Hammer Horror?

Before we get started today, I just wanted to write something on Ennio Morricone, the iconic composer who passed away on July 6th, 2020. With a mind-blowing 519 composing credits to his name, he was a master of music. . . scoring everything from gialli (including Dario Argento’s famed “Animal Trilogy” – the first being The Bird with the Crystal Plumage) and spaghetti westerns (arguably his most famous work, the “Dollars Trilogy” with Sergio Leone) in his native Italy, to big budget Hollywood blockbusters such as Terrence Malick’s Days of Heaven, Brian De Palma’s The Untouchables, John Carpenter’s The Thing, Roland Joffé’s The Mission, Barry Levinson’s Bugsy, and Quentin Tarantino’s The Hateful Eight (which won him his only competitive Oscar). Today’s review of For a Few Dollars More (1965) is a prime example of his craftsmanship – a dynamic combination of diegetic and non-diegetic music (the former meaning a tune being heard by both the characters in the film and the audience, the latter being heard only by the audience), the score is built around the diegetic sounds of a musical pocket watch held by two different characters, yet this is only the beginning. . . listen for his fascinating combination of chanting, whistling, different sounds, and instrumental music that lingers somewhere between its nineteenth century western setting and some yet undiscovered post-modern style of music.

Opening in a way only a Buster Keaton short film seems to be able to, an accidental confrontation between a mailman and the main character (leading to a letter, by chance, falling into the hands of the man, as well as a broken pane of glass as a result of the postal worker’s anger), followed by another clash between the always in the wrong place protagonist and a bullish woman – who assumes the diminutive man must have done the damage to the window. . . then throw in a Polish priest (who doesn’t speak English) making his own assumptions, and somehow, Keaton becomes Husband, and this woman, played by Kate Price, becomes Wife, in 1922's My Wife’s Relations, written and directed by both Buster Keaton and Edward F. Cline.

If you didn't know and were asked to guess Alfred Hitchcock's favourite movie from his own filmography, I would think most people would probably select something from his Golden Age - ranging from the 50s and into the early 60s (think Dial M for Murder, Rear Window, To Catch a Thief, Vertigo, North by Northwest, Psycho, and The Birds), or you might pick one of his two most iconic British films - The 39 Steps or The Lady Vanishes, then again, his first film in the United States (Rebecca) was his only Best Picture win at the Academy Awards. . . or maybe it was his long awaited return to the UK after thirty-two years away - making the under seen Frenzy your selection. Perhaps it was one of his technical marvels. . . Lifeboat, set entirely in the film's titular object, or Rope, which was shot to look like one long take (and was itself set in a singular location). By now, you've probably guessed that it is none of these films, but rather, the 1943 motion picture Shadow of a Doubt - in part, due to the fact that he loved the idea of bringing menace to a small town. Funnily enough, I experienced this film's loose remake, Chan-wook Park's English language debut - Stoker, prior to this original version (which is something rare for me). And I must say, I appreciate both even more-so now. . . for it is a revelation to see a remake that is not just a carbon copy of the original. A story of the 'double', teenager Charlie Newton (Teresa Wright) lives a normal life with her family on the west coast. . . her father, Joseph (Henry Travers - everyone's favourite guardian angel from It's a Wonderful Life), is a banker, her mother, Emma (Patricia Collinge), a homemaker, her younger sister, Ann (Edna May Wonacott - absolutely endearing in the role), a fervid reader, and even younger brother, Roger (Charles Bates), is just as sharp as his two older siblings. . . very unlike her beloved Uncle Charlie (Joseph Cotten), a mysteriously wealthy east coast living businessman.

Alfred Hitchcock was always looking for a good challenge – a way to test the boundaries of film, as well as wow his audiences. In 1944, he built a gripping thriller set in the smallest of locations. . . on a Lifeboat. Four years later he challenged himself to shoot murder mystery Rope (again in one location) to look like a single continuous take – due to limitations of the time, it was actually done in ten lengthy takes. In 1954, he tried his hand at 3D. . . though many think of this as a modern day thing, Dial M for Murder fits right within this kitschy novelty’s golden age (1952-54). Then, to get past censors, he reverted to black and white for 1960's Psycho. Yet one of his biggest challenges came with 1963's The Birds (a story loosely based upon Daphne du Maurier’s novel of the same name) – not simply because it would be a complicated film to make, but because it was made without any music (actually, it was his longtime musical collaborator Bernard Herrmann who suggested this). After lengthy years of working under the Motion Picture Production Code (aka, the Hays Code), its grip was finally starting to waver – though it would last until 1968, Hitchcock finally had a little more freedom to amp up the edginess.