Women Make The Best Psychoanalysts, Until They Fall In Love: Spellbound (1945)

I enjoy doing blogathons, first because it proves a great way to extend my voice beyond the rather small crowd of readers hear at the blog and engage in dialogue with fellow film bloggers on great works of cinema.  The result is often a greater, of not completely new, understanding of a work, or awareness to a work I would never have come across prior.  Second, I also enjoy these blogathons, because, thus far, they have provided me wonderful opportunities to revisit some of my favorite films.  Michael and Jill's TCM Summer Under the Stars blogathon has already allowed me to re-watch the zany The Blob much to my elation.  This second post for the month, in correlation with TCM's day devoted to Gregory Peck afforded me a chance to revisit my favorite Hitchcock film Spellbound.  Considering that it has been some time since I had seen the film and have certainly been able to pad out my Hitchcock blind spots to varying degrees since, I can still say that this film is undoubtedly and unequivocally my favorite, indicative not only of the elements that have led to Hitchcock become the first definitive auteur, but also some of the ways in which Spellbound, a work decidedly entrenched within psychoanalytic narratives, manages to reject the subject matter and visual innuendos made ever so infamous by the late director.  I know that there are quantifiably better, indeed perfect, works by Hitchcock, but given that Hitchcock is clearly poking fun at himself affords this film a layer of detached irony that is less clear in his later works, not to mention the use of Ingrid Bergman, who also happens to be my favorite actress.  Pairing the great leading lady with the equally adept Gregory Peck results in a narrative that flows with intensity and earnestness that makes its winding deceit and dreamlike trance accessible.  Hitchcock wrote the texts on modern horror and thriller filmmaking and it is all on display to great effort in Spellbound, right down to the jarring last scenes in all their erie impossibility.  If all of this is not enough to sell the skeptics out there, may I remind you that Salvador Dali helped create the dream sequence for which this film is most well-known, and its very existence challenges even the most liberal understanding of cinematic possibility.

Spellbound focuses primarily on the experiences of Dr. Constance Peterson (Ingrid Bergman) a psychoanalyst, whose identification as a woman has proved both advantageous and hindering in her movement upward in the unconventional science.  The retirement of her boss and mentor Dr. Murchinson (Leo G. Carroll) proves quite troublesome, only to be extenuated by the immediate arrival of his replacement in Anthony Edwards (Gregory Peck) whose text on guilt and the labyrinth is a particular favorite of Constance's.  Hoping to stick to her guns and remain focused on her work, an initial dinner meeting between Constance and Anthony leads to obvious sexual tension that results in Constance finding herself creating excuses just to meet the new doctor, an encounter that assumedly leads to sex rather early.  It is during this meeting that Constance realizes that all might not be well with Anthony, particularly when he passes out after looking at the shadows of her robe, clearly breaking into some bizarre psychosis in the process.  The next day news comes of Antony Edwards not being alive and well, but dead after a murder, a picture affirming that he is in no way the person present in the psychiatric hospital.  Kowtowing to the suspicion, the false Anthony flees in fear, only to be followed by Constance to a hotel in New York, where it is revealed that the man, now going by John Brown, believes himself to somehow be tied to the murder of the real Anthony Edwards.  This allegation, Constance believes, is a result of mental deterioration and does not result in truth.  Committing to the act of helping John, whose last name is later revealed to be Ballentine, Constance helps the mentally troubled man discover that his fear of shadows and lines, comes from an unfortunate experience during skiing when he witness the real Edwards die inexplicably, a vision that opens up a repressed memory from his childhood involving a fatal accident with his brother.  Despite creating a rather clear psychoanalytic picture of Ballentine, Constance is stifled when authorities find a gun wound in the dead Edwards, to which neither have an explanation.  Despite Ballentine's being jailed, Constance continues her search for the truth, discovering that a little more than passing memories led to the death of Edwards and the psychological decay of Ballentine.  Indeed, foul play was afoot from the onset.

