"Good Evening..."

A few years ago, a buddy of mine suggested to his pals that we all join in on an experiment he called, "Hobby Club."  The idea was for each of us to spend a year immersing ourselves within some subject of our own choosing (but approved of by the other members), studying it, participating in it (when possible) and, generally, becoming somewhat of a living room expert on the topic.  Most of us gave up after a couple of months (some less than that), while the instigator of the experiment went the distance (for the curious, his subject was boxing).  

This proposition, though, remains with me and comes back to haunt me around the first of the year, every year.  This January, the proposal had particular attraction for me. (Maybe I saw myself with more free time this year... or maybe it was a desire to live a more "focused" life of interests. Not sure....)  So, I've decided to go for it. A year of me living in a subject.

But what to study?

In the mid/late 90s, I was fortunate enough to take a series of film history classes.  These left an indelible impression on me, as I was introduced to a wide and colorful palate of films -- films I was either unaware of, or had only heard mentioned in "Greatest Films of All Time" lists. Through those courses I, surprisingly, found myself appreciating silent films (Keaton and Griffith), foreign films (Fellini and Godard), and the completely esoteric (my love for "Ballet Mechanique" and "Un Chien Andalou" still stands).  I'd grown up loving "popular films" (those my local suburban cineplex were willing to show)... but I was starting to get a taste for the exotic... the artsy... the "important."

But, in recent years, I've found that my cinematic education was spotty and lacking. Oftentimes I would hear films mentioned (in the erudite cineaste circles I tried to casually slip into while a brief period of living in Los Angeles) as "important in the canon of cinema history" only to find myself ashamed that the film had somehow slipped through the cracks of my schooling.

So, part of me wanted to spend this year watching old movies... in an attempt to fill in my educational gaps with films I "should have seen" but hadn't.

But then I got daunted.

Cinema has been around for almost 130 years.  That's a lot of movies.

And a lot of films that are "important."

So, after a few weeks of trying (and seeing some greats like "The Passion of Joan of Arc," "M," "Playtime" and "La Strada"), I decided to narrow my scope to one filmmaker.

And one name kept recurring to me: Alfred Hitchcock.

Some history...

When I was in eighth grade, I was involved in a very small church youth group in a suburb of Detroit, Michigan.  The group consisted of about ten to fifteen middle school and high school students.  We went to Sunday School, church camp, and various weekly activities together.

On New Year's Eve of 1986, the adult volunteers (our parents) designed a night of fun activities (maybe to keep us all out of trouble).  I remember one of the events being a trip to Pizza Hut to see who could eat the most pizza.  Another was playing "Wallyball" (a mix between volleyball and raquetball).  Another was a midnight game of Hide and Go Seek in the Detroit Airport (not so possible in this post 9/11 world).  But, to wind the evening down, we headed back to one of the volunteer's houses to watch a video.

In that day, watching a video was somewhat of a big deal.  Home video had really only become popular in the prior three years.  So, a gathering of people, huddled around a squeaky top-loading VHS player was still something of an event.  

As I and a few other middle school boys rode in a van to go to the volunteer's house, I pelted our driver with questions.  "What movie is it?"  "Have I heard of it?"  "Is it good?"  The driver, though, was funny and coy and kept us guessing.  (My hope was something like "Star Wars" or "Raiders of the Lost Ark" but I was open.)  Finally, he confessed that it was an old movie and it was directed by Alfred Hitchcock.

And a bell rung in my head.

