“Vertigo,” considered director Alfred Hitchcock’s masterpiece by many cineastes, turns 50 today.
The landmark film, which stars Jimmy Stewart, Kim Novak and Barbara Bel Geddes, hit U.S. screens on May 9, 1958.
I discovered this mystery about a man with a fear of heights who unwittingly falls in love while being entangled in an elaborate murder scheme on VHS in about 1986, just after Universal put it back in circulation. It and four other Hitchcock pictures had been unshown for 20 years, but this was all beyond my information realm at the time. I was 9 and just realizing that Hitchcock had done more than host suspense anthology “The Alfred Hitchcock Hour” (which the earlier “Alfred Hitchock Presents” had morphed into). I’d become addicted to the show on Saturday nights on cable’s USA Network.
Watching “Vertigo” late one night with my parents I found it strangely terrifying. Seems a bit odd now — unlike “Psycho,” “Vertigo” has no blood, spooky old house, maniac on the loose or mummified discoveries in the cellar. Even then I couldn’t quite pinpoint why “Vertigo” disturbed me, but then neither can I explain now why I keep returning to it.
Why do I have spiral sketches from Saul Bass’s masterful credit sequence and a still of the Portrait of Carlotta on my desk? I’m certainly not frightened by “Vertigo” and yet that initial viewing turned out to be rather life altering.
“Vertigo” haunted me the same way Catholic Church imagery haunted me as a child — 17th and 18th Century art, large churches and foreboding graveyards, plus deserted missions whose only inhabitants seem to be grim reaper nuns who appear like phantoms out of nowhere. Bernard Herrmann’s brilliant score clearly upped the emotional ante.
So much of that first experience seems absurd now. “Vertigo’s” initial theme (which — plot spoilers ahead — turns out to be an elaborate hoax) of a woman who’s possessed by the spirit of her great-grandmother struck my fundamentalist Christian parents as a smidge too close to demonic possession territory and there was talk of ejecting it.
Thankfully wisdom prevailed and we continued (to this day, I can picture where we were sitting in the room and my parents’ comments when it was over. My father’s knee-jerk take: “[Stewart] kinda got the raw end of the deal” — an understatement for the ages).
Eventually we got a second VCR, so I re-rented it and dubbed an illegal copy showing it to friends (videotapes were ridiculously expensive in those days — now you can’t give them away). My puberty-era pals seemed to regard it as an interesting-enough murder mystery, but little more.
I’d fully grasped the plot twists on first viewing but was always curious to gauge my friends’ reaction to the flashback scene in which Stewart’s character discovers it wasn’t Kim Novak’s character who went plunging out the window of the mission tower at San Juan Batista. Childhood pal David’s first thought was that Elster had thrown a dummy. When my ex-boyfriend Brent saw Judy slipping into flashback mode his first thought was that Scottie’s vertigo was somehow contagious and Judy had caught it. (This scene has always been controversial. It essentially gives the movie's secret away before the final act.)
I didn’t know anyone, though, who seemed to be as fascinated by the movie as I was (Brent, to this day, hates it — it’s his least-favorite Hitchcock by far).
I ended up writing papers on it in college. I analyzed the dream sequence for a class on cultural semiotics. Herrmann’s score provided fodder for a music history class analysis. Naturally I was beside myself with euphoria in 1996 when I learned cinematic saviors Robert Harris and James Katz had painstakingly restored the film, the original negative of which had deteriorated substantially.
Setting my emotional attachment aside, I realize it’s a curious little picture. Who would concoct as elaborate a ruse as Gavin Elster (Tom Helmore) to murder his wife?
It seems about as plausible as George and Martha’s wildly improbable deal to pretend they have a son and carry on as if he’s a real person in “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf.” As with Elster’s murder plan, this is ludicrously absurd.
