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The Shamley Silhouette – Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Dueling Auteurs

“ Well… It’s not a ‘Hitchcock’ picture…”
-Alfred Hitchcock to Francois Truffat in regards to Rebecca during the Hitchcock/Truffaut interviews.

Good Evening…

Time will never change the eternal struggle of two ego’s butting heads over the direction of a story in any form. What is right for a picture is a struggle with any creative team attempting to realize its potential. At the forefront should be a strong voice that can command the path of the journey. Naturally, we experience those voices in different shapes and sizes and from various points of production. You can have the directors authority from the works of many recent artists such as Jordan Peele, Christopher Nolan, or Greta Gerwig. On the other side, you can have the guidance of a creative producer like Kevin Feigie, who steers the Marvel Studios ship with a touch so magical that its produces hit after hit.  There is of course though, the productions that have the clashing of visions coming from two or more strong voices competing for dominance. The business of film today is such that, at least from the theatrical standpoint, the vision must fit the priorities of those who must guarantee the pictures financial success at all costs. We see such stories of battle usually when the picture fails and the fingers are pointed all across the room whether it’s the recent ‘Men In Black’ installment or the debacle with the ‘DC Cinematic Universe’. However, it’s always interesting to hear of a picture that was a success but the creative end behind the scenes was fraught with frustration and obsession. The goal is accomplished, but what is the cost of integrity and vision owed to the success. If you wish to see how far the obsession of a certain angle on good picture making can go, you need not look further then to see its prime example in history; David O. Selznick. 

Selznick may be, from nearly every angle, the most successful producer and studio mogul in cinema history. There cannot be a denial that he produced some of the greatest and most successful motion pictures of all time, regardless of where opinion lies on each title. Selznick was a determined and detail driven man, not unlike Hitchcock himself. Starting as an assistant story editor at MGM (Metro- Goldwyn Mayer… you know… the one with Leo the Lion that doesn’t really exist unless a new Bond picture is out), he would work his way up the ranks. After breaking away from MGM to join Paramount, he then left paramount to become head of production at RKO Pictures (The one with the radio tower that you only see in Black and White on TCM). During his time at RKO, he flourished with hits such as ‘A Bill of Divorcement’, ‘Our Betters’, ‘Bird of Paradise’, and a little film with a giant ape known simply as ‘King Kong’. He eventually returned to MGM, where he ran a unit dedicated to prestige pictures that included such hits as ‘David Copperfield’, ‘Anna Karenina’, and ‘A Tale of Two Cities’. Yet despite all this momentum and achievement, Selznick was in the shadow of his father-in-law L.B. Mayer, the head of MGM. Wanting to set up shop for himself, he left MGM to form Selznick International Pictures. There, he would produce a picture that, adjusted for inflation, is still the highest grossing film of all time: ‘Gone With The Wind’. Amazingly, Selznick was able to have multiple fires burning on the stove; for as he was finishing up ‘Gone With The Wind’, he was seeing dailies of a picture that had just started shooting with Hitchcock at the helm…. ‘Rebecca’.

‘Rebecca’, based upon the celebrated novel by Daphne du Maurier, was a story that Hitchcock had wanted to acquire after he had read the treatment prior to its publishing courtesy of du Maurier’s brother. Prior to ‘Rebecca’, Hitchcock had previously dipped his toe into duMaurier’s world with an adaptation of her prior novel, ‘Jamaica Inn’. ‘Jamaica Inn’ would prove to be a frustrating experience, with its lead actor/ producer Charles Laughton causing constant interference to Hitchcock’s vision. Hitchcock later discovered that Selznick was in negotiations to secure the rights and even he knew that was money that was out of his league. All this time, Selzinck was keeping a close eye on Hitch’s work in Britain, and eventually extends him the invitation to America that he had been waiting for. In America there were greater technical possibilities, bigger budgets, and the chance to be where the majors played. A deal is eventually reached; with Hitch signing on to Selznick to direct not ‘Rebecca’, but a movie about the ill fated H.M.S. Titanic (cue Celine for a moment before you hear the record scratch). That particular venture never came to pass, even when Selznick had bought the humongous ship ‘Leviathan’ to use in the film. All that remained was that tale of an unforgettable presence that infects the estate of Manderley. 

From the moment work began on ‘Rebecca’, so did the battle of auteurship between Hitch and Selznick. Hitchcock had been used to adaptations of popular novels, and had been accustomed to not sticking strictly to the source material. For him, the novel was a foundation for his interpretation that would not care an iota about staying faithful to the sources every detail. If you recall Chapter 3 on ‘Psycho’, Hitchcock carried this practice onward into the films that have established him as an iconic filmmaker. On the opposite spectrum is Selznick, who’s intuition for what the public wanted in their films was proven time and time again. ‘Gone With The Wind’ would further justify his claim to intuition, as the extremely faithful adaptation of that novel proved to be a lucrative path. Thus, Selznick was insistent that ‘Rebecca’ stay almost point for point as the novel read and give the audience a “picturization” of the acclaimed piece. Hitchcock already sees a warning sign as a creative and more or less plays ball with this decision, with his contributions coming from other decisions from the insistence of casting Joan Fontaine to the decision to age down Mrs. Danvers (portrayed spectacularly by Dame Judith Anderson). All amazingly working in tandem to tell the story of an unnamed young woman (Joan Fontaine) and her journey through the life of wedlock at Manderley estates, slowly learning of how much the first Mrs. De Winter had meant to its occupants. 

Whatever the conflict within developing the story between Selznick’s vision and Hitchcock’s, neither would be able to get around the fact that they would have to alter the revelation of Maxim De Winter (Laurence Olivier) and his involvement in the death of the first Mrs. DeWinter. The novel portrays Maxim as having intentionally murdered Rebecca, whereas the film portrays it as an accident in order to keep Olivier’s character innocent and therefore justify him surviving into the end of the story with a clean and “moral” slate. Having no one of physical appearance portraying Rebecca, it allows Hitchcock to unravel her doom as the camera shows her path to death from what would have been Rebecca’s perspective. It’s one of the many things that do indeed give this the moniker of a Hitchcock picture, despite Mr. Hitchcock’s brush off in later interviews. Ultimately, ‘Rebecca’ does possess and utilize the Hitchcockian trait of keeping us in Fontaines point of view through much of the proceedings. The audience is just as confused and intrigued by the goings on in Manderley as Fontaine is, leaving us in the suspenseful web that is truly Hitchcockian, overall story be damned. More to that point, the film is constructed as intended by Hitchcock, thanks to his pre-planning and shooting for the edit. Hitchcock created his films as puzzles that would fit together perfectly in the editing room, which naturally drove Selznick up a wall when he discovered he could not simply re-edit Hitchcock’s work to his whims. Within that realm, Selznick learned that he could not simply control Hitchcock and that he could not always get his way. Case in point: Selznick’s original pitch for the final shot of ‘Rebecca’ was to have the smoke from the flames of the burning Manderley to form a giant “R” in the sky as the film faded out. Thankfully this did not come to pass, with Hitchcock going for the more subtle touch of revisiting a sleeve for Rebecca’s nightdress embroidered with the letter “R” burning up in the flames as the film concluded. Hitchcock was only able to achieve this because Selznick was conveniently distracted by putting the finishing touches on ‘Gone With The Wind’. In many ways, that anecdote would prove to be a premonition for Selznick’s eventual decline. 

