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For Movie Lovers


 




One of Alfred Hitchcock's great villains is Bruno, the sociopath from "Strangers on a Train." The actor, Robert Walker, was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. (Actually, he would die shortly after finishing the film.) Roger Ebert says Walker's real-world edginess colored his performance, in a good way.


Bruno seems bright and charming, for a moment, but he is troubled. He sits too close to you. He says, "I'll let you read your book," then he keeps talking. He murmurs, "I always admire people who do things...."


Of course, Bruno's greatest issue is that he believes murder is OK, and he offs a stranger in a crowded amusement park. (This is after an iconic moment when he gets irritated by a small child, and he pops that child's balloon with his cigar.)


It seems clear that Bruno has no grasp on the consequences of his own actions, and there isn't a great deal of effort to explain "why" he is who he is. (Contrast this with the Scorsese version of "Cape Fear," where the paragraphs devoted to De Niro's "origin story" become tiresome.) We know that there is something unhealthy happening with Bruno's mother; she nervously asks, "You're not *actually* going to blow up government buildings, right?" Having to ask the question--regardless of the answer--seems problematic....


I love Bruno because I'm unsure what he'll do at any given moment--and that's an observation you can extend to several other characters in "Strangers on a Train." The young loudmouth (Hitchcock's daughter), the flighty femme fatale with the ice cream cone, the painter/housewife who looks away from inconvenient truths....


"Strangers on a Train" is a streaming option on Prime, and it's worth the $2.99. I liked watching on a snowy winter day.

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