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telegonus's Replies
Farley Granger had at times hints, traces, of effeminacy; no big deal, but he did, and it worked in his favor as Guy Haines, helped make Strangers On A Train more credible, especially as to the gay subtext (that never gets "officially" mentioned, but which any reasonable sharp-eyed teenager can see). William Holden had none of that, and he was a very masculine actor, albeit not macho, or not in the usual ways (there were traces of that in Picnic, which is near a Guy Haines role for him). I think that Holden's rough, somewhat rugged complexion, meshed a bit with Robert Walker's rather"pocky" facial features, which reflected maybe vestiges of teenage acne. There wouldn't have been as strong a contrast between Holden and Walker than there was between Walker and the smoother faced Granger.
Yup, and he makes no secret about it. Robert Mitchum strikes me as a man who had a lot of bitterness and hate in him; not a true sociopath, yet he seemed to get weird ideas in his head. It shows in his later films, mostly post-1960. If it had come out at a better time for him, Cape Fear might have enjoyed a success closer to Psycho, if not quite with the prestige, and given him a superstar second wind. Think Robert Shaw in the wake of Jaws.
Good stuff here, EC. As to stars that lasted, to continue somewhat in your line of thinking, Newman and Redford managed, together and separately, to hang in there, through the 70s, no surprise with Robert, and not much, either, as I think about, to the always hipster friendly Paul, who aged well (and honestly) and took parts that were [i]right for him[/i], not just a hot project they wanted a big name star for. As his star didn't wane through the 80s, even into the 90s somewhat, his budgets weren't as big. It seems that Newman could deliver at the box-office with mainstream art films that made good money, especially as they weren't so expensive to make. It's kind of weird to think that he was still kind of a hip guy, with his popcorn and salad dressings, which kept his name and face in public, and lent him an air of legitimacy through the Reagan years and beyond. Redford worked more as a director, though he remained (apparently) bankable, though I doubt many of his later starring efforts were made on the scale of [b]Out Of Africa[/b], which might have been a good farewell to acting film for him, as he turned to directing, but that didn't happen.
To fair, Robert Walker's brilliant,, charismatic turn as Bruno in SOAT was recognized by the critics of the day, and surely movie audiences as well, and it would have raised the actor's stock had he lived long enough the enjoy his newfound acclaim. His death prevented this, and only his death. Hollywood didn't know how to capitalize on this, yet the film is still a classic, but there's no way Hollywood have known "what to do next?".
A few years later another young actor, several years younger than Walker, appeared in a hit film and soon became a hot commodity, then starred in another, and after that, yet one more, and then, before either film was released, died in a car accident. James Dean became an overnight sensation, a superstar whose death cemented his posthumous fame seemingly forever.
The James Dean "sensation" was at the level of Elvis Presley's post-Ed Sullivan fame. Robert Walker wasn't as young or cute or sexy as Dean, and the gay vibes he gave off as Bruno Antony would not (likely) have made him a "sensation"; at best, a valuable player. Walker was in a position, career-wise, somewhat comparable to Anthony Perkins when he made Psycho. Both young men had enjoyed some success as up and coming stars, each with a sensitive or, if you must, vulnerable persona. Perkins did well enough post-Psycho, but that film defined his career as soon as it hit the theaters. One can only speculate about Robert Walker.
I saw Earthquake on television maybe twenty years ago. It was fun, though it had a movie-of-the-week feel to it due to its veteran cast. In this, it felt like a pricey B. One could say the same about Airport, I suppose, which I remember the ads for, everywhere, in newspapers and magazines, late in my senior year in high school. That, too, featured a veteran cast, but the stars were younger, and some still had at the very least a modicum of box-office clout (and don't let's forget The Wild Bunch, yet another A level picture featuring older stars, which was quite a critical and box-office success).
Likely true, it seems to me. Especially the pace of change, the modernity of postwar Japan, its embrace of Western value, the neglected of their traditions, notable among younger people in the cities. The West was itself going through a good deal of more extreme soul searching and self-criticism. If Matango indeed was somewhat of a symbolic critique of modern Japan it had good company in the U.S. and Europe.
I only really "discovered" Route 66 over the last ten or twelve years, when MeTV was showing it regularly, I think nightly, and did so for two or three years, so I caught all the seasons, including the post-Maharis one, and in many cases more than once or twice (MeTV was so good at that, so responsible, for want of a better word), and they're still good, with the Noirish Twilight Zone and Hitchcock series, but their black and white shows seem to be diminishing, the westerns somewhat excepted. Also, their scheduling of anything retro is generally dreadful, the aforementioned series aside. Their Svengoolie horror showcase is an exception, and he's a fun guy to watch; very civil and likeable.
