After missing class I read Mark’s notes to catch up and was very excited (and equally disappointed that I’d missed it) to see George Stevens’ A Place in the Sun (1951) was discussed. This film brought back a lot of memories for me and got me thinking about our relationships with films and how we can be emotionally attached to a roll of polyester. 

So the story goes…two years ago I was in San Francisco and I noticed posters for the Noir City Film Festival showcasing 24 classic noir films from the 40s and 50s. I was only new to the genre and was very keen to experience some of the best examples on the big screen. Unfortunately I had largely missed the festival but I was able to rush down on Sunday for the closing night screening of A Place in the Sun, a film that I knew very little about, I had not seen any George Stevens, nor any Clift or Tylor at that point, even though I was obviously aware of them.

So I jumped on the tram and head down to the famous Castro district to the Castro Theatre, a beautiful old theatre with a stunningly ornate ceiling. I got my ticket, but was a little early for the screening, so I wandered Castro St to try and get a vibe of the place and amongst all the rainbow flags I noticed a very small cookie shop just a few doors up from the theatre. Not being able to resist one of my few vices, I walked up to the shop to get a treat for myself. When I was purchasing my white chocolate and macadamia nut cookie, the gentlemen next to me decided to change his trousers in the shop, underwear and all, to which my thought was, welcome to the castro.

I had not long settled in my seat with my cookie and hot chocolate, when the festival director came out to introduce the final film and thank what seemed like 400 people individually. Finally he wrapped up with the line “please enjoy two of the most beautiful people you will ever see on screen”, and boy was he right. 

For the entirety of the film I was transfixed with the beauty of these two people, I couldn’t look away, especially in Clifts scenes, where he just captured the internal conflict of the character so well that I too was torn between two lives, two loves, and found the decision for me almost as agonizing as it was for Eastman himself. Taylor was radiantly beautiful in her scenes but somewhat overshadowed performance-wise by the gorgeous Shelly Winters, who sweet and caring Alice, for me, made the film work. Without such humility and support from Alice, it would have been easy to side with the beautiful couple, but Winters made Alice so likable that you could really believe the conflict it created with Eastman.

For the first half of the film I was thinking, this is very enjoyable, but not particularly noir-ish, but then the astounding denouement changed the complexion of the film entirely and turned a nice straight forward romance film in to a darker romance drama with a sprinkle of noir. This unexpected change in narrative really hooked me in and a great deal of the appeal of this film for me lies in the sudden shift in tone of the film, something that always evokes a reaction from the audience, whether it be positive or negative. This was used to great effect in Nash Edgerton short film ‘Bear’, which I saw last night at the St Kilda film festival.

So whenever I see A Place in the Sun mentioned, it always bring backs such a clear and fond memory, which got me thinking about how we have relationships with films, and the truly amazing moments that we share with cinema create a bond with the artwork that we never forget. I will always remember the first time I saw Annie Hall, I watched it on DVD one night, then I just couldn’t stop thinking about it, and couldn’t believe how good it was, so the very next night I watched it again. Still I was unsure how and why this film had such an effect on me, so two days later I watched it again, each time getting more out of it, and each time growing closer to the film, and then the epiphany came, I want to make people feel like Woody Allen just made me feel.