Vertigo: Alfred Hitchcock's Edifice to Obsession

<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">a video blog by guest contributor Brandon Kyle Goco</span></i></span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8h98cjr5QYTShX9sbO0VuRVYfAWvtKbgbKsjoIeA_adh0vkdrhMB5nE2z4LchPFkD1mSB6-scrNaH5LSOI_2TW5OJo8Wg22W4Ygon4LIn2jCzF_K2hLrwy2ogHHnbXFP_9s3iZ_x-Jn_d/s1600/Brandon+Kyle+Cinephile+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8h98cjr5QYTShX9sbO0VuRVYfAWvtKbgbKsjoIeA_adh0vkdrhMB5nE2z4LchPFkD1mSB6-scrNaH5LSOI_2TW5OJo8Wg22W4Ygon4LIn2jCzF_K2hLrwy2ogHHnbXFP_9s3iZ_x-Jn_d/s400/Brandon+Kyle+Cinephile+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: small;"><b>Brandon Goco</b>, guest host of Turner Classic Movies’ monthly podcast series for October 2011, is both a film student and a movie fanatic. He has penned well over a hundred individual blogs for the TCM Classic Film Union, has his own blog, <a href="http://brandonkylethecinephile.blogspot.com/" style="color: #990000;">Brandon Kyle the Cinephile</a>, and has only recently taken up video blogging. At the age of 20, Brandon is currently attending a California State University, majoring in film studies and working part-time as the production coordinator and general manager for the university’s local television station. He has dreams of becoming a film director or film preservationist some day. </span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: small;">Brandon on <i>Vertigo</i> <span style="font-size: small;">(</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">he recommends his video be viewed in 720p)</span></span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: small;">: </span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ly0KIyN400w" width="560"></iframe></div>

A Month of Vertigo Alfred Hitchcock Brandon Kyle Goco Vertigo Vertigo: Alfred Hitchcock's Edifice to Obsession

a video blog by guest contributor Brandon Kyle Goco Brandon Goco , guest host of Turner Classic Movies’ monthly podcast series for October 2...

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James Stewart: A Walk on the Dark Side

<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">by guest contributor Classicfilmboy</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRmnXVHdkvY9NAzmc_IAZJdYpeSIwZ7wOISZ4TxYh3Hxq69nQ5GBcKdVjMvdP4zbLizNSdB2K9bTAVQ979eNhxwc1byGH1l_Ddfg2FGlcTGQBpyUgP6Mz4IDUkPnXBN-TZoqf1H6PjPaao/s1600/Scottie+Obsessed+and+Coit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRmnXVHdkvY9NAzmc_IAZJdYpeSIwZ7wOISZ4TxYh3Hxq69nQ5GBcKdVjMvdP4zbLizNSdB2K9bTAVQ979eNhxwc1byGH1l_Ddfg2FGlcTGQBpyUgP6Mz4IDUkPnXBN-TZoqf1H6PjPaao/s400/Scottie+Obsessed+and+Coit.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Alfred Hitchcock had a knack for bringing out the worst in the best of actors. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And I mean that as a compliment. He could take likable leading men, cast them as dark characters and draw great performances. Think of Cary Grant’s Johnnie in <i>Suspicion</i> (before the studio re-edited the ending), Joseph Cotton’s Uncle Charlie in <i>Shadow of a Doubt</i> and Robert Walker’s Bruno in <i>Strangers on a Train</i>.<br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Perhaps the best example of this was how Hitchcock used James Stewart, whose image was the “aw shucks” guy next door. As Hitchcock biographer Patrick McGilligan suggests, his heroes began to deepen with Grant and then with Stewart, and those films deepened as a result. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /><a name='more'></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But as much as I love Grant, he has a particular on-screen persona that became part of almost every performance he gave starting in the late 1940s. Meanwhile, as Stewart aged, he pushed away from his all-American persona and began playing dark and conflicted men, looking less and less like the characters audiences loved in the 1930s and early 1940s. Frank Capra tapped into Stewart’s dark side in 1946’s <i>It's a Wonderful Life</i>, with the actor playing a man who is contemplating suicide, forced to stay and work where he never wanted to and bitter that he never had the opportunities that others enjoyed. According to McGilligan, Stewart told Lionel Barrymore that his air force experience during World War II made him question acting, resulting in Stewart searching for stronger parts. