George Herman Hitchcock project, Chapter 4A: Rich and Strange

Introduction

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2A  and  2B

Chapter 3A  and  3B


RUTH
(1918)

(Source)

1917 had ended on a sour note for Ruth and the Red Sox.  They'd finished far behind the White Sox in the final standings.  Their team hitting and baserunning were below league average.  Their pitching remained their strength, but was also bested by Chicago.

Then, just as the season was closing up, the draft for The Great War took away more than half of their roster (as a married man, Ruth was not called up).  Owner Harry Frazee saw this as an opportunity to rebuild, cheaply, and bought up players from teams that were struggling with their financials.  Because the Sox lost their manager, Jack Barry, to the service, Frazee hired big Ed Barrow to manage the team on the field and the Sox's accounting!  Barrow's knowledge of the game was limited but he was a serious disciplinarian.  Barrow and The Babe butted heads immediately.

Ruth spent the entire offseason begging Barrow to let him play the field.  First base, outfield, anything.  The spots were open due to the departed players and Bambino just wanted to bat more often.  During exhibition games, Ruth was once again making baseballs vanish far beyond the field of play.  But Barrow wouldn't budge; Ruth was to pitch.

But since Barrow's strategic acumen was at a minimum, he put Harry Hooper (outfielder and, at the time, the team's best player) in charge of the on-field game.  Hooper knew Ruth's power and he knew it's draw to the fans.  So Hooper appealed to Barrow's financial side (since Barrow owned a share of the team) -- the more at bats for Babe, the more ticket-buying fans fill the seats.  In May, Barrow gave in.

On May 4th, Ruth homered (after calling his shot to the umpire).  The next game, May 6th, he played the outfield and hit a home run.  May 7th, he took a Walter Johnson pitch out of National Park and into a neighbor's yard.  On May 8th, he went 5 for 5.

Two weeks later Ruth had caught the strain of influenza that would kill 600,000 Americans.  But not Ruth.  He would return to baseball two weeks later and homer in four straight games.  He'd hit seven home runs in the span of one month.  Had he hit seven for the entire season, that would have been second best in the league.

In July, more players were called up to fight.  Barrow put Ruth back in to pitch again.  But Ruth had fallen too deeply in love with hitting.  He was already at 11 home runs with only half of the season done, the American League record was 16.  He continued to battle in out with Barrow for the rest of the season.  In July he hit five triples and four doubles, but no home runs.  In August he agreed to return to his pitching-only duties and didn't hit a single home run after than.

The Sox won the pennant, then beat the Cubs 4-2 in the World Series.  Ruth had two spectacular starts, including a six-hit shutout in the opener.

For the regular season, Ruth had tied for the major league lead in home runs, despite not playing a quarter of the games.  He was also first in the AL in Slugging Percentage (SLG), Production (OPS), and extra base hits.  He was also second in OBP, eighth in batting average, second in doubles, fifth in triples, and first in strikeouts (the batting kind, not the pitching kind).

As a pitcher, he completed 18 of his 19 starts.  He was 9th in ERA.  He had brought his walks down, so he finished second to Johnson in baserunners per 9 innings.  Had he been a full time pitcher he would have likely continued his southpaw statistical dominance, but no had ever multitasked to this level in major league baseball.  And no one would ever do it again.

The Red Sox were not fools, Ruth was going to get his appropriate time at the plate next season, but only if the World War did not stop the sport entirely.


Sources:
Creamer, Robert. Babe: The Legend Comes to Life. Simon & Schuster, New York. 1974.
Jenkinson, Bill. Baseball's Ultimate Power: Ranking the All-Time Greatest Distance Home Run Hitters. Lyons Press. 2010.
Jenkinson, Bill. The Year Babe Ruth Hit 104 Home Runs: Recrowning Baseball's Greatest Slugger. Carrol & Graf. 2007.
Montville, Leigh. The Big Bam: The Life and Times of Babe Ruth. Broadway Books, New York. 2006.

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HITCHCOCK
(1931-1935)

Thanks to continuing box office success and a good relationship with British International Pictures, Alfred Hitchcock remained an in demand director.  In 1931, he directed The Skin Game, Rich and Strange, and Mary (the German version of Murder!).  This would be the last time three of his films were released in one year.  From 1932 to 1935 he directed Number Seventeen, Waltzes from Vienna (unavailable on home video), The Man Who Knew Too Much, and The 39 Steps.  The style and quality of these films varied greatly as he was still being hired to adapt purchased properties, and rarely had an opportunity to pursue ideas of his own.

