That Cold Day in the Park

That Cold Day in the Park is a fascinating early work from influential New Hollywood director Robert Altman. Made in 1969, directly before his breakout hit M*A*S*H, the film sees wealthy 30-something Frances (Sandy Dennis) take in an apparently mute 19-year-old boy (Michael Burns) who she finds sat slumped on a park bench in the pouring rain. Frances initially seems like a lonely but sympathetic spinster – her mother is recently departed and she’s inherited comfortable living quarters and a social circle (and suitor) about 40 years her senior. However, she swiftly develops an unhealthy fixation on the boy – pitched somewhere between maternal and lustful – to the point where she nails the windows shut in an attempt to stop him leaving.

What gradually unfurls is a film of slow-burn deviancy where the tension gently mounts towards an unexpectedly demented denouement involving a kitchen knife and a befuddled prostitute. There’s some bagginess around the middle third but there’s much to enjoy once it becomes clear that the film is to be taken as a psychosexual horror piece rather than a nuanced character study.

Those viewers well versed in the work of Robert Altman will find plenty that suggests where he would go stylistically; the film is full of the drifting long shots, slow zooms, and overlapping dialogue that would help to characterise his later masterpieces. Come for the unhurried intrigue and atmosphere – just don’t expect realistic psychological shading.

Extras

Included is a booklet with new writing and a 20-minute conversation in which critic David Thompson explores the making of the film and its place in Altman’s career. Thompson, who, with Altman on Altman, quite literally wrote the book on the director, is illuminating in his comments, but it’s hard not to wish for a few more extras on a boutique release such as this.