The Trouble with Harry (1955)

The trouble with Harry is he’s dead and nobody in the small town knows what to do with his body. Capt. Wiles (Edmund Gwenn) thinks he killed him while out shooting rabbits. Miss Gravely (Mildred Natwick) knows she did it, but Harry shouldn’t have grabbed her. Jennifer Rogers (Shirley MacLaine) thinks she did it and Sam Marlowe (John Forsythe) didn’t but wishes he did.

This macabre murder mystery comes from director Alfred Hitchcock. Making The Trouble with Harry worth the trouble, is the gallows humor and the ‘will they or won’t they’ suspense from the ensemble cast. Poor Harry is buried and dug up over the course of a day in this nice little tourist town.

The production is, of course, top-notch. Hitchcock’s direction is unparalleled. He frames Harry’s death with autumn in Vermont making quite the juxtaposition. The Technicolor is brilliant making the scene oddly morbid. Unexpected shots, gory details and comedic timing to die for enhance superb performances by John Forsythe and Edmund Gwen.

As I see it, The Trouble with Harry is a clever unstated comedy—sadly, it’s probably lost on modern film fans. That’s too bad, because this is one of Hitchcock’s most twisted.

Shadow of a Doubt (1943)

When her namesake Uncle (Joseph Cotton) drops by for an unsuspected visit, Charlie (Teresa Wright) becomes suspicious of his odd behavior. With the arrival of detectives to town, young Charlie is consumed with her Uncle’s actions. Is he the Merry Widow Murderer? Will Charlie live to tell the truth?

Master of suspense Alfred Hitchcock directs this thrilling cat-and-mouse game between family members. Young Charlie idolizes her uncle. He, in turn, loves her. (At times, it seems nearly incestuous.) But as Charlie’s admiration turns to fear, the film explodes with paranoia and Hitchcock turns the screw winding his audience tighter. Throw in a neighbor who enjoys trading ‘true crime’ stories with her father and Shadow of a Doubt becomes a ticking bomb.

The viewer knows something’s amiss, but Charlie’s first stumble down the back stairs chills to the core. And as Uncle Charlie’s true nature becomes more evident, the viewer is nearly breathless with anticipation. The film’s climax onboard the outbound train is a bittersweet triumph for all.

As I see it, the performances by Teresa Wright and Joseph Cotton further enhance Hitchcock’s already chilling direction. His uncompromising detail and ability to parley what is essentially a domestic drama into a taut thriller makes this work on more than one level.

Saboteur (1943)

I received this brilliant collection recently in celebration of a pagan holiday. So expect more reviews to come dear readers.

Saboteur is one of Hitchcock’s more uneven films in my opinion. There is a glaring ridiculousness about it, in part, because of the soundtrack. But that doesn’t keep definite Hitchcockian elements from shining.

Centered on Barry Kain, an airplane factory worker, who sets off in a cross-country chase to clear his name and capture the guilty. Set amid national treasures with hints of propaganda, it’s a race against time as fascists set out to harm our nation. But with respectable businessmen who double as secret agents, Kain and billboard model turned sidekick/love interest Patricia Martin (Priscilla Lane) aren’t sure who to trust. The tension climaxes at the top of Lady Liberty.

Robert Cummings stars as Kain and with the look of ‘everyman’ he is convincingly patriotic and respectable—wanting only to clear his good name and foil the terrorists. He is just the tip of a spectacular cast. Otto Kruger as Charles Tobin is maliciously cool. In contrast is Vaughan Glaser as Phillip Martin, as Pat’s blind but remarkable uncle with his Freudian dialogue.

The production is slick. The race against {insert current political evil here} is taught, rife with suspicion, scheming, and humor. Hitchcock springs plots and characters on his unsuspecting audience wonderfully, twisting and turning—if it were a roller-coaster we’d all be nauseous.

As I see it, the success of Saboteur rests on its characters. Cummings and Lane are solid, but Kruger, Glaser, the truck driver and entire circus group make it a film to remember.

Rope (1948)

Two friends Brandon and Phillip (John Dall and Farley Granger) have killed their 'inferior' friend David and now plan to relish it by having a dinner party with David right under nose of his fiancé, parents, and their former professor, Rupert Cadell (James Stewart). Have the two committed the perfect murder? Only the night will tell. Odd clues lead Rupert to question the entire evening; he wonders if his former students have taken his academic theories a little too far.
Alfred Hitchcock's Rope is a Technicolor masterpiece. Though it’s never quite as suspenseful as Hitchcock’s other, Rope is masterful for what it accomplishes nonetheless. Set in one room, the camera never seems cut off. Each frame feels like one continuous motion. That alone is amazing. As the gentlemen scheme, we get a sense of the diabolical. True to form, Hitchcock doesn’t spell it, trusting his audience to connect the dots.