The Skin Game (1931)

Like previous pictures of lower quality (see: Juno and the Paycock, or actually don't see it), Hitchcock was hired to adapt a popular play into a film.  This time it was John Galsworthy's The Skin Game.  Hitchcock didn't even want to talk about this film during his interviews with Francois Truffaut.  Donald Spoto, the great Hitchcock expert who always seems to find something positive in every Hitch film, avoids this one almost entirely.  For good reason.

It's boring.  Stuck-at-the-DMV boring.  It's a pity since Hitchcock viewed being boring as THE directorial deadly sin.  And it's also a shame because it has such a great title:  The Skin Game.  Sounds like a Grand Guignol horror story.  Or a lurid vintage porn film with white slavers and opium dens.  But it's not.

Oh dear. How do I get out of this film? (Source)

It's a land battle between the Old Rich and the New Rich.  This feud between the parents causes larger problems for their children until ultimately one of their daughters commits suicide.

There are themes of modern versus baroque, money versus sentiment, city versus country, industry versus agriculture.  But these are really more like settings than themes.  It's mostly about how the sins of the parents destroy their children.  But with cardboard spoiled characters and a complete absence of visual sense.

It's not schadenfreude that makes me enjoy watching Hitchcock struggle.  Instead, I feel more secure as an artist to witness struggles by the greats, seeing them stumble and labor on their way to an eventual ascent.

Aside from some interesting but ultimately unmotivated POV shots in an auction scene and some ample décolletage bearing in another sequence, The Skin Game flounders as cinema.  Adapting one medium for another is difficult, as even Hitchcock would attest.

---

Rich and Strange (1931)

(copyright Studio Canal)

Rich and Strange is indeed rich and strange.  It bubbles over with oddity, momentum, and (dare I say) zaniness.  It's an epic romantic comedy, that is anything but romantic.  There really isn't anything else like it in Sir Alfred's oeuvre.

Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
     (The Tempest, Act 1, Scene 2)

Fred and Emily are a middle class married couple who are dissatisfied with their lives.  Then they receive a big inheritance with the money being earmarked only for their travels.  So they happily set off on a voyage around the world.  On the voyage they fall out of love with each other, and into love with others; she with a military man and he with a fake princess.  Their cruise ship sinks while they sleep and in their escape they are left alone, until Chinese pirates salvage the ship and take them to safety.  They return to their old life and have to figure out how to deal with each other on normal terms.

What makes this unlike any other "romantic" comedy are the details.  Two onscreen deaths, including one graphic drowning.  A spectacularly gruesome dead cat joke.  And the fact that Fred and Emily don't just cutely fall for others outside their marriage.  They actively have sex with them on the same cruise ship.  It suddenly puts the film in grown-up territory that contemporary comedies dare not tread.  And the alacrity with which this happens (especially with Fred and the princess) makes one question if the marriage should continue.  What would normally be light marital quibbling in the final scene is underscored by their sexual choices and the deaths they have seen.  That which is daffy on the surface is actually quite complicated underneath.

(copyright Studio Canal)

And Hitchcock's style, so repressed in the previous film, EXPLODES out of the gate in this one.  A four-minute silent opening, with shadows painted Expressionistically on the walls.  Dozens of silent-film-style title cards pop up throughout, even once the dialogue starts.  There's a dizzying Parisian montage with rapid split-second cuts reminiscent of Vertov and Eisenstein.  And jump cuts!  Then there are fractured unfinished scenes that are tied together with further montage.

Hitch suddenly has film-school brazenness tied to actual skill, with visuals wrapping sophisticated themes.  At moments he seems to be trying to break through to a new style of filmmaking.  It's funny and weird and exciting and...

The film was a flop at the box office.

Unlike The Skin Game, Rich and Strange wasn't an adaptation (despite what Wikipedia says).  The idea was pitched to Hitch and his wife, Alma.  They then did the research and developed it on their own.  Thus it feels so much more personal than the previous film, or most of his other cinema up to that point.

Though it failed publicly, it's an artistic victory for Hitchcock.  He gets to use one of his favorite themes -- people yearning for a more exciting life and then regret when they get it -- and packages it with cinematic excitement.  Could he keep this up in his next film?

