Hitchcock-a-thon: Final thoughts

After a mad 52 days the Hitchcock-a-thon is at its end. It’s been great discovering some overlooking gems that I otherwise wouldn’t have sought out. But, like every artist, Hitchcock also made plenty of films worth skipping over. And there’s some that can truly be classified as awful. It’s time from one last big round-up. Here is my personal list of every Hitchcock feature film ranked from worst to best.

52. Waltzes from Vienna (1934)

An unbelievably dreary period drama about Johann Strauss Jr that somehow manages to be both sickly and flavourless. Hitchcock was barely getting any other film offers at the time and it shows. By his standards, it’s uncharacteristically passionless.

51. Number 17 (1932)

 At 63 minutes the nicest thing you can say about Number 17 is “as least it’s over with quickly.” Not that it feels like it. The jumbled story makes it hard to know what’s going on while the paper-thin, unlikeable characters will ensure you don’t care anyway.

50. Topaz (1969)

There are tectonic plates with better pacing than this Cold War spy story. With hastily written scenes and multiple alternative endings, Topaz represents Hitchcock at his sloppiest and his most world-weary.

49. Jamaica Inn (1939)

Hitchcock’s tale of Cornish smugglers is desperately limp. The only small enjoyment you might squeeze out of it is the ludicrously camp performance by Charles Laughton as the pantomime-ish villain, who takes overacting to new levels.

48. Under Capricorn (1949)

Another failed period drama, this time in 1830s Australia. Bright colours and swooping camera shots can’t distract from the hopelessly melodramatic script. A complete waste of Ingrid Bergman and Joe Cotten. And one doesn’t simply waste Ingrid Bergman.

47. Champagne (1928)

Hitchcock called Champagne the worst film of his career. It’s certainly difficult to defend. Betty Balfour manages to inject a bit of fizz as the millionaire’s daughter forced to learn the hard knocks of life, but everything else is flat.

46. Murder! (1930)

Who killed Edna Druce? More importantly: why should I care? This thespian-filled whodunit barely functions as piece of drama and stumbles even more as a murder mystery. Hitchcock was still finding his feet as silent cinema moved into talkies.

45. Rich and Strange (1931)

Possibly the of the most disjointed film in Hitchcock’s canon. Noël Coward style marital antics for the first half; a harsh seaward journey with rough sailors for the second. Problem is: neither half is great, thanks to the oafish main characters.

44. Juno and the Paycock (1930)

A compelling story and strong performances lie under the surface of this early Irish talkie. But you have get past horribly grating audio and stunted, theatrical pacing to uncover its merits. Only diehard Hitchcock fans should attempt.

43. Secret Agent (1936)

The great John Gielgud looks bored out of his mind in this early spy thriller. Madeleine Carroll and Peter Motherfuckin’ Lorre both try to liven things up and the script throws some interesting themes in play, but as a whole it’s underwhelming.

42. Torn Curtain (1966)

Aside from one tense murder scene, this Cold War spy story is as dull as ditch-water. Paul Newman and Julie Andrews look lost as the leads and the two hour running time feels dragged out. Torn Curtain was one of Hitchcock’s most unhappy directing jobs. It shows.

41. The Trouble with Harry (1955)

Some laud Hitchcock’s off-kilter comedy as a success in dark deadpan humour. I find it tiresome. Pretty cinematography and the first of many great collaborations with Bernard Herrmann make it watchable. But only just.

40. The Skin Game (1931)

If you were generous you might call The Skin Game a slow-burner. If you were cruel you might say it never ignites at all. While this story of feuding rural families can’t be called thrilling, Phyllis Konstam provides the film with an essential dose of human drama.

39. Easy Virtue (1928)

A smashing last 20 minutes aren’t enough to make up for an hour of faffing around. Isabel Jeans springs into life as the falsely-slandered heroine for film’s final act and gives a simultaneously witty and tragic performance. Why couldn’t we have had that earlier?

