On October 30, Turner Classic Movies broadcasts the best-ever psycho serial killer movie. Peeping Tom was released in 1960, the same year as Psycho. The British film critics didn’t know what to make of a thriller where the protagonist was so disturbing, and they trashed Peeping Tom so badly that its great director Michael Powell (The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, Stairway to Heaven, Black Narcissus, The Red Shoes) wasn’t able to work again in the UK. But, I think Peeping Tom is an overlooked masterpiece and is even better than its iconic counterpart Psycho.
Karlheinz Böhm plays a mild-mannered urban recluse who most people find socially awkward, but wouldn’t necessarily suspect to be a serial killer. The very innocent downstairs neighbor (Anna Massey) finds him dreamy and in need of saving – not a good choice.
Two aspects elevate Peeping Tom above the already high standards of Hitchcockian suspense. First, he’s not just a serial killer – he’s also shooting the murders as snuff films. Second, we see the killer watching home movies of his childhood – and we understand that ANYONE with his upbringing would be twisted; he’s a monster who repels us, but we understand him.
Until the last decade, Peeping Tom was unavailable, but you can find it streaming now on Amazon, AppleTV and Criterion. There’s also a superb Criterion Collection DVD with lots of extra features.
Again, TCM airs Peeping Tom on Wednesday (conveniently right after Psycho).
Martin Scorsese was immensely impacted by the work of British filmmakers Michael Powell and Emeric Pressberger, and, in his documentary Made in England: The Films of Powell and Pressberger, he explains how and why. It’s like a guest presentation in film school.
The screenwriter Pressberger wrote director Powell’s 49th Parallel, one of the very best WW II propaganda films. They found themselves to be each other’s muse. The two co-directed One of Our Airplanes Is Missing in 1942 and continued to co-direct 16 films through 1959’s Night Ambush. Their oeuvre includes several films generally acknowledged as classics of cinema: Black Narcissus, The Red Shoes, A Matter of Life and Death, and one of my personal favorites, The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp. The creative partnership wore itself out in 1959, but the two remained close friends, and were unashamed to describe their partnership as based on love.
Along the way, they routinely discarded cinematic conventions to make risky innovations:
Pausing the story in The Red Shoes to mount an original ballet in its entirety.
Using one actress to play three different roles in Colonel Blimp.
Building the drama to the pivotal duel in Colonel Blimp and then audaciously NOT showing the actual fight.
The humorous use of hunting trophies to mark the time passages in Colonel Blimp.
Using filmed music in Black Narcissus.
Evoking the set and production design of Fritz Lang’s iconic Metropolis in A Matter of Life and Death.
Switching between black-and-white and color in A Matter of Life and Death.
Creating Tales of Hoffman as a “composed film”, a marriage of cinematic imagery with operatic music.
After his association with Pressberger, Powell made what I consider his best film, Peeping Tom, which was released in the same year as Hitchcock’s Psycho; I find Peeping Tom to be the better film, and more shocking and disturbing..
Made in England makes a passing reference to Powell’s last film, Age of Consent, but doesn’t mention that it features a voluptuous, nubile 24-year-old Helen Mirren naked.
Here’s another random thought sparked by Made in England – Anton Walbrook, who is not in the pantheon of famous actors from the Golden Age, was a really excellent actor.
Now you might NOT want to go to film class, and, in that case, this is an Eat Your Broccoli movie. But if you’re a hardcore cinephile and/or a Scorsese fan like me, this film is for you.
The 1943 masterpiece The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp is a remarkably textured portrait of a man over four decades and his struggles to evolve into new eras. Written and directed by the great British filmmakers Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, this is a movie with a sharp message to 1940s audiences about modernity, as well as a subtle exploration of privilege that will resonate today.
The character of Clive Candy, when we first seem him as an old man, is the butt of a humorous scene, being made fun of as out of touch and ridiculously old-fashioned. Candy, a veteran of sabre duels between 19th Century gentleman officers, still naively thinks that wars should be fought according to rules. Made in the urgency of wartime 1943, The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp pointedly delivers the message that the old fuddy duddies should get out of the way. Only modern men can fight the quintessentially modern threat – the Nazis with their propaganda and industrialized genocide.
But Powell and Pressburger can make this argument without emasculating or demonizing Blimp; he is a good man, just a good man whose time has passed – and it is what it is.
