I recall finding exactly one book on film in the big university bookstore in 1960, a collection of reviews from Newsweek's movie critic. My point is for younger folks who may not know that movies were not considered an art form until the late '60's. Before then, film was deemed a popular entertainment not worthy of serious study. Since Hollywood monopolized the industry and measured success in terms of box office, reducing the medium to little more than a commercial enterprise was not entirely misplaced.
This is the landscape in which a nervy little indie like Blast of Silence tried to find some footing. Much of the early over-praise, I think, came from a growing number of folks who wanted film-making to declare greater independence from the Hollywood behemoth- certainly a praiseworthy desire. And, no doubt, the look and feel of the movie is unlike anything Hollywood turned out at the time. Fifty years later, what impresses me most is how competently the film is made, even considering the shoestring budget. The technical aspects, especially the cinematography, are as good as those found in contemporary studio products. The cross-cutting and editing of the night club sequence also show that Baron and crew could handle complex scenes as well as the many long master shots.
At the same time, I'm curious as to where the film was shown since Universal did release it. The commercial appeal would, it seems, be limited by several important factors--- short length, over-narration, and unrelenting emphasis on alienation. There are no sympathetic characters; even the promising Lori (McCarthy) proves unreliably devious. Then too, the comparison with controversial Italian director Antonioni is not inapt considering the generally despairing mood and theme. Baron's one-man- effort thus appears neither art film nor commercial product, but something in-between, and where such a hybrid would be shown in those days is intriguingly unclear to me.
Despite the rather esoteric character, I think the film has a continuing appeal, maybe not so much as entertainment, but as an object of aesthetic interest. Sure, the plot plus the character of Frank Bono owe a lot to Irving Lerner's similarly themed Murder by Contract of two years before. But the results here carry the whole notion of the outsider to an unusual degree. Even the claustrophobic streets amid towering skyscrapers project a crushing impersonality. At the same time, Bono kills, not only to succeed as a professional killer, but also, -if the narration is to be believed-, to relieve the victim (beneficiary) of the hopeless burden of life. Thus Bono eases into his own death when it comes. At a time when Ike was in the White House and Ozzie and Harriet were on TV, a darker counterpoint is hardly imaginable. As Vietnam would unfortunately demonstrate, it was indeed a film ahead of its time.
This is the landscape in which a nervy little indie like Blast of Silence tried to find some footing. Much of the early over-praise, I think, came from a growing number of folks who wanted film-making to declare greater independence from the Hollywood behemoth- certainly a praiseworthy desire. And, no doubt, the look and feel of the movie is unlike anything Hollywood turned out at the time. Fifty years later, what impresses me most is how competently the film is made, even considering the shoestring budget. The technical aspects, especially the cinematography, are as good as those found in contemporary studio products. The cross-cutting and editing of the night club sequence also show that Baron and crew could handle complex scenes as well as the many long master shots.
At the same time, I'm curious as to where the film was shown since Universal did release it. The commercial appeal would, it seems, be limited by several important factors--- short length, over-narration, and unrelenting emphasis on alienation. There are no sympathetic characters; even the promising Lori (McCarthy) proves unreliably devious. Then too, the comparison with controversial Italian director Antonioni is not inapt considering the generally despairing mood and theme. Baron's one-man- effort thus appears neither art film nor commercial product, but something in-between, and where such a hybrid would be shown in those days is intriguingly unclear to me.
Despite the rather esoteric character, I think the film has a continuing appeal, maybe not so much as entertainment, but as an object of aesthetic interest. Sure, the plot plus the character of Frank Bono owe a lot to Irving Lerner's similarly themed Murder by Contract of two years before. But the results here carry the whole notion of the outsider to an unusual degree. Even the claustrophobic streets amid towering skyscrapers project a crushing impersonality. At the same time, Bono kills, not only to succeed as a professional killer, but also, -if the narration is to be believed-, to relieve the victim (beneficiary) of the hopeless burden of life. Thus Bono eases into his own death when it comes. At a time when Ike was in the White House and Ozzie and Harriet were on TV, a darker counterpoint is hardly imaginable. As Vietnam would unfortunately demonstrate, it was indeed a film ahead of its time.