Vertigo (1958)

I don't like "Vertigo."

This was my third attempt at the film.

And, though I could appreciate it a bit more, this go 'round...

I still don't like it.

Now, I'm sure this makes me a cinematic idiot.  Like the yokel who stands in front of a Mondrian and goes, "Looks like a Parcheesi board.  Next."

It's hard because "Vertigo" is almost unanimously praised.  Roger Ebert has inducted it into his "Great Movies" hall of fame.  The most current AFI list of the greatest films in cinema history ranks it at #9.  The BFI critics' list places it at #2.

And here I am, the wannabe Hitchcock devotee, and I can't hardly sit through the whole thing.

Let me say that, on paper, this film is brilliant.  It is a marvelous story of obsession and possession and a looping tale of people creating other people in the image of still other people.  It seeks to play out the "Year of Living Dangerously" quote: "All is clouded by desire."  The story even takes on deeper significance when you understand that Hitchcock, himself, became obsessed by some of his go-to blondes (Grace Kelly, Tippi Hedren and Ingrid Bergman) and frequently sought to do to them what Scottie (James Stewart) does to Judy (Kim Novak).

So, yes, I relent: this is a great idea for a movie.  It's rife with suspense (the themes are draped across a tale that is simple mystery) and it's backed by a very strong "shadow film."

But why doesn't it work for me?

1) I don't like Kim Novak.  More than a few reviewers notice that Novak's performance is, at first blush, stilted and unreal.  But, they follow these comments up with the note that their minds have changed, over time.  Robin Wood in his analyses goes so far as to add a footnote to his page on the shortcomings of Novak's performance in later editions which says that, after rethinking, her work actually works.  I don't buy it.  I don't like looking at her (forgive me, but she's no Grace Kelly... does that make *me* Scottie-like?).  Her eyebrows are, truly, comical when she's Judy.  She just seems charmless and perfunctory and I can't buy Scottie falling in love with her -- let alone obsessing over her.  

2) It's pretty slow and boring.  Even a talker like "Rope" clips along for me.  This one, though, isn't all that talky... it just kind of sits on shots and really drills the "dream-like" quality... almost too much.  Maybe it feels (again, forgive me) *too* cinematic.  Lots of watching, watching, watching (Scottie following Madeleine, a walk through the sequoias, Scottie watching Judy transform into Madeleine).  Maybe that's vague, but Hitchcock was generally quite good at (especially for that day and age) keeping a brisk pace.  Not so, here.

3) Some terrible foley.  Okay, this is minor, but it kept bothering me.  Who put in the sound effects for this thing?  Were they done for the restoration?  There was one near laugh-out-loud moment where Judy is ripping a piece of paper and it sounds like they stuck a microphone inside the paper.  Heck, maybe this is the mixer's fault.  Either way, do we really need to hear loud footsteps -- footsteps louder than the traffic driving by?

4) Some missteps by Herrmann.  I actually love Bernard Herrmann's scores, in general.  His "North by Northwest" theme hums itself inside my brain more often than I care to recount.  "Psycho" is also memorable, and for more than just the strings for the shower scene.   (The slower moments in that score are wonderfully aped by Michael Giaccino for many episodes of "Lost.")  As well, "The Man Who Knew Too Much" (1956) prominently features his conducting as part of the film.  But, here, aside from the theme (which I do, actually, like), he seems to dip into soap operatic-mode.  The scene where Scottie kisses Madeleine in front of the ocean is undercut by a twee "romantic musical interlude."  Unfortunate.

5) Outdated and kooky special effects.  Scottie has a dream which is almost laughable.  It includes a few seconds of Disney-esque animation and his neck-less head floating against a swirling background.  Even the opening credit sequence (which shows close-ups of Kim Novak's face and hands) feels like it's trying to outreach its grasp.  Now, I do appreciate the warp-zoom (frequently referred to, nowadays, as the "Vertigo zoom") but I felt like, every time it was used, it could have staying on the screen just a second longer.  It is quite effective, but I felt like Hitchcock trimmed it too much to make it truly powerful.

The story, simply put, is about a policeman (Scottie, played by James Stewart) who retires upon discovering (in a most unfortunate way) that he has acrophobia whose primary symptom is vertigo.  After retiring, he is called upon by an old school friend to follow the man's wife as she has been acting quite "possessed."  Scottie does, and as he watches Madeleine (Kim Novak), he falls for her.  Madeleine, though, seems unaware of Scottie's following her and, in 

"madness," jumps into the San Francisco bay.  Scottie, watching, rescues her, and takes her to his home.  There, a spark ignites and Scottie's affection seems to be appreciated and returned by Madeleine.  Madeleine's insanity, though, comes back and she eventually flings herself from a mission tower, while Scottie stands by helpless -- impotent to climb the stairs because of his acrophobia.  

The second half of the film (easily more interesting than the first) centers on Scottie's obsession over his lost love and how, when he finds a woman who bears a striking resemblance to Madeleine, attempts to maker her over in her image.  (I'll leave the rest vague for those wanting to give it a try.)

