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That Cold Day in the Park - 1969
Directed by Robert Altman
Written by Gillian Freeman
Based on a novel by Richard Miles
Starring Sandy Dennis & Michael Burns
I find that I wrap myself in knots trying to explain why I like That Cold Day in the Park a great deal, so the solution to that might be simplicity. The factual before the analytical - and then it might become apparent. This film could be considered Robert Altman's first real feature debut, but the funny thing about Altman is that this can be said for 5 of his films. The James Dean Story was literally the first, but it was co-directed and a documentary. The Delinquents was his first solo effort, but that was a low-budget project for hire. Countdown was his first big studio effort - but it wasn't really his film, and he was removed from it before it was even edited. This film actually feels like a Robert Altman movie - one you'd come to expect from him, so it probably deserves the title of "first" more than the others. (I add M*A*S*H to the group of 'firsts' because it was his big breakout hit - the film that finally announced his arrival as a filmmaker of note.) This is a forgotten little gem - one that was absolutely trashed by the critics when it was released, and even though I've read some of the reviews I still don't understand why.
This is essentially a play-like film (the way it's shot, and the way the sets are designed, reminds me a lot of the BBC's Play For Today - and episodes like Brimstone and Treacle which was filmed in 1976, but not aired until 1987 due to certain unsavoury aspects to it) - the plot concerns itself with two main characters. Sandy Dennis plays Frances Austen, a 32-year-old spinster who strangely regards the elderly as her peers, hosting dinner parties and joining them in games of lawn bowls. Frances is a virgin, introverted, naďve, uptight and old fashioned. She has a streak of innocence about her, and her general psychiatric condition means she's completely out of touch with her sexuality. Michael Burns plays "The Boy" - someone Frances spies on a park bench one day, and feels empathy and a little longing for. When it rains, she invites him in to dry his clothes and have a bath - the sexual tension in the air is almost immediate, but she never acts on it, and the boy stays mute through the entire encounter. From this moment on, Frances assumes that he is mute - but he's not really. Invited to stay the night, he's locked in one of her bedrooms, but eventually escapes through the window to go visit his family - paying especial attention to his sister.
Frances treats The Boy like an animal she's caught, a pet to be played with - and his continued presence awakens something sexual inside of her. The boy however, is too well acquainted with sex for it to be anything other than a simple pleasure to him. The difference between them, and the hidden dangers - unpredictable and possibly disastrous - is what the film explores. The sexual revolution was at it's peak in 1969, but not every single person on the planet had been sexually liberated. For Frances, inhibitions and a lack of progression has turned the act into something psychologically dangerous - and it seems that surrounding herself with the elderly has kept this at bay for a long time. She rebuffs one man from her group, who is unattractive and old enough to be her father, but she hints at a sexual awakening by nervously seeing her Gynaecologist, in what feels like one more step in a drawn out ceremony that differs greatly from the more liberated. The Boy, meanwhile, is at one stage propositioned by his own sister, although we never learn whether this incestuous invitation is taken up. The very hint of it completes more of the picture - he treats sex as a very ordinary thing, and for Frances it has almost religious importance. Her expectations are building. In the shadows, cataclysm lurks.
Altman had the good fortune to be able to work with a noted cinematographer behind the camera - László Kovács, who had just been director of photography on Easy Rider, and would go on to work on great films such as Five Easy Pieces (an aside - Jack Nicholson wanted, but failed to get the part of the boy in this - he was considered too old), Paper Moon, Ghostbusters and Shampoo. For the first time in his own films, the cinematography has a feeling about it that's very Robert Altman-like with a lot of interesting slow Altmanesque zooms and experimentation. We look through windows, as if trying to capture Frances unawares, and often the camera finds itself looking through something. The camera peeks and crawls and there's a wonderful sense of unbounded voyeuristic liberation, and no set rules or static convention. Sometimes we see by way of reflection, and sometimes our view is obscured. It's very different from what we got in Altman's Countdown and seems to signify the first time he had experienced enough freedom to influence the visual style of a story - making as much drama from the camera, as if the camera was one of the performers in the film. I found this aspect of the film extremely enjoyable.