Let's talk about sex.  If this were any other film by Hitchcock, that would likely be the appropriate way to begin a critical analysis, and considering that this particular work makes it clear that it is pulling from the theories of Freud it would seem obvious to do just that, however, Spellbound may well be the least psychoanalytically inclined of his films.  Sure there are moments that would make even Freud blush, the fork and knife scene at the initial meeting between Ballentine and Constance being an obvious example, not to mention the surrealist touch with Dali's involvement.  Yet, none of this suggest a film where repressed memories are the result of wild navigations through the world, such as are the case in Vertigo, nor do the crimes take on a degree of sexual supplanting, as occurs in Dial M for Murder or Rope.  Beginning the film with a quote from Shakespeare, Hitchcock creates a film that centers the blame for crime and violence in the individual, further suggesting that their actions are not results of deeply entrenched psychological issues from one's youth, but a result of frivolous jealousy and assertions of lost masculine privilege.  For what may be the only time in Hitchcock's filmic career, a criminal act occurs, simply out of criminal intent.  That is not to say that the film does not extend on to explore psychological issues in other ways.  Take for example its look at the character of Constance, which is highly problematic by contemporary standards.  Considering that Hitchcock was quite invested in the world of the subconscious, his desire to degrade women is nothing new, except here it is particularly verbal and highly against their place in a career that would afford them authority.  Constance is played up to be good at her job, unless of course a dashing man enters the picture, at this point she loses all sense of rationality and is willing to forgive a man of murder (albeit correctly) on his word alone.  Guilt also figures prominently into the film, whether it be the falsified guilt of Ballentine early on or the very real guilt that faces the killer in the films next to last scene that involves one of the most haunting uses of point-of-view camera work in cinema to date, all adds up to the suggestion that what is ultimately the worst about murdering, or believing that one did so, is not the act, but the inability to get over doing so at a later time.  To be void of such guilt, would make one a Psycho...which is a discussion for a different blogathon.

Key Scene:  While I wanted to be unique and go against the obvious choice, one cannot help but adore that dream sequence designed by Dali.  It is the close a viewer will ever get to seeing what it would have looked like were Hitchcock to have worked in the era of German Expressionism and surrealism.

There are blurays of this available in multiple box sets, or individually.  There is also a Criterion DVD that is OOP, which is how I watched it, as such I will let you decide how to track this movie down, but I will note that it is worth doing so in the near future.  The movie is an absolute must see work.  As before I am grateful to Sittin' on a Backyard Fence and ScribeHard on Film for being able to participate in the TCM Summer Under the Stars blogathon.

We Must Always Be On Guard For The Mischievous Lip Drift: Bernie (2012)

I can only describe Bernie as one very specific thing and I realize how obscure it sounds even as I elaborate, but to me, one could only define this absurdist masterpiece as a Louvin Brothers song that has been put to film in an homage to the mockumentary stylings of Christopher Guest, while clearly taking heavy influence from the underlying social tensions of American Psycho.  Seriously, that is exactly what I felt while watching this film, which technically came out in 2011, but has not seen wide release until the past year or so, making it a contender during awards season, as well as proving to be one of the most overlooked works of the last year, in a very literal sense, considering that people did not simply watch it and dismiss it, but actually completely avoided it all together.  I am fully aware that he film contains two of the most off-putting actors in Hollywood, in Jack Black and Matthew McConaughey, but both are doing some excellent work in this film, particularly Black who goes against his garrulous and bombastic traditional role, for something much more reserved, but equally grandiose in its spectacle.  It is great to see Richard Linklater back in the game providing viewers with some really great work, quite reminiscent of his early films, Slacker in particular, wherein a society is clearly in a state of crumbling disillusion but can only manage to deal with such issues by either condemning those around them or living vicariously through those doing far better than themselves.  It is clear from the onset that viewers are to take Bernie lightly, the title cards intercut throughout the film, along with the incorporation of interviews by the townspeople manage to undermine any sort of legitimate commentary on the nature of deception and psychological breakdown, but as Linklater reminds viewers, on more than one occasion throughout the film, as much as one may mock the characters within the film, at the end of the day they are truly based off of real individuals making the humor become far less laughable and incredibly real, much like The Informant!, but with an even higher degree of scathing social criticism, directed wholly at the "heart of America."

