The Devil Rides Out (Terence Fisher, 1968). Lucid picture with incantations and black masses and rites. Christopher Lee has a bead on it. I’m casting around for material for the next lecture at the Frye, which is this.
Taste the Blood of Dracula (Peter Sasdy, 1970). Looking at this one too, which has the rich degenerates scouting London’s back streets for thrills; sadly, they purchase Dracula’s dried blood in Roy Kinnear’s antique shop and bring back the Count. Some perverse moments.
The Magician (Rex Ingram, 1926). Golem actor-auteur Paul Wegener plays a wigged-out mesmerist who seduces Alice Terry; there’s one incredibly trippy sequence that looks like an attempt to out-Faust Faust.
Genius Within: The Inner Life of Glenn Gould (Michele Hozer, Peter Raymont, 2009). The pianist is seen in archive footage, interviews, and some intriguing semi-scripted documentary things; but then Gould also looked as though he were speaking in a weird semi-scripted way, an impersonation of his observations of how regular people spoke and acted and joked around. (full review 10/15)
Secretariat (Randall Wallace, 2010). Before the invitational screeing, a local DJ wanted to give a T-shirt away to someone who could tell him when Secretariat won the Triple Crown. “He wins the Triple Crown?” somebody shouted. Spoiler! (full review 10/8)
The Seventh Victim (Mark Robson, 1943). The weird mood of this movie never palls. This time through the whole thing plays like a study in depression.