Simmer Down

You never know where the surprises are going to come from.

I saw Hitchcocks's "Rear Window" on the big screen for the first time in 2009 and then a second time in 2011. Tonight I saw it again but with two major differences: I was outdoors and I was seeing it with a whole passel of people who hadn't seen it before, much less heard of rear window ethics.

Ever.

During dinner at a nearly empty Garnett's (there was a woman who'd dropped off her youngest at college and was having cake to help her deal with the trauma), I read the New York Times Magazine issue from December 15, 2015 (still not entirely sure why it remains in the reading box nine months later), mainly because the cover story was called "The Lives They Led" and was about obscure and notable people who died last year, so it was kind of fascinating.

And while I'd read that singer Leslie Gore of "It's My Party" fame was gay, I'd had no clue so many of her songs were about feeling like an outsider because of it.

I'd had no idea that there was a woman known as "Dust Lady" because of a haunting photograph taken shortly after the towers fell on September 11.

Or heard of Lee Israel, a two-bit writer who apparently faked a slew of correspondence by notable dead writers, a scam that led to a book deal about her literary thievery.

All dead now.

Showing my server a '60s photo of a mother and son sitting on a NYC stoop, a lit cigarette in her hand, I commented that you'd never see an image like that today and she agreed. "There's a simplicity to that that doesn't exist anymore. If they did it now, it would be so much more staged looking, so much less natural" she was sure.

Okay and there would also not be a cigarette in her hand.

Dessert consisted of a stranger's leftover frosting (she thinks icing is too sweet) and by the time I left, every seat was filled except mine. And despite everyone having someone with them, I made sure to return the magazine to the box in case others needed dinner company like I had.

Then I went undercover with the Baptists, as I do every August for their Classics in the Courtyard series. Just another heathen in a folding chair at First Baptist.

Trying to look unassuming, I began setting up my chair in the second row, only to have a woman ask me if I was with the James River Hikers. I admitted I wasn't, not sure if I needed to move my chair. She let me stay after I shared that I walk multiple miles every day.

The film had barely begun - Jimmy Stewart's window shades were just starting to roll up and Hitch had not yet cut to one of the many shots of the thermometer showing 90+ degrees - when I overheard a guy behind me ask, "Is this a murder mystery or a love story?" to which his friend replied, "Kind of both."

Kind of superfluous was the captioning, which I had to assume was on in case people couldn't hear all the dialog, but I'm pretty sure everyone there could hear the foghorns, whistles and cars beeping, so why did the captions need to show that inane information, too? It was just annoying.

It was not only an ideal summer flick, but a pretty great outdoor movie with all its references to heat. Beads of perspiration on Jimmy's face. A couple sleeping on their balcony. A composer mopping his studio in his boxers. Everyone's open windows.

As always happens when you're screening outdoors, the world becomes part of the experience. A cool breeze picked up just as it began raining onscreen and ended when it stopped.

As unfortunately also happens, glitches gum up the viewing. When the woman screams because she's discovered her little dog has been strangled, the screen froze, as if in horror.

Once we could have handled, but it kept happening, causing repeated pauses to correct it. Behind me, the "Rear Window" virgins were salivating to find out what was going to happen next.

Since I already knew that much, I focused on admiring the freeze frames of Grace Kelly, each one of which was utterly gorgeous, no matter where the frame settled.

All the starting and stopping was making for running commentary from behind, as in, "No, no, Lisa, get out of there!" when she was trapped in the murderer's apartment, or the clueless guy who saw Jimmy grabbing his camera bag for flashbulbs and whispered, "I hope he has a gun!"

Truly, I was amazed to hear so many people commenting as if this was their first time watching "Rear Window." How is that even possible in a crowd that definitely skewed pre-MTV?

When our hero mentioned needing a drink, the guy behind me said, "I need a drink, too. This is too much suspense!" Cover blown.

Not likely to happen with this crowd, friend. In any case, tonight proved that you haven't seen Hitchcock until you've seen it with the Baptists...and a few covert heathens.

And, yes, there will always be suspense.

I Like to Watch

I could probably make a case for myself as a non-sexual voyeur.

The fact is, I like to watch people...at restaurants, at shows, at museums, at the beach, almost anywhere really.

It can be fascinating to try to figure out something about the people and interactions I witness, especially when I'm with a like-minded person.

Which means I couldn't pass up one of the best voyeur films of all times, Hitchcock's "Rear Window" showing at the Bowtie's Movies and Mimosas this morning.

Rallying a couple of Hitchcock lovers to go with me, we settled in the raised front row to enjoy a film that continues to be suspenseful despite multiple viewings over the years. Hats off to the master.

But aside from Grace Kelly's beauty (and wardrobe) and Jimmy Stewart's classic low-key delivery and perennial bachelor charm, it's all about sharing the Peeping Tom experience with the characters in the movie.

