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My Night in the HitchCult by D. Og Swan
NOTE: CineSource last attempted to narratively explore the local group known as HitchCult last year, see My Day in the HitchCult.
I APPROACHED SAN FRANCISCO'S
enigmatic HitchCult gingerly. Although I had been informed they were thoughtful film scholars with an impressively earnest interest in promulgating nonpareil theories, rumors of sinister and somewhat perverse activities were daunting.
Having long turned from popular entertainment to the more intellectually-stimulating Cinema Concrete (an outgrowth of the machine-driven Musique Concrete), I must admit to harboring a resentment toward "Sir" Alfred Hitchcock and his lush diversions.
I was also unsure why the sect had asked me to spend a night as their special guest.
Indeed, the edifice in which they're ensconced is hardly inviting. I was refused permission to document it photographically but I was allowed to make a quick pencil sketch. Inexplicably, upon leaving the building the next day, I noticed that it had vanished.
And what a subterranean labyrinth it was! I found myself being led into a well-appointed backroom by a supposed acolyte although her sheik coiffure belied no cultish affectation.
My understanding was that HitchCult events took place in the so-called "Vortex Showroom-Modern Art Gallery" and this darkened environment only added to my increasing befuddlement.
Not to mention that in the back of the room was man locked inside a surprisingly elegant enclosure, from which only his head protruded. Like a character from "Alice in Wonderland", he started jabbering away:
"Hitch's underlying narrative always revolved on manifold dichotomies, mainly based on the need for, along with the concomitant gain and loss of, personal ability and freedom, which can lead to total entrapment and/ or completely losing control".
Attempting to make sense of his Cinema Concrete-like analysis, I recalled that Hitchcock's 1960 horror-slasher project "Psycho" had its protagonist, "Marion Crane", yielding to that "total entrapment" compulsion. Indeed, as she pointlessly absconded with a large sum of money that could only be traced to her, she was rendered incapable of moving at all—in that she was murdered.
The film's denouement featured "Norman Bates", still breathing and with darting eyes, but otherwise physically frozen. The director's follow up, "The Birds" (1963), utilized similar sub-thematics.
No wonder then, in order to reach the closest possible proximity to the experience of a Hitchcockian hero or heroine, the HitchCultians take turns being strapped into this cabinet.
In this manner, restricted to only being able to hear, talk and look (the latter being the most meaningful activity of not only many of his characters but the so-called "Master" himself), they hope to obtain an indication of Hitchcock's own fantasized and fearful psychological state.
Particularly enthusiastic constituents have been known to ask that some kind of opaque bag be placed over their head.
A rather attractive lass, betraying a seemingly Punk Rock-influenced sense of high-fashion, using the apparent pseudonym of "Petunia", encouraged me to try "The Trap", as it is called, myself. I demurred.
I was then apprised of their belief that Hitchcock's most impressive accomplishment could best be found inside two, possibly three films of his American Technicolor period—"To Catch a Thief" (1954), "Marnie" (1964) and to a lesser degree, "Family Plot" (1976).
Petunia communicated this succinctly: "In the penultimate cinematic sense, crime and criminality can be very, very sexy. There are many movies which skirt this truth, as if their makers were not completely aware of their own deep feeling regarding the aphrodisiac properties of crime. Only Hitch enjoyed the confidence to forcefully articulate this, over and over again."
This young lady later casually admitted that certain HitchCult activities, not to mention the secret initiation rites, take inspiration from this entire preoccupation! She then offered what appeared to be a delightful and hygienic snack that I have good reason to suspect was laced with an aphrodisiac, or perhaps a drug such as Lysergic Acid Diethylamide, that encourages lawless behavior.
She then insinuated that I practically should take a blood oath, in agreement to attend the cult's next event-HitchCult 2: AphrodisiaCriminality which is being held on—of all days—Friday the 13th in September. One could hardly overlook the madness in her darkly-rouged eyes.
Having convinced her that untamed equines could not postpone my appearance at this event, I feigned indigestion and begged to be excused. I found my way back through the maze to the door and made my escape.
And let me assure you, Dear Reader, that I am lacking any intention, whatsoever, in making my avowal good.