Twitch-O-Meter: Primordial Soup of the Spotless Mind

Carnival of Souls (Herk Harvey, 1962)
A tidy independent film shot in Salt Lake City for only a few thousand dollars that milks the most mood out of its black and white cinematography.  A car crashes off a veers of a bridge and into the rushing river.  Everyone is presumed dead and the cops haul the vehicle out of the water, but a short while later, a survivor claws her way out of the drink frightened and confused.  As life movies on for our heroine, she gets a job as a organist at a church in Utah.  But ghosts and spirits have been haunting her and preventing any form of joy despite her miraculous survival.  Curiously, the exact same year, a short French film called An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge, which uses a similar concept and was eventually picked up as an episode of The iconic TV show, The Twilight Zone (the small screen purveyor of weekly mind benders along the lines of these films).  Co-incidence?  Either way, Carnival of Souls has endeared over the years into a nice (and deserved) cult following that encompasses vintage horror junkies and cineastes alike (notably it has a Criterion DVD release).  The central conceit has been borrowed, molded and manipulated hundreds of times since.

Seconds (John Frankenheimer, 1966)
The story of Seconds is simple and John Frankenheimer takes his time setting up the tone in such a way to turn the film on its head more than once. Arthur Hamilton lives a comfortable if dreary, upper middle class existence. He did the ‘right’ things to get where he is, but pines for something more. What went wrong with his life? When offered a chance to be re-born by a secretive company that erases his previous existence for a chosen new one complete with complicated plastic surgery and a jet-set bohemian life style, what choice do you think he makes. And the company works hard to make this happen. The questions is: How many people can live this ‘dream’ without eventually thinking back to the previous existence and the safety net of the ‘real’ identity vs. the very different new lifestyle. When someone goes after the Faustian bargain and perhaps they should read the EULA first. Of course, Frankenheimer made a career of the paranoid thriller from 1962’s The Manchurian Candidate, which is much more well known (and it got a remake a couple years ago with, um, you guessed it, an evil corporation).  Along with 1964’s The Seven Days in May this is a sweet trilogy of paranoia goodness.  The film features flat out fantastic camera work, a tone in perpetual flux (a wine-stomping orgy has to be seen in light of the rest of the movie just to understand how wild things can shift), and harnessing great performances from John Randolph (before), Rock Hudson (after) and Will Geer as the benignly creepy company handler. Some may argue the film is depressing, but Seconds gets points for going all the way with its titular concept. Like nearly all good science fiction films, it flopped hard at the box office yet over the years has developed a nice set of rabid fans.

The Mind Benders (Basil Dearden, 1962)
Perhaps folks are much more familiar with Ken Russell‘s Oscar nominated 1980 film Altered States which also featured a man significantly regressing with the use of sensory deprivation tanks.  While William Hurt gets all icky and hairy towards the end, I think things are a tad more insidious with Dirk Bogardes internalized and creepy performance on display here.  Using military torture as a spring board and entering territory of marital breakdown (in the name of science), The Mind Benders crosses a lot of subjects with the appropriate blend of scientific obsession (of the Frankenstein variety) and general fear of unknown so-called innerspace.  This movie, in terms of pacing and overall production value may not have ages as well as the others on the list, but it remains on of the more relevant ones, thematically.  Science outpacing morality, getting to the bottom of the psychological effects of military sponsored torture techniques and the subsequent breakdown of intimate romantic bonds or connections because of this, sounds like modern day America to me.

The Trial (Orson Welles, 1962)
Towards the end of Terry Gilliam‘s Brazil, we watch a man (tough guy Robert DeNiro) completely consumed by merely discarded paper.  It is a memorable image that is likely to owe a debt or two to Orson Welles ode to Franz Kafka.  The Trial is the story of a man who is charged with a crime and scheduled to be tried by a grand jury.  He is not told what he did or why it was wrong.  Over the course of the film he futilely grinds his way through a labyrinthine bureaucratic society to little avail other than digging himself deeper in confusion.  Shot with some of the best black and white cinematography, and Welles pulling out all the expressionistic fervor he can muster and combined with a post-Psycho Anthony Perkins as the victimized Josef K.  This film with its concept taken to the extreme will haunt you for days or weeks, it may be haunting you right now whether you have seen it or not. 

Don’t Look Now (Nicholas Roeg, 1973)
The opening scene, of death and premonition, told beautifully through visuals above all else is as memorable as anything else in the history of cinema.  Hubris?  I think not, former cinematographer Nicholas Roeg paints with images and emotion in a quite unique way (although countrymen Peter Weir played in the same territory with his 1970s films).  Here is the tale of two young parents (Donald Sutherland, Julie Christie) trying to get over the death of their young daughter while he takes on a church restoration project in scenic Venice.  Yet visions and general weirdness (of the kind favoured by Dario Argento amoung others) stalk both the couple as they grind against one another emotionally (and in a delightfully explicit sex scene, seemingly at odds with the rest of the story, grinding physically).  There is a tempo of images and plot information on the go in Don’t Look Now which is rarely achieved so brilliantly.

Bonus Short Film: La Jetee (Chris Marker, 1962)
Yes, most folks enjoyed the big-budget Terry Gilliam romp with Bruce Willis, Madeline Stowe, Brad Pitt and Christopher Plummer in the mid 1990s.  Gilliam has a gift for the odd, yet 12 Monkeys is a tad bloated here and there.  Chris Marker‘s 1962 short film, told with static photos and a monotone voice-over is the original and far more succinct version of the tale of a man who can’t shake the image of airports and children whilst toiling his days in a post-apocalyptic world.  The grainy black and white photos which feature a grimy and desperate future world after some major world-wide disaster are disturbing, haunting and end with a curious ennui.