Alfred Hitchcock's "The Man Who Knew Too Much" (1956) - A Few Visuals

A dyed-in-the-wool commitment-phobe, L. B. Jeffries (James Stewart) watched from the shadows as his deepest fears about marriage were played out in the apartments adjacent to his own in Alfred Hitchcock's Rear Window (1954). These miniature dramas were like a projection of Jeffries' inner psychological state. Hitch tended to do that kind of thing a lot in his films.

Take the 1956 version of The Man Who Knew Too Much, for example. As Ben McKenna(Stewart) and his wife Jo (Doris Day) slid into the nightmare of losing their child to kidnappers, numerous shots and scenes were carefully framed to highlight the characters' inner turmoil. Here are a few screen captures that demonstrate the care Hitch took to use all available space in his films to create mood, tell his story, manage dramatic tension and more.

It seems as if every Hitchcock film must have at least one of what I call a "De Chirico shot," a scene framed as if in homage to surrealist Georgio De Chirico. Here's one from The Man Who Knew Too Much:

Moroccan police chase a bandit up a deserted street as Louis Bernard (Daniel Gelin) stumbles into the portico with a knife wedged between his shoulder blades.

Over and over, Hitchcock used diminishing point perspective to emphasize the apparent danger and confusion in which his characters operated. As the devastating reality of his son's kidnapping sinks in, Ben's mind races to come up with a way to break the news to his wife. Note the vertiginous angles that frame Ben's face:

This film alternates between visually chaotic scenes, such as this street scene in Morocco, and...


... stark, desolate scenes of Hopperesque isolation.

This street is deceptively quiet. Yet, at this otherwise nondescript locale, kidnappers and assassins plan their next move.

Take a look at this beautifully set up shot in which Jo calls the police to alert them to her son's possible whereabouts. In my view, this shot is as perfectly arranged -- indeed, iconic -- as a medieval Madonna. Not coincidentally, the shot serves much the same purpose: that of a mother interceding on behalf of her children. Were it not for this thematic significance, the shot would be mere technical grandstanding. As it is, the allusion is masterful, witty and poignant.

In this scene, Ben imagines that he is being followed by one of the villains:

Moments later he comes upon what seems to be the villains' outpost:

All of which is to say that The Man Who Knew Too Much is, end to end, a near-perfectly constructed film by a master of the medium operating at the height of his abilities.

Alfred Hitchcock's Shamley Green House for Sale

The Hitchcock Manse at Shamley Green, circa 1935

In 1928, while his wife, Alma, was pregnant with their daughter and only child, Patricia, Alfred Hitchcock purchased a cottage in Shamley Green, a small village about 30 miles outside of London. He soon set about expanding and remodeling the residence, capstoning the project with stone carvings of the letters A and H that had been reclaimed from the recently renovated Houses of Parliament. According to the London Telegraph, the home is now up for sale for the asking price of £2.5 million. (Hitch had paid £2,500 -- £116,000, adjusted for inflation).The man who made a generation of women afraid to bathe in their own showers apparently had a phobia of his own in this regard: none of the bathrooms in the Tudor house have shower heads. Take a slide-show tour of the home.

Although Hitch and his family generally spent only their weekends here, according to The Complete Films of Alfred Hitchcock, "his fondness for Shamley Green was one reason why he did not accept the American offers he constantly received." He spent his off-time there pottering around the garden and entertaining friends. It seems to have been a real retreat for him. According to Donald Spoto, he was visibly more relaxed here than at his weekday flat in London and his happiest hours were passed at this home. Many Hitchcock films allude to a "lost paradise" motif or symbolism; I suspect that, for him, the house at Shamley Green was a return to that paradise-like place, as these stills from their home movies suggest.

Alfred and Alma share a kiss with young Patricia.

Two giddy pups.

Alma gracefully accepts a camera's intrusion.

Eventually, of course, Hitch succumbed to the lure of Hollywood, leased the house out and moved to California in 1939, ending up at 10957 Bellagio Road in a house whose "variety of textures" (according to Spoto) reminded the Hitchcocks of Shamley Green. Meanwhile, during World War II, fleeing German bombing raids in London, his mother and brother took up quarters at a cottage adjacent to the house, but neither were to survive the war and Shamley Green went empty. Finally, reluctantly, Hitch sold the house. But his love for that old place remained and several years later the director named his television company Shamley Productions.

Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds" - Minus the Birds

Artist Martijn Hendricks has recently released his work Give Us Today Our Daily Terror, in which he produced an exact copy of Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds (1963), from which all birds have been digitally removed. I took a peek at the video excerpts on his site and found (strangely enough) that these suspenseful scenes didn't lose as much of their terror or dramatic tension sans their avian antagonists as you might think. Chalk one up for Hitch's direction and Bernard Herrmann's musicless score.

Click here to watch this scene.

Discussing the painting in Alfred Hitchcock's "Psycho"

One of the fascinating aspects of Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho is its strategic use of fine art to help reinforce thematic and dramatic elements of the film. A discussion of the identity and -- more importantly, to me -- the function of the painting that hangs in George Lowery's office has been picked up at the Hitchcock Wiki discussion forum. Many of the comments in there are very interesting and I encourage you to check it out.

A couple of the comments (along with Dave Pattern's intriguing comment to yesterday's post) suggest that the figures are "looking" at Marion Crane. I like that idea. Throughout the film, Marion is the subject of "the gaze." She is leered at by tycoon Tom Cassidy,

scrutinized by a suspicious cop

and peeped at by Norman Bates.

