There are a few truly universal experiences, but one that I would be surprised if we didn’t all share is the collective desire to lead a different life. We all have regrets and yearn for certain aspects of our existence to be different, even if only slightly, and anyone who has not had the fantasy of retreating into obscurity and emerging as an entirely different person either leads the most privileged and flawless life imaginable, or simply has never experienced life in its most authentic form. In his novel Seconds, author David Ely explores this very concept, which has in turn been adapted into a film by John Frankenheimer, the third in his unofficial Paranoia Trilogy, and which focuses on Arthur, a seemingly ordinary middle-aged New Yorker who is suddenly enlisted to participate in an experimental treatment by a mysterious and unnamed organisation who peddle in “rebirths” – taking people who lead banal, meaningless existences and giving them a new lease on life by quite literally turning them into different people, changing their appearance and giving them entirely new identities. Arthur becomes Tony, and while he does benefit from leading a much more luxurious life, since he is now a dashing heartthrob with a flourishing career as an artist and who captures the attention of all who surround him. However, it doesn’t take long for the seams in this seemingly perfect existence to become more prominent, leading the protagonist into a state of extraordinary despair, from which there seems to be very little possibility of escape. A bold, daring work that takes a novel that was nothing more than an entertaining but minor work of pulp fiction, and turns it into one of the defining films of the 1960s (and which played a vital role in the development of the burgeoning New Hollywood movement, which was steadily starting to emerge at the time), Seconds is a wholeheartedly compelling, deeply unsettling work of art, one that combines several different genres, ranging from psychological horror, science fiction, dark comedy and romantic melodrama, all of which are thrown together and blended into this disconcerting masterpiece that redefines not only the ideas that are central to this film, but the medium as a whole, being perhaps the greatest film that Frankenheimer ever made, and a truly unforgettable work from start to finish.

Seconds is certainly not the first film to focus on a character attempting to retreat from their past through quite literally changing their appearance – we find that this is a major theme in films like Dark Passage (which seems to have been a slight influence on this film) and The Face of Another, which was released the same year as this film, and features some shockingly similar conversations around the use of facial surgery as a means to provide someone with a new identity, and life overall. Something that these films all share – and which this one in particular emphasises as its core theme – is that they feature a character who is intent on outrunning his past, and who discovers that being afforded an opportunity to get a fresh start may seem appealing in theory, but there are more sinister details that tend to go overlooked, very rarely (if ever) being realised until it is far too late. This is the foundation on which Frankenheimer builds Seconds, a film that is focused around proving that a blank slate is not always what it appears to be, and that there is a much darker side to any decision that involves trying to escape the past, whether as a means to simply reinvent yourself or for reasons that are far more complex. The film is a fervent, detailed deconstruction of a man who leads a perfectly ordinary life – the protagonist is a man who has a good job, a nice home and has settled into a state of placid domesticity, having a wife with whom he has a happy but uninteresting marriage, and essentially embodies the ideal of the American Dream, which this film posits as being dull and limiting, since it may allow for security, but at the expense of the excitement and joy that comes from leading a more spontaneous and daring life. Yet, this is not to say that it asserts the inverse, where having a more open-ended, laissez-faire lifestyle is any better, since with a lack of structure comes a complete annihilation of order, which usually starts from within and can cause society to begin to slowly but methodically collapse into chaos. It’s a film with multiple different narrative strands, and screenwriter Lewis John Carlino does exceptionally well to create something absolutely unforgettable with material that we don’t normally expect to be this provocative, but which has a sensitivity and complexity that is quite difficult to overlook.

Situated right at the heart of Seconds is one of the most unquestionably impressive performances in film history, which is delivered by Rock Hudson, who does career-best work as the protagonist after his surgery. Considered one of the defining heartthrobs of his generation, Hudson is not always given the credit he deserves as a dramatic actor – there was much more simmering beneath the surface than many of us may imagine, and this film is the perfect example of this in practice. His performance is beyond astonishing – very rarely have we seen an actor commit so intensely to bringing a character to life as we do here, and whether we consider it the result of his desire to step away from the image that Hollywood had painted of him over the years, or merely to stretch his skills as an actor, the work he does is truly impeccable. Part of the reason his performance is so effective is because it never claims to be more than it is on the surface – Hudson is very much aware that he’s an intensely handsome actor with a well-curated image that was often the foundation of many absolutely tremendous works of romantic comedy and melodrama, and like any actor stepping out of his comfort zone, he found solace in the genre and science fiction genres, neither of which we have ever associated with him, which is precisely why his performance is so magnificent and daring. It’s a fantastic piece of acting, and Hudson is remarkable, turning in work that defines everything we appreciate about him as an actor, and proving to be absolutely tremendous in both style and substance, all of which is the very cornerstone of this performance, and the primary reason it works so exceptionally well. Beyond what we see from Hudson, there are other fantastic performances scattered throughout Seconds – not enough is said about John Randolph, who plays the protagonist prior to his surgery, and who is essentially the lead of the film for the entire first act, and whose performance as this woefully bland, mediocre man is initially what draws us into the film. The duality between the two leads is wonderful, and forms the foundation of most of the film’s most curious or daring moments.