Thanks for responding, EC. Always a pleasure. Your manners are impeccable, and if you don't believe me, just do some casual "trolling" of these Moviechat boards, way better than most, but still. Give Gone With The Wind a whirl; or dive into (but don't, for sanity's sake, respond) Politics to see the low level (way below sea level, and then some) of discourse in parts of this site. It's heartbreaking to see even the "norms conscious" film sites slipping in quality. If you want to know why, read the daily obituary pages. Boomers and Gen X and Y folk are dying off, and the younger ones are either in charge or on the cusp, and while there are many fine and responsible people in those age groups, the sense of history, in our culture, let alone on-line and in films, is fading slowly but surely into near oblivion.
It's probably best to drop this hot brick of a topic before we both get burned. I'm generalizing, for sure, but there's truth in what I say, even if somewhat melodramatic in presentation.
Oh, I agree wholeheartedly. Skye_Reynolds. But for the grace of God, and it's coming out a full year and counting from the more iconic Universal early sound horror classics, sadly, put Island Of Lost Souls into a position that in publishing would have made it a remainder; or even if not that, an awkward, seemingly out of its period project, thrown away, as it were, on double bill.
A first rate cast of players, plus the hot, up and coming Charles Laughton, gave it a kick, but this wasn't enough to make it resonate with moviegoers. Yet the years have been exceedingly kind to the film, if not its print, or the one I saw several months back. This picture is in desperate need of a rediscovery, if only of the Freaks variety (and these films have a few things in common) to give it a push. There's so much in it, much of it gloomy and pessimistic, to tie it to the period in which it was made.
Yes, and while Guy had the motive, his character saved him from fulfilling the quid pro quo Bruno offered him, and on a proverbial silver platter. He fought Bruno, he fought murder. There surely must have been a few fragments of evidence favorable to Guy, more than a mere cigarette lighter. Suspicions of people who knew him well enough to understand that he had been, of late, under great stress, a moral stress unrelated to anything he had actually done; more like a dark shadow he was running away from; and it was not a figment of his imagination.
Wonderful to see you back in the saddle on Moviechat, EC (I hope my use of the initials of your old screen name, and I hope once again some day current) is agreeable. You'll never be a Roger to me, unless, that is, you are one. Still, even my best film board friend, and basically Internet, too, the late Charles Lore, shall always be Clore to me, as I shall be Telly, Tel or Telegonus, to him. This is no disrespect to anyone, nor desire to make more of a friend, albeit on-line, than they are; and yet they, and you, too, are people I regard as real friends all the same; and the passing of any one of them, and I've known a few, diminishes me. I'll pass on any reference to John Donne here, as only a few people know of him or his work aside from inspiring Ernest Hemingway to give a title to his novel, For Whom The Bell Tolls. The older I get, now well into senior citizen status, the more mortal I feel, and while I accept it, as there's no comfort space to take one away from one's intimations of mortality, there's no need to dwell on it obsessively.
Miss Kelly was excellent in The Storm. She was peerless in overwrought mode. Also, she could elicit sympathy, in me anyway; and empathy, which is more difficult. I have great respect for her talent, and I wish she'd done more on film, whether big screen or little.
I agree as regards Ruth Roman's "butch" quality, noticed it the first time I saw the movie. This may just be a matter of our observations. Even Nancy Kelly, no one's idea of a beauty, was better looking; and yes, even in [b]The Bad Seed[/b]. She was an attractive, decidedly feminine woman, and sister of actor Jack Kelly, of Maverick fame. Jack had the charm, and some flair as an actor, Nancy had more the acting chops. She was quite good in her one Thriller episode, The Storm, in which she moves into hysterical mode again, as a married woman, alone in a country house, menaced by either extremely bad weather or a mad killer (or maybe both). Miss Kelly's career was undercut at Fox when the studio hired on beautiful Gene Tierney, who got the better parts that Nancy deserved, as her career faded soon afterwards.
Once again, I digress.
In real life, of course, however in "movie life", perhaps not.
It's not like Hitch wrapped the plot points up at the end, as he would later do on his TV show, as host, leaving the viewer in the dark where [b]Strangers On A Train[/b] is concerned.
