I
have a long-standing fixation with the grey areas where horror and mainstream culture overlap and sometimes influence each other.
My editors have been generally supportive of this pursuit, whether in my own column (River’s Edge, RM#82), a Classic Cut (Straw Dogs, RM#91) or even Audio Drome (Shostakovich’s Fourteenth Symphony, RM#58). Hence, Dave Alexander – whose epic man-love for Clint Eastwood movies defies quantifying – needed little convincing when I told him I planned on devoting a column to Scor- pio (Andrew Robinson), the sadistic serial killer in the original Dirty Harry (1971). My thesis: During the 31 years that lapsed be-
tween Norman Bates (Anthony Perkins in Psycho, 1960) and Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins in The Silence of the Lambs, 1991), Scorpio was the most iconic – and terrifying – fictitious serial killer in American cinema. His murder spree is the stuff of classic ’70s movie villainy, but his combination of cowardice and a penchant for petty whining make him all the more loathsome. Certainly, there’s a cold, cynical darkness at the core of this particular film, and as violent as the subsequent entries in the Dirty Harry series frequently were, the original still stands apart for gazing into the post-’60s abyss, when the dismal failure of flaky Woodstock Nation philosophy was just beginning to hit home. And at the centre of it all, Scorpio: a leering, jibbering, lethal caricature (in the best sense) of everything that had gone wrong. Scorpio was a collaborative creation: written by
Harry and Rita Fink, with uncredited contributions from Dean Riesner, Jo Heims and the mighty John Milius (Apocalypse Now), along with director Don Siegel (a long-time Eastwood collaborator who also helmed 1956’s Invasion of the Body Snatch- ers) and, of course, the über-talented Robinson himself. To this end, my plan was to line up an in- terview with Robinson, best known to horror fans for his portrayal of Larry in Hellraiser (1987); I would delve into his creative process, unearthing insights, trivia and quotable quotes that Rue
RM50
Morgue readers would bandy about for years to come. Cool idea, huh? I thought so when I first set
out to write this column two-and-a-half fucking years ago. That’s how long I’ve spent unsuc- cessfully attempting to schedule an audience with this guy. While Robinson is tremendously re- spected in the thespian community, he’s hardly A-list, and to be frank, I’ve had considerably less trouble securing interviews with a number of much bigger names. I never anticipated that the ostensibly simple process of booking a quick phoner would turn into my own personal Roger & Me. Worst of all, since I was only in contact with his management, I’ll probably never know whether Robinson himself was ducking me, if his people thought that Rue Morgue was beneath his dignity, or both. One mysterious excuse they gave on several occasions was that he now spends most of his time teaching. My last email exchange with his wranglers ended thusly: “Andy has been very difficult to reach this fall as he is teaching a class at USC.” Ah, yes, I’ve heard about USC. No phone or internet access on the entire campus. Still, I endeavour to deliver the goods, and if I
must resort to dishonesty, manipulation and un- professionalism, well, at least I’ve done my job. So here are some quick excerpts from the inter-
view that never happened. The quotes are real; my questions, alas, remain purely theoretical.
Prior to Dirty Harry, you had been a stage actor
exclusively. What effect did that breakout role have on your career in film? Robinson (as quoted on
imdb.com): Once you get
associated with a character as defining and as strong as the Scorpio Killer, people don’t want to hire you for the good guy. I was so identified with that one particular “heavy” because it was the first of its kind.
Between the script, Siegel’s direction and your
own interpretation of the character, what did you take away from that experience? Robinson (from the Dirty Harry DVD extras): It
opened my eyes to what film was about. Probably the most important and the most complete collab- oration I’ve ever had as an actor in film.
Feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk? Robinson: (No comment.)
And there you have it. Or rather, there you don’t.
Sometimes the hero doesn’t get the girl; Captain Ahab didn’t get Moby Dick either, at least not to his satisfaction. Now stop calling me Ishmael and get the hell out of my basement.
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