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

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Picture Galore: Random Cool Pics

Alfred Hitchcock turning his back on MGM. (Hitchcock may also be backing into the lot.)

Alfred Hitchcock and what I suppose is the (or "an") MGM lion.

Akira Kurosawa and Francis Ford Coppola. Coppola believed in Kurosawa's 1980 samurai epic, Kagemusha, and was a co-producer

Anthony Perkins, Audrey Hepburn, a beer bottle and a Roe Deer fawn. Anyone dare to guess what/why/where the hell this is?

Bill Murray on the set of Where the Buffalo Roam (Art Linson, 1980), in which he plays the eccentric journalist Hunter S. Thompson. See next picture.

Hunter S. Thompson. My guess is that this photo was taken some time before he blew his brains out.

Charlie Chaplin and his inspiration, the French comedian Max Linder.


Ernest Hemingway. My guess is that this photo was taken some time before he blew his brains out. I guess it's just the author way of saying good bye.

Jack Nicholson, Candice Bergen and Art Garfunkel, probably during the filming of Carnal Knowledge (Mike Nichols, 1971) - a film I bought on DVD for the only reason that I was in love with Garfunkel at the time.

Finnish director Aki Kaurismäki - a real but slightly unreal character.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Hitchcock's fascination with fecal matter

The evil genius with a diabolical imagination, Alfred Hitchcock. Filthy man.


Picture spam posts may be fun and all, but I know that my dear readers crave intellectually stimulating posts every now and then. With my home exam over with and my blasted cold on retreat, I think I am ready to dig into the scatological mind of Alfred Hitchcock. Well, at least dig into the sick minds of some film analytics. I will get to my opinion about them later on. I'm ready now, Mr. DeMille - but are you?

Film analyses can be really interesting to read. Those written by film scholars may sometimes be ridiculous, but still interesting and thought provoking. Other analyses can be really ridiculous and rather laughter provoking. When it comes to Hitchcock, it's well known that he loved food, hated eggs, was fascinated by birds and had a tendency to include bathrooms in his films. (See pictures below for examples.)

But there are people out there, in the dark, that are analyzing these elements like crazy, to the point where it's not fun anymore. Then they dig even deeper, and it's suddenly becomes hilarious. In a frustrating and sad way.


Bathroom in North by Northwest (1959).

Bathroom in Psycho (1960).



Disgusting-looking eggs in To Catch a Thief (1955).


Disgusting-looking eggs in Frenzy (1972).


One such text I read during my last course (I am certain that my professor threw it in as a joke, or at least I wish that he did) is the essay "The Diabolical Imagination: Hitchcock, Bakhtin, and the Carnivalization of Cinema" by David Sterritt. (From the book Framing Hitchcock, which indeed they seem to do.) If we ignore the fact that the writer seems to have thrown in Mikhail Bakhtin's name, "a Russian-Soviet literary philosopher", for us to hopefully take him seriously (in the same manner that he writes "ouvre" instead of art, work, creation or other normal words), the title sounds interesting enough. I will have to cite the text at moments for you to believe me, I am not making this up. Sigh. Where to begin?

Sterritt begins with explaining that in his analysis Bakhtin's important concept of "carnivalization, the deployment of a festive, parodic often grotesque, ultimately subversive vision of the world" will be central. (Funny, those are the words I might use to describe this very text.)

Anyway, he goes on describing the tired picture of Hitchcock as a decadent maniac who loves to have really bizarre, almost campy, elements in his film. I agree with the last part, but Hitchcock's personality is really not interesting to me when analyzing his films. But that's just me, I guess.

Now, to the juicy stuff! When claiming that Hitchcock loves these film elements that "can be seen as deliberate carnivalizing gestures aimed at reveling in grotesquerie", he rightfully thinks he should come up with a few examples. He begins by slaughtering Rope (1948). Remember that one? It's one of my favorite Hitchcock films, taking place in one apartment only and made to look like it's filmed in one uninterrupted shot. However, at that time they had to change reels every now and then, so they had to conceal the cuts. More about that later. The plot revolves around two young men who are obsessed by the idea of the perfect murder. They strangle a friend, with a rope of course, and hides his body in a chest, on which they serve food for coming guests who all know the victim.¨




Sterritt has decided to molest that film. To be even more high-brow than just referring to a Russian philosopher, Sterritt now brings up Rabelais, a French renaissance writer. We need not go into detail about this (since it's ridiculous), but Sterritt kindly tells us that "[t]he seven series in Rabelais' novel are those of 'the human body in its anatomical and physiological aspects,' clothing, food, drink and drunkenness, the sexual or copulatory, death, and defecation." Yes, we can all agree that all those seven ingredients are the human life, if we are to be factual. Although we ladies never poop, of course. Otherwise, correct. But what about Rope?