The score is very light and easy on the ears - a lot of the instrumentation you hear coming from only a few sources. A piano here, strings there - slow and very easy. The absolute opposite of the overpowering crescendos you hear in films like Countdown, and one that obviously fits this film very neatly and is very interestingly inventive and fun to listen to. One moment you're listening to a flute, and the next guitar strings are being lightly strummed as a piano might quietly sneak in and take over. I loved the crazy way it leaned when we get to the film's more crazy moments. Responsible for all this is Oscar winner Johnny Mandel (Best Original Song, "The Shadow of Your Smile", which is heard in the 1966 film The Sandpiper. He was also nominated for the song "A Time for Love" in An American Dream the year after.) All of these elements contributed by talented artists fit very neatly together and add up to a much more enjoyable cinematic experience for those who enjoy Robert Altman films - you look through a window, or past something obscuring your attempted voyeurism while an uneasy keyboard disturbs your usual sense of ease - only to be suddenly confronted with silence and your thoughts.
Editing the film was Danford B. Greene, who would find himself nominated for an Oscar the year after this for his work on Altman's M*A*S*H - this as well is more accomplished than it was in Countdown. Art director Leon Ericksen would go on to work on other Altman films and eventually Star Wars. Overall a great crew, and they put together a fine film I enjoyed - I talked to a friend who's an Altman fan to tell him how much I enjoyed That Cold Day in the Park and he was very glad to hear that I felt the same way he did. So why was this film shouted down and given such poor treatment from the critics? Ebert called it a "torturous essay on abnormal psychology" and said Altman should have made this a horror movie. Maltin (who praised Countdown) called it "bizarre and unmoving". Perhaps it was too unusual for people in 1969, who really wouldn't have known what to expect from Robert Altman. Perhaps some critics were made too uncomfortable, thinking that they weren't meant to be feeling that way. Perhaps the film's pace was too slow for what were the norms at the time.
There's the possibility that this film is just something that happened to fall into a specific zone of mine, with all the elements combining to make this a film that suits my own tastes. I'd just seen Sandy Dennis in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? An Oscar winning performance in that really geared me to look at her in an admiring fashion - but I still think her performance in this holds up just as well, and that she should have gained more recognition from it than she did. Michael Burns is more of an unknown element for me (in a role Jack Nicholson would have been manifestly wrong for) and I can't say that I've seen him in much. He'd leave the profession altogether and become a scholar in later years. This film is mostly about Frances, so Burns doesn't need to really shine, and he performs his role adequately, without covering himself in glory. When I watch the film most of my attention is stolen by Dennis, and my feeling for her character is one of sadness and empathy. Of course, sadness and empathy only go so far, but to say more would be to ruin the surprises the film has in store.
Altman would follow That Cold Day in the Park with a series of films that have become classics - some of the greatest films of all time. I knew that this would be far better than the films he served his 'apprenticeship' on, but I wasn't expecting something this good - a film worthy in my eyes of being included in that group of films. Although this is generally well regarded, I think I'm still fighting against the grain in praising it as much as I am, but the movie strikes me as something of a buried classic and a future favourite. I never would have come near it if I hadn't have been exploring the early career of this filmmaker, for I'd never heard of it before - probably thanks to the critical reception it got when released. I again have to wonder at how demoralized Robert Altman was by this stage of his career. His career read like a series of disasters with no respite, and when he finally made a really good film the critics dismissed it and it sunk without a trace. I'm surprised he still had enough enthusiasm to make M*A*S*H. This went on to be considered the first of three films Altman would make about female psychosis - the next two being 3 Women and Images.
I had a great deal of fun looking at and watching this film, full of surprises and an excellent end to the prologue of a great artist's catalogue of cinematic works - I hope it's a film that undergoes a critical reevaluation as time goes on, and gains a new audience in the future. The great thing about the modern age is the avenues a film has for rediscovery. But if it just happens to be a connection limited to a few enthusiasts, I have a feeling my thoughts won't diminish over time and I'll never be persuaded otherwise. Sandy Dennis and That Cold Day in the Park completely won me over. For Robert Altman freaks - there's a scene mid-way that takes place at the birth control clinic that marks one of the most familiar styles identifiable to him, with many voices talking over each other in general (but pointed and meaningful) chit-chat. It's the first moment it appeared in his films, but I can't say if it had ever appeared on television. In general, it has his high standard of cinematic artistry and I consider it among his best films - a home run at his 4th, 3rd, 2nd or 1st time at bat, whichever way you look at it.