In the end, ‘Rebecca’ was a hit, a strange achievement of two clashing auteurs revealing a product that works for everyone in spite of that collision. It would go on to win Oscars for Best Picture (going to Selznick) and Best Cinematography (George Barnes), and today it still stands as one of the few Hitchcock films that truly bears the mark of two giants rather than just the Master of Suspense. It’s legacy today stands as a fascinating case of who’s vision shall dominate. To this very day, the clash between producer/studio and director is ever present, but rarely do they ever achieve a product that works and succeeds financially and with the audience. It is primarily because while Selznick’s trademark faithfulness to the source material and intuition on audience taste are present, you have a visionary such as Hitchcock utilizing his meticulous and specific construction to present the story in one way and one way only. As Hollywood and it’s business has changed, it is sadly much easier to alter and reconstruct a filmmakers vision through reshoots with different directors (as in the case of Justice League at Warner Brothers) or overhauling the edit with alternate coverage and alternate scripts (Men In Black: International). 

‘Rebecca’ is an early experiment for how the business works in regards to the Studio/Director relationship and teaches both sides how to put their foot down. Though today; it does seem as if tables have turned since the auteur driven period of the American New Wave, coming back around full circle to those Golden Age Hollywood ways minus the interference of artistic voices such as Hitchcock and Selznick. For all the insanity and amphetamine driven obsession of Selznick (yes, he had regular shots of B-12 and amphetamines to stay awake), he was never one that lacked care for the story in an artistic form. The closest thing today that we have to someone like Selznick and his care is Kevin Fiegie, who drives the Marvel machine with the care of a fan of the source material (minus the whole amphetamine thing, thankfully that is not a factor here) and goes beyond Selznick’s ability by (according to most firsthand reports) cooperating and working in tandem with his directors. ‘Rebecca’ and its creation is an eternally relevant story in the regards of how moviemaking occurs, and shows us both the progress and simultaneous immovability of how that process is achieved. For the Hitchcock of it all, it is a clear message to filmmakers on how to pursue their creative vision in spite of the voices overhead that bark their vision out loud. If there is a positive outcome to all of it, it does show how those two forces can work together to create something spectacular.

Alas for Hitchcock and Selznick, there would be further and worse strife between the two. Hitchcock’s experience working with Selznick taught him much about how he would like to run the show without interference from the likes of a David O. Selznick. Post- ‘Rebecca’,  Selznick proceeded to loan Hitchcock out to other studios where Hitchcock was to further learn how he wanted things to proceed once he broke free of Selznick. Their only other two works together were 1945’s ‘Spellbound’ and ‘1947’s ‘The Paradine Case’. Both would cause headaches on either side, and the end finally came when Hitch packed his bag and went on to form the eventually doomed Transatlantic Pictures. Hitchcock would bounce back though, and continue his career by making many of his most revered films between 1954 to 1964 with freedom from other studios that Selznick would never have provided. As for Selznick, he kept producing up till 1957, with none of his efforts achieving the heights of his earlier efforts. Even ‘Rebecca’ cannot fully be claimed by him thanks to Hitchcock and his enduring legacy. As it stands, no matter what film he made outside of his 1939 independent debut that has achieved a legacy, they would always remember him solely for that one picture. The fact remains though: he did care about stories in a way that is sorely needed from studio heads to this very day. 

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Until next time, Good Night. 

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The Shamley Silhouette – Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Experiment

“He is the only director I know of who knew absolutely everything that was going to be on the screen. He didn’t have to look through a viewfinder, he knew. This was probably the most difficult picture in that regard because: ‘Was the wall going to be moved to the right spot?’ [or] ‘Would the camera be in the right spot?’; but when it was all set up, he didn’t bother to look, he knew.”

-Arthur Laurents, screenwriter of Rope, on Hitchcock’s approach to filmmaking in the 1998 featurette “Rope Unleashed”. 

Good Evening…

It is not a notion right off the top of one’s head to think of Alfred Hitchcock as an independent filmmaker. Our association with his work stems primarily from those familiar logos that do inspire a sense of prestige and quality in even the greatest cynic (whether those attributes are truly present or not). The legacy of Hitchcock is intertwined with the studio system no matter the free reign he was given, and it tends to be solely defined by the way we look at independent film in general. We have a broader definition of it nowadays with looking at it through budgets and not the actual formation of the project and the term “indie film” is used in several ways. Putting aside merited specifics on what is truly independent (self distribution is a whole discussion in and of itself) , a very easy understanding of how it works comes from the most commercial aspect: a film made through means outside the major studio system that is then picked up by a major studio after the creation. A negative pickup, if you will. When it comes to the Master of Suspense, there was a time when he sought to follow this notion rather than be tied to the constraints of the moguls. It is an example that proves to be a repeating tale throughout film history, usually retaining the unhappy outcome. Despite the failings at a business level, these treks into independent territory have produced some of the most beloved and intriguing classics that we continue to study to this day. Not the least of which is 1948’s ‘Rope’; one of the two films produced by Transatlantic Pictures, the production company created by Sidney Bernstein and Alfred Hitchcock. 

Transatlantic Pictures was birthed out of Hitchcock’s desire to avoid experiences that he had suffered during his time under contract with David O. Selznick. His experience was one of frustration and artistic restriction at the hands of the domineering movie mogul who clashed him all to often during the making of films such as ‘Rebecca’ and ‘Spellbound’. His experience with Selznick left him wanting more control and voice in all aspects of production, not too dissimilar from the freedom he had in his early years in Britain. In those early years, he met and became friends with film entrepreneur Sidney Bernstein. Berstein’s story is one that is thoroughly intertwined with the early formation of British Cinema. Starting with the formation of a circuit of sixty or so theaters from property his family had owned; he went on to co-found  the London Film Society in 1925 and formed Granada Theaters Ltd in 1930, which later became a large media conglomerate that existed on it’s own until a merger in 2004. Berstein met Hitchcock in 1925, just as Hitchcock was beginning his ascent into becoming the first unique voice in British cinema with his work at British Gaumont/Gainsbourough. Years later during World War II, Berstein brought Hitchcock back to Britain to help make documentary shorts for the Ministry of Information. The result of this collaboration was ‘German Concentration Camps Factual Survey’, the documentary that was to unveil the crimes and horrors of the Nazi Party for the British public. The film was shelved for years after one screening in September of 1945, but the teaming of Bernstein and Hitchcock was destined to continue. They had decided that once Hitchcock had finished his contract with Selznick, they would go into production for themselves, and Transatlantic Pictures was born. The goal of the company was to be able to produce films is both Hollywood and London, with offices set up in Bernstein’s Granada Theaters. They had secured the release of their productions with a distribution deal at Warner Brothers pictures, and choose  something bold as their first venture: a film based off a play inspired by the Leopold-Loeb murder case in Chicago. 

The formation, execution, and final results of ‘Rope’ as a film, breaks new ground in almost every aspect of its existence. 

