Angela Devas, in her piece How to be a Hero: Space, Place and Masculinity in ‘The 39 Steps’, “articulates the characteristics necessary to become a filmic hero” through an examination of Richard Hannay and his actions.

Devas argues that Hannay is, from the beginning of the film, established as a masculine hero. When the audience first is introduced to him in the music hall during Mr. Memory’s first performance, he stands out from the crowd as well dressed, handsome and tall. His question “How far is Winnipeg from Montreal?” immediately identifies him as an outsider, a wanderer. This disconnection from place is reinforced with his relationship to his apartment. Devas notes that he is “living in a borrowed flat” and, more importantly, “his name. . . is not engraved on the front entrance” but rather scrawled on a piece of paper. His lack of connection with the domestic environment is evidence of his independent masculinity. This masculinity is repeated in his displays of physical prowess, most notably when he escapes from the train on the bridge to Scotland. His daring flight, in which he perches perilously from the girder of the gigantic bridge, illuminates his capacity not only as a physical specimen of masculinity but also as capable of dominating nature and his environment. In becoming a part of the bridge, Hannay connects with its power over the landscape and the audience is again led to a realization of Hannay’s masculine power and domination.

Devas’ piece sheds light on Hannay’s role as a masculine hero in The 39 Steps. Not only is he the savior of state secrets and the love interest of the beautiful Pamela, he represents an ultimate image of filmic masculinity and herodom.

 

 

In his book Hitchcock: The Murderous Gaze, William Rothman includes a fascinating chapter on The Thirty-nine Steps in which he elucidates the identity of the protagonist Richard Hannay. Rothman argues that Hannay is “exempt from having a self” and this lack of identity enables him to “face death without anguish” as he is free of any responsibility. It is his identity as a wanderer without an identity that gives him the freedom to pursue  the mystery of Annabelle’s death and the concurrent plot.

Rothman argues that Hannay’s trip to Scotland is neither a “spiritual journey or a rite of passage.” He asserts that Hannay would not engage in a struggle for selfhood because “he is exempt from having a self.” From the first time the audience is introduced to Hannay in the theatre, he is marked as a n outsider and “outside the rigid system” by which we judge the other members of Mr. Memory’s audience. This transcendence of the limitations by which other characters hold to and are judged places Hannay in a totally different sphere. Rothman argues that this is a place where Hannay is “not a character.” His lack of identification through comparison with others combined with his easy acquiescence to Annabelle and willingness to help leave no way to clearly identify his character, Rothman argues. He is simply “reacting within a situation in which he is no more the author than we.” Hannay is a wandering force who happens to be drawn into this scenario and has the capability to see it through.

William Rothman’s chapter on The Thirty-nine Steps presents a unique perspective on the character of Richard Hannay. Rothman argues that because he has no explicable identity within the film, Hannay has the freedom to run off at a moments notice and defend the secrets of his country. It is only within this construct that his actions can be explained.

In Beyond Bond: Spies in Fiction and Film, Wesley Britton offers his opinion on the character of Richard Hannay as he relates to the beginnings of an interest in spy stories in general. Britton notes Hannay as an “unimportant archetype” in the historical development of spy novels and films.

Like many other writers, Britton recognizes the Hannay as the amateur hero. Unlike many other spy characters of the time, the Richard Hannay from The 39 Steps has no formal training in the art of espionage – he is an everyman who comes to foil an international plot against his country. This is not to say that he is not at an advantage – his lack of responsibilites or ties to his domestic space allow him the freedom to take on this new burden but the fact remains that he stands out by way of his lack of training. Interestingly, Britton notes that in Buchman’s later writings, Hannay becomes skilled, trained by “natives in South Africa.” This shift in Hannay’s character brings him more into line with the likes of James Bond. As the spy genre develops, it becomes necessary to sensationalize his character in a way that was absent from Buchman’s writing of the The 39 Steps and Hitchcock’s adaptation. It would seem that Hitchcock prefers the amateur spy, for even as Hannay develops, Hitchcock prefers to still portray an everyman surmounting fantastic obstacles, such as Roger Thornhill in North by Northwest.

Wesley Britton’s explanation of the development of spy characters allows us to illuminate Richard Hannay in the context of the general development of the genre. In doing so, we also reveal Hitchcock’s preference toward the amateur hero rather than the polished secret agent that was beginning to come into vogue. 

In Toby Miller’s book Spyscreen, he includes an entire chapter on the The 39 Steps and examines how the portrayal of Richard Hannay reflects on the position of the film within the genre of spy fiction in the late 1930s.  His analysis not only sheds light on the importance of the character for the film’s release at the time, but also  examines the films attention to everyday life and normality in contrast to many other spy works of the time.

Toby Miller asserts that The 39 Steps is, relative to other spy film works of the time, a “conservative text” due to both it’s  “faith in the ‘talented amateur’ and it’s abhorrence of the crowd” while still portraying very standard, everyday life. This is notable, he argues, at a time when most spy films were centred on the revelation of a secretive, hidden world of espionage. For Hitchcock to portray an everyman is notably different from the more extreme spy films of the era and this makes it, Miller argues, “not a case of spy fiction allegorizing or adequating to the real, but of contributing to it.” In other words, Hitchcock’s choice does not seek to escape any sense of reality, but rather revels in the capability of the everyman working within the confines of everyday life.

Toby Miller, like many critics of Hitchcock’s work, appreciates the role of the everyman in his spy films. Richard Hannay works within the confines of his own abilities and the resources of everyday life to rise to complete a task far above what could be expected of him. This portrayal is a reflection of Hitchcock’s conservative approach to spy films and flaunts the less realistic, overly dramatic spy film options of the time. 

In his book Everything you Always Wanted to Know about Lacan: But Were Afraid to ask Hitchcock, Slavoj Zizek comments on the pre-established harmony between Hannay and Pamela. Zizek argues that English films of the late 1930s (of which The 39 Steps is a member) aimed to fit within the confines of the classic narrative, and consequently that their plot was only useful as a device to bring the protagonist and his female interest to a successful conclusion.

Zizek has found that English films of the late 1930’s seem bound to “Oedipal story of the couple’s initiatory journey,” a classic narrative of two people bound by fate to fall in love with one another. The couples of these films are bound by fate or, in the case of The 39 Steps, a pair of steel handcuffs and mature together through a series of ordeals towards the “fundamental motif of the bourgeois ideology of marriage.” This fundamental motif is played out in The 39 Steps as Pamela and Hannay are first bound together against their will and then, as they overcome obstacles together, become closer to each other. Just as Hitchcock has given us the stereotype of masculinity and painted a picture of the strong, dominant man, so has he shown us the classical ideal of two unwilling people coming together through a period of uncertainly and trials.

Slavoj Zizek’s comments on the stereotype of the relationship between Pamela and Hannay strike a chord next to the classical portrayal of Hannay as a dominant male. In appropriate fashion, the classic man has fallen into the classic, stereotypical “bourgeois ideology of marriage.”

In his book Male Myths and Icons, Roger Horrock makes mention of Alfred Hitchcock and his portrayal of masculine figures in a number of his films. Interestingly, Horrock is of the opinion that Hitchcock does not elevate the masculine figure in these pieces – rather he writes that Hitchcock’s primary interest lies in the exposure of “male perversity.”

While Horrock notes that women “are the victims in Hitchcock films” rather than men, he does not use this as evidence for a dominant, strong male stereotype. Rather, Horrock notes the psycotic flaws Hitchcock introduces in many of his amle characters. Vertigo concerns itself with necrophilia, Frenzy with rape and the well-known Psycho with psychosis. This image of man as a flawed and dangerous character suggests that it would be “farcical to suggest that Hitchcock simply permits. . .an uncomplicated identification” of his male protagonists as the relatable, stereotypical male role. Rather, Hitchcock attempts to reveal the darker perversity of men. Although they retain their power, especially over women, it is of important note that these characters are not idyllic emblems of masculinity as is seen in The 39 Steps. Hitchcock is interested in and has the capacity too expose a perversity of the male psyche through a number of his later films.

Unlike The 39 Steps, other works of Hitchcock have exposed a flawed and disruptive male character. Roger Horrock exposes this trend, revealing Hitchcock’s ability and desire to show men as morally and socially perverse, disrupting the masculine stereotype applied so flawlessly in The 39 Steps.

In Robin Wood’s Hitchcock’s Films Revisited, she comments on the Richard Hannay’s “particular version of masculinity” as she illuminates the psychoanalytic subtext in his behaviour. By examing his interactions with ‘the Father,’ the bullet and his pipe, Wood explores the Freudian implications of his props and discusses how they reflect on his masculinity.

In his encounter with the clergyman on the Flying Scotsman, Wood notes that he avoids identification and thus ‘castration’ or the loss of his masculinity. Were the clergyman to identify him, as the audience suspects he may in the film, Hannay would be stripped of his power of shrouded identity, just as he would lose his identity through castration. In the same way, he is saved from the bullet by Margaret’s inadvertent gift of the hymnbook. This reinforces his role as the dominant man who keeps his woman in a helpful, subservient role. His masculinity is reinforced by her, if even inadvertent, subservient help. Wood uses these examples to support the masculinity of Hannay’s actions. She questions, however, his use of the distinctly benign pipe as a gun in order to intimidate Pamela. Because Pamela never sees the pipe, she assumes it as a gun when Hannay presents it as such through his dialogue. To see it through Freud’s eyes, this prop is somewhat phallic and, when it turns out to be an innocuous pipe rather than a powerful gun, it affects the audience’s view of Hannay’s masculinity negatively. The discovery of Hannay’s presentation of the powerless pipe as something more potent is seriously emasculating for the hero.

By examining Hannay’s behaviour in Freudian light, Robin Wood gives us a new and unique perspective on the portrayal of Hannay’s masculinity in The 39 Steps.

In Warriors in Flight: John Buchan’s War Novels, Maria Noelle Ng explores John Buchan’s novel The 39 Steps on which Hitchcock’s film is based. She discusses the novel’s ‘hero-on-the-run’ subgenre and how it affects both the narrative arc of the story and the reader’s sympathies towards the character of Hannay. Although Hitchcock adapted Buchan’s story, these assertions hold true for the Hannay of Hitchcock’s film as well.

             Ng argues that upon the death of Annabelle (or Buchan’s original Scudder), Hannay becomes the archetypal ‘hero-on-the run,’ the masculine cruasader pursued by enemies known and unknown.  She notes that this role serves a dual purpose: both to drive the plot forward and to engage the sympathy of the reader. Hannay’s brazen pursuit of a relatively new and personally insignificant event highlights his masculine drive and allows the narrative arc to continue. As the reader (and later audience) is exposed to his genuine pursuit of what he ascertains to be in the best interest of his country. This selflessness easily employs the sympathy of the reader. Ng goes on to elaborate on the significance of the story to World War I. Published in 1915, Ng argues that “Although the Great War is not explicitly mentioned” it is an underlying assumption of the novel and “reflects the attitude of the British at the beginning of the war.”

Ng’s piece, although focused on Buchan’s novel, examines the character of Hannay and the timing of the book in an interesting way. She illuminates how his masculinity supports the narrative arc as well as his easy procurment of reader sympathies. This character and his story, Ng argues, are an implied component of the First World War.

In their book After Hitchcock, David Boyd and Barton Palmer write about the “misidentification” of Hitchcock’s protagonist in The 39 Steps. Rather than suggesting that the protagonist is simply randomly suggested to “malevolent forces,” Boyd and Palmer argue that Hannay is misidentified as a spy in order to serve as a “barrier to his romantic fulfilment.” This initial misidentification as an agent or spy leads to his own pursuit towards those who would misidentify him in what Hitchcock terms the ‘double pursuit.’

Before the introduction of Annabelle to his life, Hannay lives as an independent, if transient, being. Through his association with her, his identity becomes misconstrued. Interpreted by her enemies as a spy, this group of malevolent agents threaten his independent lifestyle. Boyd and Palmer argue that Hannay’s quest to retrieve the secrets is really a journey to reclaim the identity that was stolen from him. He must engage in Hitchcock’s ‘double pursuit’ in order to realign the perception of his identity with the reality. They go on to assert that this entire tale of misidentification is further poignant for its function as a barrier to Hannay’s “romantic fulfilment.” This returns to what many authors comment on – his natural fulfilment of stereotypical masculine desires. By misconstruing and, in effect, thieving Hannay’s independent identity, the enemy agents launch him on a quest to regain it which finds him fulfilling his stereotypical identity as the masculine role in a romantic relationship.

Boyd and Palmer present an interesting perspective on the motivation and goal of Hannay’s journey. Rather than a purely masculine quest, Hannay is simply trying to reassert his personal identification and in doing so finds the identity that, by filmic convention, he is destined for.

Alfred Hitchcocks 39 Steps has found fame as a not only a quintessential Hitchcock, but an exemplary model of the spy movie genre. Based on a novel by John Buchan, it tells the story of Richard Hannay, Hitchcocks everyman who finds himself mixed up in the high stakes world of international intrigue. Through the extraordinary actions of this everyman, Hitchcock builds an identity that comments on masculinity and gender roles. As Richard Hannay retrieves the secrets of the state, the audience is treated to a dialogue on masculinity, the capacity of the man and their stereotypical goals within filmic narrative.

Contention was caused by the hiring of surrealist artist Salvador Dalí to conceive certain scenes of mental delusion of Ballentine in Spellbound. Selznick hated Dalí's ideas, and although much of his work was used, one dream sequence depicting Bergman turning into a statue of the Roman goddess Diana was cut. Dali's work is clearly seen in the depiction of the dream of the amnesiac. The dream consisted of a gambling house with no walls, instead had curtains with eyes painted all over them, there was a man with a pair of scissors cutting all the drapes in half, a girl who hardly had anything on who went around kissing everyone, Ballentine dealt a seven of clubs to a man with a mask, proprietor accuses the man with mask cheating, then the dream is sifted to a sloping roof of a high building, the man with a mask is hiding behind the chimney with a wheel, he drops the wheel on the roof, suddenly Ballentine is running and he sees shadows chasing him and a winged figure following him. Each and everyone one of the elements of this dream symbolizes how the murder of Edwardes took place through random association in Ballentine's subconscious, which came out in the dream. Dali did this beautifully. For example, Ballentine said the kissing girl reminded him of Constance- what Freudian would call wishful thinking. The man with the mask is the murderer, Dr. Muchinson ,the old head of the asylum, and the wheel he was holding symbolizes a revolver, and thus he drops the gun on the cliff after shooting Edwardes.

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This article discusses Hitchcock's ability to create romance in his films. The author asserts that the romance is a result of the flawed male characters and the deceiving female ones. The romance blossoms out of their human plights, they are both flawed and imperfect. It is stated that such films as Blackmail, Vertigo and Psycho are overrated in their importance to Hitchcock's oeuvre and therefore shouldn't be considered for this assertion.

 

I would argue that Blackmail is not overrated and that it is the flawed males that drive the tragedy of the film and reject Alice's sexuality. There is nothing romantic about the suppression of another human being. While Alice was deceptive, Frank's behavior as well as the other men in the film have nothing attractive to offer her.

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This article claims that homophobia was displaced in Hitchcock's films from an issue of national security to a condemnation of women's sexuality in the domestic sphere. The article further asserts that the knowledge that men acquire in the film is the result of their ability to suppress and manipulate women. Essentially, Hitchcock was a force in Cold War culture.

 

In the case of Blackmail, Frank doesn't gain any knowledge from his suppression and manipulation of Alice. If Alice's feminist gaze had been verbalized or if Frank had let Alice express herself without the threat of shame or judgment, the entire premise of the film might have been averted. It might be the case that Crewe's murder is a result of the male suppression of Alice. Perhaps the film is meant to serve as a warning that the suppression and manipulation of women is something to be feared.

