Showing posts with label psycho. Show all posts
Showing posts with label psycho. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

For the Love of FIlm III: Hitchcock's Continuity "Error"


This is my second post in the For the Love of Film: The Film Preservation Blogathon. Watch my video essay on Hitchcock’s influence on Akira Kurosawa’s High and Low here.


In 2011, the New Zealand Film Archive discovered part of The White Shadow, a film directed by Graham Cutts, and written, edited, and assistant directed by the legendary Alfred Hitchcock. The first three reels of this lost work have been arduously restored, but the film has only had a single public screening. For this year’s For the Love of Film: The Film Preservation Blogathon, we are asking for donations to the National Film Preservation Foundation. If we can raise $15,000, the Foundation will provide free streaming of The White Shadow for four months, and record a new score by Michael Motilla. To donate, simply click here. And for more information on the blogathon, please visit Ferdy on Films, the Self-Styled Siren, and This Island Rod. Every donation counts, and we thank you for your continued support of film.

            Hitchcock’s Psycho has been studied mercilessly to death, but there’s one moment in particular that I haven’t seen many people comment on. It’s a scene that few remember, or at least discuss in detail, where which Sam and Lila visit the Sheriff and his wife and the Sheriff reveals the history of Norman and what not. This scene itself isn’t particularly fascinating—it’s the exposition to get us back to the motel—but there’s something odd in Hitchcock’s filming. The film is shot-reverse shot, as the Sheriff discusses the details. But what’s most perplexing is the placement of the Sheriff’s wife in these shots:



            The sheriff’s wife continually seems to jump around in the frame, appearing in both shots on opposite sides. Her appearance is oddly striking, and her necessity to the scene is nonexistent, but Hitchcock not only keeps her in the scene, but also makes what most would consider a continuity error. But we can’t consider it as such—Hitchcock was meticulous in every frame. He wouldn’t just leave such a mistake in the final product. Would he? 

Sunday, April 29, 2012

Screening Log: ChinaTurkey Edition


One note before today’s screening log. I’ve never considered attending Ebertfest, a five day festival of overlooked films and panels put together by legendary film critic Roger Ebert, but I really wish I had. One thing I would recommend are the panels streaming online, especially one featuring film critics from around the world, and a debate on the future of streaming and on-demand media. Both are highly worth your time. Onto the screening log!

-The Gang’s All Here, 1943. Directed by Busbey Berekly. 35mm projection at Film Forum.
-Irma Vep, 1996. Directed by Olivier Assyayass. Online Steaming via Netflix Instant.
-Dry Summer, 1964. Directed by Metin Erksan. 35mm projection at Film Society of Lincoln Summer.
-Hazal, 1981. Directed by Ali Ozgenturk. 35mm projection at Film Society of Lincoln Center. 

Friday, October 21, 2011

Bernard Hermann: Trivia for A Century Old Music Master

Bernard Hermann with Alfred Hitchcock
          Today launches the Bernard Herrmann centennial at Film Forum in New York City, a retrospective of the famed composer. Herrmann’s influence on film score is undoubtedly obvious. Before him, the idea of music was to never be more memorable than the film itself. Now just listening to his music conjures up the images of the films he composed for. And the list of auteurs he worked with: Orson Welles, Nicholas Ray, Joseph L. Mankiewicz, Robert Wise, Brian De Palma, is like looking at a timeline of American cinema. 

            Of course, none was greater than his collaboration of Alfred Hitchcock. Instead of going on and on about the greatness of this collaboration, which has been written by others with a lot of zest and enthusiasm, I’m instead going to share a really cool bit of trivia I learned. All credit for this connection goes to David Sterritt, Chairman for the National Society of Film Critics, author of numerous publications on cinema, and my former thesis advisor.

            This relates to one of Hermann’s most famous scores, Psycho. Now when we think of Psycho and the music, we of course think about the shrieking violins that accompany the shower sequence, or the opening titles score that creates fear through such an innocent set of instruments that are known for their beauty (this is where the film academic points to the obvious connection).