That Cold Day in the Park - 1969
Directed by Robert Altman
Written by Gillian Freeman
Based on a novel by Richard Miles
Starring Sandy Dennis & Michael Burns
I find that I wrap myself in knots trying to explain why I like That Cold Day in the Park a great deal, so the solution to that might be simplicity. The factual before the analytical - and then it might become apparent. This film could be considered Robert Altman's first real feature debut, but the funny thing about Altman is that this can be said for 5 of his films. The James Dean Story was literally the first, but it was co-directed and a documentary. The Delinquents was his first solo effort, but that was a low-budget project for hire. Countdown was his first big studio effort - but it wasn't really his film, and he was removed from it before it was even edited. This film actually feels like a Robert Altman movie - one you'd come to expect from him, so it probably deserves the title of "first" more than the others. (I add M*A*S*H to the group of 'firsts' because it was his big breakout hit - the film that finally announced his arrival as a filmmaker of note.) This is a forgotten little gem - one that was absolutely trashed by the critics when it was released, and even though I've read some of the reviews I still don't understand why.
This is essentially a play-like film (the way it's shot, and the way the sets are designed, reminds me a lot of the BBC's Play For Today - and episodes like Brimstone and Treacle which was filmed in 1976, but not aired until 1987 due to certain unsavoury aspects to it) - the plot concerns itself with two main characters. Sandy Dennis plays Frances Austen, a 32-year-old spinster who strangely regards the elderly as her peers, hosting dinner parties and joining them in games of lawn bowls. Frances is a virgin, introverted, naďve, uptight and old fashioned. She has a streak of innocence about her, and her general psychiatric condition means she's completely out of touch with her sexuality. Michael Burns plays "The Boy" - someone Frances spies on a park bench one day, and feels empathy and a little longing for. When it rains, she invites him in to dry his clothes and have a bath - the sexual tension in the air is almost immediate, but she never acts on it, and the boy stays mute through the entire encounter. From this moment on, Frances assumes that he is mute - but he's not really. Invited to stay the night, he's locked in one of her bedrooms, but eventually escapes through the window to go visit his family - paying especial attention to his sister.
Frances treats The Boy like an animal she's caught, a pet to be played with - and his continued presence awakens something sexual inside of her. The boy however, is too well acquainted with sex for it to be anything other than a simple pleasure to him. The difference between them, and the hidden dangers - unpredictable and possibly disastrous - is what the film explores. The sexual revolution was at it's peak in 1969, but not every single person on the planet had been sexually liberated. For Frances, inhibitions and a lack of progression has turned the act into something psychologically dangerous - and it seems that surrounding herself with the elderly has kept this at bay for a long time. She rebuffs one man from her group, who is unattractive and old enough to be her father, but she hints at a sexual awakening by nervously seeing her Gynaecologist, in what feels like one more step in a drawn out ceremony that differs greatly from the more liberated. The Boy, meanwhile, is at one stage propositioned by his own sister, although we never learn whether this incestuous invitation is taken up. The very hint of it completes more of the picture - he treats sex as a very ordinary thing, and for Frances it has almost religious importance. Her expectations are building. In the shadows, cataclysm lurks.
Altman had the good fortune to be able to work with a noted cinematographer behind the camera - László Kovács, who had just been director of photography on Easy Rider, and would go on to work on great films such as Five Easy Pieces (an aside - Jack Nicholson wanted, but failed to get the part of the boy in this - he was considered too old), Paper Moon, Ghostbusters and Shampoo. For the first time in his own films, the cinematography has a feeling about it that's very Robert Altman-like with a lot of interesting slow Altmanesque zooms and experimentation. We look through windows, as if trying to capture Frances unawares, and often the camera finds itself looking through something. The camera peeks and crawls and there's a wonderful sense of unbounded voyeuristic liberation, and no set rules or static convention. Sometimes we see by way of reflection, and sometimes our view is obscured. It's very different from what we got in Altman's Countdown and seems to signify the first time he had experienced enough freedom to influence the visual style of a story - making as much drama from the camera, as if the camera was one of the performers in the film. I found this aspect of the film extremely enjoyable.