38. The Paradine Case (1947)

While not as irredeemably awful as some have claimed, The Paradine Case takes an interesting idea about a lawyer’s infatuation with the woman he’s meant to represent, only to run it into the ground. Great actor Gregory Peck at his most uninteresting.

37. Downhill (1927)

1920s heart-throb Ivor Novello gives a strong performance as a falsely accused schoolboy in this a bleak depiction of “polite society”. Shame about the crudely stereotyped supporting characters and the clunky visual symbolism.

36. Mr. & Mrs. Smith (1941)

Hitchcock’s attempt at a wacky, screwball American comedy is harmless enough, but certainly can’t be described as “funny”. Carole Lombard is a fiery lead, but the script doesn’t give her (or anyone) much to work with.

35. The Farmer’s Wife (1928)

This placid, rural comedy is likely to bore many viewers to tears. While it’s neither funny nor suspenseful, it has a certain quaint charm that earns it a space in my heart. Also Jameson Thomas gives me serious mustache envy.

34. Stage Fright (1950)

Even the effortlessly cool Marlene Dietrich isn’t enough save Stage Fright from mediocrity. The film’s claustrophobic climax is an intense high note in an otherwise uneventful drama about deception in the theatrical world.

33. I Confess (1953)

A stone-faced Montgomery Clift ensures an unwavering solemnity in this tale of a falsely accused Catholic priest. It doesn’t fully captivate as a drama thanks to the by-the-numbers script. At least Quebec looks pretty.

32. Saboteur (1942)

Hitch’s first American take on his 39 Steps formula has some big blockbuster set-pieces and ticks the “innocent man on the run” boxes, but lacks flare. It needed a more compelling lead couple or a tighter script to push it into North by Northwest territory.

31. Family Plot (1976)

Even as one of his lighter films, the last project from the Master of Suspense lacks the the joyful corniness of To Catch a Thief or North by Northwest. As a mystery-based romp it serves it’s purpose, but as a final swansong we’re left wanting more.

30. Foreign Correspondent (1940)

This big budget blockbuster showcases what Hitch is capable of when handed an enormous paycheck and allowed to let his imagination run wild. There are a few flabby bits that don’t work, but overall it’s a rollicking wartime adventure with a strong sense of historical urgency.

29. Spellbound (1945)

They don’t come much pulpier than this. There’s a lot to enjoy in Ingrid Bergman’s Hitchcock debut, if you can get over the ludicrous plot devices. Hitchcock’s spun better mysteries in his time, but how many others have a fantasy sequence by Salvador Dalí?

28. The Ring (1927)

Hitchcock masters fast-paced editing and rich visual symbolism in The Ring, also notable for being the only original screenplay he ever personally wrote. It’s a masterpiece in technical terms, but the characters aren’t as well defined as in some of his other silents.

27. Suspicion (1941)

Cary Grant shows an unexpected dark side alongside Joan Fontaine in her Oscar winning performance. It’s a excellent examination of psychological entrapment and paranoia…right up until the end. Then it pulls a major cop-out. Shame.

26. Frenzy (1972)

A second wind for the aging director in the final stages of his career. With scenes of explicit sexual violence, there’s an underlying nastiness to Frenzy that makes it difficult viewing, but there’s no denying its brutal effectiveness.

25. The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956)

A solid remake of Hitchcock’s own 1934 film.  While it lacks the off-the-wall zaniness of the original, it goes through the motions with gusto. And when you’ve got James Stewart as your lead the film’s always going to have a certain something.

24. Dial M for Murder (1954)

The dialogue has a slightly mechanical quality in this 3D adaption of the successful stage play, but a suave performance from Ray Milland holds it all together. Grace Kelly isn’t at her absolute strongest in her Hitchcock debut, but she’s still a smash.

23. The Pleasure Garden (1925)

There’s a lot to admire in Hitchcock’s lively first feature film. There are some slight pacing issues, but there’s sophisticated themes in play about marital mistrust, helped along by a talented cast and an absurdly cute dog.