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYIos6P3kd1a7AMECdSmwtgAiTygL26OF16qX2RcqwJfN60t2sbQoElSWmZVVhJwiOFXvQ5WL45YKXIeUKK135proqum1jTaUw6vbWJaPlrfW0TPaqDaDNHazc9ZLnrqB8MM6F9MqbDhGK/s1600/rope.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYIos6P3kd1a7AMECdSmwtgAiTygL26OF16qX2RcqwJfN60t2sbQoElSWmZVVhJwiOFXvQ5WL45YKXIeUKK135proqum1jTaUw6vbWJaPlrfW0TPaqDaDNHazc9ZLnrqB8MM6F9MqbDhGK/s400/rope.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Rope </i>(1948)</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It makes sense that Hitchcock would pick up on Stewart’s newfound attitudes. Yet, oddly enough, Stewart’s first film with Hitchcock was 1948’s <i>Rope</i>, in which Stewart is very much playing off his good-guy persona. Stewart does his usual fine job, but both he and Hitchcock learned from this for their future collaborations. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But first came some fine roles that would eventually comprise a decade of marvelous work from Stewart, starting with 1950’s <i>Harvey</i>. As the gentle Elwood P. Dowd, Stewart plays someone who’s not in touch with the rest of society, which in itself can get you labeled as mentally disturbed even if that’s not the case. Stewart mines the dark comedy in playing a man who would rather be friends with a large imaginary rabbit that with any humans, and it takes a special actor to make this character resonate rather than becoming too cute or too disturbing. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Stewart’s early 1950s westerns also brought out a toughness in character. Just look at <i>The Naked Spur</i>, with Stewart as a bounty hunter in a tale that predates some of John Wayne’s more conflicted Western characters.  </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidj7TaMT1aCX2URWkPopJycrJXeiSevUlcForgeX1ReBg3zhYLq2J6wS_Bm5KA9znAULJJDaOBQuX8mgwaZmDnUy5QxpUJVU6HLKrCpMmmVo-syil0pPir9SSyXK9cDTeTX62vpa3aH3Ne/s1600/rear+window.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidj7TaMT1aCX2URWkPopJycrJXeiSevUlcForgeX1ReBg3zhYLq2J6wS_Bm5KA9znAULJJDaOBQuX8mgwaZmDnUy5QxpUJVU6HLKrCpMmmVo-syil0pPir9SSyXK9cDTeTX62vpa3aH3Ne/s400/rear+window.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Rear Window </i>(1954)</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Stewart’s second pairing with Hitchcock is 1954’s <i>Rear Window</i> which is my favorite Hitchcock film of the 1950s. It’s rare to think of Stewart as having a sexuality on screen, yet here Hitchcock fully taps into it with Stewart’s character, Jeff, having an open affair with Grace Kelly. It’s rather shocking to see Mr. All-American, in a leg cast and wheelchair, clearly in lust with the lovely Ms. Kelly. Yet it works, bringing Stewart down to our level. Yes, he’s still the hero, but he also has desires and doubts like the rest of us. The fact that our hero likes to spy on all of his neighbors adds an unsettling dimension to that character, because the audience is right there with him, knowing it’s wrong but unable to do anything but indulge. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">How better than to have your audience identify with a peeping Tom than have that man played by Stewart. He’s a flawed man, and one that Hitchcock and Stewart brilliantly explore together. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXofHi52KyOTYj4QZYwpYQn4M1tQo0gw76Ddy3sIDbnePOH2gMYpRnBXs-TsP_MBZlASLZTLlgD_mQLladvtZY3xC_klo_fVhniHxTJCrqj5pvdqZOJFyThhDViUbf5XIhHnuT0M4GmczN/s1600/tmwktm+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXofHi52KyOTYj4QZYwpYQn4M1tQo0gw76Ddy3sIDbnePOH2gMYpRnBXs-TsP_MBZlASLZTLlgD_mQLladvtZY3xC_klo_fVhniHxTJCrqj5pvdqZOJFyThhDViUbf5XIhHnuT0M4GmczN/s400/tmwktm+2.