Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Psycho
This post is part of the Blind Spots 2012 series. For back­ground on the series, read the ori­ginal post

Psycho (Director: Alfred Hitchcock): One of the first things I noticed about this classic horror film is how Hitchcock works hard to por­tray “victim” Marion Crane (a gor­geous Janet Leigh) as any­thing but inno­cent. Her first scene is with her lover in a hotel for a lunch­time tryst. When she returns to the real estate office where she works, we know that his money prob­lems are what’s pre­venting them from being mar­ried. And then when a boorish client flirts drunk­enly and leaves $40,000 in cash with her, it’s not a huge stretch for us to see her as the kind of woman who might take this chance to escape her everyday life.

She impuls­ively decides to leave town with the money and go to Sam, her boy­friend, who lives a few hours’ drive away. In the middle of a down­pour, she pulls off to spend the night at the Bates Motel, leading to one of the most famous shower scenes in cine­matic his­tory. I noticed a few things in the film which might be obvious to anyone who has seen it, but as a new­comer to Psycho, I’m hoping you’ll indulge me.

Marion’s sur­name is Crane, which made creepy sense during her con­ver­sa­tion with the motel’s pro­pri­etor Norman Bates. He tells her his hobby is taxi­dermy and that he likes to stuff birds rather than beasts because they’re “passive.”

Hitchcock seems to imply that Marion is killed as a pun­ish­ment for her tran­gres­sion. Even though she has decided to return the money, the first cut away from Marion’s life­less body is to the money, hidden inside a news­paper. Even the rest of the viol­ence that fol­lows from Marion’s murder seems to lead back to her single impulsive act.

The obses­sion by Marion’s employer, sister and boy­friend to keep the police out of things makes it that much harder to actu­ally figure out what has happened. Arbogast, the private invest­ig­ator hired by her boss to recover the money seems to have his own motives that are not as purely “civic” as the police department’s would be. This under­stand­able desire to cover up or hide crimes leads only to bad things for everyone.

Even though I was always aware of the film’s big “reveal,” Psycho still man­ages to hold up as an effective thriller, but I must con­fess that after Marion’s depar­ture, it’s a far less inter­esting film for me. Her motiv­a­tions, and her inter­ac­tions with Norman Bates, are more sub­stan­tial than any­thing and anyone that fol­lows her demise. Her sister and boy­friend are two-dimensional, and exist simply to solve the crime. I espe­cially found the last few minutes, with Simon Oakland’s psy­cho­lo­gist char­acter explaining everything, dis­ap­pointing, though I under­stand that spoon-feeding the audi­ence would make sure nobody missed the point.

Finally, I was never sure where exactly the shower scene occurred in the film. I always thought it was quite close to the begin­ning, and that Norman Bates was the real focus of the film. I was pleas­antly sur­prised that Marion Crane’s char­acter sur­vives until just about the middle, though as I men­tioned, the rest wasn’t quite as enjoyable.

Psycho def­in­itely estab­lished the style of many horror films in the dec­ades to come, and tech­nic­ally, as far as editing and camera work goes, it’s bril­liant. However, even though I have only seen per­haps half a dozen Hitchcock films, it doesn’t seem to me to hold up as well as, say, Rear Window or Vertigo.

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Backyard

by James McNally on January 31, 2012

in Documentaries,DVD

Backyard

Backyard (Director: Árni Sveinsson): While it’s true that I’ve long been a fan of Icelandic cinema, I have been a fan of Icelandic music for even longer. In the late 1980s, a band called The Sugarcubes and their elfin singer Björk intro­duced me to the unique sounds of this tiny country, and since then, I’ve come to love dozens of bands from Iceland. Someone in another recent doc­u­mentary about Iceland’s seem­ingly bound­less cre­ativity said that the fear of failure is almost nonex­istent, so people take risks. They also help each other out, which is exactly how Backyard came to be.

Each August the city of Reykjavik cel­eb­rates Menningarnótt (Reykjavik Culture Night), a daylong cel­eb­ra­tion of the cre­ative spirit of its cit­izens. There are all kinds of offi­cial and unof­fi­cial events, and in 2009, Árni Rúnar Hlöðversson (of FM Belfast) decided to hold a con­cert in his back­yard and invite his friends to play. He wanted to record the audio, but he also invited his friend Árni Sveinsson to shoot video. None of the bands (or even the two Árnis) thought they were making a “real” movie, so the whole thing is incred­ibly loose. Based on my own exper­i­ences in Iceland, most things organ­ized are “incred­ibly loose.” Icelanders like to fly by the seat of their pants, to be honest, but it gives the film a real energy, too.

Though we get the back­ground around the plan­ning (which seems to happen in a matter of days), the majority of the film’s brisk 73-minute run­ning time is given over to the per­form­ances, and what a treat. The lineup is incred­ibly diverse, from the lo-fi styl­ings of Borko and Sin Fang Bous to the raucous assault of Reykjavik! to the feel-good party sounds of Retro Stefson and FM Belfast (whose finale “Underwear” is guar­an­teed have you boun­cing around your living room grin­ning like an idiot). And though the musical styles change, it’s great to see how many bands actu­ally share mem­bers. In a small place like Iceland, this might be a neces­sity but it also allows for some very inter­esting musical cross-pollination. It’s fit­ting that the film ends with many of the musi­cians soaking together in one of Reykjavik’s thermal swim­ming pools.

Some of these bands (múm, Hjaltalín) were known to me, but most were new dis­cov­eries, and luckily the DVD package (buy it here!) comes with an audio CD of the songs as well. It’s been on con­stant rota­tion over the past few months for me, rein­for­cing my sin­cere belief that Iceland is pound-for-pound the most cre­ative place on the planet.

Official site of the film

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