NYC Noir

Waldorf is leaving NY at the end of this month. Among the countless ways that would adversely change my life here, it also means I must get used to going to movies alone. And without anyone to tolerate my pontificating after each screening, that burden will have to fall on you, dear reader.

Short of love and friendship, watching certain films in 35 mm is as close to true happiness as I can get. Which was why Rear Window at Film Forum was an unexpected blessing after a most hideous week.

Lisa: You don't think either one of us could ever change?

Jeff: Right now, it doesn't seem so.

Lisa: I'm in love with you. I don't care what you do for a living. I'd just like to be part of it somehow. It's deflating to find out the only way I can be part of it is to take out a subscription to your magazine...

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Waldorf looking over at me nervously, knowing that these lines have a certain resonance with my own personal struggles. I nearly choked from the onslaught of sorrow and rage—that I could allow it to taint one of my most treasured films is troubling. Very troubling.

What I want is to avoid that trap of inflating ordinary and fundamental daily occurrences into maudlin reminders:

“I took him to this restaurant once… he said it was the best [sobs]… scallops [sobs]… he ever had!… [sob, sob, sob].

“Did you order scotch? That was his drink… [sobs].”

“What is that you have there [gulp] —a guitar? Oh god… [sobs].”

To some extent, grieving in such a way is unavoidable. But, I would not want to force my friends to deal with a melodramatic and self-pitying Chiik. Is there anything more tiresome and unfair? And if I start to behaving like an emotional cripple, I really hope that someone would take a bludgeon to my head.

So enough.

Having seen this newly restored print for the first time, I noticed several new details that really enhance the experience.

On the big screen, you can see what L.B. Jeffries sees. Now I know why he is totally hooked, rear-window ethics be damned. It’s like Flickr. From the smoke from Miss Lonelyhearts’s candles to the crumbs on Miss Torso’s chest. Both ladies are less attractive than I remembered. Knives and saws wrapped in newspaper. You finally understand how Jeffries could possibly know that Lars Thorwald was dialing long distance and see the details of the rings as he holds each one up. And it is much easier to spot the shrinking yellow zinnias.

To date, Thorwald had just been the bad guy—a cheating louse who wanted to throw over his invalid wife for another woman. He's going to run out on her, the coward! But because the conversation fragments are much less audible on my TV than in the theater, I had no way of understanding how awful the Mrs was. She's a total harpy.

“I hope it’s cooked this time.” She flung the rose from the meal tray—the meal which Thorwald so lovingly prepared. Here was Lars Thorwald, a door-to-door costume jewelry salesman, trapped with a bedridden nag who doesn't love him. It inspires pity. I know it isn’t an excuse for adultery and offing his wife, but I am sure this wasn't the life that he wanted.

Worse, Mrs. Thorwald took perverse pleasure in Thorwald's predicament, mocking his proverbial impotence, taunting him: “Ha! Did you tell her you were married?? [holding her belly as if she were cackling]” Before this, I had only seen the gesture without the audio context. Sheesh. And he had a serious five-o’clock-shadow and bloodshot eyes the day after. Poor Lars. He must have been exhausted. And of all the bad luck to have L.B. Jeffries (in a cast) as a neighbor—busybody in possession of bionic hearing, flabby body, and telephoto lenses.

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Cody sent an email with a single line: "We have to get moving on our sequel." Attached was an article from the Guardian called 'Of all the beachfront restaurants in India, she walks into mine' reporting on a Bollywood remake of Casablanca. This reminded me of something. We were going to start a production company—one that specializes in making unmakeable sequels.

For a start:

Waldorf’s
“Thank you, Lars!”
Synopsis: L.B. Jeffries and Lisa Fremont finally marry and have their honeymoon in the Brazilian rainforest—without raincoats. In their cozy little bungalow, the bickering escalates. Jeffries snaps and uses all the techniques that he observed from Lars Thorwald to dispose of his new wife.

Cody’s
“Return to Rick’s”
Synopsis: The Nazis intercept Victor Laszlo’s plane before it could reach Lisbon. He is killed. Ilsa narrowly escapes and finds Rick and Louis on another island. She would like Rick to help with the cause. Sasha the barman turns on Rick and help the Nazis. Rick's choices are stay where he is, help Ilsa, or return to New York (which he left because of another woman, in flashback sequence).

Chiik’s
“The Sneaky Russian”
Synopsis: Gutman and Joel Cairo break Brigid O’Shaughnessy out of prison. They recruit a reluctant Sam Spade for a little game of revenge. Spanning across three continents, the gang tracks down Kemidov and beats the tar out of him. But this time, it’s Wilmer that gets the last laugh.