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The Man Who Knew Too Much </i>(1956)</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It’s worth noting that Stewart was cast before screenwriter John Michael Hayes started his work, so the role was tailored to Stewart. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Stewart and Hitchcock were both friendly and business-like to each other. More importantly, they understood each other. Stewart re-teams with Hitchcock a third time in <i>The Man Who Knew Too Much</i>, although in the first half of the movie Stewart relies on his aw-shucks persona too much. It isn’t until the latter stages when Stewart’s Ben MacKenna is desperate to save his child. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But Hitchcock fully taps into the dark side of Stewart in <i>Vertigo</i>, their fourth film together. Stewart’s Scottie may be afraid of heights, but that’s the least of his problems in light of his sexual obsession over Kim Novak. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="http://eves-reel-life.blogspot.com/2012/01/deadly-obsession-alfred-hitchcocks.html" style="color: #990000;">R.D. Finch</a> does an outstanding job of discussing Stewart in his <i>Vertigo</i> post from earlier this month during The Lady Eve’s <i>Vertigo</i> event, and there’s no need to repeat what he wrote. What’s worth noting is the unsettling, frightening darkness to Stewart’s character. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguuXMpQOTi5IFMTrFSWhFKGhrtw8d2hVoD6xBMOeVm5COsQUbEgWqKP8GmEDmHz6NWVKugybFms-BET6NNajmaPQpXdSyDwUR24GdN6LRasAkooODHIRGjRJMWd153N3JviQnJUkiEifKa/s1600/changing+judy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguuXMpQOTi5IFMTrFSWhFKGhrtw8d2hVoD6xBMOeVm5COsQUbEgWqKP8GmEDmHz6NWVKugybFms-BET6NNajmaPQpXdSyDwUR24GdN6LRasAkooODHIRGjRJMWd153N3JviQnJUkiEifKa/s400/changing+judy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> Perhaps this is why the film wasn’t much of a success when it was released. In <i>Rope</i>, <i>Rear Window</i> and <i>The Man Who Knew Too Much</i>, Stewart eventually overcomes his weaknesses, although with some struggle. In <i>Vertigo</i>, the weaknesses are debilitating, and maybe that’s what audiences simply don’t want to see in Stewart or accept from one of his characters. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAMH60yQmjCJdMjmwlOCXXBwF2r5djqMORIFCHNNpnp6398H768l1uiRYpTNHPTeGhV-WgtB6tTSS5HYasRpQkehHHG6-q6CfgKOld0k7arQHIWxBgwuzWcRjTl60z5m_BBGdBuiTQ1Lfv/s1600/vengeance+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAMH60yQmjCJdMjmwlOCXXBwF2r5djqMORIFCHNNpnp6398H768l1uiRYpTNHPTeGhV-WgtB6tTSS5HYasRpQkehHHG6-q6CfgKOld0k7arQHIWxBgwuzWcRjTl60z5m_BBGdBuiTQ1Lfv/s400/vengeance+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But Scottie should be a disorienting figure in a film where dizziness is both literal and figurative. For me, Stewart’s casting is genius, because it adds another level of disorientation. I doubt another actor could have carried this off. Sure, others may have given strong performances, but Hitchcock and Stewart knew what they were doing. It’s that extra push, the expected screen persona that’s built into the audience mindset before the film begins that ultimately shocks them in the end. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggnGAHVdo4Nz_fopkDZyqTFxnnSiDB8rFx-RFUnI5WsdhC5gzGGgvSgy9nFzpSUYYImZMFtn8vNzHvU1DLd5SsUXxCId6nU5tXL8IxRW-1FPZfGdO9Y3af4k6taxyADdoKcah0iUORDyc2/s1600/acrophobia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggnGAHVdo4Nz_fopkDZyqTFxnnSiDB8rFx-RFUnI5WsdhC5gzGGgvSgy9nFzpSUYYImZMFtn8vNzHvU1DLd5SsUXxCId6nU5tXL8IxRW-1FPZfGdO9Y3af4k6taxyADdoKcah0iUORDyc2/s400/acrophobia.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">  </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> As a result, <i>Vertigo</i> is an enduring, disturbing tale. Over four films, Hitchcock and Stewart worked well together, and the great director elicited from Stewart some of his best work, perhaps none as disturbing as Scottie.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-D0Z1YDOm8nivyoh1Ba-Wbpfd1EYgd62tOxxAKg6o29ekRouh1ubcMamMzCxPqzxSbIFviwymFa8Z5iQyFqRLGGks5Htk6va1UwGHdNv9nO3Slm5wdx1qn1I52nzGSJe84XLy1wa2vajz/s1600/shattered.