Classic Films in Focus: PSYCHO (1960)

Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960) marks the arrival of the slasher genre on the Hollywood horror scene, and today it retains a powerful hold on the public imagination, even though the movie itself is quite tame by modern standards. Because the picture has become so familiar, even to people who aren’t necessarily fans of old movies or Hitchcock, it’s almost impossible to watch Psycho now without knowing all of its major twists and turns. We can’t recapture the suspense of seeing it the way audiences did in 1960, but we can still appreciate its iconic Bernard Herrmann score, its diabolical cinematography, and the absolutely brilliant performance of Anthony Perkins as one of cinema’s most dangerously devoted sons. It isn’t Hitchcock’s best or smartest picture, but Psycho remains essential viewing for all serious cinephiles, especially those interested in the history of horror.

Perkins plays the boyish Norman Bates, an amateur taxidermist and the proprietor of the largely empty Bates Motel. His establishment attracts Marion Crane (Janet Leigh), a Phoenix secretary who has skipped town with $40,000 of her employer’s money and is on her way to find her divorced lover, Sam (John Gavin), whom she hasn’t been able to marry because of his alimony payments. Marion’s sister, Lila (Vera Miles), and a private detective (Martin Balsam) both set out to track Marion down, and their investigations lead them to the Bates Motel, where Norman’s mysterious mother seems to be the key to finding out what has become of Marion and the missing money.

Much has been made of the brevity of Janet Leigh’s screen time as the picture’s ostensible leading lady, but from the moment he first appears Psycho is really Anthony Perkins’ movie, and his performance gives the film its chilling appeal. His Norman is so vulnerable and eager to please, but the intensity of his personality lurks just below the surface of his puppyish amiability. With Perkins’ assistance, Hitchcock lures us into liking Norman and sympathizing with him, even after the first murder takes place. Norman’s efforts to clean up Mother’s mess reveal his revulsion at the sight of blood, his discomfort with a naked woman’s body, and his determination to protect the object of his adoration, no matter how badly she treats him. Madness or monstrosity by themselves are mere bugbears; Norman’s fragile, sensitive humanity makes him fascinating and, ultimately, all the more disturbing, because we find ourselves sharing his perspective. The final, shocking scene jolts the audience by revealing just how deranged that perspective has become.

As a technical accomplishment, Psycho demonstrates the ways in which camera angles, editing, and scoring help to create effective horror and suspense, especially in the infamous shower scene, where viewers often imagine seeing a lot more than is actually on display. It would be naive, however, to claim that Psycho is a perfect movie. The menacing Bates house, so much more evocative than the bland motel, is rather underused, and the psychiatrist’s scene near the end drags on like a high school lecture. With only two murders in the entire movie, the second one might have benefited from a little more time and attention, even if it doesn’t provide the salacious voyeurism of the first. Finally, Vera Miles and John Gavin are not especially interesting as Lila and Sam; they don’t have any chemistry with each other, and their mundane, middle-class American characters leave us unconcerned for their welfare. They’re just cogs in the plot machine, like so many characters in later and lesser slasher films, and we know that Hitchcock could have done more with them than that.

Psycho earned four Oscar nominations, including a Best Director nod for Hitchcock, but it went home empty-handed in a year dominated by Billy Wilder’s The Apartment (1960). For contrast, read the original novel by Robert Bloch or endure the generally panned 1998 remake starring Vince Vaughn. Anthony Perkins starred in a couple of Psycho sequels and never really escaped the typecasting that followed the role, but you can see him in a different light in Friendly Persuasion (1956), Desire Under the Elms (1958), and The Trial (1962). Catch Janet Leigh in Touch of Evil (1958), and look for more of Vera Miles in The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962). See Shadow of a Doubt (1943) for an earlier Hitchcock foray into serial killer territory.

Classic Films in Focus: ACROSS THE WIDE MISSOURI (1951)

Hollywood churned out Westerns during the 1950s, but only a few of them became true classics on the level of Winchester ‘73 (1950) and The Searchers (1956). The rest, like William Wellman’s Across the Wide Missouri (1951), amused the Saturday matinee crowd well enough, and today they are still decent company for an hour or two, especially for fans of the genre as a whole. Although it’s by no means a great film, Across the Wide Missouri offers just enough entertainment to make it interesting, especially in its fine cast and gorgeous Technicolor scenery. Classic movie fans will appreciate Clark Gable in the lead role, with supporting players like Ricardo Montalban, John Hodiak, Adolphe Menjou, and J. Carrol Naish.