And the only plausible explanation for what many have pointed to as a “Vertigo” plot hole is that Ellen Corby’s hotel owner is in on the plan with Elster and Judy and plays along by telling Scottie that “Madeline,” who rents a room from her, hasn’t been in that day (Scottie followed her there and saw her go in). What did Elster tell the owner? That it was a practical joke? A real gas, eh?
“Vertigo,” clearly, is not a movie whose power is evoked through plausibility. In fact, its utter improbability, along with its misty San Francisco landscapes, undoubtedly adds to its dreamy aesthetic, for that’s what “Vertigo” ultimately is — a dream that occasionally slips into nightmare mode.
More literally, it’s a dream because it’s that rarest of films — a project where all the pistons fired and every element not only worked individually but coalesced into something greater than the sum of its parts.
Stewart’s performance showed he could do more than the gosh-golly-shucks routine. If Kim Novak’s scenes as Madeline seem limited, compare them to how natural she is as Judy and consider how awkward a gal like Judy (a shop girl, not an actress) would feel having to pretend to be someone she’d never met. It would be a hideously uncomfortable situation, having to ramble on to Scottie about elaborate phony trance experiences sketched out in precise detail by Elster.
And is there a finer character actress than the late Barbara Bel Geddes (I’d loved her previously as “Dallas’” Miss Ellie)? Her Midge gives “Vertigo” its only comic relief and yet the scene in which she walks out of the sanitarium — Hitchcock holds the shot almost perversely long — is heartbreakingly sad.
Perhaps we gay men relate to Midge so well because we’ve all been in her shoes — pining away, at some point (more often than I’d care to admit), for a man we know we can never have (either because he’s straight or gay but just not feeling it for us). And if we don’t relate to Midge, we at least understand her. Though Scottie’s unequivocally straight (even in San Francisco!), she furnishes him with a sort of fag hag/gal pal, an unequivocal part of the gay experience.
But …. I’ve digressed.
Perhaps my “Vertigo” fixation, as with any obsession, is impossible to fully explain. As with Scottie’s obsession with Madeline, it just is.
Joey DiGuglielmo considers the phenomenon of the Hitchcock blonde here.
Just this week, Pennsylvania killed an amendment that would ban gay marriage. Now, Gov. Ed Rendell will march in a Pride parade in New Hope on May 17.
"The parade and the entire weekend showcase New Hope and our diverse community," said Louis Licitra, Chair of New Hope Celebrates Pride 2008, in a press release. "It is fast becoming an annual New Hope tradition which highlights our varied history and our commitment to the future as a gay-friendly destination."
"The Governor has been an outspoken advocate for gay rights and is famous for his midnight visits to gay and lesbian bars during political campaigns for himself and other candidates. As the community often hears: 'The guv loves the gays!'" said Stephen Glassman, chair of the Pennsylvania Human Relations Commission.
In my unplanned (and perhaps even unconscious) attempt to be a flaming gay stereotype, I am obsessed with Martha Stewart.
I've subscribed to the magazine (until the last couple of years as a gift from one of my lovely grandmothers, who's sadly died) for years, and I keep all of them, going through back issues each month to remind myself of all the things I could do in their seasonally appropriate time slot.
I have a number of her books, including a wonderful out-of-print cookbook on pies and tarts from the '80s (when old-school Martha would whip up a tart for her and her husband while they were doing taxes on a snowy day at their farm in Westport).
I even have undertaken a craft project of making a wreath covered with fresh cranberries (actually, I've done it twice.)
Anyway, my latest insanity has taken the form of reading Martha's daily blog.
What could be better than getting a daily dose of Martha-mania with pictures of her French Bulldogs, Francesca (the black one) and Sharkey (the fawn-colored friend)? (Sadly, her 13 year-old Chow Chow, named Paw Paw, died in the last month. I sent her a conciliatory comment during that day's post.)
Yesterday's post was all about what to name the miniature Hereford cattle she's babysitting for a friend, and there was even a vote involved (I went for Isabel and Ferdinand, a perfect match, I think).