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Jessica Brent makes the claim that with the advent of sound, Hitchcock was able to marginalize the feminine image. The sound age forced a change in aesthetic and style with the feminine being destroyed and replaced with the investigative gaze. She asserts that the visual pleasure beyond the gaze is removed from Hitchcock's work. Women and feminine figures are forced into the narrative demands of the male eye.

 

On one hand, I'm still not entirely convinced of this argument or completely sure of its meaning. However, I think that scene in which Alice kills Crewe escapes Brent's interpretation should it be true. Alice kills Crewe behind a curtain, away from the eyes of the portraits and the audience. The only male eyes that see her are Crewe's and she is usurping his position. Therefore, at the crucial moment of the film where Alice asserts herself and confronts her anxieties, she is separate from any narrative demands that might be forced upon her.

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In this article, Tania Modelski offers a feminist interpretation of Blackmail. She explores the issues raised by attempted rape and the silencing of women. She notes that the painting of the jester is used to put women back in their place. The jester represents the laughing male to both Alice and her fiancé Frank. The jester shames Alice and stops her laughter at the end of the film. As for Frank, the jester reminds him that he has been had by Alice when he finds her glove in the studio. Essentially, it reminds Alice that she is the joke and not the one in control and laughs at Frank that for Alice's deception towards him.

 

While Modelski argues that Alice is objectified and not given a voice, I would argue that the jester in the film doesn't win. The portrait of the jester that condemns and shames Alice is stabbed and carted off by the police at the end of the film. The jester is punished for its crime of passing judgment. While the males in the movie attempt to speak for Alice and keep her from speaking, they are not entirely successful. Alice takes control of her anxieties towards her sexuality and usurps the male role by killing Crewe and stabbing the portrait.

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In response to a letter from a male critic, Tania Modelski argues that male critics specifically give Alice the trial that she does not receive in Blackmail. She asserts that the law is patriarchal and that since it is considered impartial the male view of justice becomes the accepted one. It is then interesting that Hitchcock did leave out the trial and judgment of Alice that Modelski claims is prevalent in the male perspective of the film. Perhaps it is an acknowledgment by Hitchcock that the law is not impartial and would have been unfair to Alice. By removing the judgment of Alice in the film, Hitchcock might be trying to remove a primarily male perspective.

Corliss, Mary.  “Alfred Hitchcock: Behind the Silhouette.”  MoMA, Vol. 2, No. 5 (Jun., 1999), pp. 12-14.

In her brief introductory note to a MoMA exhibition, Mary Corliss departs from the discussion of Hitchcock’s films to explore the nature of the man behind their creation.  Contradictory to the chaotic, unstructured world often portrayed in his paradigmatic films, Alfred Hitchcock was much more a creature of habit and order than of whim and passion.  Corliss explains that Hitchcock thrived in a familiar environment, for it was from this atmosphere of comfortable stability which the brilliance of his films emerged. 

The degree of control Hitchcock exercised was unusual in the film industry, which was often a collaboration among multiple creative minds, including directors, actors, technicians, studio heads, and many others.  He regarded his own preparation as the most important part of the process – his moments of inspiration, imagination, and the capturing of these gems through extensive and deliberate planning were paramount to cinematic success.  In fact, Hitchcock even claimed to be bored by the actual shooting, for it was apparently dull in comparison to the elaborate grand design he had formulated in his head. 

Through his films, Hitchcock strived to explore the most deep-seated fears of humanity, and depict them cinematically with electric energy.  He was fully aware of the distinctive feeling of pleasure associated with secondhand fear as opposed to real-life panic, and exploited this adrenaline craze to contribute to the success of his films.  Similarly, despite his reference to actors as mere ‘cattle’ carrying out his creative designs, Hitchcock employed stars to ensure the success of his films.  Famous icons such as Cary Grant, Ingrid Bergman, and Grace Kelly were frequent members of the cast in Hitchcock films, and thus an important aspect of his success.  Rebecca is no exception, featuring Laurence Oliver and Joan Fontaine as Maxim deWinter and his young bride.  Combining Hitchcock’s talent and prestige and the popularity of the lead stars, Rebecca was bound to be a success among all audiences, not only female.

Harbord, Janet.  “Between Identification and Desire: Rereading ‘Rebecca.’”  Feminist Review, No. 53, Speaking Out: Researching and Representing Women (Summer, 1996), pp. 95-107.

Janet Harbord begins her discussion by introducing the tangents between psychoanalysis and the romance novel – though they seem to be totally separate disciplines, both engage a dialogue between past and present, defining time as an inevitable sign of progress.  The appeal of repetition arises due to the comfort inherent in familiar patterns, bringing to the forefront the fundamental human tendency towards stability, sought after both in psychoanalysis and romance narratives.  Furthermore, that which is forbidden also appeals to us equally as much, though often more fleetingly so, and it is upon this basis that Harbord suggests the implications of homosexual desire in Rebecca.

Interestingly, it is the very normative, repressive structure so often found in romance narratives that encourages the breaking of such boundaries through textual exploration of possibilities apart from the conventional.  Thus, quite opposite from the championing of the traditional heterosexual household, romance narratives such as Rebecca in fact often subtly subvert accepted cultural values by implying the option of other alternatives – in this case, lesbian desire.  Such storylines appeal primarily to women for the simple reason of reflexivity, for as women question their own societal and sexual roles, literature and film provide a useful avenue for self-reflection and relief in resolving the conundrum of individual identity.

Distinctive visual symbolism in Rebecca enhances the exploration of issues such as class, gender, ethnicity, and sexuality.  Rebecca herself, an eerily absent center of desire throughout the film, serves as the ghostly epitome of the white, upper class married woman, yet simultaneously represents raw sexuality and hence evokes lesbian desire.  The symbolic emphasis on her clothing, for example, introduces the fundamental dichotomy between the exterior façade as opposed to the true nature of an individual.  Ultimately, Rebecca’s appeal is her transgression of traditionally delineated boundaries, as she crosses lines of class, gender, and, most centrally, female sexuality.

Alfred Hitchcocks "Rebecca" is an iconic Gothic romance adapted from Daphne DuMauriers famous novel, and was successful enough with contemporary audiences to win Best Picture in 1940. Constructed through Hitchcocks calculated, deliberate technique, the haunting absence of Rebecca serves as a focal point of mystery and desire in the film, subtly exploring the societal and sexual role of women and questioning the ideal definition of femininity.

Edwards, Kyle Dawson.  “Brand-Name Literature: Film Adaptation and Seiznick International Pictures’ ‘Rebecca’ (1940).”  Cinema Journal, Vol. 45, No. 3 (Spring, 2006), pp. 32-38. 

Nearly one third of films from the Classical Hollywood era were novel adaptations.  The film adaptation of Rebecca demonstrates how the flourishing of novels on screen results from a tangled combination of literary, commercial, historical, artistic, and social factors.  Filmmaking is by nature a collaborative art form, and the particular quality of the novel adaptation perfectly demonstrates the extent to which these multiple sources of inspiration can manifest themselves in film.

Adapting famous novels such as Rebecca to the silver screen has numerous advantages: the story can be streamlined with the assumption that much of the audience is familiar with the plot, an audience faithful to the novel can be assumed to be “built-in,” and the film is lent a certain degree of literary prestige.  When adapting a novel to film, however, a great difficulty is deciding what aspects of the literature to keep and emphasize, as literary subtleties treasured by the reader often fail to translate well to film.  

It is important for studios to profit both financially and symbolically, which is achieved by establishing a unique brand that allows the studio to cultivate relationships with prospective and current employees, industrial counterparts, and movie-going audiences. In constructing a brand, the first step for a studio is to identify and characterize the targeted audiences and adapt the quality of the film as well as the publicity to appeal to these intended spectators.  Seiznick International Pictures, the studio that made Rebecca, was a small studio that could not rely on the vertical integration employed by the larger studios.  Rather, they had to depend on theater chains which were often owned by competitors to spread and display Seiznick films.  Due to this disadvantage, Seiznick directed enormous energy at crafting a distinctive brand concept, one which would be stable and positive regardless of the success of individual films.  Thus, they introduced more commercial tie-ins than any other studio, marketing expensive products like furniture, wallpaper, clothing, and cosmetics.  The “Rebecca line” of makeup, for example was advertised as lending the ability to transform any woman into the beautiful, mysterious seductress, Rebecca herself. 

Seiznick International Pictures had met with great success for Gone With the Wind, and so focused on emphasizing the continuity between that film and Rebecca in order to convince audiences of the consistently high level of quality.  The studio also had to comply with the Production Code, forced to make adjustments to the plot such as portraying Maxim’s murder of Rebecca as an accident.  Thus, based on the crafting of a particular brand-concept, clever marketing toward a specific demographic, and compliance with the Production Code, Rebecca was a wild success for Seiznick International Pictures.

Wheatley, Kim.  “Gender Politics and the Gothic in Alfred Hitchcock’s ‘Rebecca.’”  Gothic Studies, Vol. 4, No. 2 (Nov., 2002), pp. 133-145.

Rebecca represents a new strain of Gothic romance in which the tortured heroine falls in love with a man who plays a dual role in regard to the heroine: he not only offers her relief from danger, but is also a major source of unresolved tension and confusion for her.  Not only does Mr. deWinter play a pivotal role, then, but Manderley itself is undeniably a significant “character.”  Furthermore, Rebecca is made all the more powerful by her very absence.  Through haunting music, symbolism attached to her material possessions, and details such as the camera angle in the boathouse confession scene, Rebecca’s ghostly presence is solidified. 

Even greater emphasis on Rebecca’s omnipresence emerges through the apparent continued loyalty of Jasper the dog, and also through Mrs. Danvers’ unwavering devotion to Rebecca and subsequent disdain for the young wife.  Mrs. Danvers even goes so far as to articulate her musings as to whether the dead continue to observe and dwell among the living.  This voyeuristic pervasion of the plot lends Rebecca an ominous, haunting power and lingering influence. 

However, Wheatley presents the alternative ‘containment thesis’ that Rebecca’s relative power and influence is held at bay and even diminishes over the course of the film.  Her containment is achieved through Maxim’s patriarchal authority, most poignantly evident in his young wife’s reaction during the confession scene, during which she is completely vulnerable and it is revealed that all she desires is his love, relinquishing all hints of independence.  This disproportionate male power held by Maxim is echoed in two other prominent male characters, Frank Crawley and Jack Favell, who provide counterpoints to Maxim’s harsh personality yet exercise similar control over the young heroine.  Even further establishing the trend of patriarchy, only men are present during one of the final scenes of the film, in Dr. Baker’s office, defining negotiations and relationships between men of the utmost importance.  Thus, despite Rebecca’s haunting influence over the course of the film, Wheatley suggests that it is ultimately patriarchy which triumphs in the end.

Tay, Sharon Lin.  “Constructing a Feminist Cinematic Ideology: The Gothic Woman’s Film Beyond Psychoanalysis.”  Women, Vol. 14, No. 3 (Winter, 2003), pp. 263-280.

Distinctive historical and social factors provided for the emergence of the Gothic woman’s film in Hollywood during the 1940’s.  The Second World War elicited an upheaval in the American social hierarchy, necessitating that women enter the work force and thus empowering them to an unprecedented degree.  Also, the movie-going audience changed, with a larger proportion of females in the audience than men, since the majority of them were abroad fighting.  Finally, the cinema adjusted to address this new predominantly feminine audience, introducing female protagonists and feminine plotlines.  Heterosexual marital fulfillment often remained the ultimate goal in these films, with the rejection or failure to comply with this societal standard usually resulting in the heroine’s madness or death. 

When comparing Gothic films from the early 1940’s with those made later in the decade, the heroines of the earlier films harbor unwarranted suspicions of their husbands, while in the later films another male character is introduced who is thoroughly benevolent and succeeds in rescuing the heroine.  Still, the Gothic woman’s film differs from the conventional films preceding it because, for the first time, the heroine puts up some degree of resistance to compliance with traditional societal demands.  Indeed, the primary focus shifts from purely romance to violence and mystery, qualities shared with other genres such as film noir and horror.  This transgression by the plotline and the heroine of conventional expectations destabilizes and exposes gaps in the normative cinema structure, and the ambiguity created by this uncertainty is the source of suspense. 

Epitomizing the transgression beyond traditional boundaries is Rebecca, who represents the exact opposite of the young wife’s demure, conventional femininity.  Symbolized by the turbulent, crashing waves of the sea, Rebecca’s uncontrollable, unpredictable power creates a constant source of tension and disruption throughout the film.  Whenever the possibility of calm or resolution arises, a monogrammed belonging of Rebecca’s may appear, thrusting the plot back into uncertainty and chaos.  This atmosphere of paranoia and fear is highly characteristic of the Gothic woman’s film, and the transgression of traditionally feminine societal norms formed a basis for the eventual development of the feminist movement.

Hingham, Charles.  “Hitchcock’s World.”  Film Quarterly, Vol. 16, No. 2, With a Special Survey: Our Resources for Film Scholarship (Winter, 1962-63), pp. 3-16.

Despite hackneyed declarations of Alfred Hitchcock as one of the premier film directors of all time, Charles Hingham examines the validity of these sweeping claims, particularly in regard to Hitchcock’s ability, or lack thereof, to convincingly portray human passion.  Hingham asserts that, while Hitchcock is a master at fabricating suspense and fear, he proves unable to depict either intellectual or physical passion.  He is the master of exploiting the audience’s empathies, vulnerabilities, and repressed desires, yet often fails to effectively render the depth of human emotion on screen. 

To Hitchcock, actors were merely tools which he could manipulate within the greater sphere of his cinematic vision.  Enjoying total control over the resources available to him and, arguably, his audience, Hingham declares that film was a sort of game for Hitchcock, an arena for his free manipulation.  Hitchcock’s films, he argues, are highly stylized and unrealistic, almost abstract in a way, and while they do not lack calculated, educated technique, the ultimate effect is more theatrical than convincing. 

Rebecca is uncharacteristic of Hitchcock’s style with its neat, feminine storyline, and Hingham declares that the twisted infatuation of Mrs. Danvers with Rebecca is the sole element retaining the characteristically disturbing, ambiguous Hitchcockian quality.  For Hitchcock, the plot of a film was vastly subordinate to the stylistic and visual ways in which this framework could be exploited to affect the audience.

 

 

Rohmer, Eric, and Claude Chabrol. Hitchcock: The First Forty-Four Films. Translated By Stanley Hochman. New Yrok: Frederick Ungar   Publishing Co., 1979.

Chapter: “The American Period (1): With Selznick”

 

     This chapter is about Hitchcock’s first years in America and the films he made. It follows his career through his first American films: Rebecca, Foreign Correspondent, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, Suspicion, Saboteur, Shadow of a Doubt and Lifeboat. It then follows Hitchcock back to Great Britain, where he made two short propaganda films for the Ministry of Information: Aventure Malagache and Bon Voyage. It then goes on to discuss Spellbound, Notorious, Under the Capricorn and The Paradine Case. Rohmer and Chabrol outline the plot summary for each film and put them in historical, political and cultural context. Rohmer and Chabrol teach about the progression between films and how Hitchcock grew and evolved as a director.