We see flashbacks of the younger Clive Candy and see his bravery, steadfastness, loyalty, sentimentality, romance, and his occasional wit. He is a man devoted to a code of behavior. always profoundly anchored to doing the right thing and willing to sacrifice (in both love and war).
Candy is also a creature of privilege, and he’s clueless about that privilege. He is an upper crust Englishman in a class-driven, all male and all-white power structure. His day job is serving an empire whose premise is the suppression and exploitation of darker skinned peoples peoples. He never has to compete, on the merits, with women or with the working class or people of color. He just assumes that he should be a military leader and that England should have an empire; but he also unquestionably shoulders the duties and obligations that goes with the leadership and the empire.
Roger Livesey plays Candy as he ages over the forty years. Livesey often played decent and genial romantic leads, and I usually find those roles pretty bland. But here Livesey convincingly depicts a man who believes that he must never change, even as he faces heartbreak or changing times.
Anton Walbrook excels as Candy’s German peer, an officer of Candy’s generation who realizes in the 1940s that their time has passed. I’ve lately warmed to Walbrook, who was typecast as romantic, European dandies early in his career; his later work, in Powell and Pressburger’s The Red Shoes and The 49th Parallel, Max Ophul’s Le Plaisir and La Ronde and the 1940, less well known version of, Gaslight, is excellent.
The always coolly reliable Deborah Kerr appears in multiple roles, playing three different women who show up in Candy’s life.
Powell and Pressburger insert plenty of humor and smart filmmaking to tell this story. The montage of mounted animal heads that spans the period between the world wars is especially witty.
Clive Candy is a creature of his time – which TLADOCB unsentimentally depicts as having passed. But there is value in this man. Just like with Wille Loman – attention must be paid.
The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp airs October 15 on Turner Clssic Movies and is available to stream from Amazon, AppleTV and the Criterion Channel.
Here is the best-ever psycho serial killer movie. Peeping Tom was released in 1960, the same year as Psycho. The British film critics didn’t know what to make of a thriller where the protagonist was so disturbing, and they trashed Peeping Tom so badly that its great director Michael Powell (The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, Stairway to Heaven, Black Narcissus, The Red Shoes) wasn’t able to work again in the UK. But I think Peeping Tom is an overlooked masterpiece and even better than its iconic counterpart Psycho.
Karlheinz Böhm plays a mild-mannered urban recluse who most people find socially awkward, but wouldn’t necessarily suspect to be a serial killer. The very innocent downstairs neighbor (Anna Massey) finds him dreamy and in need of saving – not a good choice.
Two aspects elevate Peeping Tom above the already high standards of Hitchcockian suspense. First, he’s not just a serial killer – he’s also shooting the murders as snuff films. Second, we see the killer watching home movies of his childhood – and we understand that ANYONE with his upbringing would be twisted; he’s a monster who repels us, but we understand him.
Until the last decade, Peeping Tom was unavailable, but you can find it now on DVD from Netflix and streaming from Amazon, iTunes and Google Play. There’s also a Criterion Collection DVD with lots of extra features. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.
Here is the best-ever psycho serial killer movie. Peeping Tom was released in 1960, the same year as Psycho. The British film critics didn’t know what to make of a thriller where the protagonist was so disturbing, and they trashed Peeping Tom so badly that its great director Michael Powell (The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, Stairway to Heaven, Black Narcissus, The Red Shoes) wasn’t able to work again in the UK. But I think Peeping Tom is an overlooked masterpiece and even better than its iconic counterpart Psycho.
Karlheinz Böhm plays a mild-mannered urban recluse who most people find socially awkward, but wouldn’t necessarily suspect to be a serial killer. The very innocent downstairs neighbor (Anna Massey) finds him dreamy and in need of saving – not a good choice.
Two aspects elevate Peeping Tom above the already high standards of Hitchcockian suspense. First, he’s not just a serial killer – he’s also shooting the murders as snuff films. Second, we see the killer watching home movies of his childhood – and we understand that ANYONE with his upbringing would be twisted; he’s a monster that repels us, but we understand him.
Until the last decade, Peeping Tom was unavailable, but you can find it now on DVD from Netflix and streaming from Amazon Instant Video, iTunes, YouTube, Google Play and Xbox Video. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.