---

Number Seventeen (1932)

No.  A pattern of "one for me, one for them" begins to emerge, as Hitch was hired to adapt ...wait for it... a popular stage play, Number Seventeen.

Ugh.  Even Hitch called it, "A disaster!" (Truffaut 81)  I have to say that it's the worst Hitchcock film I've seen so far.  It's right up there with The Farmer's Wife.  I have so many notes on this.  I'll list only some since they start getting repetitive:

• Acting is somehow both broad and stiff.  (Insert joke here.)
• Amateur porn level of line delivery.
• Written by Ed Wood's twelve year old handicapped son
• Terrible pacing fueled by strange editing.  Did someone just keep falling on the editing flatbed?
• Characters keep showing up, each less interesting than the last
• Characters abandoned when they're no longer of use to the writer?
• Nominee for worst fight scene in cinema?
• Every time there's a twist, it gets announced again in the dialogue
• Every twist stupider than the last
• The eyelines don't match
• Quick cutting and weird camera tricks, none of which are motivated
• The town bus travels as fast as an out of control train?
• Miniature work is more primitive than Melies' Trip to the Moon
• Stunts are urine-inducingly funny. Maybe I should watch this in the bathroom.

You get the point.  I was going to write about how this would fit right into the works of Ed Wood and piss on it further.

But then I read a quote by Hitchcock about this time in his life.  I'd never seen him get this personal.  I'm still thinking about it:

In fact, at this time my reputation wasn't very good, but luckily I was unaware of this......I don't ever remember saying to myself, "You're finished; your career is at its lowest ebb." And yet outwardly, to other people, I believe it was......There was no careful analysis of what I was doing. Since those days I've learned to be very self-critical, to step back and take a second look. And never to embark on a project unless there's an inner feeling of comfort about it, a conviction that something good will come of it.
(Truffaut 85)

So, what would come of it?  We'll see in Part B.

TO BE CONTINUED...


Sources:
Spoto, Donald. The Art Of Alfred Hitchcock. Anchor Books, New York. 1992.
Truffaut, Francois. Hitchcock. Simon & Schuster, Paris. 1984.

LIQUOR ALERT! Destination: Ralph's

Ralphs has the most outrageous sale on liquor and wine in the history of Ralphs.  I'm only telling you this because I've relieved them of all their whisky.  All of it.

One may think "30%? What's the big deal?"  But it is 30% off their sale prices.  And everything is on sale.  Thus:

Tanqueray Rangpur is 44% off.

Belvedere is 56% off.

Jamesons is 39% off.

Johnnie Walker Black is 44% off.

Johnnie Walker Green is 40% off (About $39. You will not find it cheaper in CA.)

Macallan 12 year is 36% off ($35. Again, cheapest in the state)

Macallan 18 year is 35% off ($119.  Same.)

Standing in the liquor aisle, I stopped seeing shapes and colors.  After shopping, I sat in my car staring into space, feeling like I'd just robbed the place.  I THINK this runs until the 24th.

We're going to need a bigger condo.

Dear Kristen, um, there may be some hyperbole hidden above.  I did exercise constraint, but don't look in the garage storage space.

JUST KIDDING!

Or am I?

Things we have learned about our condo this week

What the hell is wrong now?

The ceiling may rattle like a jackhammer between midnight and 3am.  How could that be?  Three HVAC (heating, venting, airconditioning) units sit on the roof directly above our bedroom.  One of those three units is out of whack, like an unbalanced washing machine.  It violently shakes every couple of minutes once activated, thusly thumping the cruddy roof above our tired heads.  It does not belong to us, though it sits directly on top of our property.

Thus I have had to employ neighbor conflict resolution (NCR).  NCR is lovely experience that shifts between F*****G RAGE and calm discussion at any moment.

We must begin Yenta Management because any bit of NCR gets gossiped around the entire building in less than a day.  And nothing undoes a successful bit of NCR like a yenta flapping her gums out of turn.

There are battle lines drawn between neighbors.  Holy crap.

This is our apartment. (Source)

Bull. (Source)

Yay, rain!  Boo, bird slamming into our balcony door.

There is no way to drive out the termites.  According to everyone here, the building has been bug bombed, tented, microwave-treated, and orange-oiled.  The termites are here to stay.  I will try to work out a truce with them too.