      Rohmer and Chabrol’s view on the dualities in the film are that they serve the purpose of accentuating the film’s “documentary quality.” The duos make the scenario seem all the more believable. This leads to an eerie feeling that if it this kind of horror could happen in the small quaint town of Santa Rosa, to an innocent family like the Newton’s, then couldn’t it happen to anyone? More than just pointing out the similarities between the two Charlie’s, Rohmer and Chabrol reflect on all of the duos in the film. They begin by introducing the four that Francois Truffaut believe to be the most important: the identical scenes that introduce the two Charlies, Uncle Charlie sending the Newton’s a telegraph while young Charlie was going to send him one, the two murder suspects and the death of both suspects by dangerous vehicles. They continue by listing the pairs of scenes: from two meal scenes, two visits by the detectives and two scenes in the garage. They conclude their list with the proclamation of the matching shots and camera angles Hitchcock used for the Charlies. Unfortunately, Rohmer and Chabrol draw no conclusions as to the purpose of the dualities other than the fact the duo’s exist and serve a documentary-style forming purpose.

      The idea of incorporating the dualities to make the film seem more realistic and thus eerier is almost a conclusion to the ideas the rest of the sources I found. For instance, you can apply the idea of how easy it would be for younger Charlie to become a murder to this by saying how easy it would be for anyone to become a murderer. Maybe we all have some evil duo who completes us, and upon meeting them, these villainous urges could surface.

Hare, William. Hitchcock and the Methods of Suspense. Jefferson, North Carolina: McFarlan & Company, Inc., Publishers, 2007.

Chapter: “Tranquility in the Midst of War”

     The chapter begins with an introduction to Hitchock’s first American films, focusing on Foreign Correspondent, Sabateur and Suspicion. He then delves into an incredible amount of detail on Shadow of a Doubt. Hare places the film in historical context, relating it to World War II. He goes on to tell stories of production. Hare includes an amusing anecdote from Joseph Cotton, who at the beginning of production was having trouble figuring out how to act like a murderer. Apparently, Hitchcock took Cotton to Rodeo Drive and asked Cotton to guess which pedestrians he believed to be a murderer. Cotton could not point any out and thus came to the conclusion that murderers look and behave just like normal citizens. In response, Hitchcock, in a totally Hitchcockian way, said “and vise-versa”. There are other anecdotes included as well, in addition to a look at Hitchcock’s approach to production. Hitchcock believed that once there was a completed script and storyboard done angle by angle, it was time to move onto a new project. This disgruntled quite a few actors as he would fall asleep on set, but it was how he worked.

     Hare includes an entire section on dualities within the film. He proposes many things. First, that there are eight main dualities within the film: young Charlie & Uncle Charlie, the two crime-obsessed men, the bar “’Till Two” in which Uncle Charlie orders two double brandies, the waitress at the bar who had been working there for two weeks, the two original police trailing Uncle Charlie, the two subsequent detectives investigating Uncle Charlie, the two suspects in the widow murders and Uncle Charlie’s two attempts to kill young Charlie. He concludes that there are many reasons for these dualities. First, they represent the dualities of the world: the peacefulness of organized cities and towns and the cruel, harsh uncertainties of the world at large. Second, it mimicked Hitchcock’s own duality. He was loving and warm towards his wife and daughter but cold and distant from all others. Third, it mimicked what was going on in Hitchcock’s life at the moment. He was working on a film in the quaint town of Santa Rosa, California, while his home country of England was being bombed and invaded by Nazis.

      This is the best answer to my question that I found. Hare is able to decipher the meaning of the dualities within film and within society. All of his comments are completely valid and supported by both the film and historical information. This chapter is a must-read companion to the film.

Allen, Richard. Hitchcock's Romantic Irony. New York: Columbia University Press, 2007.

Chapter: “Knowledge and Sexual Difference”

     This chapter explores the plots of many Hitchcock films by analyzing gender roles and the characters’ recognition according to his or her gender. It is a new way to look at Hitchcock. Allen is able to map out four different types of Hitchcock narratives: the “joint quest”, the female driven, the masculine driven and male homosexual driven. In a “joint quest”, a male with ability to reason and a female with intuition come together to uncover the truth. Films that fall into this category include Young and Innocent, The Lady Vanishes, and The Man Who Knew Too Much. In “female-focalized” narratives, which are reminiscent of gothic melodramas, a woman must lead an investigation to uncover the truth about her older, male, love interest. Films that fall into this category include Suspicion, Rebecca and Shadow of a Doubt. In masculine driven narratives, there is usually an ordinary man, of social status, who plays the role of detective to find the villain. Films that fall into this category include Notorious, Murder!, Marnie, The Paradine Case and Vertigo. Finally, the homosexual driven narratives are, in Allen’s opinion, Hitchock’s idea of a homosexual man being a female spirit caught inside a male body. In these films, the homosexuals are the same as the heroes, except for their sexual preferences, which stop them from pursuing heterosexual relationships. Additionally, they are antagonists. Films that fit this narrative include Strangers on a Train, The Lodger and Psycho.

     Allen groups Shadow of a Doubt within the feminine driven films. Uncle Charlie moves into the same house as Younger Charlie and she is forced to uncover the truth about this older man towards whom there is some incestual attraction. He argues that not only are they doubles, but young Charlie believes that Uncle Charlie completes her. It is through him that she can leave behind small-town life and have adventures of her own. She wants to break free from the strict familial social structure. However, Uncle Charlie turns out to be a huge proponent of this structure. He murders the widows because he believes that women should be married with children, not alone and wealthy. He murders the women who are what young Charlie hopes to become. From this I can conclude that in the end, although on the surface they appear to have separate fates, they actually share the same fate. Young Charlie becomes like her Uncle, finally giving into becoming a wife and mother. Uncle Charlie, the biggest proponent of this strict structure is murdered ironically under a similar pretense to why he murders the widows. He should be a husband and father and so he does not fit into the structure either. The importance of the social structure is re-enforced at the end of the film, with the man who doesn’t fit into it dead and the girl who opposed it finally giving in.

Brody, Alan. "The Gift of Realism: Hitchcock and Pinter." Journal of Modern Literature 3, no. 2 (April 1973): 149-172. http://jstor.org (accessed

     November 24, 2008).

    This is an extremely interesting journal article that compares and contrasts film and theatre. Brody uses Harold Pinter’s play The Birthday Party and Alfred Hitchcock’s Shadow of a Doubt as the vehicles for this comparison. Brody focuses mostly on the differences between the two mediums and what each can accomplish. He reflects on film’s flexibility with time and location, its ability to direct the audience’s attention, focus in on minute gestures and the control it gives a director. Theatre, on the other hand, has much less flexibility with time and location, as everything must appear on one stage. The actors have to work on their motions, facial expressions and intonations in order to direct an audience’s attention, as audiences always have a huge picture infront of them- there are no close-ups or long shots. Additionally, while the director has some control over theatre the job of creating “shots” lies in the eyes of the audience and the pauses of the actors. Brody discusses how while The Birthday Party and Shadow of a Doubt have similar plots and scenes they are completely different due to their different mediums.
    Brody has an interesting view of the dualities within Shadow of a Doubt. Early in the article he points out Hitchcock’s use of tension. Hitchcock juxtaposes actions with dialogue in a way that always forms tension. This is then comparable to themes of tension within his films: “good and evil, innocence and experience, external and internal reality, faith and despair.” Brody then applies this theory to Shadow of a Doubt by completing a thurough scene analysis. It is the scene in which Emma brings Uncle Charlie his breakfast and tells him of the two reporters coming to write about the Newtons. While Emma is talking all this simple nonsense, the camera focuses is on Charlie’s hands. As soon as she mentions the two men, Charlies hands tense up and begin tearing toast. This image is specifically paired with the dialogue to create and show tension. Furthermore, he believes the duality between Uncle Charlie and young Charlie lies within the tension of Uncle Charlie yearning to re-possess his innocence, the innocence his neice displays, and his drive to kill her as she represents what he can never have back. Brody goes on to prove that the tension between the Charlies is a perfect example of the issues between film and theatre.
    This is a much more unique take on the dualities between the characters. It is unlike those of other sources. I completely agree with Brody and his analysis. It is wonderful how he is able to delve so far into the depths of a play and a film as well as address the issues between the two. I completely buy into this idea of tension within Shadow of a Doubt. However, I do not believe that this idea can be applied to all the dualities within the film, especially the repetition of scenes.

Hurley, Neil P. Soul in Suspense: Hitchcock's Fright and Delight. Metuchen, New Jersey: The Scarecrow Press, Inc., 1993.

Chapter: “Mysticism of Numbers”

    In this chapter, Neil P. Hurley examines the numerology present in Hitchcock’s works. Hurley focuses on the numbers two, three, seven and thirteen, explaining their spiritual, mystical and religious meanings. He then discusses the use of these films through in-depth analyses of some of Hitchcock’s greatest works including Shadow of a Doubt, Psycho, Vertigo, Frenzy, The Trouble With Harry and The Birds. His analysis is interesting and a different way to look at things that seemed so minute. For instance, he argues that the three-storied home of Norman Bates is three-storied to fulfill a purpose of the number three, that of Freudian psychology. The basement represents the id, the ground floor represents the ego and the upper room represents the superego. Norman lives in the attic, which is beyond the id, ego and the superego and thus in an alternate, non-realistic universe. Hurley points out many other examples of the use of the numbers, visually (like Hitchcock’s own appearance in Strangers on a Train when he is playing cards and holding thirteen spades) and through the characters (like in Vertigo, Scottie Ferguson is grappling with the seven effects of vertigo: space, time, antiquities, social and personal interaction, psychology, philosophy and religion).
    In reference to dualities, Hurley references Spoto’s The Dark Side of Genius. Hurley argues that he agrees with Spoto’s observations regarding his list of dual themes and “dual camera insinuations”. He argues that this use of dualities, that between good and evil, are reflective of Hitchcock’s Jesuit training. Instead of seeing the dualities this way, that between the two Charlies, Hurley sees it through the two murder-obsessed men, Joe Newton and Herbie Hawkins. Although Spoto argues that the two Charlies are the manifestation of Hitchcock’s own duality, Hurley believes it to be the two men. This is because the two men read and discuss murder and are thus “imaginatively and mentally involved” but neither takes the next step to become physically involved and actually murder someone. This is how Hurley views Hitchcock.
    After researching Hitchcock, I believe in both Hurley and Spoto’s ideas when it comes to the dualities. There are traces of Hitchcock in both sets of duos. However, I am not sure how much I believe Hurley’s other arguments throughout the chapter. Some of the examples he uses seem contrived and outlandish. Although Hitchcock was a brilliant mastermind, I am sure he was not conscious of all the use of number within his own film. For example, the use of the number two in Shadow of a Doubt is obvious and Hitchcock was definitely aware of this. However, Hurley argues later that Mrs. Hawkins is referenced with concern three times, thus further enhancing the mysticism that surrounds her character as a symbol for Hitchcock’s own mother. That argument has crossed the line from analytical to convoluted. Is he saying that Hitchcock made sure that other characters only expressed concern for Mrs. Hawkins three times and made sure the rest of her references were not that of concern? I am not convinced.

Derry, Charles. The Suspense Thriller: Films in the Shadow of Alfred Hitchcock. Jefferson, North Carolina: McFarland & Company, Inc., 

     Publishers, 1988.

Chapter: “The Thriller of Moral Confrontation”

     This chapter focuses on a sub-genre of thrillers, that of moral confrontation. By that, Derry means a film that revolves around a character representing good and another representing evil. Many of these films include many dualities, thus accentuating the differences between the protagonist and the villain, good verse evil. The films that belong in this sub-genre have many things in common, such as the themes of an “evanescence of innocence” and the ultimate haziness of morals, the inclusion of a childlike protagonist, cat and mouse chases, an obsession with voyeurism, an sinful protagonist who either acts like a civilized citizen or is unseen to the viewer and finally, they take placed in a totally warped time span that could be just a few hours or days. Derry takes the reader through an analysis of many films that fit this genre, such as Shadow of a Doubt, The Window, Stage Freight, Strangers on a Train, Dial M for Murder, Rear Window, The Desperate Hours, Straw Dogs, Night of the Hunter, Blowup, Wait Until Dark, The Bride Wore Black, Le Boucher, La Rapture, Duel, Sudden Terror, Death Wish, Outrage, 10 to Midnight, Jagged Edge, The Eyes of Laura Mars, The Fan, Eye of the Needle, The Mean Season, Perfect Strangers, Blue Velvet and The Stepfather. Derry puts each film in context of the moral confrontation genre and compares them to one another as well.

     In response to my question of dualities, Derry focuses on analyzing the duality of Charlie and Charlie and then lists the other duos in the film. He believes that the reason for the dualities is to balance the villain, Uncle Charlie with the protagonist, younger Charlie. This makes the viewer aware of the Charlies’ “symbiotic relationship”. Another purpose to the two’s that Derry proposes is that Hitchcock sets up expectations that need to be met. If there is one scene at a train station, the film cannot end until there is another one. If one of the murder suspects is killed by a deadly vehicle, the other, Uncle Charlie, must meet the same death.

     This is a valid conclusion to draw from the dualities, although I believe that there are more concrete reasons that I have uncovered. I would take the expectation theory further by saying that this creates a false sense of certainty in a viewer. For instance, as a viewer, having your expectations met time and time again, you believe that you can guess the ending. If you take this idea of two of everything and apply it to the end of a film, a viewer might think that both characters have to die. The fate of one is the fate of them all. However, it is just Uncle Charlie who dies, thus destroying the viewers’ expectations. This causes the film to be more shocking and have more of an after-effect. Can you ever really trust your instincts, even if your theory has been proven right time and time again?

Rothman, William. Hitchcock- The Murderous Gaze. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 1982.

Chapter: “Shadow of a Doubt”

     Opening with a section on how Hitchcock’s move to America affected him and his work as well as Hollywood, Rothman continues by going into an in-depth analysis of Shadow of a Doubt. Rothman takes the reader through the film, shot by shot, analyzing themes and quotes along the way. He compares aspects of the film to other mediums, referencing Dracula, as well as other Hitchcock works. His ideas are well-developed, supported with examples from the film and altogether, serve as a great companion to the film. It could almost be used as a textbook to the film. Rothman makes claims such as how the script is “quotable” and that, on a whole, it is Hitchcock’s first American film that successfully combined the style he learned in Hollywood with the skills he acquired in Great Britain. He poses questions for the reader that he never answers, which is at once both thought provoking and a nuisance. He opens a readers’ eyes to analyzing all new aspects of the film, such as transitions and soundtrack volume level.

     Rothman never explicitly discusses the use of dualities in the film. Although he references the similarities between the Charlie’s, he really only delves into this significance at the end of the chapter. He believes that Uncle Charlie attempts to kill his niece as a way to prove that they are in fact twins and what joins them is something monstrous. Rothman argues that Uncle Charlie sets the situation up for his niece to kill him. This would end the cycle of Charlie’s initial request for her Uncle to bring a “miracle” and free her from her monotonous life. When Charlie kills her Uncle, it is a miracle- she puts him out of his miserable life and herself as well. Charlie must commit a murder just as her Uncle has, and breaking this curse is the only thing to set her free and allow her to be re-born as an innocent adult.

     I do not agree with Rothman’s conclusion. I do not think that Uncle Charlie arranged for his own murder. His attempts to kill his niece refute this idea. Additionally, he is violent towards his niece a few times throughout the film. He would hurt anyone to preserve his innocence. I believe he intended to kill his niece on the moving train and that his plan merely backfired. He was not using reverse psychology. Additionally, I do not believe that they are joined by their monstrous tendencies, but separated by it. They are each a half of a person and thus they really do not share anything but telepathy when apart. Together, the aspects of their individual personas combine to create one real person, someone who is not altogether innocent, but who can control her villainous qualities.

