Paul Walker will probably be most often remembered for his association with the Fast & Furious series. His popularity grew with the franchise, as did the sophistication of each production. Over the years the cars became more high tech, stunts became more elaborate and the plot more extreme but it is the very first release, 2001’s The Fast and The Furious though, that is, for me, the most memorable. You guessed it – because it featured a fabulous house.
David Fowler’s 1963 commission for the Davis family in Beverly Hills featured in the film as headquarters for the police investigating a spate of high speed truck robberies. The building, named Ridgetop, featured a distinctive round plan, custom furniture, scalloped eaves and concrete blocks sporting an elliptical motif which appeared throughout the house on metal entry gates, glazing and partitions. Photographed by Julius Shulman and featured in Architectural Digest soon after its completion, the house was the height of 60’s sophistication and a beautiful example of Californian Mid Century Modern design. Sadly it was demolished to make way for a new housing development in the mid 2000’s.
Long missing from this discussion is a post about John Lautner’s most recognisable building – the groundbreaking, distinctive and iconic structure, The Chemosphere. Now an LA architectural landmark, the building has taken five decades to earn its status and has achieved it largely as a result of the film industry’s fascination with its futurist aesthetic. The house can be spotted in countless features on both the big and small screens and is referenced in many more - including Charlies Angels and the Iron Man series.
Perhaps the best use of the house is 1984’s Body Double starring Melanie Griffith. Certainly not looking its modernist best in the film (the house is completely refitted with gawdy 80’s décor), it is interestingly cast as an appealing residence for someone suffering from claustrophobia, a trait used to a murderer’s advantage as the plot develops. Perched on an extreme slope with 270 degree views overlooking the city of LA, the whole scenario would not quite have worked had the occupant been suffering from vertigo.
Built speculatively by Skylab Architecture in association with local developers – a method of showcasing a fledgling practice’s work without the need for a sympathetic Client (which was possible in the boom times of the early 2000’s) – the Hoke Family purchased the house not long after completion and were approached by the film production team after the house featured in an architectural publication. The decision to proceed is possibly something they have come to regret considering the fanatical nature of Twilight fans.
Whether you are a fan of the series or have reservations about telling teenagers that love is like the feeling of wanting to devour someone (surely teenage girls have enough unhealthy food associations?) this building is a standout.
The house is bright and spacious with large panel windows opening to the trees, much like the house described in the original book. A perfect choice for the modern vampire coven wanting a change from the traditional foreboding castle. However the book actually casts the house as a predominantly white, turn of the (last) century mansion with a converted rear façade of glass looking out onto the forest. In fact, the Hoke House uses a mix of timber cladding, glass and cast concrete - a much warmer palette better suited for film yet retaining the concept of a unconventional contemporary space for this group of ‘vegetarian’ vampires. We are meant to like the family and approve of the choices they have made (they fill their lives with music, art & good design rather than succumb to their less sophisticated desires) and the use of natural materials throughout the house emphasizes the Cullen’s connection with nature and gives them another layer of humanity, something the described pure white interior scheme would have struggled to do.
Digital enhancement aged the newly planted landscape design in order to fit the required lush forest location as well as deleting any indication of neighboring buildings to create more isolation. The characteristic cast insitu columns supporting the house are not visible in the film however they are an important compositional element of the design. Not only striking at ground level but they also allow the rooms above to cantilever into the adjacent tree canopy giving the effect of intimacy with the forest and providing privacy for the occupants.
To say this film is about a dispute between neighbours would be to undersell it completely. When one of the houses in question is Le Corbusier's Casa Curutchet and the two parties represent polar ends of the social spectrum – a pretentious, supercilious businessman and his crude, slightly menacing neighbour, this Argentinian film takes the premise to a whole other level.
Interestingly the house plays itself - a famous building that designers make pilgrimage to see - but has it occupied by a successful furniture designer Leonardo (the businessman, played by Rafael Spregelburd) and his family, who on the surface only just tolerate the interest but privately quite enjoy the notoriety. Until, of course, the dispute with the neighbouring Victor (Daniel Aráoz) escalates and the constant scrutiny becomes oppressive. As the story develops however, more is revealed of each character and we come to question who is in the wrong and wonder at how two people can miscommunicate so effectively.
We get to see a good deal of the house, particularly the entrance ramps and first storey terrace, which provides an excellent study of the three dimensionality, the framing of external spaces and the interlocking volumes, for which the house is renown. Even if you are unfamiliar with the building, the house is clearly the work of a design pioneer and this authentic genius underscores Lenardos deficiencies as the film progresses - his unfounded arrogance, his ineffectuality and eventually his cowardice is contrasted against Victor's up front familiarity, and in the end, reliability.
The house, located in La Planta Buenos Aires, actually accommodates the Buenos Aires professional association of architects, the Colegio de Arquitectos and is open to the public for tours.
Translated as My Brothers Wife, the title of this film seemingly gives away most of the plot. But don't be fooled, this is not some melodramatic soap opera with obligatory love triangle. The film plays on pre-conceived notions and stereotypes to keep the audience guessing throughout - misled by their own misconceptions about family, relationships and human behaviour and it makes for an interesting journey. The use of the beautiful Schmitz house in the film is no exception. Modern buildings in film are routinely cast as homes to cold, controlling individuals and Peruvian Director Ricardo de Montreuil uses this fact to great effect, making us believe that the occupants will fit the mould.
The house, designed by Filipe Assadi & Francisca Pulido, located outside of Santiago, Chile is cast as the home of two of the central characters, husband and wife Ignacio and Zoe. We already know there is domestic trouble afoot so when we are introduced to their home with its cool interconnected boxes of off-form concrete and curtain glass, we guess that sociopathic behaviour will follow.
But nothing ensues. Ignacio is distant and particular but not unkind and certainly not unlikeable. Zoe is sulky and self obsessed but really does try to engage with her husband. For a while it seems that infertility is the source of the disconnection, then adultery but neither quite fits. Even more confounding - they enjoy their house, where they entertain friends and family. The pool in particular is highlighted, its inside/outside connection (a glass floor panel lifts to permit entry to the pool from indoors). It is elegant and warm and the simple plan arrangement with sophisticated detailing seems to suit their respective personalities well. The intrigue created by this paradox is captivating.
A surprising revelation and a terrible secret eventually explains the source of each of the brothers torment and the house, as in reality, is without fault.
Thanks to Felipe Assadi for permission to use images. See their portfolio here