Also, sparks and smoke may shoot out of an outlet.  Twice.  Yeah, that's pretty cool.  Electrician took care of that problem.  Then two days later we discovered that:

Sparks and smoke may shoot out of a light switch.  Shocking, I tell you!  Hella safe.

Some of the windows originally installed don't actually fit the space cut for the windows.  That may give you an hint about how this building was built.  That discovery was much cooler than the sloppy gap that was punched in the ceiling to install the old smoke detector.

Our sense of humor about this place is quickly dissipating.  The flow of disappointment has rarely ebbed since Day One when I unlocked the front door to find a termite swarm 50-strong bouncing around our living room.

Before purchasing our home, we had set aside a not-inconsiderable bit of savings to spruce this place up, improve our investment, and make it into our home.  Most of that money has gone and will go into simply keeping this place livable.  Those dream projects for which we'd saved will have to wait years or be discarded altogether.  The emotional upheaval that went into this move (which had followed the truly ugly experience of purchasing this place) has now segued directly into the feeling that we walk the tightrope above larger unseen struggles.

Now, I cannot say that Kristen feels 100% the same as I do regarding the sentences in the above paragraph.  She is full of constructive optimism which is a gift that I admire.  But I do know that this has been very draining on us both.  And we're not getting wiser via this "learning".  We're mentally fatigued.  And frankly, I'm getting dumber.

That was supposed to be the whisky's job, not the condo's.

This is the 13th image that shows up on a Google Image search for our condo.
Thought you'd like to know. (Source)

Ends and Beginnings (November '11)

As the pigeons participate in public group sex on the streetlight outside our kitchen window (no pics, sorry), I think about ends and beginnings.  Not life-changing ones like home ownership, a new town, and job change.  But rather books, baseball, TV, and whisky.

Books
Part of my evening ritual was to read two chapters of Kazuo Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go.  I need to do a little reading before I shut off the lights because I'm old and reading makes me sleepy.

I wish that I could tell you what the novel is about, but figuring out what you're actually reading is part of what makes the storytelling so solid.  It's not like A Clockwork Orange wherein the reader has to sift through another language, but rather Never Let Me Go (which is in proper The Queen's English) is like intellectual detective work.  You sift through what the narrator, Kathy, is talking about.  And as you piece together the universe of the story, her unemotional even-toned voice serves as a springboard for your own feelings -- outrage, melancholy, sadness, or acceptance.  It's very good, and I recommend reading the novel before reading anything about it and before watching the film adaptation.  Seriously, the book's only 288 pages!

But now I've finished it, which means it's time find something new to read.  We have no lack of books here, but I think I'm going to start digging into Kristen's three years of The Paris Review.

Baseball
The baseball season is over.

(Source)

I never get all hot and bothered over the offseason and free agency.  The media does because it's their job, and it's their job to keep us reading their often uninformed speculation.  I'm happy that those writers are getting paid, but seriously it's mostly nonsense that'll never come to be.  And if I want to read fiction, then I'll read Fiction.

I'll follow college sports in the meantime.  Maybe some UCLA basketball since our football team is difficult to watch.

TV
Kristen and I watch Mad Men together, via Netflix.  Only three more episodes remaining and then we're all caught up!  Actually she's already finished the last season, she's just waiting for me to get there.  I don't think I've been up-to-date on a television show since Sesame Street.  Mad Men's writing, design, and acting are always admirable.  I want more episodes!

Until Season 5 of Men airs next year, I'll start up Breaking Bad and see if I can ever catch up with that show.

Also, I'm about done with Season 1 of The Wire.  Wow.  I feel so late to the party.  It's Shakespearean (albeit with 50+ "motherf*****s" per hour).  A massive cast of characters - politicians, police, drug dealers, junkies, lawyers - with everything being told from eye level.  The most despicable characters still have clear motivations and make bold gracious gestures at surprising moments.  And the most likeable turn around and do terrible unforgiving things.  I feel like a voyeur, watching a slow motion real life tragedy unfold and being unable to do anything to stop it.  And it's all told via the very minutiae that we writers are told to cut out of our screen- and teleplays.  Two episodes left.  Then Season 2!

Whisky
Of course there was going to be whisky in this post!  Who do you think I am?

