Tosh's Journal - October 5 (On James Bond's Dr. No)

TOSH’S JOURNAL

October 5

“Dr. No” was not only the first James Bond film, but the first film after my dad took me to see after forcing the movie theater in Larkspur to let me in to see Roger Vadim’s “And God Created Woman.” Most parents or fathers, to be specific, usually take their children to see Disney films or family-like narratives. Not my father, he wanted to take me to see “Dr. No.” It was at the Chinese Theater on Hollywood Boulevard, and the location was just magical. I was 8-years old and knew the importance of movie stars, even at that young age. I knew that they were important because their handprints were on the pavement in front of the entrance. At that time, I wasn’t conscious of the names, but I just knew that these people were really something. Also, I knew that some were dead at that point, and never experiencing death at that time, though it was a tad creepy. To leave one’s handprints after they go on to the other “world.” With that in mind, I entered the palace of dreams to see one’s nightmare.

The Oriental setting of the theater was perfect for Dr. No. Bond was pleasurable, but Dr. No was better. I identified with the villain because one, he expressed a world that I didn’t know, but by instinct, I knew that it would be a better adventure. Dr. No was the son of a German missionary, who abandoned him and his mother, a Chinese girl with a good family. He eventually ended up as a member of the Tongs, but working for himself; he stole funds from the gang. They eventually caught up with him, and to torture No, they chopped his hands off. Over time, he had hands made of metal that was able to crush metal figurines with them. The fact that he was a freak and outsider had a massive appeal for me. He was evil but understandable. “What is a monster? A being whose survival is incompatible with the existing order.”

As I grew older, and after my father passed away, I think of that film as an object that I shared with him. The trauma of the loss made me wary of having objects once owned by him, but at least in theory or idea, I have “Dr. No” to share with him. That particular piece of art had a profound effect on me on many levels. I became a fan of American noir films due to the theme of the outsider being forced by fellow citizens to take action in a manner that is perhaps not correct or right. Nonetheless, who can decide such decisions as one goes through life wearing blinders like a mistreated horse in Central Park. I tend to see the world in black and white. Not because of the duality of those two non-colors, but more about the levels of gray that come up in such an image. I spend life in the gray area, not in the world of absolute fact.

I recently started to collect film stock that was shot or photographed by John Alton, the Prince of photographic shadows. Through his eyes, I can see the origins of Dr. No’s world - not exactly as exotic, but in substance very toxic in its vision of purity gone wrong. My favorite actor of that period is John Hoyt, whose face seems to be made in celluloid perfection for Mr. Alton. I can never remember the narration because that has traditionally been the least of my interests while watching a film. Nevertheless, the face and how it is projected on the screen is what I find interesting. Even with “Dr. No” I have no recollection of the plot. Just the image of Dr. No reflecting on his metal hands. That says more to me than anything in this world.

October 5, 2014

October 5, 2014

“Dr. No” was not only the first James Bond film, but the first film after my dad took me to see after forcing the movie theater in Larkspur to let me in to see Roger Vadim’s “And God Created Woman.” Most parents or fathers to be specific usually take their children to see Disney films or family-like narratives.  Not my father, he wanted to take me to see “Dr. No.” It was at the Chinese Theater on Hollywood Bouvelard, and the location was just magical.  I was 8-years old and knew the importance of movie stars, even at that young age.  I knew that they were important because their handprints were on the pavement in front of the entrance.  At that time, I wasn’t conscious of the names, but I just knew that these people were really something.  Also I knew that some were dead at that point, and never experiencing death at that time, thought it was a tad creepy.  To leave one’s handprints after they go on to the other “world.” With that in mind, I entered the palace of dreams to see one’s nightmare.