The story is based upon the 1929 stage play ‘Rope’s End’, written  by Patrick Hamilton. Having wanted to attempt to film a stage play as a movie for some time, this particular play’s one room setting provided the perfect space to do so.  The picture, as designed by Hitchcock was comprised of 10 unbroken shots ranging from 5 to 10 minutes a piece. The shots would end in places such as the back of a character or on a piece of furniture in order to create the illusion of the film being made in one single, continuous shot and perpetuating the feeling of real time. For the period especially, this was a gamble of technical acumen that seems perfectly fitted for the filmmaker who runs his ship on a strict and pre-planned basis on every outing.  ‘Rope’ was no different, with the production having to have technical precision of the highest concentration to pull off it’s magic trick. 

The picture deals with the aftermath of a murder committed by two young men, Phillip (Farley Granger) and Brandon (John Dall). They strangle their classmate David and have hidden him in a book chest in the living room of their apartment while they prepare for a party they are to hold with many people close to their victim. It is all part of their pursuit to commit the perfect murder, a notion and Nietzschean philosophy of superiority they learned from their prep school teacher, Rupert Cadell (James Stewart). 

What follows in the 81 minutes of Rope is a ticking bomb under the table, worthy of Hitchcock’s usual modus operandi, stuck firmly in this one apartment. In order to execute this feat, Hitchcock does exactly what he wanted to do: he films a play. Utilizing rolling sets and a team of crewmen at the ready, they were able to keep up with the camera’s flow throughout each long take. Prop men were at the ready to move furniture in and out of the way with each camera move, sound men were constantly in motion to grab every actor at every moment they were within the camera’s eye, and the actors were strictly beholden to the various technical cues in order to be where they needed to be in each moment. During a press conference on the set, James Stewart was said to have remarked, “The really important thing being rehearsed here is the camera, not the actors!” Within the final result the true fluidity desired was not accomplished, with the editing together of each long shot coming up short from a perspective that seems to be multi-generational. Contemporary critics and modern critics seem to possess the same phrase, “The experiment doesn’t work.” On the surface level that may be so, but there seems to be a call for this film to be met on the terms of a new frontier. In the wake of a film like Alejandro G. Iñárritu’s ‘Birdman’, one can look at Rope as the promise being made that this form of filmmaking can be done and done well, regardless of how it is accomplished. The cutaways in each shot change is indeed obvious and distracting, but if you are drawn in by the story, it is possible that one can be willing to ignore the unseen Bulky Technicolor elephant in the room. The ultimate achievement of ‘Rope’ as a technical experiment ultimately lies in what happens in each shot, with certain moves cultivating the same effect that would be present in a typically shot Hitchcock picture. There is a moment during the party where the camera zeroes in on the chest where the body is being hidden while the guests are in the room (it had been set up as a buffet for the guests). As the camera sits on the chest, we see housekeeper Ms. Wilson (Edith Evanson), cleaning up the chest and putting away the decorations adorning it. We are treated in that moment to an ideal example of how Hitchcock draws out the suspense by playing on the audience’s anxiety of whether or not the body will be discovered.

It is a technique that Hitchcock has used throughout his career. Here’s Hitchcock to tell you all about it:

“There is a distinct difference between “suspense” and “surprise,” and yet many pictures continually confuse the two. I’ll explain what I mean. 

We are now having a very innocent little chat. Let’s suppose that there is a bomb underneath this table between us. Nothing happens, and then all of a sudden, “Boom!” There is an explosion. The public is surprised, but prior to this surprise, it has seen an absolutely ordinary scene of no special consequence. Now, let us take a suspense situation. The bomb is underneath the table and the public knows it, probably because they have seen the anarchist place it there. The public is aware that the bomb is going to explode at one o’clock and there is a clock in the decor. The public can see that it is a quarter to one. In these conditions, the same innocuous conversation becomes fascinating because the public is participating in the scene. The audience is longing to warn the characters on the screen: “You shouldn’t be talking about such trivial matters. There is a bomb beneath you and it is about to explode!” 

In the first case we have given the public fifteen seconds of surprise at the moment of the explosion. In the second we have provided them with fifteen minutes of suspense. The conclusion is that whenever possible the public must be informed. Except when the surprise is a twist, that is, when the unexpected ending is, in itself, the highlight of the story.”

Rope may be one of the purest and most extreme examples how how that theory is played out. Hitchcock pulls this thread out for almost the entirety of the picture, keeping us on our toes for what feels like an eternity. One could argue that it’s drawn too long compared to individualized sequences in other pictures he had made prior and after ‘Rope’, and they would be justified in this perspective. After all, how long can you realistically expect an audience to be kept on their toes before the novelty gets tiresome? Yet from the perspective of this all being one giant experiment, it seems (at least to this “author’s” mind) that it proves successful thanks in part to the intrigue and due diligence that Granger and Dall give their characters and how we are hooked by their caper and its possible outcomes. Hitchcock is indeed pushing the audiences patience, and that is exactly part of this film experiments point.

Drawing out the film as he does is enhanced (albeit clunkily) by the execution of playing it out in real time. Accomplishing this goes beyond the confines of the apartments interior. Recalling the previous article on Rear Window and it’s meticulous detail in turning every single apartment into a living being, ‘Rope’ is the testing ground for this. Using a cyclorama for the view outside the apartment, Hitchcock instructed his team to light the buildings and exterior signage with their real-life lighting conditions. Combined with the overall adjustment for the cyclorama to go from day to night, Hitchcock provides a living breathing world outside to add depth to the world he is working with. It ultimately helps with the impact of the finale, where Cadell fires off the boys’ gun to get the police to come investigate. The nightlight exterior with glowing neon, combined with the sounds of people outside concerned all draws us in on the final shot of Cadell, Phillip, and Brandon waiting silently for their fates to unfold. This living, breathing world is further enhanced by Hitchcock’s first outing with Technicolor. It’s a great starter to what would be a deep commitment down the line to utilizing color in film in all the best possible ways. There’s a sense of things not being as “poppy” as they will be in future Hitchcock pictures, but ‘Ropes’ color palette add’s to the terror in it’s own way, with a slight wash-out in the palette helping to lend an air of frigidity to the whole proceedings, which naturally blend with the story of murder for the sake of murder.

Alas, despite the ambitions and positive executions of ‘Rope’, the film was received flatly. Taking in barely enough to cover the $2 million dollar price tag, it was almost immediately the beginning of the end for Transatlantic Pictures. The second blow came with the release of Hitchcock’s 1949 picture ‘Under Capricorn ‘ (which has a unique story to save for later), which was unable to even meet its budget at the box office. The final blow was when Warner Brothers assumed full control over the production of Hitchcock’s ‘Stage Fright’ (1950), thus sealing Transatlantic’s doom. The partnership dissolved, and this ambitious and creatively freeing idea was no more. Gone was the ability to avoid the studio moguls and their badgering. There are two consolations of this whole affair:

1) Hitchcock was about to enter his golden period with the studios, who gave him more free reign than even he could imagine. 

And

2) We have a unique and fascinating film to further dissect called ‘Rope’. 

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Till the next article… Good Night…..

Oh, P.S.

I realize this article is lacking in the linked videos, so to make up for that, here is an excerpt from the famous Hitchcock/Truffaut interviews where they discuss ‘Rope’ and color in cinema. 

