Handcuffs, dog bites and avian warfare: how personal grudges sullied Alfred Hitchcock’s reputation

The director liked to create tension on-set to draw out stronger performances. But have stories about his psychological tricks been inflated in the retelling? In 1978, shortly after publishing The Art of Alfred Hitchcock, biographer Donald Spoto met the director one last time. At one point, Hitchcock appeared to fall asleep mid-conversation, signalling the end of his involvement with the author. On another occasion, Spoto recalled being bitten by Hitchcock’s West Highland terrier, Sarah, leaving a bruise on his hand. When Hitchcock admonished the dog, Spoto noted it was the first time in four years the director had addressed him by name. These accounts have surfaced in an unearthed transcript of a previously forgotten interview between Spoto and the actor Tippi Hedren in 1980, six months after Hitchcock’s death. But they also suggest something else: an uneasy relationship from the outset, shaped by misreading, distrust and a degree of personal grievance. Continue reading... from F...

Grace review – monumentally odd father-daughter odyssey via mobile cinema

Travelling across Russia in mostly silence, Ilya Povolotsky’s debut feature has a strange confidence in its own insistent dispiritedness

With long journeys in a red camper van, long unbroken shots of shattered Caucasian landscapes, and very long silences between its alienated father and daughter, Ilya Povolotsky’s debut feature has a strange confidence in its own monumental dispiritedness. “I want to know that you have a plan,” says the teenager. “And that we won’t get stuck somewhere outside Khabarovsk with a chicken and a sad librarian woman.” This being a Russian art film, you wouldn’t bet against it.

The two unnamed characters, played by Maria Lukyanova and Gela Chitava, are making their way across the country for unspecified reasons, other than her desire to see the sea. They run a small mobile cinema out of their van for wan residents of purgatorial steppe towns and flog snacks and porn by night at sketchy truck stops for the hauliers who aren’t with sex workers. The father has transient liaisons of his own, adding an accusatory edge to his daughter’s faraway gaze, frequently fixed on nothing. Things aren’t looking up when they reach the sea; local people are scooping dead fish off the foreshore. “Fish plague,” says a police officer. “You’d better leave now.”

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