Actually, finishings are few and far between here, as my bottles last between 5 and 10 months.  But I'm down to the last licks of Redbreast 12yr and 1994 Bowmore 16yr (Signatory).  They are both STELLAR, but I'll be replacing each with something new and exciting, one Irish and one Signatory.

This is actually a significant challenge for me.  There are many whiskies that I've been considering, but my purchases need to remain reasonable since we don't have the income here for the unreasonable.  My problem isn't with buying single malts that are too expensive.  My problem is buying too many single malts.  So I'm leaning towards classic unique malts, 10 - 12 year olds, and independent bottlings.  The classics are classics for good reason and affordable independents are fun because they allow for experiences that won't be reproduced in exactitude ever again.  You can count on me Reporting back on my choices.

NOT Single Malt Report: Johnnie Walker Black Label

Distillery: Many!
Producer: Diaego
Brand: Johnnie Walker
Age: minimum 12 years
Blend: single malts and grain whiskies
Alcohol by Volume: 40%

Obsidian Sobriquet.  You arrived early, during my novice years.  I tired of you then, the Irish became my scene.  Then I met a young lass, named Kristen Perry, who at age 19 already knew you better than I ever did.  You fell out of her fashion, and again, you fell out of mine.  As the years passed, you crept back in, becoming my go-to at restaurants because you were more affordable than single malts and treated me significantly better than Red Label and Dewars.  But we fell out of favour again, single malts were just too attractive.

Then you appeared on the kitchen counter of my new home.  I was told that you were a gift from one of Kristen's coworkers.  But I believe that you found me on your own.  And you were free.

May I repeat:  You, whisky, were free.

I wish I knew how to quit you.

Diageo says that you are made up of 40 separate whiskies from all over Scotland.  Your recipe is a secret, but it is said that Cardhu is at your center.  And I can sense Talisker at your peripheries.  You were the favorite of Churchill and Hitchens, remarkable drinkers both.  You've gone by the name Black Label since 1909, but were released under the appellation "Old Highland" for over forty years before.

You are chillfiltered for clarity.  And your color is much too perfect, so there's likely some caramel coloring within.  You've been, at turns, too smoky, too sour, and too lazy for me.  But no more.  I recommend you to anyone looking to transition from "scotch on the rocks" to single malt whisky.

When served neat, you are picture perfect sherried dark gold.  There's sherry in your nose, as well as candied cherries, molasses, a snippet of peat, and grilled vegetables.  I rarely pick up so much in a whisky's scent, but you and I have been together for some time.  And even Kristen knows you from across the room.  Your neat palate is quite simple: molasses, wet peat, and a hint of grain.  Your finish is moderate and oceanic.

But with a bit of water you just shine.  Three small ice cubes, recommended.  Your nose pivots to mild cheeses and sweet cream.  On the palate the molasses vanishes, replaced by sherry cream and grasses.  And that water doesn't alter your finish.

An hour later, the glass smells of molasses cookie batter.

Now leave me please.  I cannot write with you here.

Pricing - Bargain! at $25, Acceptable at $35

Rating - 88

9 Things To Do With BAD Whisk(e)y

Here's the setup:

You head out to the liquor store to purchase a whiskey recommended by a friend, professional reviewer, and/or amateur blogger.  You rush home, pull out the cork (hearing that lovely blung sound) and pour it into your glass (an even better sound).  You take a sip, letting the spirit roll over your tastebuds, and ease it down slowly.  The experience causes you to exclaim aloud...

"That's disgusting."

You try it again another night, seeing if maybe you just need to get used to it, like a new pair of boots.  But on the second try, it tastes like boots.  Dirty boots.  A little sh*tkicker on the palate.

How could this be?

Taste truly is a matter of taste.  All these whisky awards and rankings by everyone everywhere every week/month/season/year are all subjective.  Portwood finish to one person may taste like berries, but like ammonia to another.  Some folks like the sweet, some folks like the peat.

Or...

The liquor shop stored the bottle, incorrectly, around too much heat and sunlight, damaging the liquor.

Or...

Your tastebuds are broken.  Meth is a hell of a drug.

In any case, the crappy whiskey situation happens to us all.  So what are your options now that you have 650mL of brown stuff that you really don't want to drink neat?