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-D0Z1YDOm8nivyoh1Ba-Wbpfd1EYgd62tOxxAKg6o29ekRouh1ubcMamMzCxPqzxSbIFviwymFa8Z5iQyFqRLGGks5Htk6va1UwGHdNv9nO3Slm5wdx1qn1I52nzGSJe84XLy1wa2vajz/s400/shattered.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">  </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;">~</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>Brian, aka Classicfilmboy, developed a love of classic films at a young age with the annual airing of </i>The Wizard of Oz<i> on CBS (which he partially blames for his tornado phobia). As a kid growing up in a small Midwestern town, access to classic films was limited, which made their mystique even more enticing. Brian later spent 10 years as a film reviewer and now writes <a href="http://classicfilmboy.com/" style="color: #990000;">Classicfilmboy.com</a>, although he wishes he could devote more time to his blog. He specializes in pre-1970 film history, and for fun he teaches noncredit film appreciation classes at his local community college in suburban Chicago. </i></div>

A Month of Vertigo Alfred Hitchcock Classicfilmboy James Stewart Vertigo James Stewart: A Walk on the Dark Side

by guest contributor Classicfilmboy Alfred Hitchcock had a knack for bringing out the worst in the best of actors. And I mean that as a comp...

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VERTIGO, the Bit Players

<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>by guest contributor Allen Hefner</i></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="color: black; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhip_lxNFq1CMQ2im21bCjekjW1rA2yDPu2mBF-T-Zf1DE1-Uq_gFHeTOOTnIGfIzzggFZMEOnLEX3CHjkfNJ40qujo6HQl8PWsh8waHHO4_8vffXHpNZO1-ox3gikqtv1ye-i3PIZvgZAB/s1600/VertigoMadeleineGavin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhip_lxNFq1CMQ2im21bCjekjW1rA2yDPu2mBF-T-Zf1DE1-Uq_gFHeTOOTnIGfIzzggFZMEOnLEX3CHjkfNJ40qujo6HQl8PWsh8waHHO4_8vffXHpNZO1-ox3gikqtv1ye-i3PIZvgZAB/s400/VertigoMadeleineGavin.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Kim Novak with Tom Helmore in </span><i style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Vertigo</i></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="color: black;"></span></i></span></div><br /><span style="font-size: small;">A movie as incredible as <i>Vertigo</i> (1958) is a collaboration of many parts.  Even an actor as talented as James Stewart can’t carry a film of this complexity by himself.  The locations, scenery, costumes, set decoration, lighting, music, bit parts and even the cars are important to make any film a success.  </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I enjoy looking at the Bit Parts in a movie…seeing where the Bit Actors came from and where they went after a successful movie.  Most of them didn’t get paid much, but the good ones put their whole heart and soul into each role, whether it was a small part in a television western or an opportunity to supply an important plot element in a movie like <i>Vertigo</i>.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Let’s look at some of the larger Bit Parts in <i>Vertigo.</i>  I have listed them in order of the number of roles they have played during their career. </span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br /><a name='more'></a><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8apcW-IaxPkvOpRhb0QyakpzYi4J-9iWClvhJkU7BO9k_iHMAqTAa7CzkhRaaDlYksrBDEtwi20wkAE2ZLau3sh2tm4z6q47BsgNnYpjdqY-aqHe1hcGi20xTjGQ8oidQMxHZMfWMw7ug/s1600/Corby+Bit+Part.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8apcW-IaxPkvOpRhb0QyakpzYi4J-9iWClvhJkU7BO9k_iHMAqTAa7CzkhRaaDlYksrBDEtwi20wkAE2ZLau3sh2tm4z6q47BsgNnYpjdqY-aqHe1hcGi20xTjGQ8oidQMxHZMfWMw7ug/s320/Corby+Bit+Part.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Ellen Corby and James Stewart</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b>Ellen Corby</b></i><i> </i>(1911 – 1999)  238 titles are listed on IMDb for Ellen.  She worked with Alfred Hitchcock in <i>Vertigo</i> as the McKittrick Hotel manager, and also in several of his TV shows.  