Gable stars as Flint Mitchell, a beaver trapper who takes a pretty native wife (María Elena Marqués) as a business arrangement to open up new territory. Soon enough he finds himself in love with his spirited bride, but their happiness is threatened by the antagonism of the Blackfoot warrior, Ironshirt (Ricardo Montalban).

Yes, indeed, we have Ricardo Montalban as the shirtless Blackfoot antagonist, looking almost as ridiculous in retrospect as Rock Hudson in Winchester ’73. Both of the most important “native” roles in the film are actually played by Mexican actors, with the lovely María Elena Marqués making a charming if ethnically inaccurate Blackfoot heroine. The chiefs are equally inauthentic; J. Carrol Naish plays Looking Glass, and Jack Holt appears as the aging Bear Ghost. Of the lot, the Marqués character, Kamiah, proves the most interesting. Unfortunately, she follows the Pocahontas model of Native American femininity; she’s spunky, eager to throw in with the white man’s cause, and safely controlled by tragedy.

Moments of startling cultural conflation provide some of the film’s best scenes. John Hodiak appears as a Scotsman who has adopted Blackfoot dress and culture, which makes his performance of a traditional Scottish jig quite a sight. Later, a Native American chief appears decked in a suit of medieval armor, buckskins, and a huge feather headdress. Throughout the film, the frontier appears as a place where cultural identities are negotiated and revised, with a diverse group of settlers banding together and sharing aspects of their national tastes and traits with one another. Thus we have characters like the French trapper, Pierre (Adolphe Menjou), joining the mix of Scots, Southerners, and natives who populate the wilderness.

Take note of Howard Keel as the uncredited narrator of the tale. For more of Wellman’s Westerns, see The Ox-Bow Incident (1943), Buffalo Bill (1944), and Yellow Sky (1948). Gable made several Westerns late in his career, including Lone Star (1952), The Tall Men (1955), The King and Four Queens (1956), and his final picture, The Misfits (1961). Ricardo Montalban also appears as a Native American in Cheyenne Autumn (1964), but you can catch him in more diverse roles in Neptune's Daughter (1949), Border Incident (1949), and Battleground (1949). Look for more of John Hodiak in Lifeboat (1944) and The Harvey Girls (1946).

An earlier version of this review originally appeared on Examiner.com. The author retains all rights to this content.

The Brave New World of FORBIDDEN PLANET (1956)

This post is part of the CMBA Blogathon: Fabulous Films of the 50s. Visit the Classic Movie Blog Association's website for links to all of the participating blogs!

The 1956 science fiction classic Forbidden Planet is like one of those desserts that secretly has spinach or wheat germ in it. On the surface, it's a wildly imaginative influential genre landmark with cool robots, a scary monster, and a hot young Anne Francis in some very short dresses. It's also, however, a thoughtful Freudian revision of Shakespeare's The Tempest in which science and magic become different terms for the same concepts and the nature of monstrosity is internalized to depict the ways in which ambitious people become corrupted by their own power. It's this dual nature of the film that makes it such an enduring classic as well as one of my all-time favorite movies.

Granted, Forbidden Planet gets off to a bit of a slow start, but once it picks up it really keeps going. We have Leslie Nielsen looking serious and heroic as Commander Adams when his team starts turning up dead, killed by the same mysterious creature that wiped out the previous colonists. We get Walter Pidgeon gloriously sombre as the brilliant scientist, Dr. Morbius, and Anne Francis embodying the very definition of pulchritude as his daughter, Altaira. Best of all, we have Robby the Robot, a walking, talking vision of the future as only the 1950s could imagine it. What's not to love?

Now, the sneaky Shakespearean content begins to appear. In The Tempest, the powerful sorcerer Prospero and his daughter Miranda are trapped on a remote island, much like Morbius and Altaira. In both tales a ship arrives, filled with puzzled newcomers, and one of them rapidly develops a passion for the sheltered girl. Prospero's helpful spirit, Ariel, is recast as the docile but remarkable Robby, while the dangerous monster Caliban is transformed into the planet's invisible lurking evil.