Articles, Editorial, Review, The Shamley Silhouette, Uncategorized

The Shamley Silhouette – Chapter 3

 

“We won’t allow you to cheat yourself. You must see PSYCHO from the very beginning. Therefore, do not expect to be admitted into the theatre after the start of each performance of the picture. We say no one — and we mean no one — not even the manager’s brother, the President of the United States, or the Queen of England (God bless her)!”

-Text upon a standee explaining the admittance policy of Psycho (1960)

“ In New York, some journalists thought, ‘Oh we’ll show them this is just a publicity stunt’. So they got ahold of a woman who was pregnant and coached her on what to say to the manager with her “so called” husband. The husband went in a said, ‘Look, my wife is pregnant as  you can see. But she really wants to see Psycho. Let us in now even though the picture has started.’ The manager said, ‘Well, I’m very happy that she’s pregnant sir, but we cannot allow her in the theater. She is perfectly welcome to sit in my office until the next program starts. She cannot come in the middle of the program.’”


–Peggy Robertson, Alfred Hitchcock’s longtime assistant, recalling the effectiveness of the admittance policy for Psycho in the 1998 making of documentary “The Making of Psycho”.

 

Chapter 3: Innovations and Influence

 

Good Evening…

 

    No one, not even the Master of Suspense himself, could have predicted the fruit that would come to bear from the decision he made to tell a small story about a boy and his mother. It is unthinkable to imagine how they could. The world of movie making and movie going had been firmly cemented to the minds of those who had brought the intertwined industry up from the ground earliest part of the 20th century and transformed it into a behemoth that felt for the majority of its life immune to change. That assumption of immunity to change began with the dawn of television, stealing cinema goers away with its allure of free entertainment (it also killed the glorious thing that was scripted radio, but that is a story for another rant). As fast as television came, so did the demolition of theater chains owned and operated by the studios for the simple fact that it was a monopoly that took longer than it should have to be dismantled. Amidst the sea of change though, it appeared that much of the rituals had stayed the same. Filmmakers made entertainment that never truly went beyond the limits of the various censorship boards,  which put a stop to any “tomfoolery” and taboo like sex and violence in the most draconian fashion imaginable. Those films were then distributed to a theater where the house would rerun the same set program on a loop and allowing patrons to enter at any given point no matter how much they may have missed. When those films were over they may even leave at the exact moment they came in. In many ways, it’s a glorious period and an intriguing way of watching films. All of that would gradually go, and one of the films to popularize the notion of change was one that had an uphill battle getting into existence. 

It would be foolish to proclaim that Hitchcock’s 1960 masterpiece PSYCHO was the sole catalyst for the change that would ensue. Many film prior to him were already breaking down the barriers of content and it is most likely that the restructuring of the movie going habits would be eventual due to declining business pulled away by television. Nevertheless though, PSYCHO made the loudest sound in this regard. From a pure filmmaking and publicity standpoint, it shook the foundation of an establishment already in danger of collapsing.  It shook it just enough to allow films to push content forward and it gave a legitimate reason to change our movie going experience. For all its accomplishments; PSYCHO, at the end of the day, is a film that cleverly told a story in such a way that one could hardly proclaim that they had ever seen before… or at least think they had. 

    Starting off as the whim of noted horror author Robert Bloch, the novel Psycho is a tale steeped in the allusions to the infamous case of serial killer Ed Gein. In his family home in Plainfield, Wisconsin, Gein was responsible for murdering women who he then proceeded to skin and use the body parts for various purposes. Upon capture and further investigation, the revelation of Gein’s mother being a tyrannical presence that dominated his life was the starting point for how real life bled into the story of Norman Bates. The novel, however, does not contain many of the elements that bring the film adaptation to the forefront. While a string piece of horror literature in its own right, it would be screenwriter Joseph Stefano’s take on the material and Hitchcock’s changes to the story that would lay the foundation of the inevitable groundbreaking. The biggest elements of this involves focusing the first act of the film to the story of thief on the run Marion Crane (the legendary Janet Leigh) before having “Mother” stab her repeatedly (and to the typical eye, brutally) in the shower. That is where Hitchcock creates an innovation for the masses. As stated before, this is not necessarily new; however, this was an abrupt turn for a film that despite its low budget was a Hollywood film. Hollywood was steeped in traditions and killing off a character you had invested a substantial amount of time in was a revelation to a mainstream public whose taste did not journey too far of their beaten path. Hitchcock proceeds to popularize the notion of going 180 degrees from expectations and opens up a door for others who utilize it later. Wes Craven’s ‘Scream’ does this in the opening scene with Drew Barrymore, Eli Roth does this for the first half of ‘Hostel’, and even as recently as Quentin Tarantino’s ‘The Hateful Eight’. Hitchcock’s innovation by proclaiming to Stefano that they could get a star to play Marion immediately takes a normal twist and ups the stakes through upsetting the established norm, being that someone as big as Leigh was going to be around the whole movie. Movie stars didn’t get taken out of the picture until at least the end, that is until Hitchcock said otherwise. The other change in the source material is even bigger. In the novel, Norman is a middle age slob of a man with a drinking problem(among other issues that made it into the film with better actualization). Very much the norm for any villain, let alone one that would commit the ghastly murders Bates does in any iteration. Hitchcock and Stefano made the right choice in steering clear of that stereotype by casting the youthful and clean-looking Anthony Perkins. With immediate casting, Hitchcock doubles down on a trope he used before in ‘Shadow of a Doubt’ where the least likely person from a superficial point of view is actually the killer. While it recycles that thread from ‘Shadow’ where Joseph Cotton is indeed a murderer, with Psycho he is able to draw out our suspicions and even disbelief that the option is even present. After all; Mother is alive, right? The innovation within is to dispel preconceived notions of what a villain actually looks like and acts like. It changes the way villains, or perceived villains, are handled going forward. It’s a concept that extends beyond storytelling and into the heart of the very nature of how we look at crimes of this nature. The added twist in that is that Norman is one of the first examples (at least in regards to the genre it spawned) of a villain that has an empathetic and even sympathetic complex. Even before you know he is the killer, you are fearing for him because of the hold that “Mother” has over him. You do not feel full hatred for Norman from the very fact of the private trap he was born into. That’s an element that was carried before it in the gothic horror films of the 30’s, where Karloff and Chaney were tragic figures. Norman is a tragic figure that, at least at the time, is harder to reconcile with because he seems like he is normal looking enough to not have any problems. ‘Psycho’ refines that notion of the sympathetic monster toward something more tangible and bleeds into films like ‘The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (another Gein inspired picture) where despite the horrific crimes of Leatherface, you also see an abused and tormented side courtesy of the Cook and the Hitchhiker he resides with. There’s even the connection to a character like Jason Vorhees of the ‘Friday the 13th’ franchise. Jason’s tragic origin does not take away his villainy, but it does add a dimension that doesn’t exist with most Slasher film villains. 

