Showing posts with label Alfred Hitchcock. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alfred Hitchcock. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

August 13, 2014



August 13, 2014

San Francisco is a wonderful town full of nice people, but the hills and the architecture drive me insane.   Ever since I was a young boy I had a hard time dealing with hills or deep inclines.  If I walk up a hill, I would feel someone is pushing me to the ground.  If I was walking down the hill, I feel like I’m free-falling and I can’t control my balance.  I not only get this feeling while walking on a hill, but also in moments of great stress.  It had a profound effect on me in that I feel I have to avoid San Francisco as much as possible.  Also staircases give me a significant problem as well.  Especially if they’re grand staircase or if one has the capability to look down and see the various floors attached to the stairs.  The look of depth is a horrifying death to me.



I went with a couple of friends to San Francisco not long ago.  Elizabeth and Steven invited me to go with them, because they wanted to check out all the spots that were in the Alfred Hitchcock film “Vertigo.” They both knew about my fear issue, and they said that it was necessary to go with them because for sure they can cure my illness.  I had my doubts about that, but also I found myself being slightly attracted to Elizabeth, and I didn’t want to shame myself in front of her, so I said yes.



They picked me up in the morning and we drove up the coast, which was scenic, but also I started to feel a knot in my stomach, that wouldn’t go away.  I tried to fall asleep in the back seat of their car, but just as I was in the process of drifting into a sleep, a vision would come to my head and jolted me awake.  Yet, I kept my eyes closed during the entire trip.   When Elizabeth touched my leg, I opened up eyes and in front of me was the main character, Scottie’s apartment, located at 900 Lombard Street.  It was eerie, because the apartment hasn’t really changed at all.  Steven wanted to knock on the door, but Elizabeth tried to pull him away.   I refused to leave the car.  I was beginning to regret this trip and my stomach ache became worse.  Steven did knock on the door, where I suddenly closed my eyes.  As I peeked, I could see there was no answer, which I thought “thank God!” But then Steven tried to look through a window, and I thought “Oh no.” Luckily no one was there, and it was decided that after a late lunch we will go to Fort Point, which is underneath the Golden Gate Bridge.

At first Elizabeth and Steven wanted to walk on the bridge, but I couldn’t do it, due to the space that seemed endless to me.  It made me physically ill to assume that I would find myself in the middle of the bridge, which is 4,200 feet long, and I won’t be able to either go forward or back.  Also looking down towards the water was a no-no for me as well.  We eventually ended up at Fort Point, which is the famous scene where Madeleine (the lead female character) jumps into the waters, but is saved by Scottie.  Elizabeth wanted to be in the exact same location as Madeleine before she jumped.   I had to admit that there was something erotic about Elizabeth’s obsession over this film, and watching her play herself, yet under the influence of Madeleine was a sight to behold.   Steven was out of the car and telling Elizabeth to “jump, jump.” She didn’t. I kind of wished she did, because I want to see if Steven would jump in to save her… or not.

We stayed in a large hotel near Union Square, and I had a hard time falling asleep due to the thoughts of going to the Mission San Juan Bautista the next day.  Also I was clearly having thoughts regarding Elizabeth, and I wasn’t sure what that meant to me or anything else.  Fear and eros seem to go together in my world, and I never could figure out what’s the connection is between the two.  I also felt strange because I’m so much older than the couple, that I couldn’t imagine why they would want me to go on this trip with them.   Nevertheless I was deeply scared, but also totally turned-on at the same time.

When we arrived at Mission San Juan Bautista, I was surprised to see it looking smaller than what it is portrayed in the film.   I have heard that they re-built the mission in a Universal Studios back lot, but I’m not sure about that.  I have a hard time telling what’s real or not real.  I’m one of those people who go to a movie, and totally accepts whatever is on the big screen in front of me.  I don’t go to doubt, but I go to accept the images and narration.  It doesn’t seem proper for me to question the filmmaker’s intent, because I don’t as an audience member that is my role to do so.   I did walk into the entrance with Steven and Elizabeth to the grand winding staircase.  I couldn’t even look up, because the knot in my stomach was so painful to me.  Both of them ran up the stairs screaming their head off.  Steven was first, and kept telling Elizabeth to follow him.   They were yelling at me as well, but I could only make it to the third step, and I just felt this emotional wall in front of me where I couldn’t go further.   It seemed like it took forever till they reached the top, and Steven and Elizabeth both started to drop objects on me from that immense distance above.  I think it was a car key that hit my head. Nevertheless it sort of hurt, and I was compelled to stay in place till they came down the stairs.