My actual love of all-things-Martha goes slightly beyond just fetishization. I really believe in what she's created. It wasn't until I dove into her empire that I started to understand the term "domestic arts."
There really is an art to making a home a place of refuge, peace, joy, love, warmth and beauty, and more often than not in our harried world, we don't allow time for that.
I take perverse delight in making my own puff pastry and having brioche dough in the freezer at-the-ready for a Sunday morning breakfast.
Pulling a jar of blackberry bay-leaf preserves (Martha recipe) out of my pantry to spread on homemade waffles brings me (and my husband) endless delight.
And what homo wouldn't love creating a wreath of fake roses, spray-painted black as a campy and fab Halloween decoration? (That wreath is still in my closet with the rest of the Halloween décor.)
As a sneak peek this week, in Dish there's going to be a bit about Rosie O'Donnell asking Martha what she most missed in prison, and Martha, while in the detention center, replied "The flavor of lemon."
Now, that is a true gay diva. To hell with the family, friends, and freedom. And knowing Martha's love for lemon-flavoring (especially Meyer lemons), this answer made perfect sense to me.
Some might criticize her for taking things a bit too far (and that August 2005 Vanity Fair cover article on her which intimated that she never let her horses see sunlight so their coloring would match her overall palate at the new home didn't help), but I say why shouldn't she strive to achieve the very best? Why plant 20 daffodil bulbs when, over a period of years, you could plant thousands? (This year's April issue.)
Perhaps my favorite April issue was after she returned from prison, and she graced the cover. Spring had returned, and like a goddess ascending from the underworld, she was up with the flowers and ready to expand her empire beyond anyone's wildest imaginings.
I've already planned that when Martha moves on to become a beloved ancestor (hopefully, many, many, many years from now), I'll give her one year and then I'm creating a shrine to her.
Some might call me sad, twisted or even desperately sick, but to that, I raise my glass of homemade wine crafted from grapes I grew myself and nourished with my own compost and say, "It's a good thing."
At a Blade staff meeting today, someone made a passing reference to Alexis (it’s a gay paper, such references aren’t uncommon in open meetings here).
To my astonishment, two 20-something staff members reacted with blank stares.
“Alexis? Who’s Alexis?” one otherwise respected and intrepid reporter responded.
Thank God for YouTube. For our 20-something readers unfamiliar with “Dynasty,” the essence of Alexis is but a click away. For our older readers, here’s a shock: That infamous scene of Alexis and Krystal fighting in a pool aired 25 years ago.
Damn I feel old.
Madonna will embark on her "Sticky & Sweet" tour this fall, and sorry, local Washington Blade readers, she's skipped D.C. again.
The tour will be directed by Madonna's long time creative
collaborator Jamie King. The musical director will be Kevin Antunes.
Tour and on sale dates:
03-Oct - E. Rutherford Izod Center - Mon. May 19 06-Oct - New York City Madison Square Garden - Mon. May 19 07-Oct - New York City Madison Square Garden - Mon. May 19 15-Oct - Boston TD BankNorth Garden - Sat. May 17 18-Oct - Toronto Air Canada Centre - Sat. May 24 22-Oct - Montreal Bell Centre - Sat. May 24 26-Oct - Chicago United Center - Sat. May 17 30-Oct - Vancouver BC Place Stadium - Sat. May 24 01-Nov - Oakland Oracle Arena - Sun. June 1 04-Nov - San Diego Petco Park - Sun. June 1 06-Nov - Los Angeles Dodger Stadium - Sun. June 1 08-Nov - Las Vegas MGM Grand Garden Arena - Sat. May 31 11-Nov - Denver Pepsi Center - Sat. May 31 16-Nov - Houston Minute Maid Park - Sat. May 31 19-Nov - Philadelphia Wachovia Center - Mon. June 2 22-Nov - Atlantic City Boardwalk Hall - Mon. June 2 24-Nov - Atlanta Philips Arena - Sat. May 31 26-Nov - Miami Dolphin Stadium - Sat. May 31
Last night's results in the North Carolina and Indiana primaries have left Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton out of options. She ran a tough and spirited campaign that will be talked about for a generation. But it’s over.