 

On a cold and rainy night I sat in my room watching "Shadow of a Doubt" while watching the shadow of the rain on my wall. It was a perfect movie viewing. After the film, I was left with one major question: what is the significance to the duos in the film? There are the obvious ones, like the two characters named Charlie, but there are the less obvious ones, too. I searched Van Pelt and the internet and found ten wonderful sources. Many of the authors had similar views, some of them eye-opening and brilliant, others too outrageous to be true. I have come up with a conclusion after reading hundreds of pages on the topic of dualities within Hitchcock's "Shadow of a Doubt". However, most importantly I have found there is no correct answer to my question. Each author has his own views, and sometimes even the conflicting both seem valid. If I were to write a paper after completing the research, I think I would begin to analyze the differences in opinions and not the similarities. This concept of there not being one right answer is one of the reasons I love film: you can never be wrong.

    The article compares the ideology behind the films by Stanley Cavell and Alfred Hitchcock. It focuses on the relationship between doubt and romance and what Cavell calls “the truth of skepticism”. Hitchcock is presented as a counterexample of this claim made by Cavell about the ambiguity of truth in relationships. In fact, the depiction of romance in Hitchcock’s work makes us question Cavell’s philosophy. The article explores other issues such as faith and exemplifies the arguments using a breadth of Hitchcock films.

    Hitchcock’s constant exposition of the mutability of romance and the doubt in relationships is highlighted throughout the article. L.B. Jeffries relationship with Lisa Freemont this is particularly helping information, especially in respect to Jeffries’ cold and reserved attitude towards Lisa. The article informs us that this is a common issue in Hitchcock relationships as the detached male character is forced to confront his feelings towards a woman due to an unrelated event, in this case, the murder of Mrs. Thorwald. Robert Allen explains the characteristics common to almost every Hitchcock character, relationship, or plot for which an element of romance is involved.

Brandell, Jerrold R. "Eighty Years of Dream Sequences: A Cinematic Journey Down Freud's "Royal Road." American Imago 61.1 (2004): 59-76.

Brandell’s article looks at Secrets of the Soul, Spellbound, David and Lisa, and 12 Monkeys and analyzes each film’s treatment of psychoanalysis specifically relating to the interpretation of dream sequences as an extension of the different times’ approaches and attitudes towards psychoanalysis. Brandell is specifically interested in looking at the possibility that specific cultural events or attitudes could have shaped the depiction of psychoanalytic treatment in film. In addition to attitudes, Brandell also explores whether advances in technology changed the way that filmmakers approached the representation of the psychoanalysis of dreams. After investigating the depictions of psychoanalysis in each film, Brandell comes to the conclusion that the representations of dream sequences have little to do with the technological capacity of the time in which each film was created. Instead, he argues that the each film was more influenced by historical events and that social attitudes, not technological innovations, dictated the depictions of dream sequences and psychoanalysis.

Ultimately, Brandell concludes that the portrayal of “Dr. Edwardes’ ” dream sequence is based less on the technological resources of Salvador Dali, and instead is shaped by what people’s position on psychiatry and psychoanalysis was at the time. Brandell argues that this position had been greatly affected by the influx of veterans with various forms of posttraumatic stress disorder returning home from World War II. Like John Ballantine, who witnessed the traumatic death of the real Dr. Edwardes, the depiction of his treatment argues that through psychoanalysis patients can work through their trauma and ultimately “open the doors” to their memories and the subconscious, allowing them to be cured. At the end of the film, John Ballantine escapes the memories that haunt him by successfully completing psychoanalysis with the help of Dr. Peterson. Perhaps the film intends to argue that like Ballantine, the generation of soldiers traumatized after a difficult war could also be “cured.” Spellbound’s representation of psychoanalysis is in many respects inaccurate, but is consistently hopeful.

Erb, Cynthia. "'Have You Ever Seen the Inside of One of Those Places?': Psycho, Foucault, and the Postwar Context of Madness." Cinema Journal 45.4 (2006) 45-63.

Erb's article examines the post World War II phenomenon of deinstitutionalization. Occurring after several exposes brought to light the poor conditions and decrepitude of mental institutions as well as several films that featured institutions in a negative light, deinstitutionalization came about because of both the financial pressures that were acknowledged by the federal government and the moral questions that were raised by the public. The shifting attitude toward institutionalization was also affected by the influx of veterans with traumatic stress disorders and acquired nervous conditions after World War II. The idea that many people in society were afflicted with mental disorders, not only a select few, dramatically changed the perception of mental illness within the United States.

Erb goes onto argue that while films like Spellbound use mental illness as a tool to advance the plot and feature mental afflictions that are easily “cured” within the course of the film, Hitchcock’s later works The Wrong Man (1956), Vertigo (1958), and Psycho (1960) all address mental illness and instability as something that cannot be cured and that remains with people beyond the duration of films. This idea of extending the boundaries of mental confusion not only applies to the direct portrayal of mental illness within Hitchcock’s films, but also to the treatment of surrealist sequences and motifs within Spellbound and Psycho. Like the treatment of mental illness, Erb notes that the use of surrealism in Spellbound is also completely contained to a single sequence. It begins and it ends and after the specific sequence has finished, surrealist dream sequences never again plague the afflicted John Ballantine. However, in Psycho, a later Hitchcock film, there is no contained surrealist sequence. Instead, several surrealist images sporadically appear throughout the film. Through his evolving treatment of both mental illness and surrealism, Hitchcock reflects the public’s shifting view that mental illness is not easily contained or cured.

In Spellbound (1945), Alfred Hitchcock creates a world of suspense that follows the story of Dr. Constance Peterson and John Ballantine's search for the truth behind both his identity and the disappearance of Dr. Anthony Edwardes. The cat and mouse games move the plot forward. However while Peterson and Ballantine search to discover his identity, other issues of identity and mental clarity come to the forefront of the audience's mind. This group of readings seeks to look at the issues of identity and the mind within the film. Themes that have emerged are Dr. Peterson's portrayal of female identity as she navigates a male-dominated world, the issue of Ballantine's identity as an extension of Freud's theories of Psychoanalysis, and finally the role of the surrealist dream sequence within the film and within the Hollywood system.

McGilligan, Patrick. . Alfred Hitchcock : a life in darkness and light / Patrick McGilligan. 1st ed. 006039322X series New York : Regan Books, c2003.
Call#: Van Pelt Library PN1998.3.H58 M38 2003

    In Part 5 (Paramount: The Glory Years) chapter 15, the author describes the process by which Hitchcock decided on the actors that he chose to star in the film. Originally, James Stewart had be slated for the role of Thornhill, but due to the poor performance of Vertigo in the box office it was unclear whether Hitchcock and the studio could justifiably use him instead of Cary Grant. Stewart was an immensely popular actor, but not considered sexy enough for the role. By using Grant who appeared younger, the studios were happy because there would be a greater draw for women to see the film and Hitchcock was happy because he signed a lead actor whom the audience would have more emotion invested in. Hitchcock next arrived at the task of picking the female lead. He rejected the studio's suggestions and chose Eva Marie Saint, a well regarded actress but not regarded as exceptionally sexy or mysterious. Hitchcock hoped to mold her and give her a specific role. James Mason comments on this, accusing Hitchcock of using his actors as "animated props".

    The choice of actors in a film a critical first step towards creating the desired output. Despite Hitchcock's often firm hand in micromanaging the details of each shot, the actor has a great deal of responsibility and artistic license in the way they portray their character in the film. Hitchcock made his decisions based on the overall effect upon the audience. Thus, careful selection of each actor was an important prerequisite for achieving his desired outcome in each shot. The decisions made however led to great success. The strength of the movie rests on the audience's concern for Thornhill's successful resolution of the dangerous challenge he was forced into, and also of Eve's safety as she plays the role of secret agent to the enemy spy. While casting the correct actor into a role is critically important, it can also be argued that massaging that actor into the desired character during filming is of equal importance. If the character is not playing the part as envisioned, the director essentially loses control over his tool he uses to manipulate the emotions of the audience.  Hitchcock not only carefully screened his actors, but was also known for his adept manipulation of their skills into the finished product he himself desired.

Lehman, Ernest. "Screen Writer's Recipe for 'Hitch's' Brew." New York Times 2 Aug. 1959: X5. Proquest Historical Newspapers. University of Pennsylvania. 7 Apr. 2008.

    This article appeared shortly after the initial release of the film. It was written by the screenwriter, Ernest Lehman, who would later be nominated for an Oscar for this screenplay. Of particular interest is the way in which he describes his goals before writing the script. Usually, he says, scripts are written without a particular director in mind. With this film however, he knew the finished product would be given life by Hitchcock, who had already reached fame by this point as an unconventional director. Because of this, Lehman said a screenwriter "will try never to be dull; one will try not to shun the bizarre or the macabre or the surprising; one will try to give one's characters a certain amount of sophistication... and one will try never to forget that murder, as well as love-making, is sometimes committed with tongue in cheek".

    Knowing what type of film Hitchcock liked to create undoubtedly changed the formulation of the script. In essence, Hitchcock was already exerting control in the film when it was just in the idea stage, before anything had even been written. Hitchcock's critics often deride his work as being too outrageous and relying heavily on chance happenings, and of course the fact that Lehman was writing the script to please Hitchcock no doubt exacerbated these criticisms. Because the script was written specifically for Hitchcock, it offered him an unusual level of control over it.  Lehman also notes that Hitchcock and he worked together closely to revise the script, up until 20 minutes before shooting scenes in some instances. This close collaboration offered a sense of continuity and eliminated friction sometimes observed in film due to conflicting ideas of two of the artistic talents, the writer and director. It is clear in this article that Lehman considered himself very fortunate to work with such an esteemed director even though he realizes that Hitchcock sometimes modified his work. He is pleased with the outcome of the project, declaring that "Hitchcock has made a silk purse out of a writer's ear."

Drucker, Jerry. "Hays Code: Out-Psyched by Hitch." Los Angeles Times 28 Oct. 1979: w4. Proquest Historical Newspapers. University of Pennsylvania. 7 Apr. 2008.

    When North by Northwest was released, the Hays Production Code still had incredible influence. Any film that did not have the official seal was essentially locked out of the major distribution and exhibition avenues. Only two films had ever bypassed the code and despite their box office successes, few studios were willing to risk losing the seal of approval. The code was incredibly strict involving moral standards, and thus sexual and violent undertones needed to be minimized to ensure the Board's approval. This article was written by an insider who had the opportunity to sit inside the Board's screening room as they watched Psycho. It became immediately clear that strong changes were needed; however Hitchcock was known for being unwilling to compromise his autonomy in filmmaking. Thus a strong negotiation ensued in which certain shots were traded with others until the film eventually passed muster.

    This showdown between the censors and Hitchcock was inevitably an escalation from his previous film North by Northwest. Full of sexual innuendo and provocative scenes, the Board had objections to many of the frequent references to intercourse throughout the film. Hitchcock carefully avoided overt discussion, often substituting the word "love" for "sex", and using imagery to imply action (for example, a shot of passionate kisses cuts to a shot of their train entering a tunnel). The final cut of the film was risqué for the time period, but managed to successfully hide the sexual references from younger and uncultured minds, which was no doubt a critical hurdle for Hitchcock to overcome in order to obtain the seal for the film.  The symbolism and innuendos created require a much more engaged viewer, which ultimately helps to maximize the effects of suspenseful situations.

Hitchcock, Alfred. Interview with Bryan Forbes. BFI. 1967. 8 Apr. 2008 http://www.bfi.org.uk/features/interviews/hitchcock.html.

    This interview begins with thoughtful questions asked by another director who is clearly a fan of Hitchcock's work. Through thoughtful questions, Hitchcock is encouraged to discuss his script-writing process. For example, we learn that Hitchcock planned the Mount Rushmore scene fifteen years prior to North by Northwest, and simply waited for an opportunity to insert the scene. He also speaks of his fan of the montage technique, and how greater emotions are brought forth by the audience's emotional attachment to the actors. Using humor and wordplay, Hitchcock adeptly keeps the interest of the audience as he discusses his thought processes and motivations behind the stylistic elements he is famous for using.  Much of the interview is devoted to specific stylistic decisions in his films, but even these can be viewed as representative of Hitchcock's overall strategy as a director.

    It is clear from this interview that Hitchcock operates in a very casual manner, and despite the widespread belief that he adamantly enforces his own view of the film it appears he is sometimes willing to make concessions. Also, here Hitchcock gives interesting evidence about why he often picks big celebrities to act in his films. Because his beliefs closely resemble the founder of the montage Eisenstein in that the key goal of a montage is to create emotion, Hitchcock insists on using actors that the audience will have an emotional attachment to. He believes that an actor such as Cary Grant will receive greater sympathy from the audience, and thus the heightened emotion will ultimately lead to greater suspense and enjoyment of the moviegoers. It is through this interview that one is offered a rare glimpse into the thoughts of Hitchcock. As is the case with any director, certain parts of his style can be analyzed simply by viewing the films he has created. It is through this, for example, that we are aware of Hitchcock's use of visual impact rather dialogue to drive the plot forward. However, to truly understand him one must venture beyond the work he has produced and instead take a more direct approach to deciphering his beliefs and motivations.

Flint, Peter B. "Alfred Hitchcock Dies; a Master of Suspense." New York Times 30 Apr. 1980. 7 Apr. 2008 .

    This is the actual obituary published by the NY Times following Alfred Hitchcock's death in 1980. Although the article offers no more than a few brief comments about North by Northwest, it talks about many stylistic elements in the film which were hallmarks of Hitchcock's innovative approach. For example, one of the more prominent features of classic Hitchcock style is the emphasis on montage and dramatic imagery over dialogue in developing the story. This article mentions examples of this including North by Northwest's crop-dusting scene in which Cary Grant tries to evade a bullet-firing low-flying aircraft. It was clear that Hitchcock controlled a certain mastery of the camera. The scene, which begins with Grant is waiting for the elusive Kaplan along a long a dusty road in Northern Indiana, effectively demonstrates the suspense that can be achieved using wide shots and apparent isolation. The camera cuts frequently between shots of Grant looking down the expansive road in both directions and extended shots of the never-ending road. Hardly a word needs to be spoken in this scene for the audience to understand the character's frustration and fear.

    Speaking of Hitchcock's style as a whole, the article acclaims his "virtuosity in creating a rhythm of anticipation with understated, sinister overtones, innovative pictorial nuance and montage... and revealing cross-cutting of objective shots with subjective views of a scene from an actor's perspective." This style is apparent throughout the film, but its power is best seen before and during the crop-dusting sequence and also in the fight on the faces of Mount Rushmore. Furthermore, Hitchcock oftens breaks from established convention in order to convey his message. For example, on the empty highway Hitchcock repeatedly breaks the 180-degree rule in order to display the surroundings and prove Thornhill's complete isolation from others. The works Hitchcock created are not only a great piece of cinematic history in their own right, but also in the lasting impact they have imparted on other filmmakers and their works. Hitchcock's legacy in film is a natural byproduct of his unique style over many great films during his lengthy career.

Cavell, Stanley. "North by Northwest." Critical Inquiry 7 (1981): 761-776.

    This article carefully examines many plot elements within the story which are thought to be similar in many ways to other Hitchcock thrillers. The first and most obvious is the casting of Cary Grant into the lead role. The two have worked together several times and Grant had gained stardom in part due to these movies. Hitchcock makes light of his stardom in several occasions, first when Grant is leaving a phone booth and gets stares from a young female, and later when he is walking through a woman's hospital room and she tries to persuade him to stay in a seductive tone. Also, the script does not deny that Grant is an actor. Vandamn frequently comments on Thornhill's acting and even the professor asks him to "play the part". Other plot elements mentioned are Hitchcock's insistence on using ordinary situations and ordinary people for the more suspenseful situations.  This is no doubt a hallmark of Hitchcock's work and imitated wildly in the following decades.