Bernie, centers on the title character, played by Jack Black, who is a flamboyant, but well loved assistant funeral director in the small Texas town of Carthege.  While everyone is rather certain on the homosexuality of Bernie they do seem intent on claiming him to be one of the most standup guys they have ever met, and find him to be a true gift to the elderly community, particularly the older women who welcome his hospitality in a time of great sadness.  Bernie, in fact, takes a particular liking to one of the older women in the community, Marjorie Nugent (Shirley MacLaine) who is initially dismissive to the awkward advances of Bernie, but comes around after a few visits, realizing that he is indeed the only nice person in the entire town, never mind that Marjorie made a reputation as an incredibly mean individual turning down those who requested loans at the bank she ran in place of her late husband.  Things boil over for Bernie, when, after quitting his job at the funeral home and becoming solely dependent on Marjorie, he realizes that she is only using him as a chauffeur, caretaker and general servant with little care for his happiness, going so far as to openly chastise him for spending too much time with his two hobbies: flying and musical theater.  During one day at Marjorie's house, Bernie becomes incapable of starring at the old woman over-chewing her food any longer and shots her with a hunting rifle and subsequently stuffing her in a meat freezer.  The town goes on assuming that Marjorie is simply suffering from a bad stroke, yet when Marjorie's stock broker expects fowl play on the part of Bernie he manages to obtain a search warrant, where in they discover her body.  At this point Danny Buck Davidson (Matthew McConaughey) a Texas district attorney enters the picture with hopes of prosecuting the murder, yet when he realizes that even after Bernie openly admits to the crime, the townspeople still believe him to be innocent, leading to Danny moving the trial to another county, a rare occurrence, especially since the notion of a "fair trial" would hinder Bernie.  Within his new trial Bernie is found guilty and sent to jail, where he continues to receive visits from the people of Carthege who presume him innocent.

This movie is a scathing film, although its lightheartedness and concern for the opinions of the common person would lead many a viewer to assume otherwise.  Linklater, however, manages to even trick viewers into believing Bernie to be an incredibly likable guy.  In constructing the narrative in such a way the film causes one to consider what effect community involvement and outreach play into the judgement of a character.  Sure Bernie is a great role model within the church and goes out of his way to spend money on those less fortunate than himself, but the narrative constantly sneaks in reminders that he is not an entirely functional person and certainly exploits others when the situation proves beneficial, whether it be the sale of coffins, or the use of an aging woman's money to engage in lavish world travels.  Bernie's dandy veneer is always to be questioned, yet Linklater's incorporation of praiseful words by the townspeople make that difficult to do, not to mention how likable Black makes Bernie seem, nonetheless, he is quite capable of murder and deceit and certainly has no problem using devious tactics throughout the film.  Secondly, the film questions the notion of a "good and wholesome" middle America, one where nothing bad can happen and when it does it is clearly the result of muckraking by outside forces, in this case the folks of Carthege believe Danny Buck Davidson to be using his political aspirations to destroy a stand-up guy like Bernie, and while this may have a degree of validity, it is clear that Danny really does realize how disillusioned everyone in the town has become in relation to the town hero.  It is no accident that it is only through creating a cultural/social difference between Bernie and the common folk in the trial that Danny is able to secure a guilty verdict, by a simple question of what wine pairs best with fish.  The townspeople point to this moment in the trial as an assured moment of his demise, it made him certifiably different and therefore capable of fault.  Linklater seems to suggest that as long as an individual can obtain insider status within the "heart of America" they can get away with anything...even murder.  However, one cannot forget that Linklater is merely adapting a very real story, one that causes me to consider my understanding of human nature far more than I imagined I would upon initially viewings this superb dark satire.

Key Scene:  I laughed the entire time Jack Black sang "Love Lifted Me" in his car, and proceeded to laugh through the rest of the film, but his opening moment is so ridiculous that it is hard not to become entirely occupied in the narrative unfolding.

Another gem watchable on Netflix, do yourself a favor and watch this film, I can only assume that you will want to pass it along as did I, because it is in need of as many fans as possible.

I Am The Perfect Servant, I Have No Life: Gosford Park (2001)