 

    Among the innovations brought forth within the picture, you can never understate the importance of “The Shower Scene”. Marion ends her awkward but enlightening chat with Norman and decides to return the money she has absconded with earlier in the film. She returns to her cabin (Cabin #1, it’s close by in case she needs anything), adds up what she would owe from the stolen money she spent on a car (California Charlie never saw the customer high pressure the salesman), and decides to cleanse herself in the shower. As she showers, a dark silhouette (no, not the Shamley Silhouette you jokers) strolls quietly up to the shower and draws back the curtain to reveal a large kitchen knife. At that moment begins a sequence that required 78 setups and 52 cuts to completely change a genre forever (for far more intricate and intelligent dissection of that, see Alexandre O. Phillipe’s “78/52”). “The Shower Scene” is an innovation primarily because it is a magic trick of editing that perpetuates the notion that you saw what you did not see. As the knife from “Mother” stabs away at Marion, you would assume that you saw her body being penetrated by the knife. When slowed down and examined frame by frame, it is far from that notion. To be honest, it’s all in your dirty mind (that goes for nudity too, there’s none there). What the magic trick accomplishes is making the audience believe that brutality has occurred. The hyper-kinetic cutting conveys the brutality and is added upon by the way that kinetic energy ceases as “Mother leaves the cabin and Marion collapses to the ground. What is fascinating is that this scene is decidedly not gory or intense by any time measure, but the illusion it gave pushed other inspired filmmakers to up the ante. A gate had been opened for on screen death’s to become more real and, many times following, more intense and brutal. Oddly though, Psycho is but the seed that doesn’t fully blossom until 1980, when Sean Cunningham’s ‘Friday The 13th’ arrives with the most brutal and intense deaths then seen at the time from a Slasher film. ‘Friday’ however, owes a debt to John Carpenter’s 1978 classic, ‘Halloween’ (or John Carpenter’s Halloween, which is not David Gordon Greens Halloween, or even Rob Zombie’s Halloween, etc..). ‘Halloween’ took the knife wielding character and dialed up the intensity ever so slightly. It is violent and the kills are brutal, but they are decidedly not gory and evoke further into the Hitchcockian way of creating terror. They only show you enough to convey the horror that lies inside your mind. Even the aforementioned ‘The Texas Chain Saw Massacre’ is tame on its violence (albeit in a different and unique way), and many moments remembered from that film are not as detailed as our minds assumed. They all owe a debt to ‘Psycho’ because ‘Psycho’ told them, “Hey, what if we did this. We are old enough to handle it, right?”. Thus dawned a genre that has persisted into the very present. 

    It isn’t enough though to just create a masterpiece. In the ever lovable mix between art and commerce, one must make the money that justifies a change (sigh). ‘Psycho’, from the moment it was a notion if Hitchcock’s head, was a gamble financially and reputational. Paramount Pictures did not desire this as their last film from Hitchcock under their contract with him prior to his move to Universal. Prior to ‘Psycho’, Hitchcock had done ‘North by Northwest’ with MGM, a film Paramount would rather have had as their final contribution to their slate from the Master of Suspense. An agreement was reached that Paramount would distribute the film, but would not supply the budget. The money that made Psycho was out of Hitchcock’s pocket. It’s only right to assume that if you put your own money in the show, you will do everything short of criminal behavior to ensure it is a success. ‘Psycho’ by its very nature is a film that is considered “Spoiler-Heavy” by current parlance. After the 35-40 minute mark when Marion exits the film, there lies a story that has more twists and curves then had been done at that time. As a proponent of his story and how it played out, Hitchcock knew he could use this to marketing advantage. The result was a campaign that set up restrictions on how Psycho would be viewed by the public. The greatest contribution to that is the strict attendance policy. The theaters would be required to enforce a policy that once ‘Psycho’ had started playing, no one would be admitted until the next performance. It is a clever play by Hitchcock and the ‘Psycho’ marketing team , who utilized the power of traditional movie theater going habits to create a special aura around the film. It creates an anticipation that people were not used to experiencing in their movie going lives. They had been trained to go in whenever and come out from the moment they came in on the theater program. Now Hitchcock is having to teach the public how to experience his film properly and fully, and spawning a notion in our heads to show up to the theater on time to see the film from beginning to end. It is impossible to know if EVERY theater followed this policy set up by the ‘Psycho’ team and to know if this is the exact moment where the movie-going habits change. It is arguable though, that Psycho popularized the idea that going to the movies means getting the full experience of the picture. This is not even an anomaly anymore. Try going to a movie at an Alamo Drafthouse 15 minutes after the show has started, you will rightfully not be let in. It is highly likely though, that ‘Psycho’ is closest to the origin point of creating the phrase “No Spoilers”. The campaign urged viewers who had just seen the film, “not to indulge your friends with the many secrets of ‘Psycho’.” Today, this very concept is how the internet lives and breathes on any given day (basically, if you spoiled Avengers: Endgame, you made Hitchcock’s ghost cry). The very conceit of not revealing plot details and twists becomes emphasized and popularized by the release of ‘Psycho’. 

    It’s overwhelming to understand how a simple film meant to shock was responsible for so much. To nearly overhaul an entire way of thinking from multiple facets and establish new ground. Even more amazing is how this isn’t the first or the last time Hitchcock does it in some way that has long reaching effects. As we will learn going forward, there are many things that we do not hold today without these risks. Some for the better and some for the worse. Much like Norman Bates is fully changed forever by the end of ‘Psycho’, we as an audience and even as filmmakers are changed forever. 

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Till the next article… Good Night….. 

 

Oh, P.S.

The one thing that never caught on in the grand scheme of culture was the structure and execution of the trailer for ‘Psycho’. Here it is though to watch and enjoy… because this trailer is just a hilarious delight. 

 

Articles, Editorial, Review, The Shamley Silhouette

The Shamley Silhouette – Chapter Two

 

Chapter 2: Elaborate Rear Window Dressing

 

 

 

 

”You really have to keep your eye open in the film, because it’s a complicated thing. And the audience was really with it, I thought that was just amazing. It just bears out the feeling that so many of us had about Hitch and his way of doing things.”

-James Stewart on ‘Rear Window’ from interview with Janet Maslin in The New York Times from October 9, 1983 following a re-release of ‘Rear Window’, one of the illustrious “Hitchcock 5”.

 

Good Evening…

 

There’s an inherent risk in bringing up a point that undoubtedly brings to mind an old man yelling at the clouds, but here it goes: It seems like no one takes time to notice the little things. This notion is generational and keeps popping up within every iteration of a go-go society. However as of the last 20 years, there’s been a boom in pointing out every detail in every film or TV show you see. It’s one of the few benefits the internet still provides so long as it is not followed by a rant that veers off course (by the way, there’s no guarantee that will never happen here, but fingers crossed) . That devotion to watching a film over and over and over again to notice every intricate detail is now an essential business tool in how films are made.

 

It is arguable to say that Hitchcock was at the very least one of the founding fathers of this trade, if not the origin point (Yes, I’m sure I’m blanking on a director before him who does it. I know, I’m horrible).

 

Almost from the moment Hitchcock came to directing, he has laced every film he touched with meticulous attention to detail in order to ensure maximum enjoyment in his films. Many times these details are never really noticed the first go around. If you enjoyed the film the first time and then go back and study it, it can help you understand the tricks that are done in order to ensure the enjoyment. In the storied career of ‘The Master of Suspense’, each of his films present a level of care and meticulousness that enhances the viewers experience.

 

His 1954 picture ‘Rear Window’ may be the epitome of this thought. And if the great Peter Bogdanovich is correct, “‘Rear Window’ is sorta Hitchcock’s testament film… meaning that in ‘Rear Window’, perhaps you see the best example of what Hitchcock’s cinema at its best stood for, which is essentially the subjective point of view.”