    What is not adequately addressed in this article is that Grant must play the role of the victim. He was thrust into the situation against his will, due to mistaken identity. Unlike his last role with Hitchcock in "To Catch a Thief", Grant's character is that of a law-abiding citizen. A ‘mama's boy', he is thrown into a world totally unfamiliar and being pressured on both sides to perform as any super-agent would. He succeeds in the task, and is ultimately the hero stopping state secrets from reaching the Soviets. Thus, while Grant's character is similar to others he performs for Hitchcock's camera in many respects, ultimately this is a fundamentally different character because he is one everyone in the audience can empathize with.  Because of this, Grant is able to command a stronger control over the viewer.

Hollywood : critical concepts in media and cultural studies / edited by Thomas Schatz. 0415281318 (set) series London ; New York : Routledge, 2004.
Call#: Van Pelt Library PN1993.5.U6 H556 2004

    In chapter 34 of this book, Andrew Sarris attempts to classify and find themes in the works of Alfred Hitchcock. Using frequent references to specific scenes and elements of the films, Sarris argues that Hitchcock is unusually adept at rousing interest from his audience. Furthermore, Sarris believes that Hitchcock never received the visual analysis he deserved, presumably because of the mass appeal of his films. The style is said to be uniting of the divergent classical traditions of Murnau (notably the camera angles) and of Eisenstein (use of montage). The thrillers Hitchcock has produced all require a situation of normality. Hitchcock would never allow a murder to occur in a dark alley, simply because the audience expects that is where a murder should occur. Rather, a situation of normality would be the best place for a murder. Sarris uses the example a clean hotel bathroom in Psycho, but this argument could be applied to the murder at the United Nations, or the fight scene on the faces at Mount Rushmore.

    What Sarris is alluding to, but not declaring outright, is that a thriller must engage its viewer at a visceral level. Any murder that occurs expectedly due to the scenery would not adequately arouse the emotions of the viewer. This is one of the key elements of classic Hitchcock style. Hitchcock refuses to allow plot twists to occur formulaically; he insists on keeping the audience guessing. While this has no doubt added to his popular appeal and the frequency of imitation his works see, it is a concrete example at the ingenuity of the director and why he deserves a prominent place in cinematic history. His refusal to accept the obvious and his thirst for innovative and unexpected events keeps the viewers emotionally engaged in the film, and is thus one of the greatest cognitive tools at his disposal.

Rubin, Martin, 1947- . Thrillers / Martin Rubin. 0521581834 series Cambridge, U.K. ; New York, NY : Cambridge University Press, 1999.
Call#: Van Pelt Library PN1995.9.S87 R83 1999

    The first chapter of this book describes ‘thriller' as a genre that is inherently different from other genres. Usually genres have specific themes and iconography (i.e. saloons, cowboy hats etc.) and a level of general relationships, patterns and structural elements. Thrillers however can take widely varying forms and thus conventional iconographic elements are far from universal in the genre. Thus, to define a thriller one must concentrate on conceptual, relational and structural elements. Playing with visceral emotions rather than cognitive ones, the thriller emphasizes suspense, fright, mystery, exhilaration, excitement, speed and movement. Because there is little standardized convention, the filmmaker is given a large degree of freedom.

    Hitchcock has gained acclaim due to his skill for creating thrillers. He is known for his ability to create suspense and shock when the viewer least expects it. While it is true that Hitchcock's thrillers do defy expectation by relying on emotion, it is ambiguous whether the thriller completely ignores specific themes and iconography. For example, one could argue that a dark alley represents a shady endeavor, and that something bad is about to transpire. Hitchcock is famous for ignoring these canned situations. While the average thriller relies on the rising suspense as a character walks down a dark alley, Hitchcock creates excitement by masterminding plot twists during the audience's period of emotional security, for example during a conversation in the U.N.'s general assembly. By creating a false sense of security and then destroying the illusion, Hitchcock commands an unusually high level of control over his audience. These techniques employed by Hitchcock are considered to be the standard by which other Thrillers should be made, however only a highly skilled director is able to captivate his audience and avoid cliché scenarios while still utilizing the same repertoire (murders, kidnappings etc.) that are often required in this genre.

Henderson, Brian. “Notes on Set Design and Cinema.” Film Quarterly, Vol. 42, No. 1 (Autumn, 1988), pp. 17-28

    Brian Henderson elaborately describes certain key techniques in classic and modern filmmaking by citing examples from famous films such as Citizen Kane, Bringing Up Baby, North by Northwest and Johnny Guitar.  Henderson begins his article by discussing distinctive creators among set designers and production directors in “the latest stage of auteurist dialectic.”  He moves from a comparison of Hollywood set designers to the architectural profession and discusses the value of production stills taken during the filming of movies.  Production stills, though giving a simple and concise summary of the visual set which can preserve our knowledge of the filmmaking, don’t preserve the full knowledge of the filming because no single vantage point can be used to reproduce or understand a set.  A photograph only presents a view from a single angle.  One would need multiple shots from different angles to accurately learn about the styles of different film sets.  Henderson argues that production stills are most valuable simply for publicity purposes – he cites examples of sets from Bringing Up Baby.  The author also describes visual and illusionary techniques in filming, such as the use of large foreground models and miniature background models to simulate depth.  Some filmmakers replace parts of the sets with miniatures that are built to scale or they use devices that create composite images such as rear projection, glass shots, travelling mattes, the Shufftan process, or an optical printer.  Some of these special effects are used to supplement the narrative of the film.  The Shufftan process which uses a semitransparent/semi-reflective mirror can be good at showing before and after images – a technique used in documentary filmmaking.  He also mentions techniques used by Orson Welles in Citizen Kane, and techniques by Alfred Hitchcock.

    Henderson elaborates in some detail the extent of the use of special effects in Welles’s Citizen Kane.  An interview with optical printer, Linwood Dunn, reveals that not very many people know about the extent of the post production work and modifications made to the film.  Many photographic effects used and only a handful of people actually worked on the post production special effects.   Dunn says that special techniques other than advanced hardware had to be used to get the deep-focus shots that Welles desired.  In scene of Susan Alexander’s suicide attempt, the girl and poison are featured in the foreground while the doctors and Kane contrasted as they enter in the far background.  To achieve this effect, in-camera editing techniques were used.  First the foreground was shot with a dark background, then film was rewound, the lens refocused, and the film stock was exposed again with the background lit and foreground dark.  Over 50% of footage involved special effects, but this was not well known for about 40 years after the film was released.  Shots of Xanadu (Kane’s palatial estate) were filmed as miniature models.  This common technique saved money on set design.

Alfred Hitchcock's Notorious is best understood by examining it against the rest of Hitchcock's body of work. The ways in which the film is at once expected and full of surprises result of its historical context and from decisions made by Hitchcock and his team. It is full of classic Hitchcock suspense, yet this suspense (and the film's success in general) is achieved through means that are not all necessarily typical of Hitchcock. Additionally, the film fits loosely into many genres, but perfectly into none.

       In regards to Notorious specifically, Spoto makes several arguments. First, he suggests that the portrayal of Mrs. Sebastian, the first matriarch to appear in a Hitchcock film after his mother's death, as evil and controlling was directly related to this death and to Hitchcock's resulting emotional release. Spoto also argues that the overt sexuality in the film, embodied by Ingrid Bergman, was a result of Hitchcock's repressed and largely unexplored sexuality. Finally, Spoto parallels the film's theme of conflict between love and duty with similar conflict in Hitchcock's own life between his personal desires (embodied by Alex) and his public image (embodied by Devlin).

        The author's further psychoanalysis in essence declares that Hitchcock's Notorious is a work that is a result of context - of place, time, and circumstance in Hitchcock's own life. The film cannot be understood fully without understanding Hitchcock's personality and his personal life at the time of the film's creation. Spoto's chapter also shows that the film must be examined in a historical context outside of just Hitchcock - it must be seen in relation to Hollywood in the 1940s and to World War II-era America.

        In Chapter 9 of his work Hitchcock's Music, Jack Sullivan discusses the score of Notorious and its role in the movie and the audience's experience.  Sullivan argues that though the movie's score, composed by Roy Webb, is often overlooked by Hitchcock scholars, it is one of the best scores of any Hitchcock movie.  Although Hitchcock had hoped for a more well-known composer than Webb, in the end Webb's subdued, non-flashy style and his use of dissonance and jagged rhythms fit well, even perfectly, as Sullivan argues, with Hitchcock's vision for the movie.  The music, which often meshes so well with a scene that it seems to fade imperceptibly into the background, enhances the drama and danger that is written into the plot and that Hitchcock works so painstakingly to portray in the film through careful use of the camera and coaching of his actors.

        The chapter provides a clear example of one of the many unexpected and unconventional elements of Notorious that, when combined with the other building blocks of the movie, creates the classic suspense for which Hitchcock is so well-known.  The music is in no way a typical Hollywood film score - the tunes are not particularly catchy or melodramatic.  However, Webb's varied and sometimes unsettling style works in the moment and matches the movie's plot, with its characters buried in layers of unresolved conflict and life-threatening danger, and its audience immersed in the uncomfortable coexistence of personal and political conflict embodied by both Devlin and Alicia's love vs. duty conflicts.

Willis, James and Susan Silby.  “Self, Surveillance, and Society.”  The Sociological Quarterly 43.3 (2002): 439-45.

 

            This journal entry is a discussion of the fictional case study of Tom Voire, written by Gary T. Marx.  The essay essentially summarizes Marx’s story and then explains the themes and conclusions that can be drawn from the piece.  Tom Voire is depicted as a “Peeping Tom,” a “law-abiding and hard-working citizen” who has a strong penchant for sexual voyeurism that ultimately lands him in jail and under psychological scrutiny.  Beginning by video-taping his sexual encounters, Tom advances to deeper levels of peeping, watching videos of women changing in department stores, and ultimately creating a “technologically composed” girlfriend.  Analysis of Tom’s case focuses on several key issues.  First of all, Tom brings forth important ideas about gender discrimination in conjunction with voyeurism.  Additionally, Tom’s individuality—his lack of physical connection with the women he is watching—leads to a question of the damage and moral wrong present in this form of voyeuristic pleasure.  And finally, the detailed nature of the case study critiques the social standards that allow “experts” to delve so deeply into another person’s life with complete moral autonomy.

            The case of Tom Voire, and the themes that Willis and Silby introduce, can be appropriately applied to Rear Window.  Technology, for instance, is an important parallel between the two works.  Tom’s digital prowess gives him an advantage in completing his voyeuristic fantasies, just as Jeff’s camera equipment gives him an unrivaled view into the life of his neighbors.  The theme of social morality also applies to both works.  Just because Jeff’s intentions are good in spying on Thorwald and “Miss Lonely Hearts,” does that earn him the right to violate their personal privacy?  This idea continues in examining Jeff’s deeper motivations.  Both Tom and Jeff offer numerous excuses for delving into the private lives of others, and it is easy to see how both are covering up their hidden immoral desires to view what society forbids.  Contrasts between Jeff and Tom, as well as Jeff and Tom’s therapists, also provide various ideas of how voyeurism should be addressed by our society.

Keller, Susan Jo.  "Patriot Act Sections on Search and Surveillance Are Ruled Unconstitutional."  The New York Times 27 Sept. 2007: A29.

 

            This article from The New York Times announces that a section of the Patriot Act dealing with search and surveillance, an act initiated by Congress to combat terrorism, was ruled unconstitutional by a federal judge in Oregon.  The article describes how this decision came about after a deadly terrorist bombing in Spain in March 2004.  Brandon Mayfield, a lawyer in the child custody case of a man convicted of conspiring with al Qaeda, is also an Islamic convert, and was a major suspect in the attack.  The federal government performed extensive surveillance on him and his family, and placed him in jail for two weeks before the case was thrown out.  After a $2 million legal settlement, Mayfield sued the government, resulting in the decision rendered by Judge Anne L. Aiken, which overturned parts of the Patriot Act that infringed upon the 4^th amendment.  Quotations from Judge Aiken and the other individuals involved in the case accent the idea that the Patriot Act disrupts the balance between civil liberties and Executive power.

            The importance of the Patriot Act to Rear Window is evident in a modern interpretation of the film.  Clearly, the concepts of terrorism are not readily apparent in Hitchcock's movie.  However, there are parallels that can be drawn here.  Keller mentions, for instance, that Mayfield is targeted for surveillance because of his religion and his legal work with a prominent member of al Qaeda.  Jeff draws upon similar associations in determining Thorwald's guilt, as he never actually sees any murder committed, only the presence of conditions that might lead to murder.   Additionally, Jeff becomes frustrated by the legal procedures that Doyle claims must be respected, and the Patriot Act demonstrates that difficult balance between respecting the rights of others and achieving rapid results.  Mayfield's lawyer claims that "our nation's most cherished principle [is] the right to be secure in one's own home.''  Yet Jeff and Lisa infringe upon that right in the case of Thorwald, and as a result we are left with conflicting ideas about the importance of privacy and the need to achieve justice.

Ranier, Peter.  "‘Disturbia' peeps into ‘Rear Window' for inspiration."  The Christian Science Monitor 13 April 2007: Features, Weekend 14.

 

            This article is a film review of the movie Disturbia, starring Shia LeBeouf.  Ranier comments on the obvious comparisons to Hitchcock's film, calling it "Rear Window for the YouTube generation."  The article summarizes the basic plot while simultaneously commenting on the film's positive and negative aspects.  Ranier then makes comparisons between Disturbia and Rear Window, as well as other films and books which are concerned with solving mysteries.  The article concludes by discussing the ending of the movie and the dubious casting of one of the characters.

            The importance of this article is not in its connection of Disturbia and Rear Window; the copycat plotline of the film is obvious.  Ranier does, however, make several key observations about Disturbia and its voyeuristic content.  First of all, the simple fact that Rear Window has been remade indicates the relevance that spectatorship still has to our society.  Indeed, Ranier's YouTube reference indicates that voyeurism remains as captivating as ever, particularly for the younger generation.  Additionally, Ranier makes a point of discussing the film's suburban setting, contrasting the dangerous city of Rear Window with the seemingly protected "cookie-cutter" homes of Disturbia.  While Ranier is referring to murderers when he says "the suburbs are where you flee to safety," he could just as easily be talking about the peeping toms who thrive in the close quarters of city life.  Disturbia shows that our privacy is now even less limited; as Ranier writes, "In the new high-tech world of voyeurism even teenagers can easily become expert operatives."  Finally, Ranier's comparisons of Disturbia with "the Spielberg 1970s" and "the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew" suggest a positive, sympathetic outlook on voyeurism, the "teen fantasy," as he writes.  If voyeurism is supposed to be morally questionable in Rear Window, Ranier suggests that this is not the case in our modern society of Disturbia.

Howe, Lawrence.  "Through the Looking Glass: Reflexivity, Reciprocality, and Defenestration in Hitchcock's Rear Window."  College Literature 35.1 (2008): 16-37.

 

            This essay by Lawrence Howe provides a detailed analysis of the power of gaze in Rear Window, emphasizing the importance of gaze as a social, reciprocal process.  In his introduction, Howe calls upon the ideas of Sartre from his essay "The Look," defining how the film distinguishes between the social dynamics of "being-for-others" and "being-for-oneself."  After outlining his main points, Howe begins the body of his essay by describing the importance of gaze to Jeff's personality and how he values his subjective viewpoint.  In the second portion of his essay, Howe opposes Mulvey's view of Lisa Fremont, instead using evidence to portray her as a powerful woman who utilizes Jeff's preoccupation with voyeurism to win his affections.  In the final section of the essay, Howe describes how, in the climax of the film, Jeff's role as subjective viewer is inverted, and he becomes a part of the rest of society through the process of being observed by others.  In his conclusion, Howe relates his ideas to the reflexive nature of the film.