After watching the recent PBS broadcasting of Downton Abbey Revisited and discovering that Julian Fellowes was responsible for not only this spectacular Masterpiece Theater show, but Gosford Park as well I knew I had no excuse not to watch the film.  Upon discovering that the film was directed by Robert Altman I could not restrain my desires to see the work.  Chocked full of considerably notable British actors, Gosford Park is a brilliant whodunit with the cinematic poise and narrative complexities one comes to expect from the late director.  Furthermore, this work, while not perfect, serves as a great vision as to what would become something like Downton Abbey and exceptionally serious piece of cultural output masking itself under the guise of dark comedy.  Abound with social commentaries and political discourse one finds very little trouble finding the way in which satire subtly evolves to make a grander statement something that, by this point, was well perfected in Altman's oeuvre, although he had been doing it since at least the times of Nashville.  Of course, Altman is not entirely to be credited for this film, because it certainly has much to do with the writing and acting as well, Fellowes and co-writer Bob Balaban create a dialogue that is both quick, believable and quite memorable.  It has the feel of a Aaron Sorkin film without the dialogue that seems far to perfected to reflect that of normal engagements.  Again Gosford Park is not the most brilliant piece of cinema ever released and manages to fall short of being perfected, but it is an exceptional work and has moments of sheer brilliance, often using the visual as a means to advance the narrative or undermine the events occurring.  Altman often fills the space of a shot with multiple events, many of which the characters are unaware of occurring and just when you think you have pieced together the next moment in the plot a not so subtle cinematic clue will remind you that perhaps not all is as one expects and indeed anybody is capable of an act of aggression when they have been doubly wronged.

Much like many of the period pieces presented on Masterpiece Theater, Gosford Park focuses on the life of people living on an estate and in early forties Britain that meant the existence of a life above and below stairs.  Above stairs a party is being planned for the arrival of a group led by Sir William (Michael Gambon) a surly elderly gentleman who clearly thinks himself superior to not only his guests and staff but the rest of his family as well.  Other occupants film the house, most memorably the demeaning and flippant Countess of Trentham (Maggie Smith), as well as American director Morris Weissman (Bob Balaban), his star actor Ivor Novello (Jeremy Northam) and Weissman's servant Henry Denton (Ryan Phillipe).  Of course there is also a world below preparing the meals, including the mysterious Mr. Parks (Clive Owen) who has been hired on specifically to help with a guest, the sexually active and always promiscuous Bertha (Teresa Churcher), the sly yet surprisingly honest George (Richard E. Grant) and even the poised under pressure Mrs. Wilson (Helen Mirren).  Things slowly begin to unravel as a hunting party proves a bust when Sir William is grazed by a misguided bullet and it is revealed that Henry is not a servant, but actually one of Mr. Weissman's up and coming actors who felt it a challenge to pass as a servant, much to the chagrin of the staff.  Yet things explode into chaos when Sir William is murder, especially considering that he has been stabbed, only to discover that he was dead before the attack, a result of poisoning.  Even with the emergence of the self-proclaimed expert detective Inspector Thomson (Stephen Fry) little is made way in discovering who the killer is and viewers are left to make the discovery upon the admission of various individuals throughout the film.  The reveal is understated and of course somewhat inconsequential to the larger commentary within the film.

The obvious commentary resides in the social divisions that were indicative in Britain in the early 20th century, something that certainly still exists (Think House of Lords/House of Commons) but certainly does not have the clear spatial divide that would have existed in Pre-WW2 days.  The question though in the film is more of where a line should be drawn as to the expectations of those in servility towards their masters, particularly when the questions and demands are of a particularly problematic nature.  We see this in a simple sense with The Countess of Trentham who often requires her maid to clean clothing and make food only to decide upon its delivery or completion that she no longer desires it, yet she has little, if no, awareness for the work and effort placed upon getting these tasks done and seems content to assume that they occur magically.  Similarly individuals like Lord William and Lady Sylvia (Kristin Scott Thomas) find that it is completely within their means to demand sexual favors of their staff, or within their limits to touch and harass their servants in whatever way they please, a clearly problematic statement on oppression and power dynamics.  Yet, the staff under the stairs has managed to create their own forms of rebellion, whether it be prolong smoke breaks, the consumption of the wine post dinners or a refusal to curtail meals to dietary demands.  The emergence of Inspector Thomson completely undermines the notions of division though, because as a person of the law he is able to move between both spaces to inquire and cannot be turned away, even by the Countess who sees his intrusion as uncivil, despite its inherent civic nature.  Yet even as he attempts to cross class barriers, whilst trying to help himself to libations in the library his assistant reminds him that they have not dusted those bottles, although it more importantly suggests that he cannot have access to certain privileges, regardless of the law.

Key Scene:  The moment when bloody mary's are made for the outdoor lunch serves as the turning point for the entire films shift into a crime drama and one dropped glass serves as a great metaphor that is delivered masterfully by Altman.

Netflix Watch Instantly...it is the quickest and most appropriate way to enjoy this neo-classic by one of America's best and most missed auteurs.