 

That statement is essential to understanding how Hitchcock was compelled and thrilled to lay in those details. The nature of how we have always operated in day to day lives is inherently steeped in noticing things big and small that can potentially dictate our reactions and understanding of any situation. Now we may not notice every single thing in the bustle of life, but we arguably notice enough to then emotionally connect to the same thing happening before our eyes on a silver screen. The subjective point of view is a constant in Hitchcock’s work, always at play. In ‘Rear Window’ , it is the point of the film thematically. The story of a wheelchair bound James Stewart peeping in on the lives of others automatically requires for those details that enhance a film to become focal points. If ‘North By Northwest’ is the ‘Ultimate Hitchcock Film’ from a story perspective, then ‘Rear Window’ is the ‘Ultimate Hitchcock Film’ from a filmmaking craft standpoint.

 

It’s best to start with the tool that is most identified with filmmaking: the camera. In the hands of the director and cinematographer it is a tool to bring the viewer into the world  of the film and the mind of the director. Hitchcock’s camera was the king and the actors its subjects. That world where the camera is king is a detail that, if the job is done correctly, is unnoticed by the viewer. In ‘Rear Window’, the camera tells the story inherently by the design of what it wants you to see. In any other iteration of the story, ‘Rear Window’ would be solely focused on anything pertaining to the murder across the way. But Raymond Burr’s apartment is not the only one we peer into, therefore the camera is telling us that the murder across the way is not the focus of the story. Screenwriter John Michael Hayes weaves a tale that involves a mystery, but at its core is about how L. B. Jefferies’ (James Stewart) impressions of his neighbors dictate his attitude toward his relationship with socialite Lisa Fremont (Grace Kelly). It’s a film about the fear of commitment and primarily through the camera work does it become the central theme and not a side story to the murder. Hitchcock and cinematographer Robert Burks revel in shooting only what is essential to getting those thematic elements across while providing the mystery of Thornwald’s (Raymond Burr)  missing wife, which also essentially contributes to Jefferies thoughts on tying the knot with Kelly. The camera becomes the audience and we become voyeurs ourselves. As Thelma Ritter says in the film, “We’ve become a race of peeping toms.” The camera also lays into the “Pure Cinema” practices that Hitchcock lived by. Telling the story primarily through imagery and not dialogue. The opening of the film, in one panning shot, tells the whole story of why Jefferies is in his wheelchair and stuck in his apartment without having a block of dialogue that numbs the mind. There is also the way Hitchcock’s camera gives the audience information that Stewart does not receive while maintaining the voyeuristic nature. The moment when Thornwald walks out of his apartment with another woman after the scream before happens in a single pan that ends on Stewart fast asleep. It’s a detailed shot that never breaks the momentum or throws implausibility into the story. Then of course there is the final shot of the movie, which shows Jefferies laying in his chair with now two casts sleeping peacefully and the panning to Lisa reading a world travel book before picking up Harpers Bazzar. It’s a detail in the camera work that settles their arcs without relying on the dialogue. That ‘Pure Cinema’ technique is an ever important detail that functions as philosophy for Hitchcock, even if to the viewer it is just a cool thing they notice and then forget about.

Clip: Opening scene of ‘Rear Window’.

 

Though “Pure Cinema” is often achieved, sound does play a substantial role in how we enjoy and experience the film. Surely if it were up to Hitchcock, he would not need sound period, but as this is a film post 1927, of course it will possess it. A frequent tool of Hitchcock though is to limit it severely. In a Hitchcock film, the sound is used at the directors discretion when it comes to the final mix. There are moments laden throughout his films where any vital sound effect is used softly and just enough to not break the tension flowing through the audience’s mind. In ‘Rear Window’, you see key examples of that. The final confrontation between Jeffries and Thornwald does not possess a score, nor  any additional sound effects like footsteps or a wheelchair squeaking as it moves. The only sound effects you hear in that scene are the flash of a camera light going off and the sounds of the bulbs being replaced as Jefferies tries to ward off Thornwald. Hitchcock keeps it basic and bare bones which can put you on edge. There is also the matter of how he uses sound to enhance the voyeuristic theme of the film. Every sound outside of Jefferies apartment is recorded as such that it sounds as if it is coming from an appropriate distance. It sort of reverses his selective use of sound effects and grounds you into the reality of Jefferies world from that apartment. Songs playing in the bar across the street or even in the Songwriter’s (Ross Bagdasarian, creator of ‘Alvin and The Chipmunks’) apartment are coming through with appropriate distance and sound barriers accounted for. It further enhances our experience being only in Jefferies world and nowhere else. It also provides a level of intrigue, as that distance provides the characters in the other apartments to have elaborate conversations with us only grasping the basics through the notion of “Pure Cinema”, like watching a dialogue scene in a silent film with no cue cards. Hitchcock finds a way for “Pure Cinema’ and sound to coexist in those scenes that further elevates his artistry.

Clip: Neighborhood Observations by Jefferies (James Stewart) in ‘Rear Window’.

 

 

With the camera as a king in the court, the actors are the subjects. Those actors are bound to the frame and part of the reason why the acting in Hitchcock’s movies is highly regarded can be associated in part with how they must work within those guidelines. In the case of Stewart and Kelly, they are given much more of the lines to deliver that can be driven by both their interpretation and Hitchcocks guidance. The most fascinating details in the acting and Hitchcock’s direction come from everything outside Jefferies’ apartment. There is a whole world outside that room and each and every person Stewart peep in on is full of a full story to tell in even more detail than just what we see. Starting with Miss Torso (Georgine Darcy), we are looking into the world of an aspiring dancer who entertains various persons with the assumed hopes of advancing her career in dance. A detail in Miss Torsos story lies in a trivia fact: Hitchcock instructed Darcy not to take any dance lessons or learn any ballet of any kind. Hitchcock wanted her to find her own interpretation of what her character would dance like. That simple instruction blossoms into the detail that fully explains Miss Torso as a character without having to hear her speak. We get the notion through her dance and subsequent actions with others in her apartment that she is either an amateur or just good enough to maybe have a shot at dancing professionally in bigger places. It’s a small detail that blossoms into a full character from the moment you understand that is what’s going on. There is also a bit of direction that involves a prank on Hitchcock’s part. During production, the actors in the other apartments had one-way earpieces for Hitchcock to give direction to those actors. In one scene, the couple sleeping on the fire escape are trying to get their mattress and themselves inside from the rain. Hitchcock had instructed the husband to pull the mattress one way and told the wife to pull the mattress the other way, without either of them knowing they had each received opposing directions. This results in a tussle that leads the husband to then literally fall through the window back into the apartment. That was the one and only take of that scene and it is a scene that helps define those characters and (combined with cross cutting to Stewart) provides further thematic reinforcement of Stewart’s marriage anxieties by watching a couple struggling in the rain.

