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5 of 5 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
A revelatory look at *The Manchurian Candidate* -- and the world it came out of, December 1, 2006
Anyone intrigued by *The Manchurian Candidate* (1962) deserves to check out this book, which delves deep into the film's artistry and (I mean this in the best sense) its insanity too.
For those who simply love the film -- for its inventive visual sense, for its mix of camp and horror, for its witty dialogue, for its cockamamie yet gripping plot -- there's a lot to love in this book. There's all the newly unearthed backstory to the making of the film -- for instance, how Frank Sinatra threw himself into this Cold War satire of McCarthyism just after he'd felt the chill of the blacklist himself (he'd hired Hollywood Ten screenwriter Albert Maltz to adapt a novel about a US soldier executed for desertion, then been forced to drop Maltz and the project) or how Sinatra personally got the thumb's-up from JFK in order to convince United Artists executives that the film wasn't too anti-Soviet. And there's a lot of new analysis of the film itself too: the authors help solve one of the great mysteries of the film -- what the hell is the Rosie character doing in the train, and why does she fall for Frank Sinatra's Major Marco? -- by demonstrating, convincingly, that the film is patently misquoting from earlier train courtship scenes by Hitchcock (*Strangers on a Train*, *North by Northwest*), where men square off with an enigmatically curious fellow passenger. Dreaming about women's garden parties night after night, Major Marco has become a very strange kind of man -- and Rosie is there to draw out the strangeness.
Yet this is more than just a great book about a great film. It's also a wonderful primer on how the Cold War shot through American culture -- how Cold War ideas were the foundation even for films, say, made by anti-McCarthy directors like John Frankenheimer. It gets under the skin of the movie, you might say. So there's not only a fine discussion of how the film satirizes McCarthyism (which you'd expect), but also an illuminating discussion of how the film understands the threat and allure of Asian culture, leveraging Orientalist cliches throughout. I'd never really thought through the oddness of the film's opening scene, which is set in a Korean brothel, until I read this book. (Which brings up another interesting twist from the film's backstory: Khigh Dhiegh, who plays the viciously madcap Dr. Lo, was not Asian or Asian-American. Originally named Kenneth Dickerson, he was born to an Anglo-Eyptian-Sudanese family in New Jersey. That's a nice factoid but not too unexpected -- Hollywood in that period rarely employed Asian or Asian-American actors, even for Asian roles. More amazing is that Dhiegh, who played the Asian villian in countless roles, took up another Asian self in his offstage life: he founded a Taoist institute in North Hollywood and, until his death in 1991, conducted seminars on the I Ching and Eastern ways of knowing.)
A word to the wise: as the above paragraph might suggest, this is not your typical fan-driven book. It's juicy but also thoughtful and thought-provoking, raising a lot of questions about how the Cold War continues to hang over our contemporary moment. As someone who teaches the Cold War to undergraduates at the college level, I can't wait to assign it so that they can appreciate the unique genius of the film, and so that they might ask themselves, along with Raymond Shaw in the film, "what they've been built to do".
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