DID YOU READ

Peering into Munoz’s Hitchcockian Thriller, “What You See In The Dark.”

Peering into Munoz’s Hitchcockian Thriller, “What You See In The Dark.” (photo)

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The title of Manuel Munoz’s first novel, “What You See in the Dark,” refers, among other things, to that act of unashamed voyeurism called moviegoing. At the heart of Munoz’s novel, set in Bakersfield, California, in 1959, are the preparations for the making of “Psycho,” which would come out the next year. Munoz understands Hitchcock’s thriller as a series of ruptures presaging the greater ruptures waiting in the wings of American life. Among those ruptures was this: “Psycho” was the first film to suggest that what we saw in the dark, saw us.

The first shot, the camera sneaking into a cheap motel room to catch Janet Leigh and John Gavin in a midday tryst, invites us to be voyeurs. After that, Hitchcock arranged the film so that it’s the moviegoer who’s under scrutiny.

The “cruel eyes” watching you that Anthony Perkins’ Norman Bates speaks of are there in the photos of relatives looking down on Janet Leigh’s Marion Crane as she prepares the getaway with the $40,000 she’s stolen; in Marion’s boss looking enquiringly at her as he catches sight of her hightailing it out of town; the cop interrogating Marion from behind his impenetrably dark aviator glasses; the stuffed birds looking down on her in the parlor of the Bates Motel; Norman watching Marion undress through a peephole; Marion’s dead eyes staring accusingly into the camera after her murder; the surprised and terrified eyes of the detective Arbogast looking into the camera after his face has been slashed; the rotted eyes of Mrs. Bates’ corpse mocking us; those same eyes superimposed on the face of her now completely insane son as he leers obscenely at us after complaining of the eyes he imagines watching him.

The eyes in Munoz’s novel aren’t as cruel, but they’re nearly as prevalent. Mostly they’re the small-town eyes primed to notice every bit of public behavior and use that information to speculate on private behavior. One pair of those eyes belong to the unnamed waitress at the local diner, the character whose voice bookends the novel. She’ll surrender to the clumsy and earnest longings of local boys at the drive-in, but she only has eyes for Dan Watson, the good-looking bartender whose mother, Arlene, is the diner’s senior waitress, and the proprietor of a motel on the outskirts of town.

Elsewhere, the eyes belong to the audience drawn to Los Cuatro Copas, the club where Dan tends bar and where he plays guitar to accompany the occasional singing appearances of Teresa, the Tex-Mex girl he’s started seeing, much to the disappointment of the women in town whose eyes drink him in greedily. They belong to the day laborers who gather in the dawn hours outside Teresa’s apartment, hoping  they’ll find work, catcalling to her when she leaves for her day job in the stock room of the local shoe store. They belong to Cheno, the shy one of their number, who quiets the catcalls, and shyly brings Teresa small presents. The eyes belong to Dan’s mother, Arlene, not quite approving of the attention Dan is showing the Mexican girl, and refusing to see the changes coming into Bakersfield, like the freeway that will leave her motel far from the view of anyone who might stop there for the night. The eyes in the novel also belong to the young waitresses Angela works with, all agog when The Actress (read: Janet Leigh) comes into their diner. (Not knowing that the man lunching with her is her driver, they assume that she’s cheating on the husband they read about in the movie magazines.) And the eyes belong to The Director (read: Alfred Hitchcock), who’s come to town to look at local motels to get ideas for the one that will figure in his film.

Slipping in and out of the consciousness of these characters, Munoz uses what’s essentially the story of a small-town romance gone bad to recreate the feel of America in the fragile moment when things that were whispered, known but not acknowledged, were about to break into the open. 

I said that Munoz understands “Psycho” as a series of ruptures. When Arlene goes to see it, she walks out, shocked — but before Marion’s murder. That’s crucial to Munoz’s understanding that the shock of “Psycho” isn’t just Hitchcock killing off the star 45 minutes into the picture, or the manner of Marion’s death. What shocks Arlene is the sight of Janet Leigh in her brassiere — and, in the moments before Marion is murdered, the first-ever sight of a toilet in an American movie. Here is Munoz describing the moment:

“Arlene rose to her feet and walked with purpose up the aisle, the silhouettes in the dark leaning to see around her. She could hear the pull of the shower curtain and she grimaced at the audacity of people like that Actress, people like that Director, people who reveled in adultery, in bras and cleavage and hairy chests, in theft, in deceit, in madness, in nakedness, in peepholes and lurid spaces. Arlene pushed her way through the velvet-padded door of the screening room to the plush carpet of the lobby, no one out there except the clerk at the concession stand.” [p. 204]

It’s as if, in that passage, a wall has fallen between the luxury that used to denote the movies (the padded door and carpeted lobby) and the starkness of what’s now on screen. This is the moment when the movies cease to be “the movies.” Arlene turns her back on it, but the dislocation “Psycho” presaged is what, in a few years, will define the world she knew.