Forbidden Planet gives a Freudian twist to the narrative by making its monster an uncontrolled embodiment of the id, the dark, brutish part of Morbius that the scientist thinks he has banished by his experiments with advanced alien technology. As it turns out, Morbius has only accomplished a Jekyll and Hyde kind of separation of the higher and lower parts of his nature; without the yoke of his rational and ethical thoughts, the id runs amok. This, too, has its roots in Shakespeare. Near the end of the play, Prospero says of Caliban, "This thing of darkness I acknowledge mine," and that acknowledgement is precisely what is required of Morbius in order to save his daughter and Commander Adams' remaining men.

While the movie had a profound influence on later science fiction with its visual effects and its iconic robot, Forbidden Planet also shows the depth and breadth of Shakespeare's legacy. That's an impressive one-two punch, to do something radically new that changes a whole genre while still reveling in the ability of something old to have relevance and meaning. It's a movie for science fiction fans and for Shakespeare fans. English majors and engineers can reach across the table and shake hands over a film like this one. I like to think that, in the long run, Forbidden Planet helped to make science fiction smarter, deeper, and more conscious of its literary nature as well as its science. O brave new world, that has such movies in it!

By the way, if you're a fan of Shakespeare and Forbidden Planet, be sure to have a look at the hilarious stage musical, Return to the Forbidden Planet. I had the good fortune to see it performed by the American Shakespeare Center several years ago, but you can find videos from various performances of it on YouTube.


PS -

Forbidden Planet and The Tempest are also the underlying influences in my short story, "This is Not a Life," which you'll find on Amazon.com. It helps if you know something about Magritte, too.

Alone in the Dark: Where is Huntsville's Audience for Indie Films?

I love classic movies, but I'm really an equal opportunity cinephile. I love to see new movies in the theater, too, especially with an appreciative audience to share the experience. This week we have been warming up the seats at the cineplex quite a bit, having logged three new releases already (with two more in the works for the holiday weekend). Our trio of intrepid moviegoers enjoyed Godzilla on Thursday night, Particle Fever on Tuesday night, and Jodorowsky's Dune on Wednesday night. We saw all three films at the same theater - the Regal Hollywood 18 - but the first experience was very different from the other two. Why? Because for both of the other films, we were the only people there.

I often complain that Huntsville is not a movie person's town. It's a two hour drive in any direction to the nearest art house or revival theater. This is an engineer's town, a NASA town, so I know the population doesn't get all worked up about Joan Blondell and Buster Keaton the way I do. You would, however, think there would be a strong interest in a movie about physicists discovering the Higgs-Boson particle and a movie about the struggle to adapt one of the most influential science fiction novels of all time into a revolutionary film. Engineers love science, right? Aren't they really into science fiction?

Not so much, apparently, since the box office worker seemed surprised both nights that anybody was showing up for these movies. On the night we saw Particle Fever, the girl in the booth gave us a huge stack of postcards for the movie because, as she said, "nobody has really come to see it." Now, I know we were seeing these pictures on a week night, but it was at 7 PM, and when we saw Godzilla on a Thursday night there was quite a good crowd of devoted rubber monster fans.

I don't really mind being the only person in the theater now and then, especially when I see a movie late in its run and during the day, but it's depressing to think that indie films draw so little interest around here, even when they seem perfectly directed at local tastes. Theaters have no incentive to run indie pictures if nobody shows up; they'll just screen the big, loud blockbusters and stupid comedies (I'm looking at you, Blended) that repeatedly pack the house. I have nothing against blockbusters - I liked Godzilla - but limited access is bad for moviegoers, and it's bad for movies. When we don't watch indie films we forget that movies can be a lot more than superheroes and monsters blowing stuff up. We forget that movies can say something important. We forget that they can be Art.

Both Particle Fever and Jodorowsky's Dune are excellent documentaries with engaging stories to tell. They both challenge us to dream bigger, to dare to fail, to go out and try to change the world. Those movies should be packing the house every night. People should be taking their kids to see them (my 13 year old was especially inspired by the concept art for Dune). I want more indie films in Huntsville, but if we're the only people in the theater that's not going to happen.