Well, according to Sterritt, all those ingredients are visualized in one way or another in Rope. Let's start with the most trivial stuff. "The least important is the clothing series, although even here one may observe the irony of the socially 'correct' clothing worn by the murderers [...]", and of course the thing with the hat. Won't spoil to those who may not have seen the film. Alcohol is served at the party, and weaken the nerves of one of the murderers. With the boring stuff over with, let's move on!




Socially correct clothes worn my the murderers, left and right. About as socially correct as any 1940's/1950's man with a suit. What an irony. Duh.

Drink and drunkenness.


Rabelais' anatomical/physiological human body series is visualized by the close-up of a man dying and his corpse. Dinner is served upon the chest containing the body, "and people will eat while discussing the victim's activities and personality". One of those bizarre Hitchcock situations I referred to earlier. I agree this far, but then Sterritt insults all gay people by writing this: "The men who killed him and provided the dinner are apparently meant to be homosexuals [true] (the sex series) and their murderousness as a metonymic extension of gay perversity."

Huh? Why, oh why, did he write such a thing? Murderers can not be gay without their murderousness being somehow related to their sexuality, or what? I have no words to counter this. But don't worry, it gets worse!


A close-up of a man dying, the anatomical/physiological aspect...

... food...

... and homosexuals.


But Lolita! Where are the excrements you promised? Well, here we go. The following sentence is so bizarre that I will have to cut it up. I do it for your sanity.

Sterritt starts by mentioning that "[t]he defecation series makes its appearance most subtly[...]". Oh, really.  We will just have to look close enough, we know it's there! He continues the sentence: "[...] through anal implications that may be drawn from the murderers' homosexuality [...]" I have to cut that sentence again to catch my breath. Have you caught yours? Okay, going on: "[...] and through what may be the film's most discussed and least-understood mechanism: the 'hidden' splices that link the film's long takes on several occasions [...]" Again, stop the sentence! I guess Hitchcock didn't just splice up his film because it at the time was technically impossible to film in one entire shot, right? He has to have had a hidden agenda, right? I mean, "hidden" agenda. Phew... Now the last part of the sentence. "[...] most frequently by traveling into an extreme close-up of a male character's backside."

Did you get that? The fact that the splices are, as Sterritt puts it, "hidden" by having the camera zoom into a dark area, often while passing a character and making the cut with the camera lens blacked out, is a metaphor for traveling up the characters' asses. Do you want to read the sentence again, now in its entirety? Ready? Voilà:

The defecation series makes it's appearance most subtly, through anal implications that may be drawn from the murderers' homosexuality and through what may be the film's most-discussed and least-understood mechanism: the "hidden" splices that link the film's long takes on several occasions, most frequently by traveling into an extreme close-up of a male character's backside.

He also points out that the two murderers kill their victim from behind, and then discuss how they "felt" when his body "went limp". He also links homosexuality and death in some far-fetched way. Sigh.


Talking about the wonderful feeling of killing just for the sake of it.

Oh, backsides! Anal implications!

Here, the defecation series reveal itself at 11:33 in Rope! What, don't you see it? No poop...? You have no imagination!


I can't believe I've made it this far. And I won't argue this, it's impossible for me to sink to that level of absurdity. I never thought that was possible... And I haven't even come to Sterritt's view of Psycho (1960) yet. Psycho is, in Sterritt's words, "the lower-bodily-stratum film par excellence of Hitchcock's career". Don't pretend you did not notice that yourselves.


Hear, hear! The brilliant deductions of David Sterritt! "Psycho is largely about anal activity, treated metaphorically, and its first symbol for excrement is money - specifically the forty-thousand dollars produced in the real-estate office by a childish (anal-sadistic) client who obnoxiously shows off what he has 'made'."

Oh, please! Don't bring fucking Freud into this mess, too... Did I mention that Freud is the holy god of analytics?



Look, he's even pointing downwards. Clear as day. That's anal implications if anything.