Her first movie was <i>Rafter Romance</i> (1933) starring Ginger Rogers, released just before Rogers teamed up with Fred Astaire in <i>Flying Down to Rio</i> the same year.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Corby’s next film was <i>Sons of the Desert</i> (1933) starring Laurel and Hardy.  She would make two other L&H films, <i>Babes in Toyland</i> (1934) and <i>Swiss Miss</i> (1938).  Her first pairing with James Stewart was in a little film called <i>It’s a Wonderful Life</i> (1946).  She plays a Bailey Savings and Loan customer who withdraws just $17.50 during the run.  Stewart didn’t expect her to say that small amount, so he kissed her!  I guess Frank Capra could get as much out of his actors as Hitchcock.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Most of Corby’s roles through the 1940s were uncredited, but she continued to get better and better parts.  Look for her in <i>Mighty Joe Young</i> (1949) the <i>King Kong</i> send-up, <i>The Gunfighter</i> (1950) with Gregory Peck, <i>Angels in the Outfield</i> (1951) with Janet Leigh, <i>Sabrina</i> (1954) with Humphrey Bogart, and <i>Night Passage</i> (1957) again with James Stewart…all before <i>Vertigo</i>, and all great films.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Corby’s television career is another long story, but it took her from being Mother Lurch in “The Addams Family” to Esther Walton on “The Waltons,” a role she played in the series and many of the Walton’s specials. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeYUW0Z4Wd72IAq2pZJoiyVCIJj03Ob8ZTHTg2S1YWsYXnpu3AMu830l94hO8iXeCr992AlNgA2YgqbGsHOTNX_0pgJaWGSIBd9eHPyDJH4anx39N9n2w-SG8OaH9uF_YKYnUsmq1HS2F4/s1600/Henry+Jones.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeYUW0Z4Wd72IAq2pZJoiyVCIJj03Ob8ZTHTg2S1YWsYXnpu3AMu830l94hO8iXeCr992AlNgA2YgqbGsHOTNX_0pgJaWGSIBd9eHPyDJH4anx39N9n2w-SG8OaH9uF_YKYnUsmq1HS2F4/s320/Henry+Jones.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><i>Henry Jones</i></b> (1912 – 1999), shown at right, has 202 titles listed and is certainly one of the most recognizable Bit Actors in cinema.  He was born in Philadelphia, so I like him even more.  His first film was <i>This is the Army</i> (1943) starring George Murphy and featuring Ronald Reagan.  </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Jones moved straightaway into television in 1950, and his second appearance on TV was with George Burns and Gracie Allen.  In the early days, television was considered a step down from acting on film, just as 50 years earlier acting on film was less desirable than being on Broadway.  Television appearances in the early days were much more frequent than movies, so all those kids (myself included) who were glued to the TV set until the next Saturday matinee at the local theatre would have the faces of those actors and actresses burned into their subconscious, only to resurface 50 years later and be written about on the Internet.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Jones continued making movies during his television work.  In 1957 look for him in <i>Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter?</i> with Tony Randall and Jayne Mansfield, and then in <i>3:10 to Yuma</i> starring Glenn Ford, and of course in 1958 as the blue-suited coroner in <i>Vertigo</i>.  </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In 1969 we see Henry in <i>Support Your Local Sheriff!</i> with James Garner, and as a bicycle salesman in <i>Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid</i> with of course, Paul Newman and Robert Redford.  Later in his career he continues mostly on TV, but look for him in these great films –<i>Nine to Five</i> (1980), <i>Deathtrap</i> (1982), <i>Dick Tracy</i> (1990), and his final film <i>The Grifters</i> (1990).</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWRXBS3wXHr7L3XzXYOQjAIUxVcfxeOGZQeWNbgGPiup3DFH8vXSEOLLg9kVr_29x1feFhawFdHulBM44JXKXwGQDmkbmc1x6tqjwui3r8JawwoLORNhRMHeGik1B6kxbO5drwX60TbI2d/s1600/Raymond+Bailey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWRXBS3wXHr7L3XzXYOQjAIUxVcfxeOGZQeWNbgGPiup3DFH8vXSEOLLg9kVr_29x1feFhawFdHulBM44JXKXwGQDmkbmc1x6tqjwui3r8JawwoLORNhRMHeGik1B6kxbO5drwX60TbI2d/s320/Raymond+Bailey.