You first hear about Hitchcock via "Psycho." I remember Disney's MGM Studios would highlight the magic of sound engineering via Hitchcock's famous "shower scene." (I'm certain this has now been removed. Someone, at some point, must have questioned the wisdom of introducing very small children to the shower stabbing. I, for one, attended that demonstration, then became convinced that someone would murder me in my own shower at any moment. I was ten years old. For many months thereafter, I showered with a bottle of Pantene Pro-V clutched tightly in one hand; I was prepared to bludgeon anyone who came at me with a knife.)
When I actually saw "Psycho," in my teens, I was pleased to discover how not-scared I was. That was because the low-tech aura was distracting; no one had prepared me for the fact that a movie made mid-century would not have the same computer-enhanced advantages of, say, Will Smith's "Independence Day."
Certain additional Hitchcock movies have a "Psycho"-esque status in our culture. "Rear Window," "North by Northwest," "The Birds," "Vertigo": Each of these titles inspires reverence just about everywhere.
But one of my great faux-discoveries in recent years--and it's something almost everyone else already knew--is that several "second-tier" Hitchcock films are as great as, or even greater than, "Vertigo." "Frenzy," "Strangers on a Train," "Notorious," "The Lady Vanishes": These films are not quite famous enough to inspire Disney rides, but who would ever object to a not-quite-SUPER-iconic Hitchcock marathon?
Of the "second-tier" Hitchocks, my favorite is "Shadow of a Doubt." I've written a bit about the gayness of this script: the murderous outsider, the smirking, even campy, view of Americana, the emphasis on substantial roles for women. Watching at home, with my husband, recently, I was struck by the figure of the mother. She is so eccentric, so over-the-top, she almost seems like a drag queen's vision of suburban motherhood. And I was struck, too, by the conclusion of the movie: the way the fact of evil is disguised, kept secret, kept inaccessible to the mother, to the ladies of the social club, and to almost everyone else. This is maybe not the ending you'd expect; you might anticipate an ending where everyone learns precisely what happened, and where no-goodniks are clearly labeled as such. But that's not what Thornton Wilder is saying. He is saying: There is a myth of American life, and there is a suppressed truth. And that's how life will remain. I love this.
Having had a modest success with "Shadow," I plan to flood my spouse's viewing hours with other classics: "Sudden Fear," "Dressed to Kill," "The Little Mermaid," "The Third Man," "The Fallen Idol," "Strangers on a Train," "Repulsion," "The Conversation," "Laura," "Bonjour Tristesse," "In a Lonely Place." These are all important to me. If you haven't viewed them, give a thought to my list! A smart movie lives on forever.
P.S. One thing I love in "Shadow" is the recurring image of the waltzing couple. This is "pure cinema." No words. We just see a repeated image of a man and woman dancing--over and over. As we learn more and more about the murderer, the recurring image of the waltz becomes "sped-up." There's a sense of loss of control. The soundtrack gets louder and louder--and we see how even an apparently charming image can become evocative of chaos and evil. This is like van Gogh having fun with brushstrokes. I think my husband found the recurring waltz jarring--it's not something you would see in a new movie, today--but I love the artistry of the repeated (and repeated, and repeated) image. Hitchcock was so deep into his characters, he could make suggestions about their inner states through something as simple as a waltz. (The waltz also makes me think of the nightmarish carousel, in "Strangers on a Train.")
When I actually saw "Psycho," in my teens, I was pleased to discover how not-scared I was. That was because the low-tech aura was distracting; no one had prepared me for the fact that a movie made mid-century would not have the same computer-enhanced advantages of, say, Will Smith's "Independence Day."
Certain additional Hitchcock movies have a "Psycho"-esque status in our culture. "Rear Window," "North by Northwest," "The Birds," "Vertigo": Each of these titles inspires reverence just about everywhere.
But one of my great faux-discoveries in recent years--and it's something almost everyone else already knew--is that several "second-tier" Hitchcock films are as great as, or even greater than, "Vertigo." "Frenzy," "Strangers on a Train," "Notorious," "The Lady Vanishes": These films are not quite famous enough to inspire Disney rides, but who would ever object to a not-quite-SUPER-iconic Hitchcock marathon?
Of the "second-tier" Hitchocks, my favorite is "Shadow of a Doubt." I've written a bit about the gayness of this script: the murderous outsider, the smirking, even campy, view of Americana, the emphasis on substantial roles for women. Watching at home, with my husband, recently, I was struck by the figure of the mother. She is so eccentric, so over-the-top, she almost seems like a drag queen's vision of suburban motherhood. And I was struck, too, by the conclusion of the movie: the way the fact of evil is disguised, kept secret, kept inaccessible to the mother, to the ladies of the social club, and to almost everyone else. This is maybe not the ending you'd expect; you might anticipate an ending where everyone learns precisely what happened, and where no-goodniks are clearly labeled as such. But that's not what Thornton Wilder is saying. He is saying: There is a myth of American life, and there is a suppressed truth. And that's how life will remain. I love this.
Having had a modest success with "Shadow," I plan to flood my spouse's viewing hours with other classics: "Sudden Fear," "Dressed to Kill," "The Little Mermaid," "The Third Man," "The Fallen Idol," "Strangers on a Train," "Repulsion," "The Conversation," "Laura," "Bonjour Tristesse," "In a Lonely Place." These are all important to me. If you haven't viewed them, give a thought to my list! A smart movie lives on forever.
P.S. One thing I love in "Shadow" is the recurring image of the waltzing couple. This is "pure cinema." No words. We just see a repeated image of a man and woman dancing--over and over. As we learn more and more about the murderer, the recurring image of the waltz becomes "sped-up." There's a sense of loss of control. The soundtrack gets louder and louder--and we see how even an apparently charming image can become evocative of chaos and evil. This is like van Gogh having fun with brushstrokes. I think my husband found the recurring waltz jarring--it's not something you would see in a new movie, today--but I love the artistry of the repeated (and repeated, and repeated) image. Hitchcock was so deep into his characters, he could make suggestions about their inner states through something as simple as a waltz. (The waltz also makes me think of the nightmarish carousel, in "Strangers on a Train.")
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