Sterritt points out that the dialogue in Psycho "conjures up the lower bodily-stratum", since words like "irregular" and "private" enter the conversation. I am deadly serious, that's one of his arguments. After Marion Crane has stolen the money and leaves town in a car, she hears voices in her head of what she thinks people may be saying now. One of the lines are "She sat there while I dumped it out." That line, of course, backs up Sterritt's theory.

My favorite part of the poop fest that is this analysis of Psycho is the license plate discussion. I'm sure you all thought about that, huh? "During the same portion of the film we see (in close-up) the license plate of her original car: ANL-709, the letters virtually spelling out the film's most important symbolic key." Sterritt even goes as far as to claim that that moment "confirms the suggestions of lower-bodily preoccupation that have preceded it." My only comment to that is that if Hitchcock noticed that ANL is "anal" with a letter missing, he probably just thought it was funny and didn't mean anything more with it. But my thoughts are so boring compared to Sterritt's!

By the way: the close-up of the license plate and the line about the dumping is not in the same scene. I double checked. The line is said when she is driving another car. Sterritt got owned!






But he doesn't stop with one license plate, oh no! You see, Marion Crane changes cars later on. The new license plate reads NFB-418. Oh, what to do with those letters... Ah, of course! N and B stands for Norman Bates, and the F stands "perhaps for Female". Perhaps? I'm disappointed, I thought he was going to say F for Feces...

Of course there are also references to menstruation. Norman does indeed at one time cry out "Mother... Blood! Blood!", which, according to Sterritt, "reminds us that much of Psycho can be read menstrually as well as excrementally", continuing with "and the imposing presence of the phallic shower head during much of the murder scene."

SIGH.

"Mother! Mother! Oh God... Mother! Blood! Blood!"

"Phallic shower head"? I think Sterritt should let a doctor take a look at his private parts...


No. I give up now. He goes on with The Birds (1963), too. But you get the point. You probably got more points than you wanted. Now, what did I get out of doing this summary of the most ridiculous analysis ever? (That includes the raging feminist Laura Mulvey's talk about castration complexes.)

Well, I now know that while my husband studies to be something useful, I will continue studying dopey texts until I myself become a dopey film professor that can write dopey film analyses. And then, one day, I may meet this David Sterritt and hit him over the head with a hammer. A hammer coated with a weeks worth of feces.

Saturday, January 2, 2010

A new decade and new wallpapers!




[Don't ask me why I haven't gone to bed at 6:30 AM. Awful hangover and slight ulcer is my own diagnosis.]

That was about how I looked on New Year's Eve. Add some absinthe, and later going home to clean up my boyfriend's vomit - there you have my 2010 celebrations! Okay, the New Year's party was actually pretty awesome. I hope the situation was at least quite similar for my dear readers (excluding the vomit part).

Since I am such a sweet, generous person I thought I could give you some new wallpapers for the new year. There should be something fitting for everyone I believe. As long as you have widescreen format (16:10).
(If you have either 5:4 or 4:3, just email me if you desperately want any of these - I have them in store.)

For the random classic film fan:


Alfred Hitchcock, looking suspicious.


Nick and Nora Charles (Myrna Loy and William Powell).



For the fan of Japanese cinema:


Director Akira Kurosawa.



For the fan of Japanese cinema or for every woman who wants a hot man filling their computer screen:

A young Toshirô Mifune (*drooling*).



And for all my dear male readers:

FBI agent Dana Scully (Gillian Anderson)



Thursday, March 12, 2009

Cary Grant (1904-1986)

"Everybody wants to be Cary Grant. Even I want to be Cary Grant."



Cary Grant - the famous lover and gentleman. Always sophisticated, sarcastic, well-mannered and upright with an accent hard to place (being born in England and living in America). Named the second greatest male star of all time by AFI (placed between number one Humphrey Bogart and third place James Stewart). Having starred in legendary films like The Philadelphia Story (1940), His Girl Friday (1940), Hitchcock's Notorious (1946), To Catch a Thief (1955) and North by Northwest (1959).
It is now his time to appear in a post specifically dedicated to him.



Born Archibald Alexander Leach in Bristol, England 1904, Grant had a difficult childhood as an only child in a middle-class family. When he was nine his father placed his mother in a mental institution. The reason for her insanity began with a never overcome depression after having lost an earlier born child. Grant did however not know until he was in his late twenties that his mother was still alive and institutionalized, since being told as a child of nine that his mother had gone away on a "long holiday" at a seaside resort.




