Skip to main content

At the Movies

 One kind of Hitchcock film rejects "the omniscient narrator": We're stuck with the mind of our protagonist, who may or may not be right to think that a supporting character is acting in a sketchy way.


This is the trick in "Rear Window," and in "Suspicion." Is our neighbor awake at 3 AM because he is trying (covertly) to bury the corpse of his wife? Or is he awake just because he is awake?

A new movie, "Watcher," seems to borrow from Hitchcock. An American woman moves to Romania because her husband has found a job. A killer is on the loose--"the Spider"--and our heroine starts to think that she has unmasked the Spider by chance, against her own will.

Our heroine's well-intentioned husband is skeptical; and, at times, our heroine herself is skeptical. Does a guy sit deliberately, directly behind our heroine (the setting is a screening of "Charade")? Is this an intimidation tactic? Or is one particular seat just really desirable? The guy sometimes stands in his window and waves. Is this a neighborly gesture? Or is this harrassment? And there is a certain plastic bag on the subway. Does it hold a melon? Or does it hold a human head?

As in Hitchcock, here small moments become clues. A woman mentions having purchased a gun: We know this purchase will have major implications for the plot. One building-resident worries about playing music too loudly. That one moment of worry isn't just a "throwaway line" in the script.

I loved spending time in this Romanian world, with these mysterious characters. I'd see this movie again.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...

The Death of Bergoglio

  It's frustrating for me to hear Bergoglio described as "the less awful pope"--because awful is still awful. I think I get fixated on ideas of purity, which can be juvenile, but putting that aside, here are some things that Bergoglio could have done and did not. (I'm quoting from a survivor of sexual abuse at the hands of the Church.) He could levy the harshest penalty, excommunication, against a dozen or more of the most egregious abuse enabling church officials. (He's done this to no enablers, or predators for that matter.) He could insist that every diocese and religious order turn over every record they have about suspected and known abusers to law enforcement. Francis could order every prelate on the planet to post on his diocesan website the names of every proven, admitted and credibly accused child molesting cleric. (Imagine how much safer children would be if police, prosecutors, parents and the public knew the identities of these potentially dangerous me...

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic.  She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...