22. To Catch a Thief (1955)

It doesn’t come much flirtier than this. The dream pairing of Cary Grant and Grace Kelly is the biggest draw to this camp, frothy romp of a film. Both Grant and Kelly have given stronger performances, but rarely are they this unabashedly fun.

21. Sabotage (1936)

If you like your spy films unrelentingly serious, Sabotage might be the Hitchcock for you. It’s an emotion-driven drama that expertly plays off the political paranoia building in Europe before the outbreak of World War II with great effect.

20. Blackmail (1929)

Britain’s first talkie also serves as a farewell tribute to the silent era. There are a few jarring editing moments as Hitchcock struggled to film his feet in the new world of sound, but the central story is gripping with a superb performance from Czech star Anny Ondra.

19. The Lodger (1927)

Many people consider The Lodger to be the first “true” Hitchcock film and it’s easy to see why. Ivor Novello is haunting as the mysterious visitor in fog-covered London and the film is first Hitchcock to explicitly make the thematic connection between sex and death.

18. Marnie (1964)

The accusations of harassment surrounding the production of Marnie make it a tricky watch, not helped by the deeply problematic ending. But there are times where the film verges close to masterpiece territory, particularly with Tippi Hedren’s career topping performance.

17. Lifeboat (1944)

The self-imposed restrictions of shooting the whole movie inside one small vessel work marvellously well towards creating a sense of claustrophobia in Hitchcock’s last wartime drama. As an examination of trust and human interaction it excels.

16. The Manxman (1929)

One of the most unfairly overlooked of Hitchcock’s films, partly because he himself dismissed as “banal”. But the love-triangle story is at its best here, taking the time to make you care about all three of the characters and not providing any easy answers.

15. Young and Innocent (1937)

Easy to dismiss as a beat for beat retread of The 39 Steps, but this deeply English thriller is just too damn fun to overlook. The subtly erotic dialogue between Derrick De Marne and Nova Pilbeam is easily some of the best from Hitchcock’s early years.

14. Rope (1948)

The “all in one take” gimmick doesn’t quite work in this cat-and-mouse murder thriller, but so much else is done right, it’s an easy flaw to forgive. James Stewart is solid in his Hitchcock debut, but it’s John Dall as camp killer Brandon who steals the show.

13. Shadow of a Doubt (1943)

Hitchcock often maintained that this visually symbolic tale of evil creeping into tranquil suburbia was the greatest of his films.  There’s a few niggling plot points that trip up the story, but the mounting paranoia is well executed and Joe Cotton is a magnificent villain.

12. The Man Who Knew Too Much (1934)

After five years of dud after dud in the early thirties, The Man Who Knew Too Much feels like a jolt of lightning in Hitchcock’s career. Peter Motherfuckin’ Lorre leads the strong cast through through Hitchcock’s first true voyage into pulp.

11. Vertigo (1958)

I’m of the minority opinion that the critical reception of Vertigo, initially dismissive, has now swung back too far in its unreserved adoration of this psychological mystery. Vertigo is still a great achievement, but I wouldn’t rank it as one Hitchcock’s absolute best.

10. The 39 Steps (1935)

The quintessential “innocent man on the run” thriller that set the template for so many Hitchcock films to come. Often regarded as the best of Hitchcock’s British years, it captures a pure spirit of adventure better than almost any other film of the time.

9. The Wrong Man (1956)

A rare detour into neorealism for Hitchcock in his only film explicitly based on a true story. There doesn’t appear to be an easy way out for Manny, played superbly by Henry Fonda, in one of the director’s more overlooked masterpieces.

8.Rebecca (1940)

The only Hitchcock film ever to win the Oscar for Best Picture is a superb way to kick off the director’s Hollywood career. It’s Hitchcock’s most successful film about the theme of marital mistrust as well as his only collaboration with the great Laurence Olivier

7. North by Northwest (1959)

One of the most ridiculous films in the director’s canon, but also one of his most flat-out enjoyable. This absurd spy fantasy is a joy from start to finish with several excellent sequences along the way: most famously, the crop duster chase scene.

