Diary of a Madman: One Writer Watches 20 Films Over Break

While other Columbians headed for warmer climes, Spec's Patrick Ciccone decided to commit himself to voracious moviegoing. Here is his log:

Thursday March 13: The Party (Girl) Starts Here

Lucky timing means that spring break neatly coincides with the Museum of Modern Art's complete retrospective of great American director Nicholas Ray. First up: his 1958 gangster flick Party Girl, which I've seen before but want to revisit. This bright Technicolor picture starring Cyd Charisse--"the legs of MGM"--threatens to turn into a musical but never does, instead lapsing into lyrically choreographed gangland violence. Likewise, MoMA audiences always seem to be on the verge of violence--odd given that they're mostly composed of film freaks and lots of elderly folks. Tonight, I witness an actual fight break out that involves a peanut bag and several slaps to the head. I emerge unscathed, liking the film much better this time.

Friday March 14: Deuces Wild

Slightly hung-over but still ready for action, I start my first of four consecutive days of Ray double-headers. First up is Run for Cover, which turns out to be a relatively minor color western, redeemed mostly by an abstract chase into decaying Indian ruins. The Lusty Men lives up to the title's promise: it's a dirty tale of rodeo cowboys with the great Robert Mitchum. I ponder sticking around for Johnny Guitar, but I decide to pace myself.

Saturday March 15: Epiphany

I first see Ray's 1951 On Dangerous Ground, a noir which shifts from black-on-black city to white-on-white snow, from grimness to romantic salvation. It is incredibly great, probably one of the greatest films I've ever seen, and I stick around for a return visit to Ray's debut, They Live by Night. Unfortunately, the print is mutilated, but I get to see the movie's first two minutes for the first time, which I'd missed before. Per Jean-Luc Godard, Nicholas Ray is definitely cinema.

Sunday March 16: Up and Running

A Woman's Secret: nothing much of interest in this film beyond the actresses, but next up is my second viewing of In a Lonely Place. The film is through and through a masterpiece, and I never tire of the greatest line in cinema: "I was born when she kissed me. I died when she left me. I lived for a few weeks while she loved me."

Monday March 17: False Start

St. Patrick's Day, and possibly D-Day. No sweat: I am ready for my fourth straight two Ray day. This time, however, the films are definitely lesser works. First up is The Flying Leathernecks, a remarkably straightforward war picture about a squadron of Marine aviators in World War II. As I watch John Wayne argue with Robert Ryan on screen, I wonder if bombs are yet falling. The film has gobs of stock footage of dog fights, sea battles, and bomb runs--wasn't I supposed to be watching this on TV instead of a movie theater? Knock on Any Door is next. Though the restored print is fabulous, the film amounts to little more than a damning of all society. I get a ride uptown in a friend's car; we scan the radio for news of war. Nothing. I head for the Night Café.

Tuesday March 18: No Escape

I wake up early and survey my choices: MoMA is closed, but there is a possible Fassbinder double-header at Film Forum. Instead I head to a noon screening of the rape shocker Irreversible at the Angelika. I stumble into a dark theater and watch the most abstract film I've ever seen in a commercial theater, as well as one of the hardest to stomach. I stagger into the afternoon sun, finding it impossible even to contemplate seeing another movie.

Wednesday March 19: Moviegoer at War

I venture below Canal to catch an early evening screening of Gus van Sant's new work, Gerry, which has migrated to the second-run (yet still full price) confines of the Screening Room. The first few shots are riveting, but the movie quickly becomes tiresome, with some annoying fast-motion shots of clouds. However, Gus sat behind me for the entire seven-and-a-half-hour duration of Bela Tarr's Satantango--the inspiration for Gerry--so he earns my respect. I leave this Dude, Where's My Tarr? and walk up to Film Forum to catch Fassbinder's The American Soldier. The theater is deserted and I hear someone mention war. His comment is cut short by the film, which is grimy and beyond sardonic. I return home and watch war unfold in the phosphor glow of television.

Thursday March 20: 7-10 Split

As I show up at MoMA yet again for a 1:30 screening of Ray's Born to Be Bad, I realize that much of my social life is occurring at the Gramercy Theatre at 23rd and Lex. I run into a friend, who introduces me to one of his friends. Other acquaintances stumble in: don't these people have jobs? The film is quite minor, and the weather greeting me outside is dismal, yet the possibility of a quadruple-header is still enticing. I decide to head home, but am drawn in again for a second viewing of On Dangerous Ground at 8 p.m. It gets even better the second time around. I am almost in tears.

Friday March 21: Fatigue Sets In

I have a host of possibilities: catch Fassbinder's Lili Marleen, catch up with more new releases during the late afternoon, or run to Ray's Hot Blood later in the evening. I bail on the first options, and as I sit watching the horrendous Bridezillas on Metro TV, a thunderstorm moves in. No, I can't miss a film because of lightning, so I don coat and umbrella and go for the elevator. I never hit the button though, and return to my room. I feel like a traitor.

Saturday March 22: Zero Days at Peking

It is spring. I wake up and smell the sweet air. The sun is shining; the sky is blue; why the hell am I going to go to a two-and-a-half-hour epic starring Charlton Heston? Still, I feel guilty about missing Hot Blood, so I dutifully head out for 55 Days at Peking, Ray's last Hollywood film. I am damned (or saved) by subway construction, so I don't have enough time to make all the connections to get to MoMA in time. It is in fact a bitter victory--I get to drink Belgian beer in the Village. Later, my roommates have rented Eraserhead on DVD and I join in. One film on video in two days--shameful!

Sunday March 23: Conclusion?

One last day, two more films. I calculate at current spring break pace I would see over 700 films per year, a scary figure. Yet I am not deterred as yet. Metrocard in hand, I return to MoMA for a final Ray double-bill, Bigger Than Life and Rebel Without a Cause. I am wearing my James Dean red windbreaker. When I leave, I take a glance at next week's schedule. Should I try to see seven Rays in two days?