Part of the reason Seconds works so well is simply because there is nothing quite like it, and while the story itself may be slightly familiar (as evident by the mentioned examples of films that tackle similar subjects), its the execution that makes it starkly different to anything we have seen before or since. This begins with the conception of its ideas, with Frankenheimer (who had an abundance of experience making these tense, deeply unsettling psychological thrillers) collaborating with a writer who implicitly understood what they were attempting to do, and more than willing to follow through on most of its core ideas. The film is enshrouded in a tense, deeply disconcerting tone that is radically different from the majority of similarly-themed films being produced in the United States at the time – it is heavily reliant on artistic influences from around the world, being comparable to German Expressionist cinema and the writings of Franz Kafka, among many others who play a vital role in defining 20th century literature, particularly in capturing the essence of the human soul, and our relationship to our surroundings. It’s daring and provocative filmmaking, and the tone of this film reflects it, through the use of pitch black humour that doesn’t counteract the darker aspects of the story, and actually only elevates the tension and despair. This is a profoundly paranoid film, one in which nothing quite makes sense and the viewer is plunged into a state of deep, unrelinquishing despair, and forced to feel the same confusion, frustration and fear as the protagonist, who represents the ordinary person who overextends themselves slightly too much in their pursuit of a better life, and ultimately realise the darker side of the reality that comes with putting this into perspective. The key element that makes Seconds so unique is the pulsating, headache-inducing feeling that escape is futile, which is not only reflected in the story, but the entire film as a whole – we’re surrounded in the same sense of existential despair, being forced into this foreboding environment in much the same way as the protagonist, and where any effort to retreat will end with something much more gruesome and harrowing than any of us can ever hope to comprehend.

In much the same way that we find Seconds driven primarily by its performances and the tone, we also notice that the form the film takes is just as important. The concept is strong, but without some interesting aesthetic and aural decisions, Frankenheimer would not have been able to create something quite so effective. There’s something truly enthralling about the film and its approach to bringing this story to life – credit has to go to James Wong Howe, whose cinematography is some of the greatest of its era. This may be a contentious point, since this film doesn’t have grand sweeping shots, nor does it appear particularly stunning at first glance – but what we soon come to learn is that there is something much more interesting simmering beneath the surface, which comes through in his dynamic camerawork, which is incredibly compelling and feels genuinely quite inventive. There is a lot of handheld work being done, which not only contributes to the feeling of crippling intimacy and claustrophobia, but reflects the sense of disorientation and despair experienced by these characters. The jagged edges of the production design and simple but effective costuming add layers onto the visual aesthetic of the film, which takes quite a clean and straightforward approach, while still contributing something far deeper and more profound to the overall experience of the film. There is also a lot of exceptional work being done by Jerry Goldsmith, whose unnerving, terrifying score adds layers of unease and tension to a film that is already very much driven by an atmosphere of discomfort – there are many aspects of Seconds that keep us enthralled, but its ability to use only a few musical notes to instil in us a sense of unrequited dread that makes it such a quintessentially daring work, and in choosing the right collaborators, Frankenheimer provides an incredible sense of artistic consistency, the likes of which we don’t find very often.

Seconds is one of the most daring, provocative works of cinema ever produced, and unquestionably one of the essential texts of the 1960s – not only is it a great artistic statement in itself, there are deep allusions to the real-world events that were taking place around this time. The paranoia of the Cold War, coupled with both domestic and international tensions that were only compounding as time went on, led to a number of these harsh, coldhearted psychological thrillers that create a sense of unease and despair, indicating prominent attitudes at the time and proving to be nothing if not wholeheartedly daring in a way that is often quite difficult to put into words. Frankenheimer is one of the most unheralded filmmakers of his generation, a covert master of genre and tone that may not have always received the credit he deserved as a filmmaker, but whose work is sharp, precise and consistently daring, touching on issues in a way that is both thought-provoking and absolutely horrifying. Its complexities are only matched by its unique artistry, and the depths to which the film leaps to facilitate some of its more daring and unsettling ideas makes for something truly extraordinary, a work of unhinged psychological terror that situates us in a position where the past is hideous, the future absolutely terrifying and the idea of escaping either nothing but futile. One of the landmark works of the 1960s, and a film that is as timely as it is compelling, Seconds earns every bit of our respect and attention, being one of the most unique productions of its era, and a film that has continued to challenge and unsettle for as long as audiences have been put under its spell.