The way Munoz suggests art bleeding into life has less to do with the echoes of Hitchcock’s film in his novel’s plot — a good employee’s impulsive theft; the murder of a young woman; the mother who smothers her son; the roadside motel slowly dying — than with the irruption of the unforeseen into what seemed like the immutable touchstones of everyday life. No one expects a star to be killed 45 minutes into a movie. And no one expected a young president to be killed, or, as Arlene sees when she watches Petula Clark and Harry Belafonte sing a duet on television, a white woman to rest her hand on a black man’s arm. No one expects businesses that have been solid fixtures of life to decline and die. (Imagine a world without Woolworth’s.) And Arlene, stuck behind the increasingly shabby plate glass of the diner windows is, like Janet Leigh, imprisoned behind what might be a screen of another kind, sentenced to live out the slow winding down of everything that once seemed certain. 

None of this would sting had Munoz not made the changes we see coming to Bakersfield hurt in the way that any interruption of life as it is lived hurts. His prose is precise, his people alive and yet ghostly, as if, like the streets and characters we see in “The Last Picture Show,” the people, the town itself, everything were in rehearsal for its own disappearance. What I keep coming back to in this remarkable first novel is a passage of Teresa watching the light of dawn slowly come through the window of her one-room apartment. The colors have that Sierra Club feeling you always associate with the west, saturated yet delicate. Maybe it’s perverse to remember an image of the rising sun in a novel in which the dark figures so prominently, but it seems the only thing here fixed enough for anyone to count on.

“What You See in the Dark” by Manuel Munoz, Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill, $23.95.

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Hard Out

Comedy From The Closet

Janice and Jeffrey Available Now On IFC's Comedy Crib

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She’s been referred to as “the love child of Amy Sedaris and Tracy Ullman,” and he’s a self-described “Italian who knows how to cook a great spaghetti alla carbonara.” They’re Mollie Merkel and Matteo Lane, prolific indie comedians who blended their robust creative juices to bring us the new Comedy Crib series Janice and Jeffrey. Mollie and Matteo took time to answer our probing questions about their series and themselves. Here’s a taste.

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IFC: How would you describe Janice and Jeffrey to a fancy network executive you met in an elevator?

Mollie & Matteo: Janice and Jeffrey is about a married couple experiencing intimacy issues but who don’t have a clue it’s because they are gay. Their oblivion makes them even more endearing.  Their total lack of awareness provides for a buffet of comedy.

IFC: What’s your origin story? How did you two people meet and how long have you been working together?

Mollie: We met at a dive bar in Wrigley Field Chicago. It was a show called Entertaining Julie… It was a cool variety scene with lots of talented people. I was doing Janice one night and Matteo was doing an impression of Liza Minnelli. We sort of just fell in love with each other’s… ACT! Matteo made the first move and told me how much he loved Janice and I drove home feeling like I just met someone really special.

IFC: How would Janice describe Jeffrey?

Mollie: “He can paint, cook homemade Bolognese, and sing Opera. Not to mention he has a great body. He makes me feel empowered and free. He doesn’t suffocate me with attention so our love has room to breath.”

IFC: How would Jeffrey describe Janice?

Matteo: “Like a Ford. Built to last.”

IFC: Why do you think the world is ready for this series?

Mollie & Matteo: Our current political world is mirroring and reflecting this belief that homosexuality is wrong. So what better time for satire. Everyone is so pro gay and equal rights, which is of course what we want, too. But no one is looking at middle America and people actually in the closet. No one is saying, hey this is really painful and tragic, and sitting with that. Having compassion but providing the desperate relief of laughter…This seemed like the healthiest, best way to “fight” the gay rights “fight”.

IFC: Hummus is hilarious. Why is it so funny?

Mollie: It just seems like something people take really seriously, which is funny to me. I started to see it in a lot of lesbians’ refrigerators at a time. It’s like observing a lesbian in a comfortable shoe. It’s a language we speak. Pass the Hummus. Turn on the Indigo Girls would ya?