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barbara Bel Geddes and Raymond Bailey</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b>Raymond Bailey</b> </i>(1904 – 1980) is best known as Milburn Drysdale on “The Beverly Hillbillies.”  However, that came near the end of his career of 146 titles that started in 1939.  His first dozen years on the big screen went largely uncredited.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Television again allowed Bailey to find good work as an actor, but it wasn’t until the 1960s that he had a regular role in “My Sister Eileen,” a show I have never seen.  </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In the movies he has quite a long list, but many are forgettable films with second tier stars like Jock Mahoney, Jeff Chandler, and Tab Hunter.  He appeared in <i>Band of Angels</i> (1957) which came near the end of Clark Gable’s career.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">1958 may have been his finest film year, with appearances in <i>Darby’s Rangers</i>, <i>Lafayette Escadrille</i>, <i>Vertigo</i> (a small role as Scottie’s doctor), <i>No Time for Sergeants</i>, <i>The Lineup</i>, <i>King Creole</i> and <i>I Want to Live!</i>  Quite a year for him, and for us.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then, more TV, more TV, and in 1960 <i>The Gallant Hours</i> starring James Cagney and <i>From the Terrace</i> with Paul Newman…and more TV.  Finally, Jed Clampett makes him a famous Beverly Hills banker and the rest is history.  His final films were <i>Herbie Rides Again</i> (1974) and <i>The Strongest Man in the World</i> (1975).</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI9Pqo-tB9eUheKe3jyjcXvGdjyxTw99SRppySMODeAeJndfAX7VTNt7xwhMZ437WBmFRfcWmFXmNG3qIjGeZ7HAwKB24xrTVuXnTx42YHrSFUJmg4xmpFH8rQs3BYyxd2a7sW6xhLi_Bd/s1600/Lee+Patrick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI9Pqo-tB9eUheKe3jyjcXvGdjyxTw99SRppySMODeAeJndfAX7VTNt7xwhMZ437WBmFRfcWmFXmNG3qIjGeZ7HAwKB24xrTVuXnTx42YHrSFUJmg4xmpFH8rQs3BYyxd2a7sW6xhLi_Bd/s320/Lee+Patrick.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">James Stewart and Lee Patrick</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b>Lee Patrick </b></i>(1901 – 1982) was the lady who is mistaken for Madeleine at her car.  Her role in <i>Vertigo</i> was small, but it helped fill in some questions in Scottie’s mind.  Of course to me, Lee Patrick will always be Henrietta Topper of the television series “Topper” starring Leo G. Carroll as Cosmo Topper.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Lee has 104 titles listed on IMDb starting in 1929.  Her first major motion picture, though not a starring role, was as Effie in the Bogart classic <i>The Maltese Falcon</i> (1941).  In a Hitchcockian (is that a word?) twist, her final film was <i>The Black Bird</i> (1975) and she played the same part.  I am sure that was a forgettable movie, where George Segal plays Sam Spade’s son, still looking for the elusive Falcon.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In between those films you can catch her in <i>Now, Voyager</i> (1942), <i>George Washington Slept Here</i> (1942), <i>A Night to Remember</i> (1942), <i>Jitterbugs</i> (a not so great Laurel and Hardy film in 1943), <i>Mildred Pierce</i> (1945), <i>Vertigo</i> and <i>Auntie Mame</i> in 1958, <i>The Seven Faces of Dr. Lao</i> (1964), and a bunch of television.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjurmNY6mg64YidLLBDYEGWscFSaVg1nVmsuFQ6LSwhQbaKGGL_TASknK0CkAlfrkdbYu_kfgm5hI1nxXyjOXHgdeNvii7t5h6TxL_LB6WxMpgfpW_7vSNg-DTn7b0sBBge9kwhcr9tYiF7/s1600/Tom+Helmore.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjurmNY6mg64YidLLBDYEGWscFSaVg1nVmsuFQ6LSwhQbaKGGL_TASknK0CkAlfrkdbYu_kfgm5hI1nxXyjOXHgdeNvii7t5h6TxL_LB6WxMpgfpW_7vSNg-DTn7b0sBBge9kwhcr9tYiF7/s320/Tom+Helmore.