6. Strangers on a Train (1951)

A superb concept about “swapping” murders expertly delivered in this tense thriller, helped by the powerhouse performances by Farley Granger and Robert Walker. It has been argued that Strangers on a Train heralded in the Golden Age of Hitchcock. Agreed.

5. The Birds (1963)

Tippi Hedren dazzles in her first feature film and Hitchcock’s only example of paranormal horror. Hitchcock keeps the terror alien by never fully revealing the reason behind the feathered fury and with a chilling use of sound effects.

4. The Lady Vanishes (1938)

A film I could watch every week for the rest of my life. There hasn’t been a more sparkling lead Hitchcock couple than Margaret Lockwood and Michael Redgrave. The central mystery is exciting and the wonderful array of supporting characters is icing on the cake.

3. Notorious (1946)

Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman give the performances of their career in what is Hitchcock’s most elegant film. As fusion of romance and spy drama, it finds the balance perfectly. But it’s Claude Rains who holds the film together with his understated performance.

2. Rear Window (1954)

James Stewart and Grace Kelly are at the top of their game in Hitchcock’s best exploration of voyeurism and mounting suspicion. The confines of a New York apartment, stagnating in the summer heat, prove the perfect setting to one of his most suspenseful scenarios.

1. Psycho (1960)

An obvious choice for the number one slot, but there’s no escaping just how outrageously good Psycho is. The balance Hitchcock strikes between what he reveals to the audience and what he keeps concealed makes his most famous film also his best.

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Hitchcock-a-thon: Family Plot (1976)

Well. Here we are. Hitchcock’s final film, made just four years before his death in 1980. After an astonishing career of over 50 years it’s hard not to feel a tad emotional now we’ve reached the end. Maybe that’s just me.

By 1976 Hitchcock was slowing down. In the last decade of his career he only directed two films, quite a step back for the man used to churn out three per year. His dwindling energy is, perhaps, reflected in the comedic thriller Family Plot. While it’s a perfectly entertaining flick, it feels slower and lighter than what we’re accustomed to from the Master of Suspense.

Hitchcock’s final cameo

Family Plot presents us with two parallel story lines. Story one, a scam spiritual medium Blanche (Barbara Harris) and her boyfriend George (Bruce Dern) set out to help an elderly widow track down her long lost nephew for a hefty cash reward. Story two, a married pair of crooks, Arthur (William Devane) and Fran (Karen Black), kidnap various wealthy chaps and demand diamonds as ransom.

How are these two cases connected? And who is the enigmatic Eddie Shoebridge? It’s gonna take a whole lot of snooping around graveyards to find out.

Despite its central mystery, Family Plot is a fairly laid-back film. There are a handful of thrills along the way, such as a high-speed car chase across the Californian countryside or a jewel heist at the beginning executed by Fran dressed up like Lady Gaga, but these are rare exceptions.

Wants your applause

Instead of thrills, the film’s enjoyment comes from Ernest Lehman’s witty screenplay, especially when it comes to the relationship between the two leads.

Their frank and open dialogue is fun to witness, whether they’re flat out insulting each or making plans about their evening sex (“Don’t start to fret, George, or our waterbed will be no fun at all tonight; as an actor, you should know that fretting will ruin a performance.”)

Family Plot is an enjoyable final flourish, but even at its best it never comes close to matching the flirty fun of To Catch a Thief or the unabashed cheesiness of North by Northwest, even with Barbara Harris’s fourth-wall-shattering wink right at the end.

T-t-t-t-t-t-that’s all, folks!

Hitchcock-a-thon: Frenzy (1972)

Frenzy is by far the most graphic film Hitchcock ever made. Thrilling, yes. Brutal, certainly. But the subtlety had faded. Some call it Hitchcock’s last great film. I’d personally label it his last “very good” film. But it is impressive that a man who had in the business for sixty years was still capable of making something different to anything he had done before.