 

Hitchcock’s precision with the details of the actors is automatically enhanced by the genius of frequent Costume Design collaborator, Edith Head. Hitchcock always relied on Edith’s brilliance in what a character should wear in order to make that character distinct. In ‘Rear Window’ it is put through the best test. For the main characters, Head puts Jefferies in simple pajamas and helps indicate a vulnerability for Jefferies both physically and mentally as he goes through the film in panic and terror trying to solve the mystery and to ward off the serious discussion of marriage with Kelly. It’s a long shot to suggest that this immediately explains his defensive attitude, but it does give the sense that he must because he’s more stripped of power than if he were wearing something officious or anything that identified confidence and calm in the 1950’s. Kelly is dressed elegantly in beautiful gowns, primarily appearing in green or emerald. It provides a contrast when by the climax of the film she is going through feats of heroism that contradict the practicality of the gown (at least by 1950’s standards). Her gowns and suits in green also relate to Miss Lonelyhearts, another character Jefferies has been observing. Miss Lonelyhearts (Judith Evelyn) is a character who is going through the ringer of romance that ends up in terrible heartbreak and crippling loneliness. Miss Lonelyhearts dons green through many key moments where Lisa and Jefferies are peeking in on her and it provides an astute reflection to Lisa (in green also) and her problems in the relationship with Jefferies. It’s one character out of the many that reside in the apartment complex where each are given distinct looks to help the viewer identify them and keep track of their individual narratives in conjunction to the whole of the piece.

 

The most fascinating from the actors perspective may be in the restraint of explanation and the reliance only on the details. The Thornwald character who gets rid of his wife is perceived by the audience as a murderous monster, however we do only see this from Stewart’s perspective. The detail here is that Stewart is only seeing some of the details, and points to only a small understanding of how everything functions on Stewart’s end. When Thornwald finally enters Jefferies apartment and confronts him, Thornwald is a man in desperation, with Raymond Burr injecting a sense of panic and true fear in his delivery. Peter Bogdanovich pointed out in an interview with Hitchcock that there is a level of sympathy to Thornwald and Hitchcock concurs by pointing to the confrontation scene where Jefferies remains silent while Thornwald is essentially pleading for reprieve. “During that moment,” Hitchcock replied in the interview “it makes one think, ‘you know, he’s [Jeffries] really kind of a bastard.” So by taking away that detail from Jefferies and giving one to Thornwald, Hitchcock is able to play with our perceptions of events in the final ten minutes of the film. It may not reshape the way we view it from a broad standpoint, but it is a thought inherent to the voyeuristic tone of the piece. It is a detail that makes revisiting the film a delight and ties into Hitchcocks meticulous and methodical planning early on in pre-production, where these story details and character traits and plot executions are thoroughly pre planned with all left to do in production but turn on the machine and maybe tweak it as it goes along to ensure the machine runs smoothly.

Clip: Thornwald (Raymond Burr) confronts Jefferies (James Stewart) in ‘Rear Window’

 

With ‘Rear Window’, one is treated to a feast of the style of Hitchcock. The film is, in many ways, the best way to start watching Hitchcock so that you can then go further and see how elements like these and many more make their way into each of his films. As the series continues, there will surely be discussions on how these are achieved and how they even surpass this film. But as far as a prime example and starting point, ‘Rear Window’ is a clear example on how to at least start understanding Hitchcock and why he was a master at his craft.

 

And this is only scratching the surface. The further you go into his technique combined with his repeated thematic elements, the more intriguing it gets.

 

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Till the next article… Good Night.

 

Articles, Review, The Shamley Silhouette

The Shamley Silhouette – Chapter One

 

 

 

 

Chapter 1: Fanciful Notions

 

 

“As a matter of fact, that’s how I knew that Cary Grant had died. Every channel on TV was showing that shot of Cary running away from the plane. It’s strange, isn’t it, that such a distinguished career should be remembered mostly for that one shot?”

          -Ernest Lehman (2000) on the Crop Dusting Scene in NORTH BY NORTHWEST

Screenwriter: North By Northwest and Family Plot

 

Good Evening….

 

This whole damn thing started with a visit to the police. You have probably heard the story: Young Alfred Hitchcock is sent to a police station and put in a jail cell for five minutes then released. Upon his release, the jailer reputedly said to young Hitch, “That’s what we do to naughty boys.”

Despite this story having been called into question in many retrospectives and interviews with family and collaborators, let us assume it is not just a tall tale. As a young Hitchcock sat in that jail cell for the child’s eternity of five minutes, do you suppose that the young man had a tiny sense of who he would want to be. Not who he would be, but wanted to be. If it didn’t happen in that cell, it certainly didn’t take too long for the young man to figure out in his head who he would want to be in the most ideal of circumstances. Only thirty-seven years had to pass. Then in 1941, he was able to see that idyllic notion in the form of Archibald Leach… oh wait, sorry… CARY GRANT (cue to his name in lights bursting off a marquee).

 

It is safe to say that Cary Grant is the ideal Hitchcock leading man. A man of mystery or unexpected talent or fine crafted skill that is packed to the brim with charm, wit, and a dash of menace to throw you off. Not all these elements necessarily boil together in the same pot, but many tend to overlap to legendary perfection.  While Jame Stewart is very much a more grounded and realistic counterpart to Hitchcock, Grant is expressly there to emulate how the director wishes he was and may even see himself at fleeting moments. It’s not an uncommon occurrence for a director to find a frequent collaborator that seems to mesh well with the director and/or his inner aspirations,  nor would Hitchcock be the first to grasp that mantle in history, and it is not the only leading man collaboration in his career that holds high value. Yet undeniably, when you speak of Hitchcock, Grant comes to mind almost immediately because the four films they made together are a perfect pairing of Director and Star. Two of those specifically have been high at the top of the list for those who I reached out to for the companion podcast: ‘To Catch A Thief’ and ‘North By Northwest’.  The other two, ‘Notorious’ and ‘Suspicion’, are among the most celebrated of Hitchcock’s work, and while Grant is not the sole linchpin in these films, he is an undoubted ingredient films require to achieve their legacy. While it would be fair to say that you could possibly have put Grant in Stewart’s place for ‘Rope’ (1948) , you could not say the same for Stewart taking Grants place in a film like ‘Notorious’ or ‘Suspicion’ and you especially could never put him ‘To Catch A Thief’ or ‘North By Northwest’.

 

From the moment they start their cinematic journey together in 1941’s ‘Suspicion’, it is clear that Grant’s charm and notoriety as a screwball comedy master filled with charm is about to go through the ultimate transformation under Hitchcock. The films secret weapon is Grants then established persona and it plays to full effect as he devilishly glides through the story of the love struck Joan Fontaine suspecting him capable of murder in the pursuit of her inheritance. If the film had played out as the original novel ‘Before The Fact’ had, it would have seen one of the darkest turns by Grant in his storied career. It may have even changed his route to much more varied roles. One thought that occurs with Grant’s performances, especially in ‘Suspicion”, is that he is always hiding something inside. It may be his troubled familial past, his difficulty in keeping his many marriages in tact, or even the general psychological trauma for which he suffered by the former two. Regardless of the psychological pinpoint, Grant always possessed something haunted about him.  Up until Hitchcock gets hold of him, Grants mysterious nature was tampered down to the idea of the carefree bachelor or the suave, sophisticated fella who has wise crack or two despite hiding a tender side. The psychological factor in those contain amounts of fear and vulnerability. In ‘Suspicion’, he highlights Grant’s darker aspects by playing directly into our perception of his on-screen persona. We are not expecting him to be as conniving and selfish as purports and we immediately tend to be overtaken by his charm which acts as a smokescreen. If it weren’t for the conveniently happy ending requested by RKO Pictures, the films original ending would have driven that point home further. One of the most darkly beautiful moments in the film involves Cary Grant carrying up a glass of milk to Lina (Fontaine), which we the audience and Lina suspect has been laced with poison. Its a scene that further twists the audiences expectations of Grants persona and the character we are dealing with. The original ending would have seen Lina deliberately drink the poison Johnnie (Grant) gives her in the glass of milk after sending a letter to her mother detailing Johnnie’s actions while also professing that she loves him too much to let him be caught. Either way, it puts Fontaine in a weird position where she is granted utter character disservice due to the time in which it was made and the ending we have gives Grant an idyllic result for what is otherwise a devilish and twisted turn. The beauty is that none it feels lacking, it really is all there to enjoy and extrapolate.