The time has come for Clinton to adopt a gracious and conciliatory tone, end her campaign and endorse Sen. Barack Obama for president.
Tuesday night was, indeed, a game changer. Clinton suffered a drubbing in North Carolina — a “big” state, in her terminology — and barely squeaked out a win in Indiana. She needed a convincing win there and a strong finish in the Tar Heel state to convince voters and, more importantly, donors that she still had a chance to win over the dwindling number of uncommitted superdelegates.
As someone who endorsed Clinton early in the campaign (well before the mainstream media went ga-ga over Obama after his Iowa victory), I saw her as the party’s best chance to beat the GOP nominee and the candidate with the most relevant international experience to tackle the myriad crises inflicted on us by George Bush.
Unfortunately, all the talk of experience and competence was belied by a campaign rife with incompetence. From Bill Clinton’s ruinous (and arguably racist) campaign swing through South Carolina, to an obvious failure to craft a strategy past Super Tuesday, her campaign staff made so many miscalculations that Hillary went from a coronation to a shocking defeat.
And her behavior during the recent and infamous ABC News debate was over the line. During that debate, Charles Gibson and George Stephanopoulos grilled Obama over the Rev. Wright controversy and, incredibly, his thoughts on wearing flag pins. Obama was overdue for some more aggressive questioning from the mainstream media, but not on those topics.
Rather than insist on taking the questioning to a higher level, Clinton gleefully joined the Obama bashing that night. The Obama campaign should never have agreed to a debate in which Stephanopoulos was asking the questions. As a veteran of the first Clinton administration, he could hardly be expected to approach the event with any modicum of objectivity. He’s a celebrity talking head, not a journalist.
In sharp contrast to Clinton’s transparent, over-the-top pandering (downing shots with the locals and touting a phony love of guns), Obama has managed to stay above the fray, even during the darkest moments of the Wright saga. He could have gone sharply negative in the run-up to North Carolina and Indiana, as some advised him to do. Instead, he stuck to his own metaphorical guns and rose above the faux controversies and petty attacks. Even in victory Tuesday night, Obama praised Clinton and promised that his supporters would back her if she emerged as the party nominee.
But she didn’t emerge victorious and the time has come for her supporters, gay and straight, to embrace Obama’s campaign for the White House. The stakes are too high to allow primary race disappointments to demoralize Democratic voters. And the stakes for gay voters are higher.
Just yesterday, Sen. John McCain reiterated his intention to appoint conservative justices in the mold of Samuel Alito and John Roberts to the Supreme Court.
In addition, McCain this week announced creation of his “Justice Advisory Committee,” which will offer advice on Supreme Court picks. Among the members of that group is Sen. Sam Brownback (R-Kan.), a staunch conservative and notorious opponent of gay rights.
A McCain presidency would set back the cause of gay rights by a generation. A 50-year-old justice could serve 30 years or more on the high court. With same-sex marriage continuing to roil legislatures and courts across the country, it’s only a matter of time before the Supreme Court will be asked to weigh in on recognition of same-sex relationships.
Last week, I moderated a panel discussion on national politics at the annual Equality Forum in Philadelphia. The most heated exchange of the night came when I asked Patrick Sammon of the Log Cabin Republicans whether his group would endorse McCain. He replied that a decision on an endorsement had not yet been made but that Log Cabin was in talks with McCain’s campaign.
Sammon offered praise for McCain’s opposition to a federal marriage amendment.
Indeed, McCain’s opposition to the odious amendment was important and appreciated. But that’s where his support for gay rights begins and ends. McCain opposes the federal Employment Non-Discrimination Act, repealing “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” and extending the federal hate crimes law to cover gays.