Even as I write out that synopsis, I see how it seems tantalizing.  The ideas are sharp and, to some degree, largely unseen in cinema.  Stewart's obsession drives him to a difficult emotional cliff, and it feels novel to watch "America's Nice Guy" take a fairly dark turn.  The scenes where he's forcing Judy to become more and more Madeleine-esque are discomforting and purposeful.

I'd like to watch this one again (my fourth time) later this year.  Something tells me I may appreciate it more.  But, as it is, this one still doesn't set well with me.  Am I the boy who says the emperor has no clothes... or am I, indeed, the idiot in the museum?

Vertigo 1958

Starring: James Stewart and Kim Novak

Written by: Alec Coppel and Samuel A. Taylor

Music by: Bernard Herrmann

Dial M for Murder (1954)

Turning stage plays into cinematic films is tricky business.  Frequently, the movie feels like a filmed play -- as if the director just set his camera up in row 5 of the local playhouse and let it run.  There are typically only one or two sets in movies like these and they are frequently quite talky (a mortal sin to the likes of Hitchcock who claimed that the introduction of sound film would produce little more than "talking photographs").  That said, Hitchcock had much of his work cut out for him when it came time to turn Frederick Knott's hit play into a feature film.

A bit more background... in the early 1950s, the film business was quite worried.  Television had come along and taken the medium of story-entertainment and brought it to the living rooms of America.  Droves of filmgoers were becoming television-watchers and box office revenue was plummeting.  Hitchcock himself said that the advent of television was akin to the advent of indoor bathrooms -- neither would change the average person's need... but now that need could be met within the confines of one's own home.  

The major film distributors searched for ways to differentiate the theater-going experience from the TV-watching-experience.  VistaVision (and a host of other widescreen formats) came along to emphasize the vast difference between the enormity of the film screen and the dwarfishness of the television screen.  Color was also pushed, as televisions, in the early 1950s, were uniformly black and white.  In their groping for differences, the film business also stumbled upon a host of (what could best be qualified as) gimmicks designed to keep theater patrons buying tickets.  One of the most popular of these was 3-D -- a system designed to allow the film watcher to feel as though he or she was "really there" by simulating three dimensional vision.  

3-D film watchers had to put up with flimsy glasses which (along with a stereo filming process) produced the illusion... and which produced audience-wide headaches.  Along with the glasses, film goers had to put up with films which were little more than scenes strung together which might highlight the 3-D effect (scenes like ripsaws coming towards the screen, spears aimed at the camera, or giant apes swinging on vines set on the Z-axis).  3-D was, for sure, a fad.

1952 saw the height of the 3-D fad and by the time production was to begin on "Dial M for Murder," they were keen on the marriage of the effect with Alfred Hitchcock -- the master of suspense (most 3-D films were centered on tales of horror, adventure, or suspense).  Hitchcock, though, found the process positively anti-cinematic with its "constant reminder to the audience that they were 'out there' and not drawn, visually and emotionally, 'into' the story, its action and its mood" (from Donald Spoto's, "The Dark Side of Genius").  Hitchcock (on the heels of the poorly received "I Confess") was in little position to haggle.  So, he decided to just film it as quickly and as unceremoniously as possible.

One snag, though... in the process of casting "Dial M," Hitchcock stumbled upon Grace Kelly and the director (to some degree) fell in love.  This became the first of three Hitchcock films to star Grace Kelly ("Rear Window" and "To Catch a Thief"), though there could have been many more had she not married Prince Ranier and become the functioning Princess of Monaco.  The director doted on the cool blonde (as he had with Ingrid Bergman, and would soon with Vera Miles and Tippi Hedren) and delighted in directing her.  

"Dial M for Murder" is the story of a Tony (Ray Milland), a former tennis pro who suspects his wife Margot (Kelly) is having an affair with Mark (Robert Cummings), an American writer.  Tony sets up an elaborate and manipulative plot which includes

blackmailing an estranged college friend into killing Margot, and the planting of evidence to make sure it is clear that Margot was the victim of a random burglary.

When things do not go quite as expected, Tony is forced to cover-up the crime and pin the death of his college friend (who is killed in the botched plan) on Margot.  The second half of the film follows Mark (a mystery writer) matching wits with Tony in an elaborate criminal chess game, in an effort to convince Inspector Hubbard (wonderfully played with lightness and catty aplomb by John Williams) of Margot's innocence.  

95% of the film takes place in Tony and Margot's apartment. The script is extremely dialogue-heavy.  It is clearly taken from a stage play.

And, yet, the film moves along quite well.  Grace Kelly is (as she would be for the other two Hitch films) delightful and sympathetic and classy.  Milland is hard and conniving and plays well the typical charming Hitchcock villain.  The dialogue and filming make the material (a fairly straight-forward "will he get away with it or won't he?" story) shine.  

Kristin (my wife) kept noting how their lines crackled with energy, life, and vibrancy.  Clearly, a playwright was behind the typewriter for this one.