I didn’t hear anything.  Then all of sudden I heard a sound of two objects hitting the ground outside the door.  I yelled out their names, but I only received silence.  I walked outside, but with my eyes closed.  I walked blindly to the car, got in with the key that they dropped on me, and sat in the back seat.  I decided to stay there till they come back.

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

My Favorite Film Books from 2000 (Contentville) by Tosh Berman


     


French New Wave, by Jean Douchet

When I die, I want to be buried with Jean Douchet's French New Wave. The fact that yours truly will one day be in a coffin means that I need a good (long) book to read and to look at -- and this is the book. It is a treat for both the eyes, with ravishing film stills and layout of text, and for the intellect, with penetrating thoughts on the importance of the French 'New Wave' in cinema history. This seductively well-illustrated book takes one back to when films were fresh and exciting. All the major heroes are here: Jean-Luc Godard, François Truffaut, and others. Included are the original reviews by the Cahiers du Cinéma group, plus the original film bills from the ever influential Cinémathéque Française: First they were critics, the first to look at the importance of cinema and the first to
value the films for their directors instead of their stars, studios, or box-office stature. Later, they made films -- cheap, inventive, and still fresh and beautiful as the first sunlight.



City of Nets, by Otto Friedrich

In the years between 1939 to 1949, Los Angeles was the cultural capital of the world, in part due to men like Hitler, who were discouraging certain types of artists from working in their version of a new Germany. So Hollywood became host to cultural German legends like Bertolt Brecht, Igor Stravinsky, Thomas and Heinrich Mann, Alfred Doblin, Arnold Schoenberg, Ernst Lubitsch, Fritz Lang, and Peter Lorre, among others. On the American side, we had Nathanael West, William Faulkner, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and others writing for the film factory. And for the conservative-minded studio heads, the one thing almost as bad as the Nazis were the Hollywood workers' unions. No problem though, when one had the HUAC to label the working stiffs as communists. In addition, there's Charlie Chaplin getting kicked out of the United States for political and sexual reasons, and Errol Flynn's infamous two-way mirrors in the walls and ceilings of his love pad. The result is a book that exposes Hollywood as a cultural landscape with a rather devilish personality.






Kenneth Anger's Hollywood Babylon, by Kenneth Anger

It's not the stories themselves, but how Kenneth Anger tells the stories. On the surface this book is a diatribe against the Hollywood system, but underneath it is a love letter to the city and its famous citizens. One can
spend a lifetime proving or disproving the gossip, but what's the point?  Anger (also a brilliant filmmaker) has written a beautiful book about Hollywood's real greatness: the sleaze, drugs, death, and sexual excess.
What's distinctive about Hollywood is the image, and Anger focuses fully on it. All the great gossip is here: Fatty Arbuckle's rape trial, Chaplin's affairs with (much) younger girls, Erich Von Strohiem's on-the-set staged
orgies, and so forth. In addition to the stories, Anger uses great photographs of the stars at their low points. This book exposes the soul of Hollywood in poetic terms



The Parade's Gone By, by Kevin Brownlow

The best history of the American silent-movie era. British film historian Brownlow interviewed not only the stars of these films, but their technicians, stuntmen, cameramen, and others who made silent films an art form when the cinema medium was still young. Brownlow spoke to many screen legends while they were still kicking, so one is able to hear the voices of Buster Keaton, Howard Hawks, Mary Pickford, Gloria Swanson, and King Vidor.
He was also wise in his choice to let many of the participants speak for themselves about their early cinematic experiences. An essential book for silent-film lovers, as well as those who are interested in the culture of
cinema production in the early twentieth century.


Eros in Hell, by Jack Hunter

What's cinema without sleaze? The history of film always had an element of sordidness, and the B-movie studios in Japan have produced their own bizarre quantity of off-the-wall cinema. Jack Hunter's Eros in Hell goes into the
murky world of mondo Japanese films and their filmmakers. Here we have interviews with filmmakers like Koji Wakamatsu (Go, Go, Second Time Virgin) and Takao Nakano (described here as the Ed Wood of Japan). There is also Seijun Suzuki (the Sam Fuller of Japan), Hisayasu Sato (mixture of porno and avant-garde leanings), and the legendary Nagisa Oshima (Merry Christmas, Mr Lawrence). Not only is this book jam-packed with information and fantastic still photos, but it also gives a general overview on what is and was happening in Japanese cinema besides the Kurosawa-Ozu filmmakers. An essential book on underground Japanese cinema and its culture.



