My outdoor, backyard cinema got off to a late start this summer due to some damage that had to be repaired on one of the posts that holds up the perforated cinema screen. It was knocked down last year when a strong wind blew against it so hard that that it bent the metal for one of the supporting poles. This happened during a screening and almost took out one of my guests (thankfully, he had a sense of humor about the whole thing and didn’t sue me for his spilled beer.)

Every year, the screen is a bit of a pain to set up, it requires all the springs be put in the right place along the metal frame-work, which is further steadied by guide-wires that are then staked to the ground. So, lazy man that I am, I like to set up the screen and leave it hanging all summer long and then take it back down sometime in September. The drawback is that any time there’s a windy night (like tonight), I walk around my house as if on eggshells, alert to every strong gust, taking many repeated breaks to visit the backyard to see if it’s still there. In the time it’s taken me to write this paragraph I have gone back to check on the screen nine times. Ups… there was another strong blast. Make that an even ten.

Last weekend we gave the whole setup – with a new rod in place to support the damaged pole, and new guide wires – a trial run with a 16mm screening of Johnny Guitar (1954, directed by Nicholas Ray). I sent out an email to several friends and neighbors, many of these being only casual cinema fans. I keep the sell-line simple. in this case: “A cult-classic western directed by Nicholas Ray (Rebel Without a Cause), in color, and starring Joan Crawford and Sterling Hayden. The women wear the pants in this film, and Crawford plays a casino owner who is suspected of robbing a stage-coach.”

The film was shot in Trucolor, but it was fortuitous that I didn’t brag about that element as the print had gone a bit pink. But, on the bright side (literally), we upgraded the projector from a regular halogen-bulb equipped Eiki projector to a sturdier Xenon outfitted Elmo projector – so the image was much brighter and stronger than in seasons past. My greatest pleasure, however, had less to do with the visuals and more to do with the dialogue, especially in the first reel – it’s full of gems:

Johnny: There’s only two things in this world that a ‘real man’ needs: a cup of coffee and a good smoke.

Vienna: You haven’t changed at all, Johnny.
Johnny: What made you think I had?
Vienna: In five years, a person should learn something.
Johnny: Five years ago, I met you in a saloon; now I find you in one. I don’t see much change.
Vienna: Except I *own* this one.

Dancin’ Kid: Bart, you don’t drink, you don’t smoke, you’re mean to horses. What do you like?
Bart: Me! I like me! And I’m takin’ good care of me!

****

(I have now checked on the screen 18 times. It’s still there. But the storm clouds are only getting darker and my cats are acting as if though it’s the end of the world. But I digress. Back to Johnny Guitar…)

****

Small wonder that Phil Hardy refers to this film, in his Overlook Film Encyclopedia, as: “Lyrical, baroque and giddy in a way few Westerns are, Johnny Guitar is a masterpiece. (Philip) Yordan’s trance-like dialogue, Hayden and, in particular, Crawford’s mannered performances (as they endlessly torment each other, testing their loves), (Harry) Stradling’s garish, almost surreal, Trucolor lighting and James Sullivan’s wonderful sets are all contributing factors but it’s Ray’s grandiose, neurotic direction that brings these elements to life and makes the film so powerful.”

Crawford was certainly great and commanding in the film. The fact that her nemesis was also one heck of an alpha-female with a preternatural ability to command her posse of men made this a truly welcome and unusual viewing experience. If Bill Clinton’s favorite film was High Noon, I can’t help but wonder if Hillary Clinton might have put Johnny Guitar at the top of her list. If she hasn’t, she should.

And Sterling Hayden! Most of my friends know him, and quote him (especially on the subject of “precious bodily fluids”), from his role as Brig. General Jack D. Ripper in Stanley Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964). But, here, he gets some great lines too. I remember reading an article about him in Variety three years ago that talked about how he fled Hollywood to go off on a drunken sailing expedition to Tahiti back in January of 1959. Looking it up now I find a memorable excerpt:

The ex-marine hired a six-man crew for the journey, leaving in his wake creditors, lawyers and Warner Bros. executives who expected him to star in A Summer Place. Hayden took with him his four children, even though he was forbidden from doing so by court order as part of a divorce custody battle.

By the time he got to Tahiti he was broke, and dreams of becoming a Kon Tiki man never materialized…

Up until his death in 1986, Hayden still held much of the industry in scorn, although he never really escaped its grasp. His description of his own films could justly apply to many a modern tentpole: “Bastards, most of the, conceived in contempt of life and spewn onto screens across the world with noxious ballyhoo; saying nothing, contemptuous of the truth, sullen, lecherous.”

(Excerpts from VLife, Dec/Jan 2005, “Wanderlust,” by Preston Neal Jones)

And speaking of spewing things across the screen. I’ve now checked mine 23 times since I started writing this. Despite the storm and wind, it holds. But for how much longer? Give it one more weekend, Lord, so that I can spew across it The Narrow Margin (1952). Anyone visiting Boulder this Friday is welcome to attend (but only if the screen still stands).