Male audience members in 1960 (or 2008, for that matter) would have a hard time taking their eyes away from the screen, as she spends much of her time in her underwear if not in the nude. The audience's role as peeping tom is underscored by the voyeuristic opening shot of the film in which the camera enters the Phoenix, Arizona hotel room through an opened window.

We are duly rewarded with this view:

In this context, the painting in Lowery's office represents a long list of characters who gape at Marion.

Alfred Hitchcock's "Psycho": Is that a Picasso?

Hitchcock Wiki manager Dave Pattern left a comment yesterday concurring that, in his opinion, the painting I posted from Psycho is indeed a Picasso. He also added a much sharper high-definition image of the screen capture. Take a look and let me know what you think. Extra points if you can identify it positively, including its title, backstory, etc.!

Alfred Hitchcock's "Psycho": Can you name the painting?

Just rewatched Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho last night, so prepare for a couple of thoughts. But first, maybe you can help. Can you identify the painting that hangs in the office of George Lowery (Vaughn Taylor), Marion Crane's (played by Janet Leigh) boss? I'm guessing it's a Picasso.

Here's a better view:

If you can positively identify this picture, I'll give you a free subscription to this blog. :)

BTW - I haven't forgotten about a few connections that have turned up between Vertigo and Niagara. We'll be getting to that, I promise!

Roller Coaster Designer Takes a Lesson from Alfred Hitchcock

In an interview in PingMag, thrill ride designer and all-around arty-engineer type Brendan Walker talks about the influence that Alfred Hitchcock's techniques have on his design concepts.

He has some very interesting things to say. By way of introduction, let's recall a moment from the climax of Saboteur (1942). Barry Kane (Robert Cummings) has been falsely accused of sabotaging a U.S. airplane factory during World War II. The story that unfolds is a perfect example of the Hitchcockian double-chase, in which Kane must run from the police while also pursuing the real villains in an effort to clear his name. The chase ends at the Statue of Liberty, where the real saboteur, Nazi collaborator Frank Fry (Norman Lloyd) has slipped over the edge of the torch and dangles from the statue's thumb. (Note the prosthetic fangs Hitch instructed Lloyd to wear in this scene!)

Kane tries to save him, putting his own life in peril.

Thus, the double chase reaches its climax with a doubly-suspenseful cliffhanger. Truly, edge-of-your-seat movie making at its best.

And when Fry slips away, the ostensibly morally justified thrill of watching the enemy fall to his death is perfectly attenuated with a cathartic relief of tension as we see (from the comfort of our theater seats) that Kane is going to be okay.

The final frames of the movie anticipate the ending of North by Northwest as Kane is lifted into the loving arms of Patricia Martin (Priscilla Lane) and we immediately fade to the ending credits. Like a good roller coaster ride, there's no need for a denouement to wrap up all the loose ends. (I discuss Hitch's on-again/off-again relationship with the denouement here.)

Thus Saboteur ends just the way Brendan Walker states a good thrill ride should end. He says: "It’s the release from fright which people find thrilling." Here's another part of his conversation with PingMag:

Hitchcock is known as the ‘Master of Suspense.’ What would be the difference between something that’s thrilling and something that’s frightening?

In dictionary terms, the differences are very subtle. But by my definition, thrill has high levels of both arousal and pleasure, whereas fright has high levels of arousal but low levels of pleasure. In terms of pleasure, ‘fright’ is exactly opposite to ‘thrill’. What’s interesting is that, in a horror film, tension and fright are unpleasurable. But from that low point, the pleasure has to increase to get back to “normal.” It’s the release from fright which people find thrilling.

Such distinctions are the stuff that Hitchcock made his living at parsing. He drew a line between the concepts of suspense and terror, once saying, "Suspense and terror cannot coexist. To the extent that the audience is aware of the menace or danger to the people it is watching -- that is, to the extent that suspense is created -- so is its surprise (or terror) at the eventual materialization of the indicated danger diminished." -- "The Enjoyment of Fear," Good Housekeeping, February 1949.

Walker has even devised a mathematical formula that attempts to methodologize the relationship between fear and thrill and their place in the "narrative" of, say, an amusement park ride:

Walker insists that his formula is, perhaps, more illustrative than practical. Still, it can form the basis of some interesting creative approaches. He explains it this way:

The intensity of thrill you experience during any activity is controlled by three things:

1. Your levels of Pleasure ‘V’
2. Your levels of Arousal ‘A’
3. and Time ‘t’(psychologists actually call pleasure ‘valence’ - hence the V not P!)

The level of thrill you actually experience ‘T’ depends on:

a. how quickly your Pleasure and Arousal changed over Time (that’s the first VA/t) and

b. the amount of change in pleasure and arousal (that’s the second VA).

As a general rule as you’re designing, just imagine how you might be affecting your rider. You can slowly raise arousal, but then give a quick boost of pleasure. You can raise arousal, make someone feel unpleasant (horror) which is then released as relief (with a dopamine rush of thrill) - there are many ways you can start playing around with ideas!

And Hitch played with those very ideas for over half a century!

You should read the full article, though, to get a sense of what this guy is bringing to the table. And when you're done, if you're interested, check out the piece I wrote on the relationship between the enjoyment of fear and the fear of enjoyment, which goes into more detail. I invite your comments.