78/52 (2017)

Director: Alexandre O. Philippe

Cast: Marli Renfro, Alfred Hitchcok, Tere Carrubba, Alan Barnette

Have I Seen It Before: Probably not, and yet I feel like I’ve seen more than enough fawning retrospectives of Psycho (1960)—to say nothing of docudramas like Hitchcock (2012) or The Girl (2012)—that I can’t say so with complete certainty.

Did I Like It: That previous statement wound tend to think I have a bit of a withering view of the film, but I can say there will probably be no further deep dives on the shower scene of Psycho. This has done the job. A fawning fan documentary—that still manages to poke holes in both Anthony Perkins’ ADR reading and wig choices—we do spend more than a little bit of time watching people of varying levels of fame watching the scene.

The film is far stronger when it is interviewing Renfro—when you think you’re seeing parts of Janet Leigh that you’re not supposed to be seeing, you’re actually seeing Renfro—and marveling at her indelible impact on cinema and subsequent lack of fame.

It also manages to delight when it confronts the complete unraveling of the magic contained in Hitchcock’s classic, namely in trying to recreate the death of Marion Crane in Gus van Sant’s Psycho (1998). That later film has the dubious reputation of being a shot-for-shot remake of the original, but there’s a decent runner in here where we learn that a 1:1 transcription of the shower scene didn’t work in color, or with far more of Anne Heche than we could have ever hoped to see of Leigh or Renfro. The thread at the fine sweater already pulled, the scene had to be re-made to far diminishing returns. I didn’t know that. I usually judge a documentary by its ability to teach me something, and it is difficult not to view a documentary kindly when it teaches me something I didn’t know about something I thought I knew quite well.

You Can Call Me Bill (2023)

Director: Alexandre O. Phillippe

Cast: William Shatner

Have I Seen It Before: No.

Did I Like It: But I went into the thing pretty sure that it didn’t have anything new to say about the man who once played James T. Kirk. That may not be a fair criticism from or for a general audience, but we’ve got to remember that somewhere out there is a home video footage of me in the 90s unwrapping one of Shatner’s numerous ghostwritten memoirs and you could have sworn the book played Mario, for the reaction it got out of me*.

There’s also the weird effects that The Holodeck is Broken has had on me in these last few years. Well into my 30s, I would have said Shatner—even with all his well-documented prickliness—was one of the people I most admired. Something about watching Star Trek: The Original Series in recent years has made both the man and the inevitable first line of his obituary a little less special than it once was.

So what can this movie do for me, and what can it do for you?

For one thing, it isn’t only a rehash of his career highlights. It isn’t only a meditation on the. Cadence. We've. Allcometoknowsowell.

It’s a conversation with a man who’s presence has been large than life, but realizes that by any rationale measure his life is coming to an end. It is rambling, sure. One gets the sense that this was like sitting in the production offices while he tried to articulate what he wanted Star Trek V: The Final Frontier (1989) to actually be about. There are moments that seem as if self-awareness was not something for which he never felt much need.

But it was surprising, and it is heartfelt, far more so than any work of autobiography Shatner has ever attempted before. On that front alone, it is certainly worth a look.

*It was Star Trek Movie Memories, and regardless of whether or not Shatner ever even read the book, or if an ounce of it approaches even minimal accuracy, I still really like that book.