Having said that, there are also some familiar tropes. Our “man on the run from the police” being the most obvious one. Richard Blaney (Jon Finch) is a down-on-his luck bartender, who gets falsely suspected as the Neck Tie Murderer; a serial killer who rapes his female victims before strangling them with his neckties. The London setting makes the plot feel somewhat like an updated version of The Lodger, which he made right at the beginning of his career, only this time Hitchcock had the opportunity to be far more explicit.

Whether or not you think the explicitness is a good thing is pivotal to how much you enjoy the movie. There’s a rape scene, for example, that’s the hardest sequence to watch in all of Hitchcock’s film. The scene is effective, in a brutal sort of way, but Psycho is the perfect horror/thriller because it carefully treads the line between what it reveals to you and the blanks gaps it leaves for your mind to fill in. Frenzy shows you everything.

Though there is one brilliant moment midway through the film that recapture this Psycho spirit. As the killer lures an unaware victim into his flat and closes the door, the camera backs away in a long continuous shot down the staircase and then out onto the street where people bustle to and fro on their daily business. None of them know what’s going on in the flat upstairs. But we do, even though Hitchcock doesn’t show us.

There’s also some strong bits of dark humour, such as the chief inspector’s discussions of grizzly murder while struggling to eat his wife’s disgusting attempts at exotic food (“cailles aux raisins”).

Frenzy was Hitchcock’s most skillful film in nearly a decade, but it’s “bare all” approach works against it. There are times where you remember why Hitchcock was known as the Master of Suspense and other times where it seems unnecessarily nasty. Although it does have Bernard Cribbins in it. That’s awesome.

Hitchcock-a-thon: Topaz (1969)

Topaz is a slow, slow movie. Not just because of the drawn out running time (at 143 minutes, it’s the longest film in Hitchcock’s canon) but also because the pacing is so laborious you can almost hear joints creaking. It makes Torn Curtain look rollicking

Based on the 1967 novel of the same name by Leon Uris, in turn based off the Cuban Missile Crisis, Topaz begins with a high ranking Russian official Boris Kusenov (Per-Axel Arosenius) defecting over to America. He reveals to US agent Michael Nordstrom (John Forsythe) that NATO secrets are being passed to the Russians by a French spy ring codenamed “Topaz”. In order to expose the spies Nordstrom calls in his French friend André Devereaux (Frederick Stafford) to clear things up.

Topaz is a film Hitchcock never wanted to make, but the project was forced upon him by Universal executives.  Everyone involved seems to be on auto-pilot. The actors, the screenwriter and, sadly, even Hitchcock himself. His heart was clearly not in this one. It feels like the work of an old school filmmaker struggling to keep relevant in a changing Hollywood industry.

Some scenes were rewritten just hours before filming and Hitchcock ummed and erred over the ending, resulting in several alternative versions. This kind of sloppiness was usually unthinkable to Hitch who tended to work closely with his screenwriters and would meticulously plot out every shot before filming. But when it came to Topaz he had simply stopped caring.

Many of the individual shots are beautifully executed – there’s an especially effective moment with a lavender coloured dress spreading across a chequered floor – but that’s the bare minimum we expect from Hitchcock by this stage of his career, now on to his fiftieth film.

The one bit of interesting (but failed) experimentation is the film’s visual design. Characters were assigned different colours. The French are associated with yellow, the Cubans with red and so on. Hitchcock wanted to see if he could reveal elements of the plot through colours. He couldn’t.

It’s sprawling, unfocused and at times proves a real chore to sit through.   Topaz is a spy “thriller” is the loosest possible sense of the word.

 

Hitchcock-a-thon: Torn Curtain (1966)

The Golden Age of Hitchcock couldn’t last forever. With New Hollywood on the rise, the ground was shifting.  Now in his sixties, there was a danger that Hitchcock would be shafted by the studios like other old-time directors such as Frank Capra and John Ford. This meant that for Torn Curtain Hitchcock was forced to do something he hated almost more than anything. Compromise.