1. Hit it with some water.  Pour yourself a shot's worth into the glass, then add about a tablespoon of room temperature filtered or spring water.  Give it a swirl.  Give it a sniff.  Give it a taste.
   Pros: Water stirs up the oils within the spirit and opens up dormant aromatic compounds.  A little water can really change the nose and palate of a whiskey.
   Cons:  It's entirely possible that the aromatic compounds released by the water are those that re-awaken your gag reflex.  Also, if one tablespoon doesn't do anything for you, a second tablespoon will likely demolish the flavor all together, unless you have a strong cask strength malt.
2. Hit it with some ice.  Rather than adding water, plop two or three small ice cubes into your shot of whiskey.  Give it a wait, let it cool.  Then try.
   Pros: Cold whiskey in the summer is very refreshing.  And the ice may hide those bad flavors.
   Cons:  Ice hides almost all flavors.  It neutralizes the aromatic compounds.  So you may just have a cold waste of time in your glass.
3. Add club soda.  Please note, this is in lieu of the water and ice.  Think of all of those great classic movies where the characters are ordering a whiskey and soda.  This is it!  Now you're making your own.  Add it slowly and taste to find out how much you should use.
   Pros:  This can be even more refreshing than just the ice.  Plus it stretches out your drink.  And your burps will be lovely...
   Cons:  ...unless you have a poor Islay, wherein your mouth will taste like burning garbage two hours after you've finished drinking.  Also, you have a cold glass of bubbles and not much else.
4. Seven and Seven, or Jack and Ginger.  Glass, ice, shot of whiskey, and 7-Up (or Sprite) will give you a 7 and 7.  Originally it was Seagrams 7 and 7-Up, but I don't recommend going out of your way to buy a bottle of Seagrams 7.  Some folks like to swap out the Sprite for ginger ale.  Different flavors produce different results.
   Pros: The sugar (read: high fructose corn syrup) will smother most of the bad whiskey taste.  Plus it's a fun social drink.
   Cons:  High fructose corn syrup and factory-designed chemical flavorings on ice.  Yum?  You may just want to grab a beer from the fridge, instead.
5. Whiskey cocktails.  Manhattan, Irish Coffee, Smokey Martini, Whiskey Sour.  Google for recipes since there are dozens of variants on each.  Perfecting these is a talent on its own, but totally worth it if you find your drink.
   Pros:  If you find your drink.
   Cons: If you don't.  Plus you'll need a bunch of other ingredients.  Plus the more stuff you add to the whiskey the less of a purpose it serves.
6. Whiskey slush.  Kristen's extended family likes to bust out the Whiskey Slush during get-togethers.  Whiskey, water, sugar, orange juice concentrate topped with ginger ale (or 7-Up) -- again a matter of experimenting necessary to get this right.  Plenty of recipes to be found on these Internets.
   Pros:  It's an adult Slushie!  Great for summers.
   Cons:  Do not make this with an Islay, Island, or other peated whiskey.  If you already don't like the taste of the spirit, you will not like the resulting slush.  Also, this may cause a sugar hangover before the night is out.
7. Shots.  You knew this was coming.
   Pros: Getting fitshaced.  A quick way to rid yourself of the unwanted whiskey.
   Cons:  If it tastes rotten going down, how do you think it will taste coming back up?
8. Give it away.  Maybe there's someone you hate.  Hand them the bottle at a party.  Or maybe you really think a friend will like it better.  Hand them the bottle at a party.  Maybe there's an amateur whiskey reviewer who'll be willing to give it a try.  And he will be willing to give it a try.
   Pros:  Free whiskey!  You're such a great friend.
   Cons:  It ends your friendship.
9. Dump it down the toilet.
   Pros:  The visual representation of that terrible liquid memory will now be in the Big Distillery In The Sky.  It'll be gone and you'll have a blogpost to share about the experience.
   Cons:  Bye bye, Mr. Whiskey.  *Flush*

I've had three bottles that had to be Number 9'ed.  Kristen had to do it, I just couldn't bring myself to dispose of it.  What a good wife.  

Alas, no crying over flushed whiskey.  There's plenty of great stuff out there.  If you're going to drink, then drink what tastes good.  Save the misery for tequila.