When Grant was 14 he was kicked out from school. He lied about his age and forged his father's signature to join the "Bob Pender stage troop", following the comedy troop on tour to the United States. In the group he was a stilt walker for two years. When the group was heading back to England, Grant stayed to perform on stage. He appeared in several stage shows, still under his birth name Archibald Leach.




After some success in light Broadway comedies he had chosen a stage name: Cary Lockwood, after a character he had recently played.
In 1931 he signed a contract with Paramount Pictures, but they wanted him to change hos stage name. "Cary" was alright, but "Lockwood" had to go. After having looked through a list of preferred surnames he decided on "Grant". The initials CG had worked fine for two other great movie stars, Clark Gable and Gary Cooper. Cary Grant was therefore born.




In 1932 he played opposite Marlene Dietrich in Blonde Venus, and the year after his career rose when playing opposite the curvy Mae West in She Done Him Wrong and I'm No Angel. The two West-Grant films from 1933 were successes - She Done Him Wrong was nominated for a Best Picture Academy Award and I'm No Angel was a financial success - and saved Paramount Pictures from bancruptcy. The film studio was in other words more than delighted with Cary Grant, and cast him in several more pictures.


Cary Grant and Mae West in She Done Him Wrong (1933).


Cary Grant on a cigarette break in 1934.


Cary Grant was now on his way to become one of the box-office favourites of all time, leaning more and more toward screwball comedy:
In 1937 he starred in The Awful Truth opposite Irene Dunne (directed by Leo McCarey, director of Marx Brothers' Duck Soup from 1933)
In 1938 he was playing for the first time opposite Katharine Hepburn in the screwball classic Bringing Up Baby, and two years later once again in George Cukor's The Philadelphia Story, also with James Stewart.
1940 he played Rosalind Russell's ex-husband in His Girl Friday.
1942 in The Talk of the Town with Jean Arthur and Ronald Colman.
1944 in the Frank Capra morbid comedy Arsenic and Old Lace.
In 1952 he starred in Monkey Business with Ginger Rogers and Marilyn Monroe.


Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell in His Girl Friday (1940).


Cary Grant, director George Cukor and Katharine Hepburn.


Scene: Cary Grant uses the word "gay", probably for the first time in film history when referring to a homosexual, in Bringing Up Baby (1938). It is said that Grant forgot his real line and improvised that line!




Even though Cary Grant is mostly connected with comedy, he got to show his acting talents being thriller film genius Alfred Hitchcock's favourite actor. Beginning with Suspicion (1941) opposite Joan Fontaine, he moved on making three more Hitchcock films:
Notorious (1946) with Ingrid Bergman and Claude Rains.
To Catch a Thief (1955) with Grace Kelly (later Princess of Monaco).
North by Northwest (1959) with Eva Marie Saint and James Mason.


Cary Grant as Roger O. Thornhill in North by Northwest (1959).


The silhouettes of Alfred Hitchcock and Cary Grant.


By this time, at the height of his success, Grant began to tire of making movies. He made a romantic suspence-comedy with Audrey Hepburn in 1963, Charade, but that would be one of his last films. When he had his first daughter in 1966, aged 62, he stopped making movies and instead became a father full time. During the years to come he refused job offers from directors like Howard Hawks, Billy Wilder and Stanley Kubrick.


Ingrid Bergman and Cary Grant. Aren't Swedish women the greatest?


Grace Kelly and Cary Grant in later years.

Cary Grant was married five times between 1936 and the year of his death by cerebral hemorrhage in 1986. In 1970 he received an Honorary Academy Award for life time achievement.

Interesting trivia is that Cary Grant donated his entire fee for The Philadelphia Story (1940) to the British war effort, and his fee for Arsenic and Old Lace (1944) to the U.S. war relief fund. That was $150 000 respectively $100 000.




Film clip: Cary Grant's speech at the Academy Awards. What a great man he was.




Personal quotes:


I think making love is the best form of exercise.

I've often been accused by critics of being myself on-screen. But being oneself is more difficult than you'd suppose.

I pretended to be somebody I wanted to be until finally I became that person. Or he became me.

My formula for living is quite simple. I get up in the morning and I go to bed at night. In between, I occupy myself as best I can.

Divorce is a game played by lawyers.

I improve on misquotation.

To succeed with the opposite sex, tell her you are impotent; she can't wait to disprove it.


Cary Grant by caricaturist Al Hirshfeld.