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tom Helmore with James Stewart</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><i>Tom Helmore</i></b> (1904 – 1995)  Even though Gavin Elster (the real Madeleine’s husband) was a focal point of the mystery in <i>Vertigo</i>, I must include Tom Helmore as a Bit Player in a supporting role.  He really doesn’t have much screen time.  But he has 72 titles on IMDb.  And he appears in two earlier Hitchcock movies, <i>The Ring</i> (a silent film from 1927) and <i>Secret Agent</i> (1936) with John Gielgud.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">There’s not much to write about in his other work.  Of note is an appearance in <i>The Tender Trap</i> (1955) with Frank Sinatra, <i>The Time Machine</i> (1960) with Rod Taylor, plus some good television work.  The last movie he worked in was <i>Flipper’s New Adventure</i> (1964).</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYxSLWBZeuJi9FqSZtiAXNwyoEJ5nyC29sv7wlTsZDo4QLIlLHgVXdLuMdJoqcslxIW0vBf6k__nFHrbnGPwjXiQNZGnCrcNdRoZh5-GXVM93HW0tam97KnHzbw5HcAOqW12CMttoi_9KV/s1600/Konstantin+Shayne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYxSLWBZeuJi9FqSZtiAXNwyoEJ5nyC29sv7wlTsZDo4QLIlLHgVXdLuMdJoqcslxIW0vBf6k__nFHrbnGPwjXiQNZGnCrcNdRoZh5-GXVM93HW0tam97KnHzbw5HcAOqW12CMttoi_9KV/s320/Konstantin+Shayne.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Konstantin Shayne</span></i></b><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"> (1888 – 1974), shown at right, certainly sounds like a Russian cowboy.  Shayne played Pop Leibel, the bookstore owner who fills in the missing story about Carlotta Valdes.  Again, a very small part but integral to understanding the plot.  </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Shayne has 49 titles listed on IMDb, starting in 1938.  His performances of note were in <i>None But the Lonely Heart</i> (1944), <i>The Stranger</i> (1946) and <i>The Secret Life of Walter Mitty</i> (1947).  You can also see him in small parts in a Bulldog Drummond film and in <i>The Falcon in Hollywood</i> (1944).  He appeared quite a few times on TV in the 1950s, and his final movie was <i>Joy in the Morning</i> (1965) starring Richard Chamberlain.</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Y3AfJaikBnrsARN6ux8EQNBFA1OFSaIG6Vki-E4CqYM35mwyFREWgBanC1x5iqRlMDf5OhiA8wPAAC5b58aH4LP9qnRyBV1EUkNW_8LVmNUaT3XwKr5Ou7hy51UAGBmNGlWvqdgcYvCf/s1600/Margaret+Brayton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Y3AfJaikBnrsARN6ux8EQNBFA1OFSaIG6Vki-E4CqYM35mwyFREWgBanC1x5iqRlMDf5OhiA8wPAAC5b58aH4LP9qnRyBV1EUkNW_8LVmNUaT3XwKr5Ou7hy51UAGBmNGlWvqdgcYvCf/s320/Margaret+Brayton.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Margaret Brayton and Kim Novak</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><i>Margaret Brayton</i></b> (1907 – 1992) played the saleswoman in the dress shop that Scottie and Judy went to.  While it may not seem like it was important to have this scene in <i>Vertigo</i>, it does serve to highlight the extent of Scotty’s obsession with turning Judy into Madeleine.  </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">She has 48 titles on IMDb from 1934 to 1959, mostly uncredited, with maybe five television appearances.  Another of her other well-known films was <i>Who Done It?</i> (1942) with Abbott and Costello.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><i>Molly Dodd </i></b>(1921 – 1981) was the beautician who also worked over Judy to recreate Madeleine.  I loved it when she told Scottie that she knew what <i>HE</i> wanted, as though everyone in San Francisco was tired of his fantasy.  Her 40 titles on IMDb include only four movies and <i>Vertigo</i> was her first.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaIZO55b_hMuvy5ILSbXwr2SLsgc-TbN6Ybm7S0iCo0peoUoz-tMaF33v1_TaJQYbeu6qAAZDJZ2UUmZNvBz1L9nzxS_n9twCayZ78ykYufJ6FnDkvPQRAWUUWuGVkzEDpwbv-swCs4e1K/s1600/Molly+Dodd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaIZO55b_hMuvy5ILSbXwr2SLsgc-TbN6Ybm7S0iCo0peoUoz-tMaF33v1_TaJQYbeu6qAAZDJZ2UUmZNvBz1L9nzxS_n9twCayZ78ykYufJ6FnDkvPQRAWUUWuGVkzEDpwbv-swCs4e1K/s320/Molly+Dodd.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Molly Dodd and James Stewart</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Look for Molly in many of the sitcoms in the 1960s.  