American physicist and rocket scientist  Michael Armstrong (Paul Newman), travels to Soviet-occupied East Berlin for reasons he conceals to his to his fiancée, Sarah (Julie Andrews).  Sarah secretly follows him to Berlin to get some straight answers, worried that he’s defected to the other side. But Armstrong is, of course, secretly working for Uncle Sam; gaining the confidence of his communist hosts in order to uncover a crucial anti-missile equation. Armstrong struggles to escape the watchful eye of Soviet goon Gromek (Wolfgang Kieling), to get the crucial information back home.

There’s one particularly good scene, both tense and darkly comic, where Hitchcock shows just how long and arduous it would be kill someone by strangulation. Other than that, there’s little to pull Torn Curtain out of mediocrity. 

Brian Moore’s plodding screenplay is the film’s biggest fault, but the cast don’t help matters. I’ve never quite understood the appeal of Julie Andrews in a non-singing role. Her short, prim delivery makes every line sounds same-y to me. As for Newman, well, I love Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid as much as the next person, but here he just looks lost. There’s a blankness to his performance that leaves him completely unconvincing as a man caught between duty and his personal feelings. Someone bring back Cary Grant!

Actually, Grant was exactly who Hitchcock wanted, as well as Eva Marie Saint for his leading lady, but Universal refused, claiming the pair were too old. Accustomed to the wide production control the studio had granted him with The Birds and Marnie, Hitchcock now found himself grappling with Universal over key creative decisions which also led to to an irreparable falling out with his long-term collaborator Bernard Herrmann, who had composed the score for every Hitchcock film since 1955. Hitch despised the process and later wrote it off as the least enjoyable production he’d ever worked on.

Hitchcock-a-thon: Marnie (1964)

Marnie is a very difficult watch for viewers who knows anything about its production history. Hitchcock had already started to develop a stalker-like obsession towards Tippi Hedren during The Birds, but things became even worse during the filming of Marnie. Hedren claims that he followed around outside the set, tried to control what she wore, ate and drank and eventually made “an overt sexual proposition that she could neither ignore nor answer casually, as she could his previous gestures.” She rejected his advances and refused to work with him again, despite Hitchcock’s threats that he would ruin her career.

I firmly believe that art can be brilliant and beautiful on its own merits regardless of the artist’s personal life – no matter how despicable – but after the behind-the-scenes allegations of entrapment, coercion and sexual harassment raised against Hitchcock, what is Marnie about? Entrapment, coercion and sexual harassment.

But, unsettling as it, Marnie is extremely good. Hedren plays the eponymous heroine, a cunning thief who suffers from psychotic episodes brought on by the colour red (sound familiar?). She applies for a job at a publishing company owned by Mark Rutland (Sean Connery) with the intent of robbing him. But Rutland guesses her secret and blackmails her into marrying him.

There are times when Marnie is good enough to stand alongside Hitchcocks’s last five films. Hedren absolutely excels in the lead now she gets the chance to dig her teeth into a meatier role and her screen relationship with Connery is the right level of creepy. You get the impression that Rutland truly loves and cares for Marnie, but he still acts detestably towards her. Every time he uses phrases like “wholesome animal lust” it makes the skin crawl.

But boy oh boy, the film drops the ball with the ending. It’s hard to discuss it without major spoilers, but in essence the film moves from what was an intricate and disconcerting portrayal of an abusive relationship to a cop-out slice of victim-blaming. It stinks. And it retrospectively tarnishes what was up until that point a superb and effective film.

Film biographer Donald Spoto describes it as Hitchcock’s last masterpiece. Close but no cigar. I’d say it’s about 80% masterpiece. Well worth watching, but switch it off before the last twenty minutes.