EC: I remember those shots and angles for the shots of the Bates house in the movie. It's a joy to watch for the skill, the detail, that Hitchcock and his crew put into it. What we see of Norman, rushing down the steps in the rain, is sheer perfection; and in some ways the daylight shots of Arbogast climbing the hill to the house are even more impressive, not a second too long or short, and in this they nearly define the gloom of the film as a whole; a movie with Gothic frills, yet also one rooted in day to day life, with living in the real world, of paying bills and meeting deadlines, even as we actually see rather little of all this in the film itself. To pull back further from these scenes, to the earlier ones in Phoenix, with Marion and the various men in her life; then later, more ominously, her long drive west, her meeting with the highway cop. This really frames the movie as a whole, as it ends in a perfectly ordinary police station.
I wish you the best in getting what issues you've had with the admins in using your screen name on these boards. They should welcome you back, not make your return to the boards difficult.
I agree with everything you said in your post, Otter. The quality of the Bates house, its design and detail, is indeed remarkable for a backlot, any backlot, of [b]Psycho[/b]'s vintage. Your backstory for the house is intriguing. It would have been a good fit the the "biggest house in a small, poor town". Fancy in its way, with some good things in its design, yet likely already [i]ersatz[/i], or borderline, even when it was new.
It was also, almost surely, a house for an introvert, or a couple that was introverted. Uninviting, because the new owners wouldn't be inclined to host many parties or events, even if they had children; and unlikely a large family if they did. One can see from what's shown of the second floor that there simply wasn't the space for that, nor enough rooms. Yet it was a place that likely never felt cramped, even in relatively small spaces. Older houses of that vintage were like that.
I agree, EC (and good to see you return, whatever name you use) regarding the Bates family. They likely, I suspect, had some "old money", much as many east coast folk did, true, surely when and where I grew up, in which big old homes, complete with barns (not yet wholly "converted" into garages), front porches, cobwebs in many of the windows, and often an elderly lady or two living alone inside. They looked grander than they truly were.
My mother hated that style. She called all those big old suburban homes barns, and had grown up in one herself, albeit in a city, north of Boston. To her, those houses were a royal pain to maintain, cost a fortune to heat, had bad plumbing and were always drafty. Nothing cozy about them. I was the one who thought they were the cat's whiskers, as I and a good friend loved to take walking tours of those old streets, looking wide-eyed at those houses, and dreaming of becoming architects.
To me, they were romantic, and just walking around those quaint old streets was as cool and fun as walking around a museum. The houses were the paintings; and the fences and yards were rather their frames, as it were (it was the houses that dazzled me, not the oaks and maples, nor the hollyhocks,--gardens didn't do it for me,--go figure). Anyway, to wind this post up, I have, visually, spatially and, obviously, emotionally, a connection to Psycho that has nothing to do with crime or murder. I do have to admit that I and many other neighborhood kids liked to view those homes as having "dark" histories, complete with arsenic poisoning and the occasional axe murder. None of us had seen Psycho, or not yet anyway. We got our imaginations fired up by books, hardcover, paperback and the (so-called) comic kind, and, of course, TV and the movies.
It was a great time to grow up, and I feel somewhat bad for people too young to have been around then, too late to have had their imaginations shaped by older cultures, and older things generally, in a far more controlled environment.
That's spot on, Otter. The Bates house was standard issue middle class, Victorian era. It wasn't big at all, though it had height in its favor; however, its setting and, especially when it was new, isolation, would have made it, IMHO, a hard sell for a doctor or a banker. It wasn't truly "in the community" in any but a formal sense. There was something forbidding in its isolation, and I can't help but think this would have been so around the turn of the century, when it was fairly new, though considered as a style, a fashion, as on its way out as double breasted suits and men's hats were circa 1960, when [b]Psycho[/b] came out. Not ancient, but not the sort of place young couples were dreaming of moving into unless their last name was Addams.
My favorite movie with a Boston Strangler motif is the low budget 1964 Victor Buono vehicle (as it were) The Strangler. It was very well made, set safely in L.A., thus not having to be held "accountable" for mimicking the Boston case; and overall, it worked for me, and time had been kind to it. Buono's playing of the title role is Master Class.
If Allied Artists been able to find a better director for the film, which is, for what it is, quite well made, they might have had a cult classic on their hands, and Buono enjoyed a better than "novelty" career. The quality of the work he got declined in the second half of the 60s. My sense is that he did have star quality, and with careful handling enjoyed greater success as a character star.
Maybe temps, paid in cash, not regular, salaried people. The motel was basically a one man job. If business had picked up; unlikely, given its location and its drabness.--the market for places so out of it they're hip, thus funky, was still a few years down the road, and the motel had a forbidding quality thanks to its owner, and this would have continued, and likely worsened, as time passed and Norman hadn't been caught.