            There are several aspects of this essay that are very important contributions to any discussion of voyeurism in Rear Window.  First of all, the essay provides a unique take on Lisa Fremont's role in the movie, and raises the importance of the female in this concept of voyeuristic gaze.  Additionally, the essay deals with the latent elements of scopophobia in the film.  As eager as Jeff is to find out what Thorwald is doing, he is just as persistent in trying to avoid being seen by him and receive the same scrutinized treatment.  Howe also ties in important ideas about society and the connection that is to be gained by embracing the gaze of others.  Finally, the essay relates this reciprocal gaze to the audience itself.  Although the audience is in no danger of being caught watching as Jeff is, the viewers still have nothing to fear by watching the events, and embrace the "mutual need" of the observers and the characters.  Hitchcock's sly cameo, and his acknowledgement of the audience, demonstrates the reciprocal pleasure that is gained through the film.

Belton, John.  "The Space of Rear Window."  MLN 103.5 (1988): 1121-38.

           

            The focus of this essay is the physical space of Rear Window, and how elements such as the set, camera work, and editing contribute to a theatrical feel for the film.   Belton first discusses the limited location of the movie and how this ties into the narrative structure and leads to the creation of a "dramatic spectacle."  He then introduces other elements of the film that serve as theatrical motifs, such as the slow fades between scenes, the window shades, which function as a faux theater curtain, and references to theatrical expressions.  The essay then proceeds to discuss the concept of "cinematic space" in greater detail.  After this, Belton moves into the idea of spectatorship and voyeurism within the film, and then subsequently the roles of Jeff's neighbors as reflections of his own experiences.  Finally, Belton spends the remainder of the essay explaining how the space of the movie "becomes narrativized" through Hitchcock's direction, showing both Jeff's subjective view of the events and Hitchcock's own objective view.

            In regards to voyeurism, Belton provides more than just the simple concept of Jeff as stand-in for the cinematic spectator.  His belief that Rear Window is one of Hitchcock's most theatrical films introduces interesting ideas about what drama and spectatorship really mean to both theater and cinema.  The major difference between film and theater is of course the distance of space between the audience and the performers.  Hitchcock breaks down this distance, however, by limiting the actions of the movie to a single performance space, and by having Jeff as an audience substitute.  This distinction leads to questions about the role of voyeurism in a theatrical setting.  Additionally, as Belton points out, the windows across from Jeff's apartment serve as "mini-screens," each of which depicts a different story that might fulfill a spectator's desire, including comedy, melodrama, film-noir, and even peep-show.  Belton's observations shows how Hitchcock recognizes both the tradition of past spectatorship and the voyeuristic society that is yet to come, in the form of modern reality television.

    In Modleski's chapter on Notorious, she thoroughly examines Hitchcock's film through a feminist lens. She describes how the film both fits into and breaks away from the film noir genre, moving into the female Gothic genre in which the heroine has a more active and inquisitive role. Unlike typical noir films, Notorious' main character is a female, Alicia; the story centers around her conflict, and the audience sympathizes with her plight. She is not simply an object of male desire. Modleski then explores the characterizations of male as sadist and female as masochist, as often used by feminist film theory. She argues that while to a certain extent, Devlin and Alicia fit these roles, they are far too simple to explain the characters' complex relationship - Devlin shows signs of masochism in that he choses to watch Alicia be subjected to suffering, knowing full well that he is in love with her. Additionally, Alicia's masochism is not simply a sign of her weakness and submissiveness - she uses her pain as an outlet for anger and a source of emotional power over Devlin. Modleski also draws an interesting connection between Alicia's conflict - to do right by her country requires violating social codes of appropriate sexual behavior - and the postwar period in which the film was made. She compares Alicia's love vs. duty conflict to that of the wartime citizen, male or female, asked to set aside personal issues for the greater good of the country.

    The chapter is very useful for placing the film in a historical context, both in terms of the postwar period and the period preceding second wave feminism. It also gives clear illustrations of how Notorious strays from the neatly defined categories it is often lumped into, such as spy film, film noir, and suspense film. Finally, the article shows how Hitchcock's treatment of Alicia's character is both similar to and different from his portrayal of heroines in his other films.

"Eternal Vigilance in Rear Window" / Armond White

 

This essay addresses the political and social themes present in Rear Window, as well as the influence these themes have had on other films that seek to rework Hitchcock's ideas.  White starts with the premise that Hitchcock's films serve as more than mere entertainment, but are actually important social commentaries with strong connections to the political context of the film.  Specifically, in Rear Window he addresses the alienation of postwar society.  After discussing film techniques used to enhance Hitchcock's message, particularly the use of "closed" framing, White moves on to make comparisons with other films, specifically Michelangelo Antonioni's Blow Up, Brian De Palma's Sisters and Blow Out, and Francis Ford Coppola's The Conversation.  White shows how these films are able to expand Hitchcock's ideas, and adapt them to their contemporary social context.

            While not directly addressing voyeurism, this idea can be applied to the essay in a unique manner.  It is somewhat strange to think that a movie so intent on examining other people's lives could also be a meditation on social alienation.  White repeatedly cites the dog's death, followed by the owner's gripping question, "Did you kill him because he liked you?" as proof of the deeper social message here: individuals struggle to survive in what appears to be an integrated society.  "Miss Lonely Heart," for example, is studied closely by Jeff throughout the course of the film, yet remains an alienated individual, struggling to find happiness and human connection.  White thus illuminates the distinction between voyeurism and interaction, simple aesthetic viewing and real human connection.  Additionally, by pointing to the idea that "the price of democracy is eternal vigilance," he brings up another major point in conjunction with voyeurism: watching our neighbors may not be a sin or even a guilty pleasure, but a duty that comes with not only protecting our nation, but maintaining the human interaction that defines democracy.

 

"The Metafictional Hitchcock" / R. Barton Palmer

 

In this essay, Palmer seeks to examine two of Hitchcock's later films, Rear Window and Psycho, and how they fulfill the criteria of "Metafictional" works.  He employs the definition provided by Patricia Waugh, who describes metafictional narratives as stories that "tend to be constructed on the principle of a fundamental and sustained opposition: the construction of a fictional illusion (as in the traditional realism) and the laying bare of that illusion..." Examining the two films individually, Palmer makes specific comparisons between the films and the works of Brecht and film noir.  He analyzes numerous other aspects of each film before noting some of their major contrasting points.  In his conclusion, Palmer determines that both films are reflexive, metafictional works, Rear Window by exploring "the existential basis of storytelling," and Psycho by undercutting the traditional Hollywood style of film-making.

Palmer directly addresses the idea that Rear Window is a commentary on voyeurism, and puts forth his own distinct take on the issue.  For him, the analogy between Jeff and the cinematic spectator is limited to the beginning of the film, before Jeff has decided to take action.  Once he realizes the nature of Thorwald's activity, Jeff abandons the role of spectator and assumes the role of a character in this narrative, a murder mystery of which he is the primary author.  Jeff only resumes the role of spectator when Lisa investigates Thorwald's bedroom, vicariously experiencing her dangerous situation.  In the end of the film, Jeff is completely removed from the role of spectator, as he survives Thorwald's attack and brings about his arrest.  Palmer connects these ideas to a metafictional interpretation, concluding that the film seeks to establish the distinction between spectator and character in storytelling.  By relinquishing the role of voyeur and interpreting his "story" as reality, Jeff consequentially puts himself in danger and suffers a broken leg.  At the same time, however, he puts a murderer in jail and starts himself on "a therapeutic project which delivers him to the joys and responsibilities...of full adult life."

 

This book focuses on the theories of Jacque Lacan and Sigmund Freud, and their application to feminist and bisexual ideas in Hitchcock's films.  Within each chapter, Samuels discusses a recent theory put forth on a particular film, and how their theories compare to the Lacanian and Freudian ideas.  Major theorists under discussion include Julia Kristeva Kaja Silverman, Judith Butler, Luce Irigary, and Slavoj Zizek.  Overall, Samuels maintains throughout the course of the book that Hitchcock's films are heterogeneous in nature and "present multiple forms of sexual identification and desire."

            Chapter 7, titled "Rear Window Ethics: Laura Mulvey and the Inverted Gaze," discusses Mulvey's interpretation of Rear Window in her essay, "Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema."  Specifically, Samuels claims that Mulvey has misinterpreted Lacan's idea of the gaze, as well as the definition of voyeurism.  While Mulvey depicts the gaze as a tool for male dominance, Samuels believes that gaze is instead "an object that threatens to escape from the control of the eye or the ‘I'."  Thus, men fear losing their gaze, and do not have the control over it that Mulvey claims.  Likewise, the concept of voyeurism is inverted as well.  For Mulvey, voyeurism is an active search for an object of desire, while Samuels sees it as looking for the absence, not presence, of the object.  Beyond these differences, Samuels interprets Jeff's obsession with the events of the opposite apartment building as a secret homosexual desire, not an overt heterosexual one.  Jeff ignores the perfectly feminine Lisa in favor of the masculine Thorwald, and in his voyeuristic endeavors, he is trying to put himself in the female position of Mrs. Thorwald, and perhaps "Miss Lonely Heart" as well.  In continuation of this argument, Samuels uses examples of Jeff's incompleteness as a man and his frequent use of phallic symbols in conjunction with Thorwald.  In the end, Samuels claims, Lisa only becomes more attractive to Jeff once she has made herself more masculine, once again pointing to Jeff's covert bi-sexuality.  Clearly, this is a drastically distinct reading from Mulvey's feminist argument.

According to the American Film Institute, Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo is the 9th greatest movie of all time. While some critics choose to focus on the director's artistic achievements, others address the sexist undertones that are prevalent throughout the film. This project explores the sources of inspiration for Vertigo, and the two opposing ways that the film has been received.

According to Pomerance, popular film plots in the 1960s were obsessed with rationalizing idealized heterosexual unions.  But Hitchcock turned the romance genre on its head. As Mark and Marnie walk away from Mrs. Edgar’s home at the film’s end, we understand that this is not an ending where the couple lives “happily ever after.” Instead it seems that Marnie is the girl for Mark because he will never quite succeed in taming her. The war he will have to fight against this rebellious woman, in the bathroom, the boardroom, and the boudoir, will never altogether be won.  Marnie says, “I don’t want to go to jail.  I’d rather stay with you.”  And now, Mark replies, “Had you, love?”  making any attentive member of Hitchcock’s audience sit up; “For the romantic viewer convinced her marriage will now bring an eternity of daylight, Marnie’s “I’d rather” is a clear contraction of “I would rather.”  But Mark has a grammatical fluency that stumps the viewer.  His response is a clue that she meant—or that he interpreted her to mean “I’d” that is past tense.  Not “I would rather tomorrow and eternally; but “I had rather,” meaning in the past.  He says, “Had you, love?” She is saying bluntly that previously it had been her desire to remain with him but now desire is not her primary motivation.  The pure romance of that earlier attraction, Mark knows, has been diminished by the fact, now very evident, that he is the one who will keep her out of jail—that for Marnie he represents only the better of two alternatives, the other being an unthinkable option. Mark, and the viewer, must wonder, does she truly desire to go anywhere with him?”

The ambiguous ending of Hitchcock’s Marnie raises the ultimate question: if jail were not one of the looming possibilities, would Marnie be wanting to stay at Mark’s side?  Is a life with Mark simply the lesser of two evils or is her desire to “stay” with him something of genuine love.  The marriage between Mark and Marnie is anything but romantic, with a relationship that can be seen as that of doctor and patient rather than husband and wife and a relationship between two people that do not necessarily trust one another. Hitchcock makes it unclear whether Mark has actually cured Marnie—is he the only male with whom she can feel comfortable, or has he simply been deceived by Marnie in falling for her disguised “need” as love? 

 

    The fourth Chapter of Inga Karetnikova's text is devoted entirely to Hitchcock's Notorious. The author begins by providing a brief biography of Hitchcock, outlining both his early endeavors in the film industry and the movies made at the end of his career. Karetnikova also brings Ben Hecht, Notorious' screenwriter, into the picture, describing his relationship with Hitchcock and giving careful detail about the duo's creative process for the movie. Step by step, she moves through different story lines and plot twists considered by Hitchcock and Hecht until they finally arrived on what became Notorious. Lastly, Karetnikova briefly summarizes and then analyzes each scene in the movie, pointing out symbolism, themes, and created suspense.

     Karetnikova's scene-by-scene analyses prove particularly useful for looking at the film critically since they show Hitchcock's active and deliberate decision-making that leads to the creation of his signature suspense. He used the camera to create suspense by allowing shots to grow long and linger, and by showing the audience information not available to the characters. Karetnikova's analyses also show how Hitchcock uses perceived time to his advantage, in this case creating suspense by cutting to shots of the diminishing number of wine bottles at Alicia and Alex's party, signaling to the audience that it won't be long before someone has to go down into the wine cellar where Devlin is snooping. Finally, her treatment of symbols in the film, such as keys and wine bottles, clearly shows another way in which Hitchcock masters the art of suspense in this film.

“Interview with Kim Novak.” Interview. The MacGuffin. 2003. 4 Apr. 2008.
        <http://www.labyrinth.net.au/~muffin/kim_novak_c.html>.


        The MacGuffin website interviewed lead actress Kim Novak to ask her questions about her memorable dual-performances in Vertigo. When Novak received the script for Vertigo, she was known as the number one box-office star of the time. She explains that the only reason her agent let her take the part was due to the fact that Hitchcock was directing. When asked if Hitchcock made her feel valued as a performer, Novak responded by saying that “he didn’t necessarily, but, on the other hand, he didn’t make me feel less than.” A director obsessed with perfection, Hitchcock occasionally forced Novak to do things against her will. For instance, Novak was very against the constraining nature of the costumes that she was required to wear. Although Hitchcock gave her the chance to express her opinions, he felt that her “reasons weren’t good enough.” Novak decided to live with the costume and was able to play against it in a way that made it “right for Madeleine.” Asked about the ending, she explains that her belief is that Judy “absolutely” hurled herself from the tower in her untimely suicide. When the film first came out it was greeted with mixed reviews and a disappointing box-office. Novak described the experience on a personal level as being very “painful.” She explained that the “work [she] did in Vertigo meant nothing if no one cared about the movie.” Fortunately, the film would go on to experience a revival and people began to understand its value.
        The interview confirms that fact that Hitchcock exploited the “star system” as Novak was the biggest attraction at the time. Unfortunately for him, his approach did not result in instant success. Hitchcock never wavered in his vision of the film and over time people became to appreciate the film. Viewers and critics alike now hold the belief that Vertigo is a cinematic masterpiece.

Wood, Robin. “Vertigo.” Hitchcock’s Films Revisited 1989, 108-130. Google Books.
        University of Pennsylvania Library, Philadelphia. 8 Apr. 2008. <http://books.google.com/
        books?id=YTMgJCtpnywC&pg=PA129&lpg=PA129&dq=%22robin+wood%22+article+vertigo
        +%22perfect+organism%22&source=web&ots=cFw6zhOrKv&sig=5yNeHlgM6Agb3dRVA2CPe1ZjKGg&hl=en#PPA131,M1> 

        In this chapter, Robin Wood discusses his analysis of Vertigo and provides a review of the film. He starts off by declaring it one of the most beautiful films that has ever been made. The chapter breaks down various scenes and character interactions until he comes to the conclusion that the film is both “deep and universal.” He goes into detail about how Scottie tries to reasonably overcome his acrophobia and Madeleine’s situation. This progresses into the second stage of the film where he becomes overwhelmed with guilt. In the final third, Scottie becomes lost in the world around him. Wood applauds the fact that Hitchcock includes the audience in the film by having it understand what Scottie is going through. Although the film gives a disturbing attitude to life, it also demonstrates the power and value of love. The only flaw Wood finds is that Kim Novak could have shown more inwardness while playing Judy. The scene of her writing the letter is too drawn out and as a result loses some of its power. Nevertheless, he praises the film’s “emotional depth” and its “power to disturb.”
        This analysis and review was of great importance to Vertigo’s eventual rise to prominence. When it was first released, the film was greeted with mixed reviews and a poor box office. It was not until critics began focusing on the artistic elements of the story, that Vertigo gained its much deserved respect.

