Eyes Without A Face at Temple Studios
For quite a few months now there have been a couple of things I’ve wanted to post about – The Drowned Man (again) as well as the Gothic themed film season at the BFI, but haven’t due to pretty much all of my free time being taken over by the final stages of my Masters (cue three rather intense months of reading, researching, interviewing, and writing - and thank God that's all behind me now). Thankfully, there was a wonderful event held at Temple Studios in January that allows me to talk about both.
(Image taken from Burn The Seats: Felix Barrett video.)
Keen eyed visitors to The Drowned Man will have spotted the name of the film on the cinema marquee in town – Eyes Without A Face. The first time I saw it I couldn’t help but smile at the in-joke, with the 1960 French horror film featuring a young woman wearing a plain white mask for most of the movie. I didn’t think much more of it, though, until the BFI’s fabulous Gothic season started in October last year. Stretching over several months from October 2013 until the end of January 2014, the BFI pretty much spoiled Londoners (as well as those outside London with special events programmed across the country) with a carefully curated season of gothic horror films. Classic spine chillers such as Nosferatu and The Innocents were presented alongside cult favourites like The Wicker Man and Witchfinder General, modern takes on classic genres such as Near Dark, and lesser known gems including a number of British television specials like Ghostwatch, the Blair Witch of 1992.
(Deborah Kerr in The Innocents.)
With so much on offer I sadly only managed to get around to seeing a handful of films – Near Dark, one of my favourite vampire films (a contemporary Western with vampires – also Kathryn Bigelow’s directorial debut); Herzog’s version of Nosferatu, which was creepy and beautiful in equal measure (check out this scene for a wonderful moment of terror); Rosemary’s Baby, which has some amazing dream sequences and spends most of the film walking an ambiguous line of whether the horrors are real or imagined; and The Night of The Hunter, a lyrical and almost fairytale-like slice of American Gothic, with an amazing turn by Robert Mitchum in the leading role (and which I can now see was totally lifted for the character of Caleb in season 7 of Buffy – but I digress).
(Robert Mitchum in The Night of the Hunter.)
I missed out on The Innocents, which I’ve seen before but only on television years ago – it’s quite possibly the most gorgeously shot horror film I’ve ever seen, as well as being a masterpiece of ambiguity and psychological horror; it would have been amazing to see it on a big screen. I also missed out on seeing Kuroneko (although I'd seen it before), a beautiful Japanese horror film in a samurai setting that draws heavily on styles of theatre such as kabuki. And I also missed out on Eyes Without A Face, which I was keen to see because of the Drowned Man connection.
(Nobuko Otowa in Kuroneko.)
Thankfully, however, I wasn’t the only one to make the connection between that cinema marquee in The Drowned Man and the BFI Gothic festival. On Sunday January 26, in association with the BFI, Eyes Without A Face was actually screened on the set of The Drowned Man – in the small cinema that bears the name on the marquee, naturally. Whoever made this link and organised for this to happen deserves a raise – or a candlelit dinner with the Drowned Man character of their choice. Meeting for lunch before the screening, a couple of friends and I joked about things we’d like to see as part of the screening – trailers for Temple Studios productions (The Leader of the Pack, perhaps), popcorn, and a Candy Girl to sell that popcorn and other snacks. Not that those things would actually happen, of course.
But as we were taken into the lifts of Temple Studios and led through the main street of town towards the cinema (without wearing masks, which was a very strange feeling indeed) I realised that this is Punchdrunk we’re talking about here – and if Punchdrunk are going to take you to the cinema, they’re going to give you the full cinema experience. As we stepped through the door under the cinema marquee, boxes of popcorn were lined up for us on the counter in the cinema lobby. And standing behind that counter, coolly checking her make up in a handheld compact, there she was – our Candy Girl (Miranda Mac Letten). Settling down into a leather chair in the small velvety red cinema, the lights soon dimmed and, sure enough, a trailer ran for a Temple Studios production – not The Leader of the Pack, but for “a new kind of motion picture” called The Drowned Man. I’ve been on set to see some of the filming of this opus, and let me tell you, when it’s completed I’m sure it’ll blow your socks off. (The trailer was actually this one that was released a while ago. Still, it was a nice touch to show it as an actual movie trailer.)
(Image taken from Burn The Seats: Felix Barrett video.)
And then, before the film finally started, we were treated to an introduction from the disembodied voice of Mr. Leland Stanford himself, who thanked us for coming to the Encino cinema to see Eyes Without A Face (taking care to call the film by its French title, Les Yeux Sans Visage.) He said that some of us may be wondering why he had chosen to show a French film, but he explained that he felt when it comes to making horror films “those Europeans can teach us a thing or two”. He also said that he found a beauty in the film that haunted him – “the doves, the dogs, and those eyes … those eyes without a face.”
(Edith Scob in Eyes Without A Face.)
With that, the film began, the projector whirring and whirling comfortingly behind me as light and shadow danced across the screen, playing out the macabre tale of Christiane, imprisoned both in her father’s enormous mansion and behind her white mask. It makes total sense that it’s a film Stanford would be interested in – when it was first released it was met by some with horror and disgust. Years later, though, it’s been critically re-evaluated, with the film's beauty and poetry being noted. Perhaps Stanford sees something of himself in the director Georges Franju, in his own pioneering film-making that’s pushing the boundaries of what’s acceptable in motion pictures, and that many would call shocking … Halfway through the film the screen suddenly went white, as the lights in the cinema slowly came up, and the sounds of Baby Elephant Walk started to play. Looking behind me, I realised there was only a single projector set up – it was time for a reel change. As this was happening, our Candy Girl sashayed her way into the cinema and down the aisle, wearing a tray around her neck holding boxes of fresh popcorn that she offered to the audience with a coquettish smile.
A few months ago a friend had given me an American dollar bill, which I had carried in my wallet since then – a way of keeping a little bit of Americana with me, and the idle thought that one day I may need it in Temple Studios. The moment seemed too good to let pass, so as I stepped up to the Candy Girl to get some popcorn I held out the dollar bill to her. “Oh, no sir,” she said, shaking her head with a smile. I held the bill out a moment longer with what I hope was an “are you sure?” expression. “Oh, sir!” she said, taking the bill, stuffing it down the front of her shirt, and then fanning her face. Before too long the second reel was ready (and everyone had fresh popcorn) and the cinema fell into darkness again, the movie running to its grisly end (did you really expect a film like this to end with rainbows and unicorns?). If you’re into tales of the macabre it’s definitely worth checking out.
(Edith Scob in Eyes Without A Face.)
It was absolutely wonderful to see the space of Temple Studios being used in such a fun and imaginative way. During the first of the Q&A sessions held in December 2013, Felix Barrett mentioned that there would be "some treats in the extension" – fingers crossed that there are more to come. Hmmm, is it just me or is that microphone set up in the Horse and Stars totally crying out for a karaoke night …