 

 

Grant and Hitchcock evolve that idea of twisting perception with ‘Notorious’ and refine it to a much more complex realm. Telling the story of a woman who is to extract information from a Nazi spy ring by seducing and marrying one of its higher ups, ‘Notorious’ puts on display a fascinating conundrum to put Grant in opposite the luminous Ingrid Bergman. Prior to her mission beginning, the film quickly gets Grant’s Devlin  and Bergman’s Alicia together after a series of incidents where they spit venom back and forth until the tension falls on them like a ton of lovely bricks. While ‘Notorious’ never asks us to believe as an audience that Devlin is not conflicted and emotionally wrung by Alicia’s choice to carry out the mission of seduction and eventual marriage. But because we are primarily in Alicia’s shoes throughout the film, we are drawn into her realm of trust. While our assumption lies in the fact that Grant will rescue her and leave the diabolical Sebastian (Claude Raines) to his doom (Spoiler Alert), the tension that Hitchcock weaves throughout in the matters of trust can put you through the shoes of not entirely trusting Devlin. Consequently, you can also look through Devlin’s eyes and not trust Alicia, albeit for superficial reasons that are abundant at the top of the film. From Alicia’s point of view, the audience sees a sophistication of that dark charm that ‘Suspicion’ held while also possessing a relatable trait in Grants performance that borders on Anti-Hero. It is not quite that, but has a slight bent in its direction. From Devlin’s point of view, Hitchcock plays on the audience’s knowledge of Grant once again by putting us in Grants position of his suspicions when it comes to Alicia. Hitchcock was smart enough to know that with Grant in the part, they would automatically be put back into the familiar trope where Grant is pursued and Grant, generally does not pursue. The flip in ‘Notorious’ is that Grant, unlike many times in his career, does pursue Alicia. It isn’t overt, but Devlin’s care for Alicia cannot be masked by mere swagger and charm alone.  Grant thusly, may have been able to tap into his own personal experiences to add this subtle touch with Hitchcock’s guidance. Hitchcock also knows to play up Grants romantic side in this film, simply because: That kiss on the balcony is one that (for this authors money) could only be achieved if you have Grant and Bergman involved.

 

 

The darker natures of Grant then flip to a much more familiar face when the 50’s roll around. In ‘To Catch A Thief’, Grant plays John Robie, a master cat burglar who earned a reprieve of his crimes after serving in the war effort and is settled in retirement until a copy-cat burglar emerges and puts Robie under suspicion. The film then briskly walks through Robie’s mission to clear his name and try to avoid the pursuant Frances Stevens (Grace Kelly) from stealing his heart (Tee Hee, cause he’s a Thief, but she’s gonna… never mind, I’m delirious with stupidity). ‘To Catch A Thief’ is a Hitchcock affair that is light on his signature elements. From story to visual it is much more a romp than expected with his name at the head of it all. That doesn’t mean there isn’t stuff to chew on in regards to Grant. While it would be wrong to say that this is an exact representation of what Hitchcock wants to be, it like ‘Notorious’ and ‘Suspicion’ have blended elements that are natural to Grant to use as a conduit for Hitchcock’s purposes. He’s charm machine who gets Grace Kelly at the end, that alone is an answer. Additionally though, we are seeing elements of the chase that Grant briskly walks through in way that almost no other Hitchcock leading man is allowed to do.  That’s purely because Hitchcock likes these characters and shows it. From Grant’s angle, he is able to directly use his previous skills as a Vaudevillian acrobat both as character background and stunt work during the films rooftop climax. Even when the film is not infused with copious Hitchcockian vibes, the connection between dream and reality is a tight bond that allows the collaboration to flourish.

 

The culmination of all this lies in the tale of an ad executive who has to clear his name of murder and espionage even if he has runaway from crop dusters, endure James Mason, and  hang off the side of Mount Rushmore to do it. ‘North By Northwest’ has been described as the “Ultimate Hitchcock Film” and to a large extent it is. It’s also the film where the Hitchcock/Grant hybrid is unified in near perfect sync. The films inherent concept and structure of  the unextraordinary man in an extraordinary situation is prime for this director to play around with his internal imagination and flights of fancy. Thanks to the three previous collaborations, Hitchcock fully knows how to utilize Grant to his liking and it additionally compliments Grant’s ability to draw from the persona and reality. Grant’s Richard Thornhill is a man who has not grown up and is unable to handle the smaller details of his journey in addition to the broader ones within the spy plot. Upon nearly being killed in a car wreck and getting forcibly drunk at the hands of henchman Martin Landau, he lands in prison and the first call he makes is to his mother. While it is unrealistic to try and connect a thread to his own past familial trauma, it is interesting that Hitchcock is able to place his overbearing Mother trope into the film with the help of the genius Jessie Royce Landis, who is easily the best Hitchcock mother character in this and ‘To Catch A Thief’. The more solid thought though is that Grant is able to draw upon his own instability that is covered by the charm filled persona. In a sense, this fantastical world of impossible espionage and danger contains a realistic performance. Real in its portrayal and real in its devotion to the dream-mold Hitchcock blesses Grant with. And of course it delves right back into playing with the trope of Grant as the pursued rather than pursuer of Eva Marie Saint. While Saint does pursue him, Grant has to chase her more often than not to connect the dots of his predicament. In essence, Hitchcock and Screenwriter Ernest Lehman have broken almost entirely with the Grant tradition to suit this mold that Hitchcock plays with on most pictures. ‘North By Northwest’ is by and large the film that people remember the duo for above all else and it is not hard to see why when you see the aspirations of two men put thusly on the screen.

 

With all four of their collaborations  you see two trains stopping side by side at the same station that are able to work together on their brief stays, the desire of Grant to dig deeper and the desire of Hitchcock to dream bigger. Not every Hitchcock/Actor relationship would be this positive and prosperous (as we will discuss later in the series), but this is one that helps cement the simple reasons we still go to the movies. After all: haven’t you ever dream about getting caught up in spy caper and traveling the  country with a sense of adventure and danger and getting to defeat the bad guy at the end?

 

As the film ‘Suspicion’ begins the four film collaboration with a train in a tunnel before the light reveals Grant on screen across from Fontaine, ‘North by Northwest’ ends with Grant pulling Saint up to the upper berth as the train slyly goes into a tunnel. A cheeky bookend to a legendary run on celluloid.

 

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Till the next article… Good Night.

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