The score is very light and easy on the ears - a lot of the instrumentation you hear coming from only a few sources. A piano here, strings there - slow and very easy. The absolute opposite of the overpowering crescendos you hear in films like Countdown, and one that obviously fits this film very neatly and is very interestingly inventive and fun to listen to. One moment you're listening to a flute, and the next guitar strings are being lightly strummed as a piano might quietly sneak in and take over. I loved the crazy way it leaned when we get to the film's more crazy moments. Responsible for all this is Oscar winner Johnny Mandel (Best Original Song, "The Shadow of Your Smile", which is heard in the 1966 film The Sandpiper. He was also nominated for the song "A Time for Love" in An American Dream the year after.) All of these elements contributed by talented artists fit very neatly together and add up to a much more enjoyable cinematic experience for those who enjoy Robert Altman films - you look through a window, or past something obscuring your attempted voyeurism while an uneasy keyboard disturbs your usual sense of ease - only to be suddenly confronted with silence and your thoughts.
Editing the film was Danford B. Greene, who would find himself nominated for an Oscar the year after this for his work on Altman's M*A*S*H - this as well is more accomplished than it was in Countdown. Art director Leon Ericksen would go on to work on other Altman films and eventually Star Wars. Overall a great crew, and they put together a fine film I enjoyed - I talked to a friend who's an Altman fan to tell him how much I enjoyed That Cold Day in the Park and he was very glad to hear that I felt the same way he did. So why was this film shouted down and given such poor treatment from the critics? Ebert called it a "torturous essay on abnormal psychology" and said Altman should have made this a horror movie. Maltin (who praised Countdown) called it "bizarre and unmoving". Perhaps it was too unusual for people in 1969, who really wouldn't have known what to expect from Robert Altman. Perhaps some critics were made too uncomfortable, thinking that they weren't meant to be feeling that way. Perhaps the film's pace was too slow for what were the norms at the time.
There's the possibility that this film is just something that happened to fall into a specific zone of mine, with all the elements combining to make this a film that suits my own tastes. I'd just seen Sandy Dennis in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? An Oscar winning performance in that really geared me to look at her in an admiring fashion - but I still think her performance in this holds up just as well, and that she should have gained more recognition from it than she did. Michael Burns is more of an unknown element for me (in a role Jack Nicholson would have been manifestly wrong for) and I can't say that I've seen him in much. He'd leave the profession altogether and become a scholar in later years. This film is mostly about Frances, so Burns doesn't need to really shine, and he performs his role adequately, without covering himself in glory. When I watch the film most of my attention is stolen by Dennis, and my feeling for her character is one of sadness and empathy. Of course, sadness and empathy only go so far, but to say more would be to ruin the surprises the film has in store.
Altman would follow That Cold Day in the Park with a series of films that have become classics - some of the greatest films of all time. I knew that this would be far better than the films he served his 'apprenticeship' on, but I wasn't expecting something this good - a film worthy in my eyes of being included in that group of films. Although this is generally well regarded, I think I'm still fighting against the grain in praising it as much as I am, but the movie strikes me as something of a buried classic and a future favourite. I never would have come near it if I hadn't have been exploring the early career of this filmmaker, for I'd never heard of it before - probably thanks to the critical reception it got when released. I again have to wonder at how demoralized Robert Altman was by this stage of his career. His career read like a series of disasters with no respite, and when he finally made a really good film the critics dismissed it and it sunk without a trace. I'm surprised he still had enough enthusiasm to make M*A*S*H. This went on to be considered the first of three films Altman would make about female psychosis - the next two being 3 Women and Images.
I had a great deal of fun looking at and watching this film, full of surprises and an excellent end to the prologue of a great artist's catalogue of cinematic works - I hope it's a film that undergoes a critical reevaluation as time goes on, and gains a new audience in the future. The great thing about the modern age is the avenues a film has for rediscovery. But if it just happens to be a connection limited to a few enthusiasts, I have a feeling my thoughts won't diminish over time and I'll never be persuaded otherwise. Sandy Dennis and That Cold Day in the Park completely won me over. For Robert Altman freaks - there's a scene mid-way that takes place at the birth control clinic that marks one of the most familiar styles identifiable to him, with many voices talking over each other in general (but pointed and meaningful) chit-chat. It's the first moment it appeared in his films, but I can't say if it had ever appeared on television. In general, it has his high standard of cinematic artistry and I consider it among his best films - a home run at his 4th, 3rd, 2nd or 1st time at bat, whichever way you look at it.