Hitchcock-a-thon: North by Northwest (1959)

It took nearly 30 years of waiting, but America finally had its answer to The 39 Steps. Screenwriter Ernest Lehman set out to write “the Hitchcock picture to end all Hitchcock pictures”. He sure as hell delivered the goods.

Advertising executive Roger Thornhill (Cary Grant in his last Hitchcock film) is unsuspectingly kidnapped by a couple of goons after they mistake him for a man called “George Kaplan.” After escaping an attempt on his life, Roger finds himself also wanted by the police after a UN diplomat dies in his arms. On the run from the cops and from his would-be assassins, Roger heads across the country in search of answers with the help of his seductive acquaintance Eve Kendall (Eva Marie Saint).

North by Northwest might well be the most splendidly uninhibited of Hitchcock’s films. No plot point is too ludicrous, no set piece too big, no innuendo too corny. From the scuffle on top of Mount Rushmore to the much-parodied crop duster chase scene, it’s big and bold fun throughout.

The banter between Roger and Eve was some Hitchcock’s more risqué yet and he struggled to squeeze a lot of it past the Hayes Code. Yet somehow the censors missed the absurdly phallic final shot that Hitchcock himself called “one of the most impudent shots I ever made.”

Grant’s at his most bumbling in this light-weight lead role, but he’s still immensely watchable as an everyman protagonist. Saint (who’s still acting today aged 89) makes a deceptively cool femme fatale and James Mason has suave menace as the villainous Vandamm. But for my money, the true stand-out is Vandamm’s right hand man Leonard (Martin Landau) whose face displays the kind of villainy straight out of a comic book.

How does it compare to Hitchcock’s early adventure hits such as The 39 Steps, Young and Innocent and The Lady Vanishes? It depends what you’re in the mood for. In terms of large, blockbuster spectacle North by Northwest is unrivalled in the Hitchcock canon. Personally, I prefer the dry humour of The Lady Vanishes to the innuendo-crammed silliness we find here. But it’s not this is an either/or scenario. Why not watch both of them? And 39 Steps too. They’re all great.

Hitchcock-a-thon: The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956)

Don’t you just hate remakes? Yeah, everyone does.

Except me, actually. Many films held up to be untouchable classics are in fact already remakes or unfaithful adaptions of pre-existent source material. Nothing is sacred. And no one understood this better than Hitchcock. The majority of his films were adapted from novels or plays and he had no qualms about altering any details he felt stood in the way of a good story.

Now in his mid-fifties he decided to remake his own film. The one that pulled out of his career rut 22 years earlier: The Man Who Knew Too Much.

There are basic story similarities between the two. A man and wife (this time, James Stewart and Doris Day) hear the dying words of a spy while on holiday (this time, Morocco), but their child (this time, a small boy) is kidnapped by a gang of assassins to prevent them from revealing what they know to the police. With only the name “Ambrose Chapel” as a lead, they head to London to rescue their boy and stop the assassins’ nefarious scheme.

How does the remake compare to the original? Well, for my money I pick the 1934 version over the remake any day. That’s not to say that they don’t share common flaws (both plots hinge upon the bewildering belief that a clash of symbols would drown out the sound of a gunshot) or that the remake is in any way a bad film; actually it’s extremely good. But which you prefer over the other boils down to a matter of personal taste. Maybe it’s a British vs. American thing. Who knows?

But if I tally up either film and hold them side by side this is what I find: Peter Motherfuckin’ Lorre > Bernard Miles; evil dentist > suspicious taxidermist; a Sun-worshipping cult > pretty much any other evil gang; a tightly structured 75 minutes > a flabby 120 minutes; and, I’m gonna get stick for this one, Edna Best > Doris Day. Admittedly, James Stewart > Leslie Banks because James Stewart > Just About Everything. But still. My ultimate conclusion is The Man Who Knew Too Much (1934) > The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956). I’m so, so sorry Jimmy…

Hitchcock-a-thon: The Trouble with Harry (1955)

I just don’t “get” The Trouble With Harry. Some people love it. Some even call it the funniest film in Hitchcock’s whole canon. But I find it slow, dull and totally reliant on one central joke that barely works to begin with.