Godard on Godard: Critical Writings, by Jean-Luc Godard

Godard has always been a god to me. His films are frequently cited in essays about the nature and culture of the cinema. Godard began his career by writing about film for the French magazine Cahiers du Cinéma, and his style
of writing is very much fan-like in its exuberance, especially with respect to his appreciation of films that were not getting proper critical attention, such as the works of Nicholas Ray, Frank Tashlin, and Fritz Lang.  It is somewhat like the writings of a punk-rock fan who wrote about his heroes and then decided to form his own accomplished band; Godard's writings led to his own classic films. So this book is not only an essential look at a filmmaker, but also at a man who loves films with all his heart.



Film Encyclopedia, by Ephraim Katz

I have a testing method for encyclopedias. What I do is look up something totally cryptic, and if it's listed in the book, that's the one to get! Infilm encyclopedias, I always look up Lois Weber, an early female director
who started making films in 1912. Ephraim Katz's Film Encyclopedia not only has a nice mention of Weber but also Alice Guy-Blaché (another early filmmaker), my second obscure choice. Everyone is in this book, from Sacha Guitry (look him up if you don't know who he is) to Zsa Zsa Gabor to totally obscure actress Anne Jackson, who made three or four films, but is married to Eli Wallach. Who is she? Is this information important? Yes it is, because if you read this book from beginning to end you'll be the master of movie knowledge. Which could mean that you become the biggest bore on the block, or one who really appreciates a complete knowledge of world cinema.  



Hitchcock by Truffaut, by Alfred Hitchcock and François Truffaut

The ultimate book on one filmmaker by another famous filmmaker. Okay, there aren't that many books by directors talking about their peers, although Paul Schrader's Transcendental Style in Film: Ozu, Bresson, Dreyer comes to mind.  That is a rare and great example, but the Hitchcock book has to be the best example of a great filmmaker talking about his trade, the art of making movies. Truffaut goes one-on-one to nail all the important questions aboutHitchcock's work. In other words, its like sitting at a bar between two film giants in conversation. Truffaut reviews every detail obsessively, and Hitchcock, with great humor, discusses his entire career. This book is for both the fans and aspiring filmmakers seeking inspiration -- this book doesn't let anyone down.



LuLu in Hollywood, by Louise Brooks


The late Louise Brooks was a stunning beauty who along with Marlene Dietrich and Greta Garbo was one of the great seducers on the silver screen. Not only did she invent the helmet bob haircut of the twenties, but she was also one of the best understated film essayists in cinema. Brooks refused to be compromised by the Hollywood system.  She was eventually blacklisted and condemned to live her life in obscurity. From the shadows came Lulu in Hollywood, a book that touches on old Hollywood, Brooks's experiences working with German great Georg Wilhelm Pabst (Pandora's Box), and unusually positive insights into stars such as W.C. Fields and Humphrey Bogart. Her chapter on Marion Davies (an underrated comedy actress and mistress to William Randolph Hearst) is touching and gives Davies credit as a human being as well as an artist. Brooks is an icon that didn't disappoint. It's not a film library if it doesn't include Lulu in Hollywood.




Nightmare of Ecstasy: The Life and Art of Edward D. Wood Jr., by Rudolph Grey



This oral history on the "Titan of Bad", Ed Wood, wonderfully captures the underbelly of Hollywood. It's all in here -- the dreams, the sweat, weird characters (shades of Nathanael West), the early porno industry, and cross-dressing galore. Ed Wood was a filmmaker, scriptwriter, pornographer, drunk, novelist (Death of a Transvestite is a must-read), and, according to this book, a decent guy. What is heartbreaking about his life is his ongoing struggle to make something against all odds, with a lack of money and, according to some, a lack of talent. But that doesn't matter in Hollywood.  Nightmare of Ecstasy is essential for anyone who has an interest in making a film or wants to create anything important in their life.

Tosh Berman, 2000 for Contentville