The Oriental setting of the theater was perfect for Dr. No.  Bond was pleasurable, but Dr. No was better.  I identified with the villain because one, he expressed a world that I didn’t know, but by instinct I knew that it will be a better adventure.  Dr. No was the son of a German missionary, who abandoned him and his mother, a Chinese girl with a good family.   He eventually ended up as a member of the Tongs, but working for himself, he stole funds from the gang.  They eventually caught up with him, and to torture No, they chopped his hands off.   Over time, he had hands made of metal that was able to crush metal figurines with them.  The fact that he was a freak and outsider had a huge appeal for me.   He was evil, but totally understandable. “What is a monster?  A being whose survival is incompatible with the existing order. ”

As I grew older, and after my father passed away, I think of that film as an object that I shared with him. The trauma of the lost made me weary of having objects once owned by him, but at least in theory or idea, I have “Dr. No” to share with him.  That particular piece of art had a profound effect on me on many levels.  I became a fan of American noir films due to the theme of the outsider being forced by fellow citizens to take action in a manner that is perhaps not correct or right. Nonetheless, who can decide such decisions as one goes through life wearing blinders like a mistreated horse in Central Park.  I have a tendency to see the world in black and white.  Not because of the duality of those two non-colors, but more about the levels of gray that comes up in such an image.  I spend life in the gray area, not in the world of absolute fact.

I recently started to collect film stock that was shot or photographed by John Alton, the Prince of photographic shadows.  Through his eyes I can see the origins of Dr. No’s world - not exactly as exotic, but in substance very toxic in its vision of purity gone wrong.  My favorite actor of that period is John Hoyt, whose face seems to be made in celluloid perfection for Mr. Alton. I can never remember the narration, because that has traditionally been the least of my interests while watching a film.  Nevertheless the face and how it is projected on the screen is what I find interesting.  Even with “Dr. No” I have no recollection of the plot.  Just the image of Dr. No reflecting on his metal hands.  That says more to me than anything in this world.

April 30, 2014

April 30, 2014

Luigi Russolo’s “art of noise” is probably the most profound pieces of music I have ever heard.  To me, it is the genuine soundtrack to a horrible century. The beauty that is destructive, yet all of us are attracted to the disaster as a moth is drawn to a flame.  Become too close to the heat and the wings will burn off.  I often felt that love for the great 20th century art, cinema, can lead one to leap into the void. It is not a question of cinema itself, but also all the by-products that goes with it.

It has been pointed out that Adolf Hitler and Eva Braun were devoted to the cinema, and especially to its actress Marika Rokk.  Hitler was at the same time a fan of Mickey Mouse.  What he saw in the mouse is something that I am not clear about.  Nevertheless, Goebbels gave Hitler 12 Mickey Mouse cartoons as a Christmas present in 1935.  Eva and Hitler had their own private screening room, but to me that becomes part of the problem.   Going to a movie theater is fantastic on many levels, one, being that you’re in an audience.  Being with an audience is so different from watching a film by yourself or with another person.

The first time I went to a movie theater was to see a Brigitte Bardot film in Larkspur, but the one screening I remember the most is when my dad took me to see a James Bond film called “Goldfinger.” The most exciting part of the movie was being at the Grauman’s Chinese Theater on Hollywood Bouvelard.  Oddly enough, I have seen all the Bond films at least twice, except for “Goldfinger.” I can’t imagine watching that film in any other location except for the Chinese theater.  To see that film now, at another location, would be like removing one of my arms - “Goldfinger” will be always attached to the feelings and sensations of going to the Chinese theater.

I have a faint memory of seeing Tod Browning’s “Dracula, starring Bela Lugosi and David Manners, at the Chinese Theater and hearing that there were actual bats inside the theater.  I was led to believing that bats often fly across the projected screen, but I have never seen it happen. However, to this day, it is one of the first things I think about, while in the theater, and waiting for the film to start.

I am also touched to know and have seen the hand and foot prints of Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks, outside the theater.  One can imagine the angels that pranced around the property, where in Hitler and Eva’s theater, with the lights out, demons feeding off on the darkness.