“Vertigo Movie Review.” Variety Magazine. 14 May. 1958. 8 Apr. 2008.
        <http://www.variety.com/index.asp?layout=variety100&content=jump&
        jump=review&reviewID=VE1117796098&category=1935>.

         In this original 1958 Variety Magazine review of Hitchcock’s Vertigo, the critic provides a very mixed assessment of the film. The reviewer lauds the performance of Jimmy Stewart while noting that under Hitchcock’s direction, Kim Novak is “nearer an actress than she was in [previous films].” The reviewer also notes the beautiful photography of San Francisco and feels that the images will play a paramount role in whatever success the film generates. The major problem with the film is that “the film’s first half is too slow and too long.” The critic believes that this may be the result of Hitchcock becoming too enamored with scenery or with a screenplay that just takes too long to get going. The reviewer describes the action as “mainly psychic” while appreciating and even giving away the final scene of the film. The review culminates by questioning if the two-hour runtime could be better spent by the viewer. The critic finds the film to be “basically only a psychological murder mystery.”
        This review is important because it shows the overwhelming sentiments that the film received when it first came out. The critic goes so far as to question if she wasted her time watching the film. And this is a film which is today regarded as a masterpiece. It is interesting to note that the Variety viewer believed that the film’s photography would play a part in its success. Although this turned out to be incorrect, Hitchcock too believed that extravagant settings would lead to a strong reception. Overtime, response to Vertigo changed as critics began to find deeper meaning in the film.
 

Goodkin, Richard E. “Hitchcock’s Vertigo and Proust’s Vertigo.” MLN Dec. 1987, 1171-1181. JSTOR.
        University of Pennsylvania Library, Philadelphia. 4 Apr. 2008. <http://www.jstor.org/stable/2905316>.  

 

      In this paper, Richard E. Goodkin investigates Proust’s In Search of Time to find the true inspiration for Vertigo. While he admits that there are striking differences, Goodkin finds elements that are so similar that they are impossible to ignore. For instance, the name Madeleine Elster is simply a combination of Proust’s memory-cake and the narrator’s favorite painter. Scottie’s attempt to remake Judy as Madeleine is similar to Proust’s Madeleine in that they both embody the attempt to relive the past. Time is central to both stories, for in Vertigo the entire second half focuses on Scottie’s desire to go back on time; nostalgia for the love he once had. In the beginning of the film, Scottie tries to slowly get used to heights by climbing up a stool. He attempts such a task through “habit,” one of the central tenements in Proust’s story. In his novel, the only way the narrator finds “lost time” is by going “against his habit.” Scotties inability to succeed through habit demonstrates the uncontrollable nature of time. Goodkin moves on to focus on the second half of Madeleine’s name: Elster, the name of Proust’s painter. The critic is quick to explain that “not only is Madeleine modeled after a painting, but Scottie attempts to recreate her as a sort of living painting.” The similarities between the works do not end there. Not only does In Search of Time have a bell-tower, but it also carries with it the association of death. The Aunt in the story is terrified of climbing it because at the top “Certain people claim to have felt the coldness of death.”
        Goodkin concludes the article by affirming the belief that through Vertigo, Proust has been translated into film. The writer believes that while many of the themes have been carried over, Hitchcock’s film focuses on the inability of return, and is thus unable to be re-watched and still retain its original value. Nevertheless, it seems apparent that inspiration for Vertigo was drawn from Proust’s story.

Vest, James M. “Reflections of Ophelia in Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo.”The Journal of
        the Midwest Modern Language Association 1989, 1-9. JSTOR. University of Pennsylvania
        Library, Philadelphia. 4 Apr. 2008. <http://www.jstor.org/stable/1315269>.

         Focusing on the use of water as a pivotal plot device, James M. Vest attempts to draw a connection between Shakespeare’s Hamlet and Hitchcock’s Vertigo. He states that in Vertigo “water couples with the idea of the suicide of a beautiful young woman in ways that precisely reflect images of Ophelia” (1). Shakespeare’s work is said to have been very influential to Hitchcock, who grew up reading his plays. Vest believes that Vertigo is Hitchcock’s attempt at creating a modern Hamlet. After Madeleine falls we see her floating in the water in a posture that draws striking parallels to Ophelia’s suicide. Hitchcock insisted on surrounding the dead body with flowers, a depiction seen in John Everett Millais’s painting of Ophelia in the stream. The connection is further emphasized throughout the film when Madeleine talks about her previous falls into water. Scottie serves as the “Hamlet-like hero” who develops an unexpected relationship with her. Vest also notes that after Madeleine is fished out of the bay, she speaks incoherently and assumes a “somnambulistic” appearance which rivals that of Ophelia’s madness. Other links include the multiple roles each character fills. In Hamlet, Ophelia is the “playful sister,” the “dutiful daughter,” and the “disenchanted lover, while Kim Novak’s character is associated with Madeleine, Judy, and Carlotta. According to Vest, “both stories conclude with an expression of love intimately linked to death.” He also notes that both Vertigo and Hamlet follow a main character who not only is mentally unstable, but also appears to see ghosts.
        James M. Vest provides us with some very interesting insight onto the inspiration for Hitchcock’s story. Hitchcock had always dreamed of directing a film version of Hamlet, and even went so far as to begin production on such a film in 1946. Although the project never came to be, it is clear that his intentions have lived on through Vertigo.
 

Modleski, Tania. “Femininity by Design: Vertigo.” Post-war Cinema and Modernity 2001, 275-286.
        Google Books. University of Pennsylvania Library, Philadelphia. 10 Apr. 2008. <http://books.google.com/
        books?id=bKdQWXaJhVEC&pg=PA285&lpg=PA285&dq=teresa+de+lauretis+vertigo&source=web&ots=aEr-
        qKAt2-&sig=V9LgUFcjhPaq_8GKqJSOFQiFG5Q&hl=en#PPA288,M1>      

        Tania Modleski finds that Vertigo is in reality a film which questions masculinity. She notes that Scottie’s interaction with Midge in the female clothing scene provides a humorous link between his vertigo condition and femininity. She also finds this connection imbedded in the film’s use of high locations and suggests that a link between femaleness and fear of heights can also been seen in North by Northwest. Modleski continues on to explain how Scottie becomes possessive of Madeleine. His failure to cure her is a substantial blow to his masculinity. He experiences a dream where he “actually lives out Madeleine’s hallucination…and he dies Madeleine’s death.” Failing to cure her, his mind falls into a “feminine” world of madness and death. Scottie is devastated when he learns that Judy was part of Elster’s plot to murder his wife. The essay explains that his pain stems not from her actual death, but from the fact that she had been molded and used by another man. Fashioned for another purpose. Up to this point, Scottie had believed that he was in control of her. That he had the “power” which the film associates with masculinity. The author says that “like a woman, he is manipulated and used by Gavin Elster.” The essay goes on to provide further details to these principle claims.
        Modleski’s essay is important because it shows critical response to the themes of masculinity and femininity in Vertigo. By focusing on Scottie’s perceived failure to live up to the expectations of a man, we are given considerable insight on how women are treated in film. The essay supports the finding that Hitchcock’s film shows an objectification of woman. In failing to live up to his masculinity, Scottie is forced to take on the implied lesser role of a female.

 Mulvey, Laura. “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema.” 17 Jan. 2007. Brown Wiki.    
        <https://wiki.brown.edu/confluence/display/MarkTribe/Visual+Pleasure+and+Narrative+Cinema>

 

        Laura Mulvey uses psychoanalysis to highlight the ways in which film reveals society’s view on sexual differences and desires. The paper explores the structured implementation of phallocentric themes which acknowledge the dominance of the male gender. Such an argument is centered around the image of a castrated woman. Mulvey states that “woman's desire is subjected to her image as bearer of the bleeding wound, she can exist only in relation to castration and cannot transcend it.” Without the male reproductive organ, the woman is at a loss. The sole meaning for a woman is to signify the existence of the better male version. Deriving their meaning solely from males, women passively submit themselves to the wants and obsessions of the imposing male. By analyzing this concept, Mulvey believes that feminists can find the true roots of female oppression. The paper explains that the magic of Hollywood is derived from its manipulation of visual pleasure. The article discusses the integration of erotic themes in film and the meaning of such undertones.
        Mulvey discusses the way that the male looks at the female in Vertigo. Scottie looks at Madeleine in a way that fluctuates between “voyeurism and fetishistic fascination.” Scottie’s desire to remake his lost love and Judy’s willingness to do so, is an example of his dominance over her. Through the use of camera techniques, Hitchcock allows the viewer to take Scottie’s perspective and thus take on his position. The paper relates Scottie’s drive to reconstruct Madeleine to a fetish. As a woman, Judy knows that her role is to submit, and realizes that such a role is necessary to retain his erotic interest in her.
        This paper affirms the feminist belief that Hollywood seeks to affirm male dominance by integrating it into its films. The oppressive manner in which men look at women, the “male gaze,” can be demonstrated through point of view shots. By making Madeleine the object of the camera’s desire (Scottie’s), the audience also experiences the possession. The paper is important as it serves as an example of feminist reaction to Hitchcock’s film.

Allen, Richard. “Camera Movement in Vertigo.” The MacGuffin. 2007. 9 Apr. 2008.
        <http://www.labyrinth.net.au/~muffin/kim_novak_c.html>.    

      In this article Richard Allen analyzes the camera movement of three scenes to show Hitchcock’s artistic adeptness. The first scene he comments on takes place at Ernie’s restaurant. The camera begins by tracking back from Scottie to reveal the room. The camera then moves forward towards the woman Scottie is gazing it: Judy. Allen believes that the use of forward-tracking shots throughout the movie “imply Madeleine’s allure for Scottie.” Backward-tracking shots are used to show the means in which Scottie is tied to his object of desire. When these two types of shots are cut together, they create the feeling of pursuit as well as attraction. The article goes on to explain how the camera sets the stage for their relationship. Allen next comments on the “vertigo shot” which allows the audience to take part in Scottie’s acrophobia. He explains the power this has on the viewer as well as its symbolic meaning as an opposition to the relationship between the two characters. The final shot he explores is the 360 degree turn that takes place after Scottie has recreated Madeleine through Judy. In a sense, she transcends the dreary world around him. She is perfect to him. As we spin, Scottie and Judy become the center of the 360 turn as if they have become one. Slowly, Scottie notices the background around him changing. His memories come back to him as his mind transcends time.
        The article explains that the spirals seen in the vertigo shots, as well as the spiral nature of the 360 degree shot, aid in revealing the link between his acrophobia and his sexual desire. Richard Allen’s article is written as a testament to Hitchcock’s artistic influence in the film. He begins the article with the following quote from esteemed critic Robin Wood: “Vertigo seems to me of all Hitchcock’s films the one nearest to perfection. Indeed its profundity is inseparable from the perfection of form: it is a perfect organism.” Allen shares this belief.

Manlove, Clifford T. “Visual ‘Drive’ and the Cinematic Narrative.” Cinema Journal 2007, 83-108.
        Project MUSE. University of Pennsylvania Library, Philadelphia. 4 Apr. 2008.
        <http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/cinema_journal/v046/46.3manlove.html>.
 

        In this essay, Clifford T. Manlove comments on Laura Mulvey’s 1975 essay, “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema” and its application to Hitchcock’s Vertigo. Manlove explores the concept of “gaze theory” to explain opposing perceptions of the events that happen in the film. This idea of gaze refers to how the surrounding world views the presented characters. According to Manlove, Vertigo provides us with an “example of the formative split between the eye and its gaze.” The split is caused by Scottie’s near-death experience at the beginning of the film. Through the use of subjective camera positioning, we too as an audience experience a change in perception as we follow him around. Scottie’s vertigo forms a barrier between him and the people and objects that surround him. Things that may appear ordinary to others take on a special visual meaning to him. Manlove uses the example of the policeman who saves Scottie. Scottie sees a horrifying fall below him, while the policeman is unaffected and reaches out to help him. As an audience we can gaze upon Scottie, but only through camera techniques can we truly see how he sees. Hitchcock invented the “Vertigo shot” as a means of conveying his unique perception. The camera tracks backwards while zooming in, thus highlighting the occurrence of the split. “What to a rational observer looks like an alleyway, Scottie sees as a threatening object, simultaneously approaching yet infinitely receding.” Manlove goes on to relate the gaze to Scottie’s failure to save Madeleine, and its eventual result in Judy’s death. The essay further applies the concept of gaze to Rear Window and Marnie.
        Manlove’s analysis helps us distinguish the fact that what the surrounding characters in the film see may be different from what Scottie sees. As an audience we are provided with insight into Scottie’s troubled mind by understanding the effects of his vertigo and how this might affect his insistence in reconstructing his lost love. Manlove helps us see that the story is driven by and conveyed through Scottie’s unstable state of mind. It is clear that Manlove has an appreciation for the techniques that Hitchcock used to convey his vision.

Wexman, Virginia. “The Critic as Consumer: Film Study in the University, ‘Vertigo’, and the Film Canon.”
        Film Quarterly Spring 1986, 32-41. JSTOR. University of Pennsylvania Library, Philadelphia. 4 Apr. 2008.
        <http://jstor.org/stable/1212375>.

        Virgina Wexman discusses the varying types of critical response that Vertigo has generated, and how they ignore the commercial aspects of the film. According to Wexman, Vertigo “most owes its preeminence to the opinions of cinema scholars rather than the enthusiasm of less ‘committed’ film fans” (33). Critics tend to come from two folds. One line of approach analyzes Hitchcock’s artistic influence on the film. They feel that Vertigo is a demonstration of the director’s visionary genius. The other group of critics finds value in Vertigo’s skillful objectification of women. Regardless of their focus, both sets of critics refuse to accept the notion that Vertigo was made solely for commercial success. Upon further review it becomes apparent that Hitchcock was preoccupied with such a goal. The director exploited the “star system” with big names such as James Stewart and Kim Novak. In fact, he committed to the actors before the script had even been written. Hitchcock knew that Kim Novak could be employed as a romantic idol and utilized profile shots to capitalize on her unquestioned beauty. In addition to using stars, Wexman explains that Hitchcock increased the film’s commercial appeal through the use of extravagant settings. He was aware of the fact that audiences had an appreciation for traveling to far off, exotic locales. Viewers of Vertigo are treated as tourists as they are taken on a journey to all of San Francisco’s famous sites.
        According to the article, Hitchcock envisioned the stars, envisioned the settings, and had his writer fill in the rest. The article introduces the fact that there are two distinct types of criticism that have spawned in response to the film. One type focuses on the technical and aesthetic achievements of the picture, while the other type focuses on the film’s negative depiction of women.

