favorite movie #79 - halloween edition: the city of the dead/horror hotel (u.s.)

Favorite movies that have had an impact on me - #79 - The City of the Dead/Horror Hotel (U.S.) (1960) - This is a British movie, but everyone speaks with an American accent, as the story is set in Massachusetts and references the burning of a witch in (fictional) Whitewood, Mass. in 1692 (the same year many of the "witches" of Salem were first executed.) Of course the difference between the film's Elizabeth Selwyn (a very creepy Patricia Jessel) and the innocent women in Salem is that she is a real witch, and has been granted eternal life by the devil as long as she promises to continue her wicked ways. College professor Alan Driscoll (Christopher Lee) sends one of his students, Nan Barlow (Venetia Stevenson), who is fascinated by the history of witchcraft, to Whitewood to complete her research. Maybe she should have considered changing hr major from occult studies. The movie has the production values of a classic Avengers episode, but it is still quite effective. The atmosphere is spooky and the story isn't afraid to take a gruesome turn or two. What I found really interesting about the film while I was watching was its similarity to another popular black and white horror film from 1960, Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho. A pretty young blonde arrives alone, in a car, at an eerie old hotel. The hotel owner is strange, but friendly. The girl disappears halfway through the film causing a family member (in this case her brother and boyfriend) to set out to find her. But it's unlikely that City of the Dead was inspired or influenced by Psycho. It was originally intended as a TV show, a vehicle for Boris Karloff, but the story was expanded to feature film length. It went into production before Psycho, and filmed at Shepperton Studios in England, while Psycho was filmed at Universal Studios and various locations in California and Arizona. Maybe there was something in the air in the winter of 1960 ...

You can do a lot with a low budget and some well-placed fog ...

Christopher Lee plays a not evil college professor at all

Maybe one shouldn't pick up hitchhikers on a dark and misty night?

Mrs. Bates, I mean, Newless, bears a striking resemblance to Whitewood's most famous witch

I didn't know New England could get so misty on Candlemas Eve

Road hazard ahead

What all the occult researchers are wearing this year

A trap door leading to a basement grotto full of cobwebs - let's check it out!

Note to self: Avoid graveyards on the Witches Sabbath

hitchcock's true romance

Last week was Alfred Hitchcock's birthday. One of my all-time favorite filmmakers, Hitchcock was funny, talented, and more than a little bit quirky. This past year two films attempted to tell behind-the-scenes stories of the man and his films. A made-for-cable movie, The Girl, premiered on HBO and focused on Hitch's obsession with actress Tippi Hedren during the filming of The Birds. Not to diminish what Hitch may have put Ms. Hedren through, but it was not a great film, focusing on hearsay of the most prurient kind. Also released this year was Hitchcock, based on Stephen Rebello's book, Alfred Hitchcock and the Making of Psycho. The film does include some fun peeks into the making of the famous horror film, but the true center of the story is the relationship between Hitch (Anthony Hopkins) and his wife, screenwriter and editor Alma Reville (Helen Mirren).

Alma Reville

Helen Mirren as Alma

Hitchcock is a far better film than The Girl (which isn't really saying much). But true Hitchophiles may wish for a bit more "making of" footage than the filmmaker's inserted dream sequences, where the great director talks to Wisconsin serial killer Ed Gein, the inspiration for the book by Robert Bloch and the film. Film buffs will enjoy being reminded how completely unusual Psycho was for its time. Because of its graphic subject matter, Hitch's studio, Paramount, wouldn't finance the film, so the director (and his wife) had to put up the money. Hitchcock used his television crew from Alfred Hitchcock Presents to film Psycho. When the studio would only releas the film to a very limited amount of theaters, Hitchcock countered with some brilliant publicity gimmicks — buying up all copies of the Bloch book, so that no one would know how the story ended, and by decreeing that absolutely no one would be allowed into the theater after the movie had started.

Hitch swears the cast and crew to secrecy on the set of Psycho - L-R: Jessica Biel as Vera Miles, Scarlett Johansson as Janet Leigh, and James D'Arcy as Anthony Perkins

Hopkins may not look exactly like Hitch, but he does a great job with his voice, especially his over-enunciated speech. He could have slowed down some of his phrasing even more. Mirren gives a wonderful, acerbic performance as Alma. She may not closely resemble Mrs. Hitchcock, but she captures the frustrations involved in being married to a man who always had to have a "Hitchcock blonde" standing by. The pair bicker and try to one-up each other throughout the film, but they also manage to convey their great love for one another. Alfred Hitchcock and Alma Reville were married 54 years, from 1926–1980, when Hitch died. Alma died two years later, in 1982.