I've never lived in a building that afforded me the kind of multiple views that Stewart had from his apartment but I feel quite certain that I'd be as sucked in by the tableaux as he was.

Of course, part of the premise of the film was that it took place during a summer heat wave, so everyone had their windows open.

Heat wave or not, I have my windows open from April through October, so, like in the movie, it's often voices, someone's music or an unidentifiable sound that pulls me to my front windows to see what's happening on the sidewalk or street.

My rear windows provide a view of the alley overlooking my backyard, which is rarely as interesting or as busy as the street view.

But I have seen a couple torridly kissing and a party attendee relieving himself back there. The best time for good alley viewing seems to be during neighborhood parties when I get home late.

Of course, the real takeaway from "Rear Window" was simply that the convalescing Stewart had to turn to his  neighbor's windows for entertainment while his broken leg healed. It was 1954 after all.

Now a person would simply turn to his computer, TV or video games to be entertained instead. Or even sit there looking at their phone as a diversion; I see that all the time, although, Luddite that I am, I don't quite get it.

"We've become a race of Peeping Toms.What people ought to do is get outside their own house and look in for a change. Yes, sir. How's that for a bit of homespun philosophy?"


So with all our modern distractions, we may not be the voyeurs we were in 1954, but the advice is probably just as relevant.

Resolved: I'm on my way out in order to look in.

I just can't imagine I'll be anywhere near as interesting as some of the other people I watch.

What I can be is as hot as the people in a 1954 heat wave, but I'm okay with that.

"You'd think the rain would have cooled things down. All it did was make the heat wet."


All the more reason to leave my windows open. Front and rear.

Admiring the Wind from Above

Like mailmen, neither snow nor rain nor heat usually keep me from my daily walk, but today's 20+ mile-per-hour wind was seriously discouraging, to say the least. I kept putting it off and finally mid-afternoon realized that if I didn't go soon, I wasn't going.

So I went, but walked east instead of my usual west. As I was waiting at the corner of Seventh and Marshall, a guy looked at me and nodded. Not entirely sure what he meant, I said, "This wind couldn't be much worse!"

Pulling aside his scarf, he grinned and pointed to nearby City Hall. "Sure it could," he said. ""Bet it's a whole lot worse up there."

So don't you just know I had to march myself up there to find out? I took the elevator to the Observation Deck, along with a couple of city employees who must have wanted to escape their offices pretty badly because they didn't have coats on.

And it was incredibly cold and windy up there and I'm saying that as someone who was dressed for the weather. But it was beautiful, too; every rooftop flag was at full attention, plumes of smoke made horizontal white lines across the sky and the river looked one step removed from a sheet of ice.

The gift of it was that when I got back down to the street, the wind felt as gentle as a summer breeze in comparison. And as the handsome Martin taught me a few years back, perception is reality.

It was a lovely walk home. I don't know why it took me so long to get going in the first place.

Pop A Squat

How much time can one person spend sitting on their ass in a day?

Well, if you're talking about me and how I spent today, pretty much all of it.

First off I met friends at the Bowtie to see Hitchcock's "Rear Window," a movie I had never seen on the big screen.

Seeing it full size for the first time was the perfect analogy for Jimmy Stewart's nosey neighbor-watching in the film; there was so much more to see with a better view.

It was the restored version, too, so the color was absolutely beautiful; it showed in every detail of every scene.

This afternoon, I went to the Firehouse for their pick-your-price performance of "Boys' Life," which has gotten rave reviews from critics and been recommended by several friends.

I wasn't the least surprised at how strong Joe Carlson's performance was; he had already impressed me in several plays just this summer alone.

He had cut his hair for the role and completely inhabited the witty and immature Jack character. Our seats were in the front row and unbeknownst to me, all the seats had been replaced since I'd last been to the Firehouse. The uncomfortable and very squeaky chairs of yore are gone, so what was another two hours seated?

Coincidentally, my final event of the evening was also at the Firehouse: Project Resolution, the monthly showing and forum for local filmmakers and fans.

The first half of the program is devoted to shorts (5 minutes or less) and the audience offers critique and comments to the director after each.

The second half features a longer film (20-30 minutes) and tonight it was Joey Tran's "The Cyclist."

I find it fascinating to hear the audience's knowledgeable feedback (most are filmmakers and/or film geeks) and observe how the directors handle the opinions offered. Most seem to appreciate it; others become nothing less than snarky.

P-Res always does a raffle, usually of DVDs and tonight I was the lucky recipient of "Talladega Nights," a film I will never watch (I don't have a TV or any desire to see it), but who doesn't love winning something random?

Or supporting a local event I frequently attend?

And, by this point, what was a few more hours with my butt firmly planted?