The friendship is fascinating in itself. Brandon, the dominant one, oozes evil and obnoxious. Phillip, the submissive, is a mere boy. David is strangled with a rope and placed in a chest. The friends then set candelabras, plates, and food on the grandiose chest. Janet—his fiancé, his father, the cynical Professor, all invited under a ruse, dines in the presence of this chest.

As the evening continues, Brandon parades about. Every second brings more confidence to his step in Nietzsche-esque repose. Phillip quickly begins to crumble. Agitated, sweaty, stumbled words—combined with his unusual outburst, it’s enough for Cadell to ask questions.

It’s not until the dinner guests leaves, that Rope amps up. Returning to the apartment under the guise of forgetting his cigarette case, Cadell slowly picks the two friends apart. Jimmy Stewart brilliantly executes his role of learned professor and social misfit to a tee. Slowly plotting, encouraging the boys to comfort, Cadell nails the murders through their own missteps.

The period setting is one of refinement. The backdrop of NYC plays from day to night in the windows of the apartment. In retrospect, prop usage is remarkable, seamless, really. The dialogue is wickedly humorous and comfortable. Rope’s climax—Stewart’s soliloquy—is a brilliant piece of writing.

As I see it, Alfred Hitchcock's Rope is yet another exquisite film from the master director. Technically seamless, engaging from the start, movies like Rope, is why I watch.

31 More Days of Horror: The Birds (1963)

You know the idea of it is scary as heck—birds running amok in Bodega Bay. And with Alfred Hitchcock’s demented direction and unparalleled touch The Birds is as effective now as ever.

The film begins unassumingly—much like a romantic comedy of the day. San Francisco socialite Melanie (Tippi Hedren) crosses paths with handsome bachelor attorney Mitch (Rod Taylor) and follows him back to his hometown. The wholesome village of Bodega Bay soon experiences a seemingly freak avian assault. Locals comment on the random events, but the tide has already turned into a vicious fowl uprising.

Simple in its delivery, but brutally riveting The Birds is a masterpiece of horror for many reasons. We'll look at two.

1. No score.  Most viewers don’t notice it. There is no background music to speak of resulting in a truly horrific intensity when the birds assault.
2. Editing. Again, Hitchcock shows his brilliance. Right out of the gate you are entranced by his subtle techniques. See the pet shop scene at the beginning. It’s merely a clue to what is to come.

I love how Hitchcock builds the tension with no release. You’d have to be living in a cave not to know about this movie, so you expect—going into it—the birds to attack. But you get to stew. The viewer is pushed to edge before the mayhem is unleashed.

The scene that gets me time and time again is the school yard. That sequence of quick shots floors me every time. The chill up your spine, the shortness of breath, the goosebumps—God, I love it!

The Birds is easily my favorite Hitchcock film. So much more than a creature feature, this film is worthy of an examination. See this masterpiece. You won’t be disappointed.

31 Days of Horror: Psycho (1960)

Alfred Hitchcock was a masterful director. Psycho is certainly one of his defining pictures and a horror classic in its own right.

Marion Crain (Janet Leigh), fed up with the hand that life has dealt her, seizes the opportunity to abscond with $40,000 and start a new life with her lover, Sam. Only 24 hours into a 'life of crime' Marion finds out that it's not just all it's cracked up to be. A series of events during the long drive to California has left the poor girl's nerves short. Capping it off is a torrential rain storm that leads her to an derelict motel in the middle of nowhere. Before long, stealing 40 grand is the least of her problems.

Psycho is much more than the shower scene. Under Hitchcock's direction, the film elements take on a terror like no other. The first viewing is always the most memorable because the film is so unassuming-so simple. Sure, we all 'know' what happens {how can you not, in this day and age}, but it is in Hitchcock's delivery that we find brilliance.

Janet Leigh and Anthony Perkin (Bates) are pitch perfect. Perkins plays out Norman with such nonchalance, right down to the facial tics. Leigh is a nuanced charmer--beautifully mundane. When she meets her demise halfway through, you are equally terrified and sad, such a creature dies a horrible death.

The B&W aspect enhances the film amid all the 'Technicolor' of today. Hitchcock uses it to his advantage. Notice also how he manipulates camera angles and shadows to belie Bates' madness and Crain's deception. I love how he also plays out Bates' mother. And the score can't be overlooked--equally Gothic and haunting, it's a masterful compliment.

Decades later, Pyscho still charms. Without big-budget special effects or whizz-bang technical production, Psycho is flawlessly executed.