Hitchcock and Alma on vacation

Alma (Mirren) helps Hitch (Hopkins) edit Psycho

Hitchcock tries to amp up the drama by having Alma indulge in a flirtation with fellow screen writer Whitfield Cook (Danny Huston) who wrote Stage Fright and Strangers on a Train. Their collaboration on a new project while Hitch is working on HIS film inflames Hitch's jealousy and inspires his rage, which he channels into the famous shower scene. Maybe. It's pretty well-known that the shower scene was completely story-boarded and not a spontaneous expression of Hitch's personal rage on the set. What the film does do is underline how essential Alma was to Hitch and his films. It may slightly overplay her contributions to Psycho, but it does show how her discerning eye and opinion was Hitch's absolute first and last stop during his creative process.

Although the film and romance belongs to Hopkins and Mirren, the supporting cast does a good job with their interpretations of well-known actors. Jessica Biel especially stands out as Vera Miles, a woman, who like Tippi Hedren, was being groomed to be a star, a Hitchcock blonde, but who fell out with the director after becoming pregnant prior to his starring her in Vertigo (the part then went to Kim Novak). James D'Arcy is an uncanny Anthony Perkins. Scarlett Johannsson tries to charm as Janet Leigh, but apart from her figure, doesn't really suggest the actress or the era.

Janet Leigh (Johansson) and Vera Miles (Biel)

Quibbles aside, Hitchcock is an entertaining peek into the relationship between Hitch and Alma and Hollywood's first slasher film. After viewing this biopic one might want to screen the original and reflect on all that went into making this black and white horror classic.

the case of the broken glass

The first year that I went to college, art school, Parsons School of Design in New York City, I lived in their "dorms," a few floors in a high-rise on Union Square. The understanding was that by the end of the year students would need to find other accommodations  to make room for next year's influx of art students. I looked at a few places over the summer, but nothing was working out, until I lucked into a place in Park Slope, sharing it with a girl who modeled in one of my art classes. The real bonus was that as nice as she was, she spent a lot of time at her boyfriend's place, so for the most part, although it sometimes got lonely, I had a large, railroad apartment to myself. During that sophomore year my roommate eventually moved out, and when one of my classmates found himself out of his latest digs I was more than willing to share my good fortune, telling him to come and stay until he found his own place.

I was a bit of a stray collector in those days. I never intended to have my classmate become my permanent roommate, but if that had worked out, I probably would have been fine with it. But that's not how things worked out. It's always hard to live with people. We all have our quirks. I had grown up with a brother, so I was used to hair left in the shower, or the toilet seat being up. Those really weren't  a big deal. But being sneaky or dishonest was a deal-breaker.

"A Broken Glass," by Kit Umscheid

So what happened? 

We were living in Brooklyn, but we both would also still go home and visit our families on the weekend from time-to-time; my family in New Jersey, his in upstate New York. I had returned from such a weekend to find a sink full of dishes — again, not exactly a big deal, just a small annoyance. I didn't have that many glasses or dishes, so would have to wash what was in the sink to be able to use them. I turned on the water and grabbed a sponge and some dish soap and started washing the plates and forks, my mind drifting. I then reached for a juice glass, putting the sponge inside, and turning it, twisting it, to get the suds over the inside of the glass. Suddenly I glanced down into the sink and wondered why it reminded me of the shower scene in Psycho. Blood was swirling down the drain. I looked from the bottom of the sink to the glass and my hand. My hand was bleeding, between the thumb and index finger. The glass had been broken, perfectly, horizontally, and then put back together. Put back into the sink. As if done by a three year old. Maybe she won't find out. She won't know that I did it. What a jerk. Luckily, the gash wasn't deep enough to warrant stitches, but I still have a scar.

I gave him until the end of the week. I never really got angry with him, or scolded him, or told the story (much), but we were never really friends after that incident. Understandably. A few months later, as I was going through some of my books in a bookcase I heard something drop down to the floor behind it. I fished out the object. It was my grandmother's pinking shears, broken, hidden behind some pieces of trimmed cardboard. He had used my seamstress grandmother's pinking shears to cut thick cardboard for some project. And then apparently broken them and hidden them. What sort of infantile behavior would do crap like this? Twice?

Things get broken. It happens. But every once in a while I have to wonder how and why this brand of sneakiness, something that I have dealt with on occasion with my daughter — who's nine years old — had extended into adulthood. Granted, twenty-somethings are not as grown-up as they think they are, but to put a broken glass back in a sink instead of just throwing it out. It still boggles my mind.