Most disturbingly, he supported his home state of Arizona’s ballot initiative that would have banned not only marriage, but civil unions and even domestic partnerships. That extreme Arizona measure remains the only such referendum to be defeated by voters.
It is unconscionable for Log Cabin to entertain a McCain endorsement. Yes, it can be argued that McCain is better on gay issues than Bush, but that’s not saying much. Let’s not be fooled twice by a supposedly moderate Republican candidate. Bush won in 2000 after a pledge of “compassionate conservatism,” which proved an empty slogan. In its place we saw cruel attacks on gay rights, an effort to pervert the U.S. Constitution to discriminate against gays and even public ridicule of our committed, loving relationships during the State of the Union Address.
Log Cabin’s work is important and, as Sammon pointed out, no civil rights struggle has been won with the support of a single political party. Republican allies are critical to passage of gay rights legislation, especially when Democrats are so prone to going wishy-washy on us after they win elections with near unanimous gay support.
But with the Supreme Court in the balance, no gay voter should pull the lever for McCain in November. Sammon’s predecessor, Patrick Guerriero, took a principled stand — for which he was unfairly criticized by some gay Republicans — and declined to endorse President Bush in 2004. Sammon should follow that example and Log Cabin should resist going to bat for someone who has publicly pledged to appoint justices hostile to gay rights advances.
Meanwhile, Hillary Clinton’s gay supporters should take a day to mourn her defeat and then join Obama’s cause. She’s resilient and will bounce back, probably as Senate majority leader, a job much more in line with her skills than that of president.
And Obama should continue to reach out to Hillary’s disaffected supporters and work to unite the party. It’s time for Hillary’s gay donors and volunteers to look past short-term disappointments and consider the long-term impact of a McCain administration. It’s a scary thought that renders all other considerations moot.
Jim Neal won about 20 percent of the vote in North Carolina’s primary last night and was defeated for the Democratic nomination for Senate by party favorite Kay Hagan.
Hagan has an adequately pro-gay record, so the defeat of the state’s openly gay candidate doesn’t spell doom and gloom for North Carolina’s gay residents.
In the end, Neal’s robust campaign in the face of long odds forced residents to grapple with their anti-gay stereotypes. Neal is a handsome, smart and articulate politician who didn’t hide his sexual orientation but also didn’t run as the “gay candidate.”
I met Neal in December and was impressed by his knowledge of the issues and his courage in fighting for the nomination of a party that didn’t want him. It was no secret that Democratic Party officials in Washington and in North Carolina desperately wanted Hagan to win, no doubt assuming that a gay man would be doomed in a November contest against Elizabeth Dole.
And Neal couldn’t even win the support of national gay rights groups. The Human Rights Campaign declined to issue an endorsement in the race last week, prompting Neal to speculate that perhaps he wasn’t “gay enough.”
Pam Spaulding has a good take on last night’s results. Despite the lopsided loss, Neal deserves much credit for running a respectable campaign as an out gay man in a red state. It’s the visibility and courage of people like Neal that will ultimately win gay Americans the fight for equal rights.
This week, looking for gay news means my searches are clogged up by former New Jersey governor Jim McGreevey and his soon-to-be-ex-wife Dina Matos-McGreevey getting their day in closed court.
The Associated Press story leads with this: "After two tell-all books, tawdry sex claims and 3 1/2 years of living apart, New Jersey's gay ex-governor and his estranged wife showed up for court Tuesday morning to begin the process of ending their marriage."
Yes, Jim McGreevey is gay, and there might have been a threesome in there, and his partner's financial assets get thrown into the mix, and they're battling for custody of their little girl, but are these frequent updates on their sometimes public feud gay news?
One of the issues in the case is whether McGreevey "committed fraud by marrying a woman," the AP said. I think the McGreevey case will only become relevant when the judge decides the terms of the divorce.
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