Over the Memorial Day weekend I plan to see both X-Men: Days of Future Past and Chef. I know there will be a huge turnout for the comic book movie, and as a lifelong geek and comics reader I'm happy about that. Maybe the fact that Jon Favreau, the guy who directed the first Iron Man movie, wrote, directed, and starred in Chef will help generate a little enthusiasm for his film, too, but after the last two outings I am cautiously optimistic at best.

If you live in some great city where indie films draw big crowds and revival theaters show silent films with live organ music, revel in it. Send me a postcard. Hey, invite me to visit and crash on your couch. If you live in Rocket City USA, get up from the computer, turn off the TV, and get thee to an indie film. Your brain and your soul will thank you.

PS -
You can read my full review of Jodorowsky's Dune over at Examiner.com.

Classic Films in Focus: THE THIEF OF BAGDAD (1940)

Producer Alexander Korda’s lavish revision of the 1924 silent version of The Thief of Bagdad marks a key moment in the evolution of the fantasy adventure film. It would prove an inspiration to imaginative filmmakers for generations to come; its influence is clearly seen, for example, in the Sinbad movies of Ray Harryhausen, himself an iconic figure in the history of fantasy films. Shot in sumptuous color and bursting with visual delights, The Thief of Bagdad thrills viewers of all ages with its magical creatures and daring escapes, but youngsters will especially appreciate the role of child star Sabu as the plucky thief who gives the story its human interest as well as its title. The movie benefits further from the efforts of a team of directors, including Michael Powell, and memorable performances from Conrad Veidt, June Duprez, and Rex Ingram.

Sabu plays Abu, the loyal companion of lovestruck hero Ahmad (John Justin), whose passion for a beautiful princess (June Duprez) carries the pair into many trials and adventures. Ahmad’s corrupt vizier, Jaffar (Conrad Veidt), first usurps Ahmad’s throne and then tries to win the princess for himself, even bribing her foolish father with a mechanical flying horse. Dark magic and corrupt political power repeatedly enable Jaffar to thwart Ahmad and Abu, but the discovery of a genie (Rex Ingram) and a magical stone offer the heroes some much needed assistance.

The film features an impressive array of special effects that bring its locations and creatures to life, although some techniques are so subtly employed that most viewers will never recognize them. Wide shots of huge fantasy settings use hanging miniatures and matte paintings brilliantly; we perceive the colorful towers of Arabian cities and a giant statue as real things rather than mere illusions, which draws us into the world and encourages us to invest in its characters. The fabulous beings who populate this landscape get our attention more readily, for they are creatures calculated to inspire amazement. A mechanical steed comes to life and carries its riders into the sky, a silver statue seduces and then kills with half a dozen arms, and an enormous genie emerges from his bottle to fill the screen and frighten tiny Abu. A few of these effects scenes reveal their age, especially around the edges, but they were groundbreaking accomplishments in 1940, and they still have the power to charm and surprise a generation brought up on computerized cinematic spectacles.

The performances of the human actors help to sell this story of exotic enchantment. Conrad Veidt projects hypnotic menace as the evil Jaffar, a villain of great cunning and power, while June Duprez is lovely enough to justify all of the attention she gets from both Jaffar and Ahmad. John Justin, making his very first screen appearance, plays Ahmad as affable, romantic, and sincere, especially during his blind beggar phase. He has just a touch of roguish charm to liven up his character without stealing Sabu’s thunder. A jovial Rex Ingram makes the genie a highlight of the picture, and Miles Malleson, who also wrote the screenplay, has a memorable role as the toy-obsessed sultan. Foremost of all, however, is Sabu, the Indian child actor who had first appeared in Korda’s Elephant Boy in 1937. With his mischievous grin and youthful charisma, Sabu brings a street urchin’s perspective to the grand calamities of the adult world. He’s funny, energetic, and boyishly handsome, a more exotic version of Tom Sawyer or Peter Pan. It’s easy to see why Korda was eager to capitalize on the sixteen year old’s appeal by building pictures around him.

