The Spider and the Fly

Most film critics and movie lovers point to Nashville (1975) as Robert Altman’s masterpiece, although I’ve always been partial to his unique spin on the Western, McCabe and Mrs. Miller (1971). I also admire an earlier film that he directed that was conspicuously absent or missing from his filmography in most of the obituaries on the director after he died. That Cold Day in the Park was made between Countdown (1967) and M*A*S*H* (1970) in 1969 and was based on a novel by Richard Miles. The screenplay was by British screenwriter Gillian Freeman, who had written the novel and film adaptation of The Leather Boys (1964), Sidney J. Furie’s drama about a troubled working class marriage and the husband’s friendship with a closeted gay biker.

Frances (Sandy Dennis) invites a seemingly homeless man (Michael Burns) to her apartment to dry off from the rain in THAT COLD DAY IN THE PARK (1969), directed by Robert Altman.

A gender twist on John Fowles’s The Collector, That Cold Day in the Park stars Sandy Dennis as Frances Austen, a lonely spinster whose apartment overlooks a park in Vancouver. One wet, wintry day she spots a young man on a park bench who appears to be homeless. She invites him into her home to get warm but ends up encouraging him to stay. The fact that the stranger (Michael Burns) pretends to be mute only adds to the ensuing strangeness. His little joke backfires, however, when he arouses Dennis’s long-suppressed sexual feelings and becomes a prisoner in her apartment.

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Autobiography of a Sleepwalker

How does a filmmaker begin to craft an autobiographical film of his or her own life? Many renowned directors have tackled it but usually by using a fictionalized version of themselves under a different name though many of the incidents depicted are true. Francois Truffaut did it with The 400 Blows (1959) as did George Lucas with American Graffitti (1973) and Sam Fuller in The Big Red One (1980). Even more recently Steven Spielberg re-imagined his childhood and teenage years in The Fabelmans (2022). But no one has ever made a more personal and dreamlike meditation on their roots than what Guy Maddin accomplishes with My Winnipeg (2007), which is set in the city where the Canadian director was born and resided for much of his life. Narrated by Maddin in a voice that sounds half asleep, half awake, our somnambulistic guide creates his own mythology about himself, his family and his home town that is utterly unique. Plus, his narrator approach is totally fitting for a city that allegedly has more sleepwalkers among its residents than any other major city.

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