See the whole season of Janice and Jeffrey right now on IFC’s Comedy Crib.

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Die Hard Dads

Inspiration For Die Hard Dads

Die Hard is on IFC all Father's Day Long

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Photo Credit: Everett Collection, GIPHY

Yippee ki-yay, everybody! It’s time to celebrate the those most literal of mother-effers: dads!

And just in case the title of this post left anything to the imagination, IFC is giving dads balls-to-the-wall ’80s treatment with a glorious marathon of action trailblazer Die Hard.

There are so many things we could say about Die Hard. We could talk about how it was comedian Bruce Willis’s first foray into action flicks, or Alan Rickman’s big screen debut. But dads don’t give a sh!t about that stuff.

No, dads just want to fantasize that they could be deathproof quip factory John McClane in their own mundane lives. So while you celebrate the fathers in your life, consider how John McClane would respond to these traditional “dad” moments…

Wedding Toasts

Dads always struggle to find the right words of welcome to extend to new family. John McClane, on the other hand, is the master of inclusivity.
Die Hard wedding

Using Public Restrooms

While nine out of ten dads would rather die than use a disgusting public bathroom, McClane isn’t bothered one bit. So long as he can fit a bloody foot in the sink, he’s G2G.
Die Hard restroom

Awkward Dancing

Because every dad needs a signature move.
Die Hard dance

Writing Thank You Notes

It can be hard for dads to express gratitude. Not only can McClane articulate his thanks, he makes it feel personal.
Die Hard thank you

Valentine’s Day

How would John McClane say “I heart you” in a way that ain’t cliche? The image speaks for itself.
Die Hard valentines

Shopping

The only thing most dads hate more than shopping is fielding eleventh-hour phone calls with additional items for the list. But does McClane throw a typical man-tantrum? Nope. He finds the words to express his feelings like a goddam adult.
Die Hard thank you

Last Minute Errands

John McClane knows when a fight isn’t worth fighting.
Die Hard errands

Sneaking Out Of The Office Early

What is this, high school? Make a real exit, dads.
Die Hard office

Think you or your dad could stand to be more like Bruce? Role model fodder abounds in the Die Hard marathon all Father’s Day long on IFC.

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Founding Farters

Know Your Nerd History

Revenge of the Nerds is on IFC.

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Photo Credit: Everett Collection, GIFs via Giphy

That we live in the heyday of nerds is no hot secret. Scientists are celebrities, musicians are robots and late night hosts can recite every word of the Silmarillion. It’s too easy to think that it’s always been this way. But the truth is we owe much to our nerd forebearers who toiled through the jock-filled ’80s so that we might take over the world.

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Our humble beginnings are perhaps best captured in iconic ’80s romp Revenge of the Nerds. Like the founding fathers of our Country, the titular nerds rose above their circumstances to culturally pave the way for every Colbert and deGrasse Tyson that we know and love today.

To make sure you’re in the know about our very important cultural roots, here’s a quick download of the vengeful nerds without whom our shameful stereotypes might never have evolved.

Lewis Skolnick

The George Washington of nerds whose unflappable optimism – even in the face of humiliating self-awareness – basically gave birth to the Geek Pride movement.

Gilbert Lowe

OK, this guy is wet blanket, but an important wet blanket. Think Aaron Burr to Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Hamilton. His glass-mostly-empty attitude is a galvanizing force for Lewis. Who knows if Lewis could have kept up his optimism without Lowe’s Debbie-Downer outlook?

Arnold Poindexter

A music nerd who, after a soft start (inside joke, you’ll get it later), came out of his shell and let his passion lead instead of his anxiety. If you played an instrument (specifically, electric violin), and you were a nerd, this was your patron saint.

Booger

A sex-loving, blunt-smoking, nose-picking guitar hero. If you don’t think he sounds like a classic nerd, you’re absolutely right. And that’s the whole point. Along with Lamar, he simultaneously expanded the definition of nerd and gave pre-existing nerds a twisted sort of cred by association.

Lamar Latrell

Black, gay, and a crazy good breakdancer. In other words, a total groundbreaker. He proved to the world that nerds don’t have a single mold, but are simply outcasts waiting for their moment.

Ogre

Exceedingly stupid, this dumbass was monumental because he (in a sequel) leaves the jocks to become a nerd. Totally unheard of back then. Now all jocks are basically nerds.

Well, there they are. Never forget that we stand on their shoulders.

Revenge of the Nerds is on IFC all month long.

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