The Thief of Bagdad won three Oscars, for Cinematography, Art Direction, and, most deservedly, Special Effects. Sabu, like many child stars, did not enjoy much success as an adult actor, but his other early films include Drums (1938), Jungle Book (1942), and Black Narcissus (1947). Conrad Veidt, best remembered as a Nazi in Casablanca (1942), can also be found tackling a sinister role in A Woman’s Face (1941). Look for June Duprez in None but the Lonely Heart (1944) and for Rex Ingram in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1939) and Anna Lucasta (1958). Don’t miss Miles Malleson, one of the most prolific actors in the cast, as Dr. Chasuble in The Importance of Being Earnest (1952). Be sure to point out to young viewers the remarkable similarities between The Thief of Bagdad and Disney’s Aladdin (1992); Sabu’s protagonist gets downgraded to a monkey sidekick, but many of the plot elements and characters are exactly the same.

The Thief of Bagdad is available on DVD from the Criterion Collection and is currently included in the Criterion streaming catalog on Hulu Plus.

Classic Films in Focus: ROMANCE (1930)

Greta Garbo earned two Oscar nominations for Best Actress in 1930, one for Anna Christie (1930) and the other for Romance (1930). Both talking pictures and the Oscars were still new that year, and the double nomination testifies to the thrill viewers felt on hearing Garbo’s remarkable voice. In Romance, directed by Clarence Brown, Garbo uses that voice and all of her other charms to great effect, although the picture falls short of her best work because of trouble with the story and a weak performance from her leading man. Despite these issues, Romance is worth watching for its luminous star, who revels in the glamor and the tragedy of her character in truly operatic fashion.

Garbo plays European opera diva Rita Cavallini, who arrives in New York as the guest of her much older lover, Cornelius Van Tuyl (Lewis Stone). There she meets Tom Armstrong (Gavin Gordon), a young clergyman who becomes enamored of her and naively believes that they can be married. Van Tuyl encourages Rita to end the relationship in order to spare Tom the inevitable heartbreak of learning the truth about Rita’s past affairs, but Rita finds her own love for Tom too powerful to resist.

Rita is a perfect role for Garbo because it capitalizes on her persona as a foreign enchantress, an angel of the unknown, both gloriously bright and faintly threatening. Radiantly beautiful in her formal evening gown, Rita appears in her first important scene with Tom as a Sleeping Beauty awakened by his arrival in the room, but her pose is all a calculated role. Tom fails to recognize her, and she delights in his ignorance, even telling him that Madame Cavallini is a fat, ugly hunchback. The way she says “horrible” is thrillingly naughty, exaggerated and arch. Throughout the movie she is the flame to which moths and viewers are drawn, so we understand why both Van Tuyl and Tom fall in love with her, but it’s much harder to fathom what she sees in Tom, who comes off as priggish, stiff, and hopelessly out of touch. His prudish morality sounds especially dull coming from Gavin Gordon, who simply lacks any onscreen chemistry with his leading lady. We really believe he’d marry her and then expect her to be content crocheting doilies for the rectory and receiving the occasional chaste peck on the cheek as a mark of his affection.

The frame tale that surrounds the central narrative works very well, with the elderly Tom much more sympathetic and interesting than young Tom ever manages to be. Old Tom, a wiser and a sadder man, tells the story of his brief romance to his grandson, Harry (Elliott Nugent), a headstrong youth who wants to marry an actress against his mother’s wishes. We find out a lot about the aftermath of Tom and Rita’s brief time together in just a few lines of quiet dialogue. Of course Tom settles into a comfortable life with a woman more suited to his expectations and profession, but Rita’s story takes a different turn, surprising perhaps but perfectly in keeping with the grand theatrical nature of her passions. The last time we see her in Tom’s story, she is standing like a saint at the sacrificial stake, her rapt face turned toward God, with the forgotten and now worshipful Tom clinging to the hem of her gown. She seems poised for ascension; what earthly life could hold meaning for her after a moment like that?

Be sure to appreciate the appearance of Clara Blandick, best remembered as Auntie Em in The Wizard of Oz (1939), as Tom’s disapproving aunt. See more of the great Garbo in Grand Hotel (1932), Queen Christina (1933), and Ninotchka (1939). Gavin Gordon went on to play supporting roles in many films, including Mystery of the Wax Museum (1933), The Scarlet Empress (1934), and The Bride of Frankenstein (1935). Lewis Stone played Judge Hardy in the Andy Hardy series, but you’ll also find him in other Garbo films and in Jean Harlow pictures like Red-Headed Woman (1932) and China Seas (1935). Clarence Brown earned an Oscar nomination for Best Director for his work on Romance; although he never won, he picked up five more nominations over the course of his career for films like A Free Soul (1931), National Velvet (1944), and The Yearling (1946).

