks to Herrmann’s brilliant cue that accompanies the scene, it was an instant legendary sequence. It so unnerved the audience (who were basically in shock after it and the cleanup scene) that each subsequent scene became even more unbearably suspenseful. And by the time Vera Miles was in the cellar and the reveal happens the audience was squirming so much you could actually feel it in the theater. And when that rocking chair turned, well, that was the loudest and longest scream I’ve ever heard in a movie theater. Amazingly, Hitchcock’s film was the first American film to ever show an actual toilet – and not only show it, but show it in close-up. The movie has recently come out in the UK on Blu and Ray (two months prior to its US release) and the transfer, for the most part, is so incredibly sharp and detailed that I saw things I’ve never seen before. But I just sat there and marveled at the great Joseph Stefano dialogue, and the performance of Anthony Perkins, which is genius, and basked in the brilliance of the Herrmann score, which is one of the most perfect marriages of image and music in the history of film – and I just could not stop thinking about the audaciousness of it. But that year was an amazing one in terms of audacious cinema, for we also got Michael Powell’s Peeping Tom (which, unlike Hitchcock’s film, was a complete disaster and basically ended Powell’s career – and it’s not that different than Psycho in terms of it being an audacious masterpiece), and Mario Bava’s Black Sunday. Yep, the times they were a’changing. I still will not shower in a tub shower unless there is no other choice, and if I do I will not shower with the lights on – and that is specifically because of Psycho. If you’ve never seen it, brew yourself a nice cup of context and watch it – it’s an amazing piece of cinema, and if Hitchcock had done no other film it would have put him in the pantheon of greats.
Prior to viewing the film, I had a very pleasant day. The helper came and got all the Saint Joan packages addressed and then put postage on them, so we’re all ready for its arrival on Thursday morning. She also did something I haven’t done in the six years I’ve been living in the house – she cleaned the barbecue and I can now barbecue – it’s an amazing and expensive machine and she’s taught me how it works and I think this weekend I shall barbecue a steak for li’l ol’ me. After that, I had some eggs and toast, then picked up a few packages and the important envelope. It’s a good thing I paid attention to the contents because it became clear that my big online dealer had skipped three invoices – so I resent them and now he’ll go backwards and pay those off (not all at once – he pays a chunk of money every week, which always manages to keep me ever so slightly behind). He currently owes on about seven titles. Then I locked up another two projects, so I think we’re actually good until March, which makes me very happy. Then I moseyed on over to Mr. Sam Bobrick’s home environment for a little work session with he and his writing partner Ron Clark. That was fun (they’re really great guys), and then I came home and watched Psycho.
After the movie, my designer and I met for a late-night repast at Jerry’s, which was surprisingly crowded for ten-thirty on a Monday night. And that was about it, other than trying to schedule four singers for a rehearsal, which is always shockingly difficult, but I think we got it all worked out finally.
Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below because I am feeling quite audaciously tired and need my audacious beauty sleep.
Today, what I thought was happening isn’t happening so other things will happen that I didn’t think were happening because something has to be happening. I’ll do a jog, I’ll write a scene, I’ll do errands and whatnot, and write some more liner notes.
Tomorrow and Thursday are busy days – especially Thursday with shipping CDs and several rehearsals. But Friday and the weekend might be light, which I wouldn’t mind. And I really do think I’ll try the barbecue this weekend, just for the halibut.
Let’s all put on our pointy party hats and our colored tights and pantaloons, let’s all break out the cheese slices and the ham chunks, let’s all dance the Hora or the Pony because today is the birthday of our very own longtime dear reader, S. Woody White. So, let’s give a big haineshisway.com birthday cheer to our very own longtime dear reader, S. Woody White. On the count of three: One, two, three – A BIG HAINESHISWAY.COM BIRTHDAY CHEER TO OUR VERY OWN LONGTIME DEAR READER, S. WOODY WHITE!!!
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, do a jog, write, do errands and whatnot, and write some more. Today’s topic of discussion: What are the single most audacious films you’ve ever seen – the ones that really pushed the envelope and changed cinema? Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, and please do try and make them audacious.