Single Malt Report: The Singleton of Glendullan

Distillery: Glendullan
Age: 12 years
Maturation: bourbon and sherry casks
Region: Speyside
Alcohol by Volume: 40%

---

From maltmadness.com:

...during the late 1980's and early half of the 90's blends still accounted for circa 97% of whisky sales. It was only in the second half of the 1990's that the single malts category really took off. Distilleries like Glendullan and Dufftown remained mostly focused on blends for a few more years, but around the year 2007 Diageo finally reintroduced them to the market as single malts - together with Glen Ord. They all had been marketed as single malts at some point, but in recent years only Glen Ord was widely available. Oddly enough, the malt whisky from these three distilleries is now marketed under one single brand; the Singleton. In other words, whisky lovers on different continents can enjoy very different whiskies under the 'Singleton' name these days.

So, there's an international component to this Singleton story... Consumers in the USA get a Glendullan 12yo when they order a Singleton ... whisky drinkers in Europe receive a Dufftown 12yo ... and in Asia they get Glen Ord 12yo.

---

I'm very thankful for this explanation from the awesome folks at Malt Madness because I've been totally mystified by the "The Singleton" name, always in big letters on the bottle.  Didn't know why it just wasn't called Glendullan 12yr.  It got more confusing as I started seeing reviews for other Singletons.  And then there was another distillery in the 1990's that also called their single malt Singleton.  But I'll be talking about The Singleton of Glendullan, which is the brand available in The States.

Two years ago, I was returning from a very exciting/nerve-wracking/pivotal moment in my writing career.  I wanted to celebrate.  So I went to the great liquor store across the street from our old apartment.  I was going to buy a bottle of whisky.

Beverly Hills Wine & Liquor has a tremendous selection of whiskies, but since they cater to considerably more upscale clientele, I've always found their prices to be a bit steep.  So none of my good go-to bottles looked promising due to the price tags.  The manager was sitting behind the counter watching me search the whisky wall.  The following happened:

Manager: You like Macallan 12?

Me: I do.

Manager: You should try this. The Singleton. It's made by the same people who make Macallan.

Before I can respond, he takes out a 50mL bottle of The Singleton, opens it and hands it to me.

Manager: Here, try.

I look around.

Me: Is that okay?

Manager: Don't worry, this is my place.

So I drank it right there in the liquor store.  A BRILLIANT bit of sales.  Drinking anything in public makes it taste better.  Plus it was free whisky!  Sacrificing that $6 mini, he got me to buy the $45 bottle.

Now, time for some reality.

Had I known what I was doing, I could have gotten that same bottle from BevMo for $29.99.  And Macallan does not make The Singleton.  Nor does Macallan's owner The Edrington Group produce The Singleton.  Nor does The Singleton taste anything like Macallan.  They both may reside in Speyside, but so does about 75% of the Scotch market's operating distilleries.

Let's get to the stuff itself.  It comes in a great old fashioned bottle, tall and flat, like a big glass flask.  The glass is tinted, which helps protect the product from sunlight, but also prevents one from seeing its actual color.  And, man, I drank that Singleton like it was water.  I couldn't really tell if it was of quality, but it was very drinkable.

Very recently I purchased one of those mini 50mL bottles to try on the whisky again.  I drank it neat, since it was only 40% ABV and, frankly, a little light on flavor.  And even served neat, there wasn't much to report on.

Its color is honey.  The nose has sherry up front, then cream, salt, brown sugar, and something meaty.  The texture was thick.  The palate had some salt, light sherry, and light cream.  The finish was brief with a little more salt.

The nose is more interesting than the taste.  The drinking experience is very very smooth, but with that smoothness, low ABV, and youth it sacrifices any sort of stamina in the finish.

I've read a bunch of reviews of The Singleton of Glendullan and two things stick out:

1.) It reminds folks so much of Glenfiddich 12 that they wouldn't be able to tell the difference in a blind taste test.

2.) It makes for a good bridge whisky for blend drinkers that want to transition to single malts.  

I am at odds with both of these.

1.) Glenfiddich 12 is considerably better in the palate and finish.  Not only that, it's $10-15 cheaper.

2.) If I was blind taste tested, I would think The Singleton tastes like a (cheaper) blend.  All of the Johnnie Walkers (aside from Red Label) have more to them than this malt.  Glenfiddich 12 is a much better bridge - reliable and affordable, always full of character.

This isn't a bad whisky, nor am I bitter for paying $45 for it.  But......

I am bitter for paying $45 for it.

Pricing - Acceptable at $30, Foolish at $45

Rating - 72