In Leitch’s discussion of what he calls fallacies in cinema adaptation theory, he invokes Hitchcock’s name under fallacy number nine, “Source material is more original then the adaptation.” Leitch centers his argument around the idea of auterism. Directors like Kubrick frequently adapted his films from pre-existing source material, yet is concerned to be a very original director. The early films from the Golden Age of Disney can all be linked together whether they are direct adaptation or original stories. All of William Shakespeare’s plays were essentially adaptations of pre-existing stories. He later points out that any work, adaptation or not draws from existing material, usually without even knowing it.

Leitch uses Hitchcock as an example of a director who manages to be an auteur with only rarely using original screenplays, noting in a footnote that Lifeboat as an unpublished novelette is up for debate as an adaptation. Despite having strayed so far from the source material that was not even published, under Leitch’s guidelines, Lifeboat still can qualify as being an adaptation. He disregards the notion that fidelity to source material (in spirit and specifics) and the idea that film adaptations are a way of connecting with the source material as ways of judging an adaptation.

Many criticize the differences without acknowledging the similarities. There’s value in noting that although the character’s names, motivations, behavior, and actions change, certain things did stay the same. Each character comes from the same background and represents the same aspect of society as in the final story. Hitchcock took away the competence away from many of the main characters, the sailors and the self-made man, whom Steinbeck idealized. Some plot elements were retained, though their context changed. Lifeboat is an interesting study for adaptation theory as it breaks with many of the false truths Leitch criticizes in his paper.

The Dark Side of the Genius lends insight into Hitchcock during the early days of production of Lifeboat. David O. Selznick had worked out a two-picture deal with 20^th Century-Fox for Hitchcock to direct Lifeboat and The Keys of the Kingdom. The second film was never made, as Hitchcock delayed starting the productions in a hope to receive more money. In the wake of the political fallout of Lifeboat, it’s unlikely that Fox would have wanted to shell out extra money for such an initially poorly received film.

While Fox pushed screenwriters to script Lifeboat, Hitchcock sought after novelists. Before Steinbeck, Hitchcock tried to convince Ernest Hemingway to take the project. Hemingway declined. Lifeboat is known as a picture Hitchcock saw as one of his cinematic challenges, putting him under the constraints of a single set and compositions of mainly close-up and medium shots. However, it seems as if he was also enamored with the idea of working with the additional constraint of creative input from an artist as well-respected and a name as well known as his.

With two deaths in Hitchcock’s family around the time of the production of Lifeboat, the theme of sudden loss and tragedy seems like a likely inspiration for the film to focus on the aftermath of a steady ship being thrown into turmoil. The impact of the deaths in Hitchcock’s own new concern towards mortality can be seen in the rapid weight loss regiment he undertook before Lifeboat’s production. The aftermath of this can be seen in the Reduco newspaper add in which he appears in the before and after picture, slimming down one-hundred pounds.

The book features an anecdote about lead Tallulah Bankhead’s exhibitionist behavior on the set of Lifeboat. As magazines sought to do features on the film, reporters and the studio higher-ups were not nearly as pleased as the male crew members about Bankhead’s behavior, with one reporter commenting about the rumors of indecent behavior in Hollywood being true. This taken in the context of the era of the PCA shows the careful attention the public paid to not only film content but their production environment and stars’ off-screen “performances.”

In The Art of Alfred Hitchcock, Spoto discusses many of the motifs found in Hithcock’s films. Water is frequently used to symbolize create turmoil, seen in Lifeboat with the stormy uncertain waters. Water also is the impetus for the survivors to rise up against the deceptive Nazi who had hidden his secret supply from the others, even killing to keep it a secret.

Jewelry is also a common Hitchcockian theme. It frequently represents false value. Connie equates her bracelet with good luck, saying that she will never take it off for fear of what would happen. The survivors are only saved, ironically, with her removal of the bracelet and its eventual loss. Hithcock also equates the bracelet with power. Connie is never able to fasten the clasp. Initially, she turns to Kopac for help, but eventually, the Nazi Willie is the only one who can fix her bracelet.

Hitchcock also suggests that transit sparks romance. The Nurse and the Radio officer slowly develop a relationship with him eventually proposing. Sexual tension also exists between Connie and Kopec. The trip also forces Gus to think only about his Rosie back in New Jersey, frequently questioning if he will ever see her again.

Spoto also suggests that the items that pass through the water in the opening represent the film’s main themes: The New Yorker symbolizes a society troubled in its foundation; the chess board symbolizes intellect useless in solving their situation; playing cards represent excessive leisure which allow Willie to successfully cement control over the ship.

While many criticize Lifeboat for its portrayal of Willie as an Aryan superman, Spotto suggests that people would be more offended by his humanity. His singing of German anthems and appreciation of music gives him a quality no one wanted to associate with Nazis. (This humanity is intentional as Walter Slezak who played Willie claimed his character was given curls in an effort to look more innocent.) Conversely, the “rabid pack of dogs” that were the other survivors prove unappealing at the end when they finally organize as one. Americans could only view a Nazi not as human or superhuman but as inhuman.

Truffaut introduces his compilation of a series of interview with Hitchcock with an anecdote in which he silences a critic of Rear Window who claimed he couldn't see Rear Window's flaws because he was not from New York City. Truffaut responded by saying "Rear Window is not about Greenwich Village, it is a film about cinema, and I do know cinema."

This anecdote applies to Lifeboat and author Steinbeck's dislike of the final material. He criticized the fallacy of things like one man rowing the whole lifeboat, failing to acknowledge the cinematic and symbolic implications this has for Willy's percieved control over the other suvivors.

In the interview, Hitchcock says Lifeboat was an effort to test his theory that psycological films contained mostly close-ups or two/three-shots. He saught to find an environment that would force a director to shoot mostly those shots.  This close-up style was later adopted by television, mainly due to the smaller screen size and not the psycological implications.

Hitchcock also here discusses his version of the allegory. He confrims that it is soley about the war (contradicting statements made by the producer). Kovac represented the communist way of dealing with the Nazis. He was the most vocal opponent to the captain, much in the same way early American Anti-Nazi Leagues had strong communist ties. Rittenhouse symbolized the Facist who is eager to give up control of the ship in a tumultous time to a dictator, much in the same way certain parts of society were, including the wealthy, eager to keep the status quo, and saw a dictator Roosevelt as their best hope.

Prior to writing the novellete that would become the basis for Lifeboat, John Steinbeck wrote The Moon is Down, his first novel about the war.  Like Lifeboat, it is a heavily allegorical story that, although unrealistic to a modern audience, was well reviewed and liked by the World War II-era American public who "wanted not art but propaganda."

 

Lifeboat partially originated as a project that the Merchant Marines asked Hollywood to produce in order to create public awareness of the threat U-boats presented its ships.  Steinbeck's original version of the story was much truer to the Marines wishes, and much less of an allegory than the final film ended up being.  While the characters were meant to represent a microcosm of American society, the element of a disorganized Democracy set against the strong-wlled Nazi was not present.  In contrast, the self-made man shows the leadership qualities that must have been used to amass his fortunes, not the facistman who finds it so easily to give up power.  Also, the Nazi is a weak individual who after only one act of deception is killed.  The focus of the book is not the Nazi's ascension to control but of what life as a Merchant Marine and the experience of being shelled and stranded is like.

 

After Steinbeck completed his work on the project, three additional drafts were done, and by the end the story only vaguely represented the original.  MacKinlay Kantor's draft was thrown out early on by Hitchcock, though he is credited with increasing the allegory's prominence in the story.  One of Frank Capra's collaborators Jo Swerling stripped away a lot of the realism of the characters and provided the "Capra-corn" melodramatic elements.  Hitchcock, the master of details, rewrote the final draft shortly before shooting to "give it narrative form."

 

After seeing his original vision transformed so much, Steinbeck eventually wrote and asked to have his name taken off of the film, claiming that he wanted no part in something that so clearly "damaged the war effort."  Most of all, as revealed in a personal letter, it seems as if Steinbeck hated the transformation of the working class characters from ones with dignity to stereotypes, criticizing Hithcock's "middle-class" sensibilities.

 

In the midst of Hollywood's war time effort, incorporating pro-American propaganda into its films, it's somewhat ironic to see the process converting a film with origins in propaganda transformed by the process into what many reviewers of the time considered to be anti-American.

Stilgoe discusses the reaction the public had to Lifeboat, and their perception of what the experience might be like.  Many critics were hung up on the political implications or the technical achievements or follies of the film.  When they did comment on the experience, they complained of the unrealistic portrayal of some of the lifeboat hardships.  Life magazine specifically complained of things like the lack of “swollen lips” and questioned how clean they were able to stay after all the days at sea.  No one falls ill with the exception of Gus, the amputee, whose injury comes during the attack and death ultimately comes from treachery.  The public, however, believed the film’s version as being true to life, which shows cinema’s role in the “skew[ing] of twentieth-century understanding.”

 

One thing Lifeboat got factually correct was the lifeboat’s size.  It could easily hold the survivors, supplies, and Connie’s luggage with plenty of spare space.  With this in mind, following the war, many decided to buy cheap lifeboats from shipyards and converted them into yachts.  They saw in the film a boat that was bigger, stronger, cheaper, and in greater supply than a traditional lot that could be easily obtained.

 

Another thing Lifeboat accurately portrays is many of the mental challenges that one faces at seas, the most common theme being rule of law.  In dealing with the German, the survivors struggle with the question of how to deal with him.  With no governing body or procedure, they often quarrel about the legality of throwing him overboard.  Faith and the rule of God is the only constant seen in the film, with the steward Joe being the only character to not get sucked into the mob at the end.  Lifeboat also successfully deals with issues arising from mental strain at seas.  Gus dying of thirst succumbs to the temptation of drinking the sea water, something that debilitates his already dire situation.  Two passengers attempt suicide, Gus out of physical pain and the mother out of survivor’s guilt.  Lifeboat is a strong example of a film’s role in shaping its audiences perception of realistic events.

By 1941, Hitchcock was considered by pop culture to be in the same league as Frank Capra and Orson Welles as being a recognizable personality as well as filmmaker.  Hitchcock had begun to receive some autonomy on his films of this periods from studios like RKO (who also afforded the same courtesy to Welles).  However, while Welles’s autonomy came contractually, Hitchcock’s came from people’s dislike of confrontation with the standoffish director.  With RKO unsatisfied with the progress of one of his projects, they began to seek more direct involvement.  Hitchock responded by leaving the studio after the projects completion, with David O. Selznick helping him work out a deal with 20^th Century Fox.

 

Unused to and unaccepting of studio interference, Hitchcock’s brief stint at 20^th Century Fox saw Hitchcock having to deal with studio head Zanuck over many of the elements of production.  Zanuck’s biggest issue with Hitchcock was his slow production pace.  It took twenty weeks for a script for Lifeboat to be produced.  A short production schedule was imposed on Hitchcock which was ignored.  Zanuck constantly sent letters complaining of the inefficiency of Hitchcock’s shooting scenes in sequential order and wanted cuts to be made to keep the project under budget, with Hitchcock frequently never responding.  Hitchcock disliked the even stronger studio interference then in his earlier projects, and Zanuck disliked Hitchcock’s disregard for the budget.  With Hitchcock’s value to the studio questionable, a second film for Fox was not produced (as originally intended).

 

Leff also notes that although Hitchcock sought after Steinbeck, he still hesitated working with The Grapes of Wrath author.  Familiar with Steinbeck’s work, Hitchcock was afraid of the “political baggage” that would be brought to the film that was meant to be a technical challenge above all.  Ironically, Steinbeck’s original work was far less politically controversial then Hitchcock’s eventual film.  Even in interviews after filming, Hitchcock denies any reading of the film other then a political one.  Leff states this as being the film’s chief weakness.  Instead of focusing on the development of real characters, Hitchcock is more concerned with the allegory of political ideal and ideals colliding.

After critical reaction to the flim Lifeboat complained of the weak portrayal of Americans in comparison with the superman Nazi, producer Kenneth Macgowan wrote this article about the intent behind the film. Macgowan tries and provide explanations for several of the issues that critics had with the film. He claims the reason the German is the only one who can row the boat because he's the only one with water and food tablets, avoiding the fact that no one man should be able to paddle that lifeboat, no matter how strong he is.

Interestingly, in the article Macgowan includes Steinbeck's name in the list of primary creators of the allegory that was being so strongly criticized because at the time, Steinbeck was seeking to have his name removed from the film.

Macgowan credits Hitchcock with the idea of shooting a film in a lifeboat, and saying that first and foremost, this was a gimmick film. It was Hitchcock's idea of a challenge to shoot the first ever film with only one set. For this reason, Macgowan claims that the allegory was never intended, and they stumbled upon it by accident, throughout the creative process. Steinbeck is the only one for whom this is definetly true as his early manuscript proves. However, a few paragraphs earlier, Macgowan was crediting Steinbeck, a man only involved only very early on in the process, with having an allegorical intent that was supposedly developed later on.

Macgowan's contradictions are best summed up in his final paragraph when he essentially says (paraphrasing), "You misinterpreted our intent.  Oh, and if you still disagree, we didn't have any intent to begin with."

In the same issue of The New York Times as the Macgowan letter in defense of Lifeboat, Bosley Crowther responds with a strong critique of Macgowan and the film.

Crowther's article is a strong reflection of the American view of films during the height of censorship. His article is not one of strongly synthesized arguments about why Lifeboat is bad for the war effort. Instead he frequently employs the use of rhetorical questions, asking questions like "What's going on out there[Hollywood]?" as if any film whose portrayal of America's strength is questionable is an outrage in itself and needs no further explanation.

One of Crowther's criticisms that does not feature a question mark is that of all the abilities given to the German. He is the only one with the mental, physical, and emotional ability to amputize Gus's leg, navigate the ship through the storm, and row it towards its destination. He credits all of his abilities as being well-explained, but critizes Hitchcock (and unfairly Steinbeck) for giving them to him in the first place.  His argument can be summarized as no matter how well you explain Superman's ability to fly, his super strength, or his heat vision, they still make him look like Superman.

He closes his critique claiming that anything that casts doubt on America is inherently bad to morale and for our image overseas, giving credence to the idea of film as Will Hays's silient salesman.  Censorship in the 1940s is often attributed only to organizations like the PCA and OWI. However, the critical reaction to Lifeboat shows that if they weren't strictly enforcing unquestionable pro-American ideals in film that their would be outcry from other outlets.

Bosley Crowther uses Lifeboat as a case study in the issues he sees with the current state of the film industry.  He questions why the screenwriter never receives the attention and the acclaim that the playwright does.  With control firmly rooted in the hands of the producer and the director, a screenwriter may find his name attached to a project that is significantly altered from his original vision.  Early criticism of Lifeboat came on the shoulders of both Hitchcock and Steinbeck.  Steinbeck was a well known name, but for his novels not for his work in the film industry.  Subsequently, his name was used to market the film even though he had no control and input on the final print.  The lack of control is a situation that many Hollywood screenwriters could find themselves in.

 

Crowther’s analysis and comparison of Steinbeck’s original treatment of Lifeboat and the final script reveals the specifics of the changes Steinbeck that drove Steinbeck to seek the removal of his name from the film.  Steinbeck’s tale was even more character and less plot driven then Hitchcock’s final film.  The largest change is the democracies foe was not the Nazi but the ocean.  The Nazi attempted take over was little more than a subplot which was handled after only one act of deception by the other survivors.

 

Crowther accuses Hitchcock and producer Macgowan of “preempting” Steinbeck’s “creative authority.”  However, he acknowledges that under the current system the director and the producer have every right to change, for better or worse, a screenwriter’s original intent and characters.  He places blame too not only the founders of the system, but the writers who do not do anything to change it.  Crowther does not seek a system in which the producer has no control, as without his financing the film would not be made.  He seeks for a more balanced industry in which the financial and creative input are on a more balanced footing.