The scene when Margot is attacked is still quite nerve-wracking (this was my second time seeing the film).  The gas-lighting of Margot by Tony is still quite frustrating.  And, though I wished Grace Kelly was more involved in the solving of the crime (she's practically absent for one of the final reels), the story resolves itself tidily and satisfyingly.  

Hitchcock, though frustrated with the 3-D process, made the most of it.  He found ways to differentiate a Hitch-made 3-D film from a regular 3-D film.  Furniture is clearly placed in spots to emphasize depth of space and the attack scene clearly tries to take advantage of the medium.  

I wish I could see "Dial M for Murder" in its original 3-D format.

(When it came time to release the film, Warner Bros. recognized that the 3-D fad was waning, and so the film was shown only sparingly as a three-dimensional film.  It wasn't until 1982 that the film was re-released more widely in the 3-D format. )

This film is fun.  Yes, it's talky, and (of course) it's contrived, but it truly works.  Kelly and Milland are riveting, and the pacing is smart and effective, especially for a "filmed play."  The pathos is real and the suspense holds up.  Sure, there's not much depth to this one (little of the "shadow film" found in the likes of "Psycho" and "Rear Window"), but it's still a fine little film.  

And maybe the whole thing is just worth watching to see two things: 1) the fake giant thumb Hitchcock had to use (because of the limitations of the 3-D film cameras) to show a close-up of the dialing of a telephone and 2) John Williams (as the inspector), thoughtfully stroke his mustache as a good English investigator should.

Dial M for Murder 1954

Starring: Grace Kelly, Ray Milland, Robert Cummings and John Williams

Written by: Frederick Knott (based on his play)

Music by:  Dimitri Tiomkin

The Lodger (1927)

Though the director had made four films prior,"The Lodger: A Story of the London Fog" (its official title) is frequently referred to as the first "true Hitchcock film."  The film includes a cool blonde subject to grave danger, inept local police, mistaken identity, and an overbearing mother -- all themes and motifs which would become constants in the Hitchcock oeuvre.  Though it's a silent, black and white, 1927 film (with 1927 sensibilities), it is actually quite fun to watch, as it serves to provide clear antecedents for many of Hitchcock's later films.

The story centers on a London soaked in fear.  A Jack the Ripper-type strangler is on the loose, snuffing out young blonde women.  The fear is so widespread, blonde flappers are wearing brunette wigs.  Daisy Bunting (described in the credits as a "mannequin" -- a clothes model), though, couldn't care less.  She scoffs at the other platinum's fears.  

Daisy and her family run a boarding house and Daisy (though betrothed to a member of London's finest) has her eyes on Mr. Drew, a man who's just started renting an upstairs room.  She's smitten by the mysterious stranger who a) wears clothes similar to those of "The Avenger" (the killer on the loose) and b) wants all of the paintings of blonde women which hang in his room to be turned toward the wall.  

Daisy and Mr. Drew exchange affections, much to the anger and chagrin of Daisy's cop-fiancee.  

At the fiancee's urging, the police bear down on Mr. Drew.  They search his room and find a gun and a photograph of a blonde woman.  Drew tries to explain, saying that, in face, he is also on the hunt for The Avenger -- the man who had killed his sister (a young blonde).  Blinded by jealousy, the policeman slaps handcuffs on Drew (the manacles serving as another image which Hitchcock would use often, over the subsequent years) and prepare to run him in.  Drew, though, escapes, running off into town.

Daisy meets up with Drew in the town, but a lynch mob have assembled to execute justice.  Drew falls from a ledge and his handcuffs catch on a high iron fence, hanging him from his wrists.  As the mob descends, the police arrive to say that they have, in fact, found the real Avenger (in the act of killing) and that Drew is innocent.  Daisy's fiancee apologizes, and Daisy goes to Drew to comfort him.

Like "M" (a 1931 German expressionist film by Fritz Lang), "The Lodger" deals, explicitly, with the mob mentality and the destructive nature of widespread fear.  All of London is foaming with the rabies of revenge (ironic, considering the killer has termed himself "The Avenger").  Their rage is so blind that they nearly kill an innocent man.

Ivor Novello (Mr. Drew) is watchable as the innocent protagonist (a role played, to some degree, by Cary Grant, Henry Fonda and, even, Grace Kelly in later films).  The other actors feel like they are overacting, though (this being a silent film, in the silent film era, was not uncommon).  

Overall, it feels like an important film, but one only for true fans of Hitchcock.  The director, himself, referred to it as his "first film" and it certainly shows promise.  The English film industry was in a troubled state at this point in cinema history -- snowed under by heaps of quality product coming from the rest of Europe (particularly Germany) and especially the United States.  Hitchcock, by way of "The Lodger," became a beacon of hope for the English film business -- a promise that something new and creative and riveting could come from the island nation.

The Lodger 1927

Starring: Ivor Novello, Jane, and Malcolm Keen

Written by: Marie Belloc Lowndes