As a kid, I'd grown up watching Alfred Hitchcock on television. After my family had gone to bed on Friday nights, I would stay up, staring a hole through the rabbit-eared black and white TV in my bedroom. Channel 55 (in Kansas City) showed "All Night Live" from 10:00 to 1:00 or 2:00 a.m. -- a cavalcade of old TV shows and shlocky horror movies (hosted by "Uncle Ed" who sat at a desk and answered a phone made out of a banana). After "Twilight Zone," a clarinet would sound and an obese man's outline would emerge and "Alfred Hitchock Presents" would begin. The show fascinated me because it seemed tethered to a horrible reality ("Twilight Zone" was usually other-worldly and supernatural) that spooked me, but good. The stories had left-hook endings and kept me guessing all along. But what I loved more than the vignettes, was the appearance of Mr. HItchcock, himself, at the beginning and end of each episode. His dry, droll, sarcastic humor tickled me (his jabs at the "sponsors" amused me, even as a ten year old) and he seemed to provide a much-needed portion of levity, alongside such creepy fare. I liked Alfred Hitchcock's program... but I really liked Alfred Hitchcock.

So, when the driver told us we were going to watch a MOVIE made by Alfred Hitchcock... I was in.

The other boys in the car, though, groaned.

The film we watched that night was "The Man Who Knew Too Much" (1956).  Most of the adolescent crowd tried to stay with it, but (maybe this is just revisionist of me) I believe I was the only one who really, truly, ate it up.  I reveled in the tension... squirmed nervously during the eighteenth verse of "Que Sera Sera"... and felt truly relieved when the boy was returned to Jimmy Stewart and Doris Day.

I loved the way the movie made me feel -- smart and artistic, sophisticated and highbrow. I was a middle-school kid who appreciated an old film.

But, even more than that... I loved the movie. It was just a great movie.

A number of months later, the youth group re-convened for another night of pizza and home video.  This time, we watched "Rear Window."  This one thrilled me even more than the other, even though we all laughed out loud (and rewound to watch again) at the poor visual effect of Jimmy Stewart falling out of the window. Jimmy Stewart was (of course) likable and canny.  Grace Kelly was (of course) charming and beautiful. And the story was exciting and suspenseful and kept me wondering how it would all end.

So, I decided that night... I loved Alfred Hitchcock movies.

Over those middle school years, whenever I got the chance to choose the film my family would rent on a Friday night, I either went with a James Bond movie (my dad and shared an appreciation for them) or an Alfred Hitchcock film.  My parents would try to guide me through his ouevre, based off of memories they had of seeing many of them when they were growing up.  I saw "The Birds" and "Marnie" and "Rope" and "Vertigo" and "Dial M for Murder."  Some I loved, some I endured, but my affection for Hitchcock continued.

And then my film school classes, ten years later, told me that Hitchcock wasn't artistic enough.. or smart enough... or important enough. Sure, "Vertigo" is a classic, but the filmmaker was too popular to be taken seriously.

Well, I never bought it.

Fast-forward to December of last year.  I was at our local Wal-Mart perusing their tower of $5 DVDs, hunting for some hidden pearl.  And then -- amidst a hundred copies of "The Net" and "Sleeping with the Enemy" -- I found one.  It was a four-disc set which included the bulk of Hitchcock's early films (before he left for America).  Twenty movies. Some silent. Most rare. All for $5.  Sold.

I had, then, at my fingertips, a collection of Hitchcock's early, nascent, germane films. And, my subscription to Blockbuster on-line gave me access to most of the rest of his films. Add to that, the Video Station in Boulder which carries every film you've ever (and never) heard of... and it would be possible to watch every film Hitchcock has ever made (and has survived).

My decision was made.

This page is really just an on-line journal.  My traipsing through the catalog of "Hitch" (I don't relish that nickname, but I may be forced to give use it now and again).  I'll write my responses to his films as I see them.  I'll post bits from books that strike me.  And, of course... this is all opinion.  Anyone reading this has the right (of course) to disagree.  I'm one man... with one perspective.  

I hope to be objective and (like Francois Truffaut as he interviewed the man himself) unafraid to dislike some of the films, or portions of them. I hope to rise above adoring fanboy... and to bring some amount of critical facilities to bear.

But, more than anything, I hope that I come to more deeply appreciate a remarkable artist and his exceptional craft.  Creativity, in and of itself, is worthy to be investigated, and one would be hard-pressed to find a more creative and innovative filmmaker than Sir Alfred Hitchcock. A year with him should be a year well-spent.

Now... onto his creations...