So what is the trouble with Harry? Well he’s dead, for starters. Captain Wiles (Edmund Gwenn) comes across Harry’s body while hunting rabbits in the woods close to the small town of Highwater, Vermont. He believes that he must have killed Harry by mistake and sets about trying to dispose of the body.

I bet the kid did it

But Harry’s ex-lover Jennifer (Shirley MacLaine), is under the impression that she killed Harry after bashing him over the head with a milk bottle and Miss Gravely (Mildred Natwick) believes Harry died after she whacked him over the head with her hiking boot after she thought he was trying to assault her.

And that’s our big joke: Harry dead, no one really cares but everyone thinks they did it. The central premise undoes the rest of the film. As we watch Harry’s body getting dragged around the place, buried, dug up and plonked in a bathtub it’s not especially funny because we know that no one cares that he’s dead. With everyone in the town totally blasé about the whole affair, there are no stakes. And the best comedy comes from a sense of high stakes.

CALL THE POLICE, YOU SICK BASTARD

It’s all very pretty look at, with some vibrant colourful shots of Vermont countryside in high-autumn and composer Bernard Herrmann provides a lively score in the first of many collaborations with Hitch, but it’s not enough to save the film from monotony.

Despite positive reviews, The Trouble With Harry performed poorly at the box office, much to Hitchcock’s disappointment. He was very fond of the film and felt it was his best example of macabre humour.

It’s not.

While I suppose it’s commendable that Hitchcock tried something very off-kilter, he sadly misses the mark. If it’s humour in Hitchcock ye be seekin’, The Lady Vanishes is still your go-to movie. Or To Catch a Thief if you like your comedy in Technicolor.

Hitchcock-a-thon: Rear Window (1954)

In the mould of Lifeboat and Rope, Hitchcock placed another physical limitation on his own work in Rear Window. The camera remains almost entirely within the confines of a small New York apartment, gazing out into a courtyard overlooked by other apartments in the largest indoor set Paramount had ever produced.

Photographer Jeff (James Stewart) is unable to leave his flat as he recovers from a broken leg. During his resentful idleness, he passes the time peering at his neighbours. What beings as a bit of nosiness, takes on a more suspicious tone when Jeff suspects that one of his neighbours (Raymond Burr) has murdered his wife. With the help of his stylish girlfriend Lisa (Grace Kelly) and his insurance company nurse Stella (Thelma Ritter), they dig further into this menacing mystery.

Right from the start of his career, voyeurism has been a favourite Hichcock theme and it’s applied here expertly. As Jeff observes his neighbours he gives them his own titles – the Songwriter, Miss Lonelyhearts , Miss Torso, the Newlyweds etc. – and infers things about their personalities and lives based on the little he sees. These characters have their own small narrative arcs throughout the film, but there’s always the possibility that we, like Jeff, have imposed our assumptions on their lives.  “We’ve become a race of Peeping Toms,” says Stella disapprovingly. Everybody’s guilty. None more so than the avid cinemagoer.

Rear Window is a damn near flawless film. The casting is sublime, with Stewart and Kelly giving the best performances of their entire careers. If there was one role Kelly could absolutely hit out of the park it was the ice-queen with a heart of fire. Lisa initially appears voguish and picture-book perfect, but once she gets caught up in Jeff’s murder theory she’s as excited about it as he is and doesn’t shy away from getting her hands dirty. Indeed, thanks to Jeff’s injury, he relies on Lisa and Stella doing all the actual investigating for him.

The cinematography is also magnificent. There are more iconic and sinister shots than you could shake a stick at and the use of diegetic sound – occurring naturally from within the world of the film as Jeff would hear it – is the most effective use of sound in Hitchcock’s entire career, apart from maybe The Birds.

It’s simply one of the best films Hitchcock ever made and one of the best films of all time.