garyrc
Stunt Coordinator
- Joined
- Oct 7, 2009
- Messages
- 73
- Real Name
- gary
[Quotes approximate -- it was 54 years ago!]
We saw Topaz in 1969 with Hitchcock present, in a sneak at the Saint Francis in San Francisco. We talked with his wife, Alma, while Hitchcock hid in the theater manager's office (didn't like crowds, you know!). They had come up to observe audience reaction -- from the back, in the dark -- rather than make a public appearance. We didn't know they were there until, after the screening, we spotted Alma in the lobby, leaning against a wall a bit awkwardly, and carrying a big purse and a basket on what would now be called a (woven) sling.
Apparently, our group was the only one to recognize her. "Are you Alma Reville Hitchcock?" "Guilty." She seemed surprised and pleased when we acknowledged her writing on Hitchcock films up through about the 1950s. "Well, we still chew them over endlessly, you know -- the new ones, I mean -- the scripts, the films."
When Hitchcock peeked out of the office, and saw only about 7 or 8 of us left, he willingly came out. He commented that he was concerned about the ending. He asked us what we thought of the film, and we cited the strong beginning, the warm atmosphere in Cuba, the clear ambivalence on the characters faces etc., and lobbied (in the lobby!) for a stereo print to be released because the very dynamic and thrilling (stereo) sound that night worked so well with, fused so well with, the images -- We often got lifeless mono/optical, even though virtually all of the Bay Area theaters were equipped for stereo. Our friend Jerry told him that during the first scene (massed troops marching in Red Square) he thought, "We'll never hear it this way again." Hitch said he would "put in a word" but "Those who pay for the films ... " He was aware we were not overwhelmed by the film. "Now that you've accentuated the positive, what should I be out of sorts about?" We admitted it did not seem to have the tautness it could have had, and that it seemed to be more of a Leon Uris vehicle than a Hitchcock one. "Yes, well -- too many cooks. We'll go home and strain the broth." People hung around and chatted with him about his other films for a while, then his limo pulled up in front. This was on Market Street, about 11:30, on a hot night. When he was seated in the back of the limo, he rolled down the window waved tentatively at us, then as the car began to pull out, along came three well stoned hippies, in full beaded and feathered regalia. One of them went into a Mad magazine type freak/shock reaction -- you know, mouth open, forehead pulled back, eyes wide -- pointed at the car, panning with his finger to follow its slow progress away from the curb, and said, without quite believing it, "Alfred Hitchcock ?" Hitch leaned out of the window, made eye contact, grinned his broad bad boy grin, extended his arm with his fingers making a " V " -- and said in his slow drawn out voice, stretching out the word about as far as it could go, "Peace."
We saw Topaz in 1969 with Hitchcock present, in a sneak at the Saint Francis in San Francisco. We talked with his wife, Alma, while Hitchcock hid in the theater manager's office (didn't like crowds, you know!). They had come up to observe audience reaction -- from the back, in the dark -- rather than make a public appearance. We didn't know they were there until, after the screening, we spotted Alma in the lobby, leaning against a wall a bit awkwardly, and carrying a big purse and a basket on what would now be called a (woven) sling.
Apparently, our group was the only one to recognize her. "Are you Alma Reville Hitchcock?" "Guilty." She seemed surprised and pleased when we acknowledged her writing on Hitchcock films up through about the 1950s. "Well, we still chew them over endlessly, you know -- the new ones, I mean -- the scripts, the films."
When Hitchcock peeked out of the office, and saw only about 7 or 8 of us left, he willingly came out. He commented that he was concerned about the ending. He asked us what we thought of the film, and we cited the strong beginning, the warm atmosphere in Cuba, the clear ambivalence on the characters faces etc., and lobbied (in the lobby!) for a stereo print to be released because the very dynamic and thrilling (stereo) sound that night worked so well with, fused so well with, the images -- We often got lifeless mono/optical, even though virtually all of the Bay Area theaters were equipped for stereo. Our friend Jerry told him that during the first scene (massed troops marching in Red Square) he thought, "We'll never hear it this way again." Hitch said he would "put in a word" but "Those who pay for the films ... " He was aware we were not overwhelmed by the film. "Now that you've accentuated the positive, what should I be out of sorts about?" We admitted it did not seem to have the tautness it could have had, and that it seemed to be more of a Leon Uris vehicle than a Hitchcock one. "Yes, well -- too many cooks. We'll go home and strain the broth." People hung around and chatted with him about his other films for a while, then his limo pulled up in front. This was on Market Street, about 11:30, on a hot night. When he was seated in the back of the limo, he rolled down the window waved tentatively at us, then as the car began to pull out, along came three well stoned hippies, in full beaded and feathered regalia. One of them went into a Mad magazine type freak/shock reaction -- you know, mouth open, forehead pulled back, eyes wide -- pointed at the car, panning with his finger to follow its slow progress away from the curb, and said, without quite believing it, "Alfred Hitchcock ?" Hitch leaned out of the window, made eye contact, grinned his broad bad boy grin, extended his arm with his fingers making a " V " -- and said in his slow drawn out voice, stretching out the word about as far as it could go, "Peace."