Muppet Madness: The Kid's Muppet-Themed Birthday Party

We take our movies and our Muppets pretty seriously at our house, so I can't claim that I was surprised when the Kid declared that she wanted a Muppet-themed birthday party this year. Her trip to see Muppets Most Wanted at Disney's El Capitan Theatre in Hollywood had been quite the religious experience (for her and for me!). Surely, I thought, with a brand new movie out, Disney would have some Muppet themed party supplies on the market. The party would be easy!

Alas, no. Although Disney has done a good job getting more Muppet merchandise into the pipeline in a general way, apparently it never occurred to them that kids might want Muppet-themed birthday parties in the wake of the latest film. Maybe they're just distracted by the relentless snowball of success that is Frozen. We couldn't find any Muppet-themed party supplies in town. The Kid was beginning to look a bit glum. Now that she's turning thirteen, I can see the end of her wanting to have this kind of party at all; I didn't want to let her down.

So we got creative. I started work on handmade party invitations and a Muppet-themed centerpiece; thank goodness it was a short guest list, so we didn't need a huge pile of invitations. We decided to capitalize on the "Rainbow Connection" as a motif and have rainbow colored tableware and treats. (Actually, rainbow stuff is also harder to find than you might expect, unless, perhaps, you live near a gay pride center). I found a case of Muppet Pez dispensers on Amazon and ordered them as the main party favors. Slowly the pieces began to come together.

Now, I'm into Muppets, so much so that I have co-edited two essay anthologies about them, so of course I have Muppet stuff lying around my house. Unfortunately, it isn't necessarily the kind of stuff you use for party decorations. I have Christopher Finch's terrific book, Jim Henson: The Works. I have copies of  my own two books, Kermit Culture and The Wider Worlds of Jim Henson. I don't, however, think that the kids would have enjoyed a book display, no matter how informative and engaging the texts. ("Hey, kids, let's listen to Dr. Garlen give a fascinating reading of her essay on high and low aesthetic cultural values as represented by Gonzo the Great!") Luckily, I also have a stuffed Gonzo and a secret stockpile of Muppet stickers, and we put those to work for our cause.

For snacks, we had Piggy pink and Kermit green cupcakes, rainbow Jello, and rainbow sherbet. Rainbow Jello looks super, but it takes forever to make all of those layers, and I had to keep repeating "Roy G Biv" to myself while I made each new level. We also had a colorful tray of veggies and a bowl of rainbow Goldfish crackers, but as you can probably imagine we had a lot of veggies left over at the end. Who knew kids would rather eat cupcakes than raw carrots?

The Kid wanted us to have a Muppet-themed activity, so I made a 20 Questions kind of game where we pinned the names of Muppet characters to the kids' backs and had them ask yes or no questions to figure out which one they had. We had easy, medium, and hard questions, but I might have gotten a teensy bit carried away with the hard ones. Hey, I was sure the Kid and our other junior Muppet fan would get Camilla, Uncle Deadly, Link Hogthrob, and Lew Zealand! It's not like I asked them to guess Bobby Benson's Baby Band or Wayne & Wanda (OK, maybe I did put Marvin Suggs in there. I have a sadistic streak). The kids who didn't know anything about the Muppets - and I'm sad to tell you that such children do exist in the world, poor deprived little urchins that they are - got the softball Muppet standards like Kermit, Miss Piggy, and Animal.

The party was a big success, and we scored a last minute win by finding a giant Kermit balloon at a grocery store in town. Hopefully the Kid will have some memories to cherish. I'll take it as a sign that I'm raising her right if she shares my enthusiasm for Muppets and classic movies. Actually, I guess I ought to be thankful she didn't decide she wanted to have a Gene Kelly or Marx Brothers themed birthday party instead! Seriously, I wouldn't put that past her.

Nobody give her any funny ideas like that for next year!