Showing posts with label TCM. Show all posts
Showing posts with label TCM. Show all posts

the birds

I first saw Alfred Hitchcock's classic thriller The Birds when I was a kid, maybe ten or eleven. It scared the piss out of me. Granted, this one isn't all that frightening... but if I'm a wuss nowadays when it comes to scary movies (and I am), I was a bonafide fraidy-cat at the tender age of eleven. Of course, back then I couldn't really articulate what was so terrifying; I just knew that Hitchcock turned me into a quivering pile of gelatinous goo. Thankfully, it did get easier (and even a bit funny) after repeat viewings.

I had the chance to see this classic again last night, thanks to the magic of TCM, and I took the opportunity to try to figure out what's so dang freaky about The Birds. My thoughts:

  1. There's no music.
    Alfred Hitchcock's movies (notably Psycho) are famous for their terrifying scores. The grating, dischordant strains of music are a huge element of the fear we experience during these movies. The Birds, by contrast, is shockingly silent. I first noticed this in the scene where we first see a man pecked to death... It's totally quiet, and Hitchcock just uses a triple-zoom-in to make it super-scary. Even during the attack scenes, all we hear are the otherwordly squawks of the birds-gone-wild. I may have missed some opening bits of score... but the only music I heard was the creepy song the kids in the schoolhouse sing as the birds amass on the jungle gym.

  2. It's not just about the attacks; it's also about the reactions.
    Hitchcock was always really good at exploring the creepy psychological motivations of his characters. That's really evident in Vertigo, Marnie (which I just saw last night for the first time), and of course Psycho. Even in The Birds, where the menace is more tangible, the really freaky thing is peoples' reactions to the crisis. One woman in a cafe screeches, "You're eeeevillll!!!" at Tippi Hedren; Jessica Tandy rushes home and takes to her bed without saying a word after seeing a friend's eyes pecked out; Tippi Hedren screams and claws at imaginary winged assailants after a particularly bad attack is over. The reactions of the characters are almost as scary as thousands of crazed sparrows coming down the chimney. I said almost.

  3. Everyone looks right into the camera.
    In the really intense scenes, whenever someone's screaming, it seems like they're making direct eye contact with the camera. And everyone seems to have really piercing blue eyes. (I saw the color version.) The bloody guy outside the phone booth, the lady who thinks Tippi's evil, and of course Tippi herself, all look directly into the camera in the midst of their terror. Even the birds fly directly into the camera in the final attack scene, when Tippi gets mauled in the upstairs bedroom.

So maybe now I understand it a bit better... and of course I love Alfred Hitchcock. He's a master. But I have to admit I still squirmed a bit last night.

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singin' in the rain

As most of my fellow film gluttons certainly know, TCM held their regular "31 Days of Oscar" film festival last month (God bless 'em). One of the many fantastic films I caught was the classic MGM musical (some say the best of all time) Singin' in the Rain.

My friend David, knowing I'd seen it, has asked me repeatedly for a few thoughts. So, here goes:









  1. I should have seen this movie long ago. Before watching it, I had no idea of the plot (a 1920's movie studio scrambles to keep up with the sudden demand for "talkies"). For a bonafide movie buff like me, the in-jokes were priceless. It's always so much fun to see the movie industry poke fun at itself.
  2. Gene Kelly is a badass. His dance numbers are insane... especially the "Singin' in the Rain" sequence. I've since read that he actually had a flu and high fever while filming that. Awesome.
  3. I already knew I loved Cyd Charisse from her turn as Fiona in Brigadoon. The hot "Broadway" number in this film cements that for me.
  4. This is, refreshingly, a plain old comedic musical. It's not epic and comedic like Sound of Music, or epic and dramatic like Fiddler on the Roof. It's just really satisfying. I totally dug it.
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a weekend of reruns

What do you do when there is absolutely no new quality movie fare in the theaters? I guess stay home and pout... or go see some old quality movie fare.

I was intrigued by my friend Pistola's raves on South Minneapolis's Riverview Theater (as well as a great review in City Pages), so Captain Crash and I took a leisurely drive along the Mississippi and checked it out.

Guess what... I have a new favorite theater.

The Riverview has:
  • one screen with over 700 seats
  • a huge, comfy lobby with 60's mod decor and cozy living-room furniture
  • popcorn with real butter
  • and best of all, admission tops out at $3.
Unlike many other single-screen theaters, they don't limit themselves to one show; the Riverview plays at least three different movies per day (five on the weekends). Friday night at 9:00, they were showing Into the Wild; we had initially loved that one, so we decided to see it again.

It was even better the second time, people. The run time is almost 2 1/2 hours long, but it flies right by. Into the Wild is a heartbreaking story, and just like ten years ago with Titanic, we all know how it's going to end... but that doesn't diminish a thing. Big kudos to Sean Penn for crafting this story in such an intense and affecting way. There were countless mind-blowing performances; Hal Holbrook absolutely deserves his nomination, but the Academy could have shown some love for Catherine Keener, Vince Vaughn, William Hurt, Marcia Gay Harden... The list goes on. At the top of the list, though, should have been Emile Hirsch for his subtle and complex work in the lead role. His heartbreak is devastating at the end of the story, when he makes a vital realization (which ultimately comes too late.) And, hey, if anyone feels like sending an I-deeply-love-Nayana present, that Eddie Vedder soundtrack is boss.

Saturday it would have been my sixth wedding anniversary with the former Mr. Anthony... but just to show you what mature and well-adjusted people we are, Greg and I went to lunch and then caught Juno at the Heights. (In case anyone wonders, this is my third Juno viewing. And, yes, it still kicks ass.) Greg does not have anywhere near my enthusiasm for good film, and he was about to waste his cash on Fool's Gold. I just couldn't let him do it, folks. Even if he did stomp mercilessly on my heart and break it into a million pieces (just kidding, Greg, you know momma loves ya), no one deserves to sit through that drek. He also mentioned a desire to see Untraceable. Ugh. Looks like I'll have to nip that one in the bud, and drag him to see a real thriller, like No Country For Old Men.

Juno is comedy of the highest quality. And I've officially decided that I'm ok with all the weird lingo in the beginning of the movie that seemed to irk so many people. In fact, the offbeat dialogue may actually be one of the biggest reasons I liked the movie. There's nothing wrong with expressing old, common experiences in a new, uncommon way. I am still firmly a massive Diablo Cody fan.

So that was it for this weekend. This week, I'm going to try to finally tackle The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, Roman Holiday, Sabrina (the original with Audrey Hepburn), and whatever looks good on TCM.

P.S. I'm crossing my fingers on that writers' strike thing, people. It looks like we may actually have a deal... so Oscars as usual? (oh please oh please)
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