In 1976 she was also in a few episodes of “The Waltons” with Ellen Corby.  Her last movie was <i>Harper Valley P.T.A.</i> (1978).</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And finally, there are the cars…Scottie’s <b><i>1956 DeSoto Firedome</i></b>, Madeleine’s <b><i>1957 Jaguar Mk VIII</i></b>, and Midge’s (Barbara Bel Geddes) <b><i>1956 Karmann Ghia</i></b>.  I have written before about cars in cinema and I am sure there are volumes available on the topic.  </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjmVkF3HvhBNrSZ9HQ6pvUUUG_Oe5wntukVEm939JIEkOruXTok2SMMc96VaMdXHmyq761NVg284gLK8HYXQBZ-gnq92ET2TpoX4gg5SLROfRCRRdcrtn-GTS_Cl5Q_neYlxIhnp6RpOPB/s1600/Madeleine+in+green+jag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjmVkF3HvhBNrSZ9HQ6pvUUUG_Oe5wntukVEm939JIEkOruXTok2SMMc96VaMdXHmyq761NVg284gLK8HYXQBZ-gnq92ET2TpoX4gg5SLROfRCRRdcrtn-GTS_Cl5Q_neYlxIhnp6RpOPB/s320/Madeleine+in+green+jag.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'Madeleine' in her 1957 Jaguar Mk VIII</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The two main cars in <i>Vertigo</i> are more than obvious as plot vehicles  (Sorry!  I couldn’t resist).  They are as distinctive as the characters they belong to.  It was important for the cars to be instantly recognizable to avoid confusion in the film.  While Scotty is following Madeleine, you need to be able to pick out her car in the traffic.  You see it later at his apartment, and again after Madeleine’s staged death in the scene with Lee Patrick.  </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It is also interesting that the three cars match their owner’s personalities perfectly.  I can see each one of them picking out their car at the dealership.  Of course, it wasn’t the Kim Novak Madeleine who bought the Jag, but it would fit the real Madeleine’s station in society.  Scottie would be matter-of-fact in his purchase, buying a car big enough for his needs, with a powerful V8.  And Midge would have chosen her Ghia because it was so cute!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTj2o_4VJP_jK0fG_HTyXF8pzoToYUriPZKpuVPgFv_dE-zUkcki_ZuQPXNMT3CSPos8MTA9FUoDhEmK4C0XSfCgBMHUbS0UNkvSlTVx8dHiRb2Pr5YKwRO33VscPFDuqIusXlIn5qWmTM/s1600/Midges+Ghia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTj2o_4VJP_jK0fG_HTyXF8pzoToYUriPZKpuVPgFv_dE-zUkcki_ZuQPXNMT3CSPos8MTA9FUoDhEmK4C0XSfCgBMHUbS0UNkvSlTVx8dHiRb2Pr5YKwRO33VscPFDuqIusXlIn5qWmTM/s400/Midges+Ghia.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'Midge' in her 1956 Karmann Ghia</td></tr></tbody></table><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hitchcock thought of everything, right down to the cars.  His penchant for perfection is showcased in <i>Vertigo</i> and its excellent cast of Bit Actors.  And I’m sure you’ll agree that these parts helped make <i>Vertigo</i> the great classic film it is.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Many thanks to Eve for hosting this month long tribute, and to all the other writers who have put so much effort into the project.  I hope you enjoy every entry.  And please stop by my <i style="color: #990000;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1165593110" style="color: #990000;">Bit Part <span id="goog_1165593107"></span><span id="goog_1165593108"></span></a><a href="http://bitactors.blogspot.com/" style="color: #990000;">Actors</a> <span style="color: black;"></span></i>blog for more great profiles.</span></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">~</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b>Allen Hefner</b> of </i>Bit Part Actors<i>, the blog he launched in May 2010, is from Pennsylvania and has been interested in movies from an early age. He recalls attending Saturday matinees at the Keswick Theatre in Glenside, PA, every Saturday of his youth, “when 50 cents bought you a two reeler (usually The Three Stooges or Laurel & Hardy), a few cartoons and a feature film.” Allen is a member of the famed Laurel & Hardy fan organization, <a href="http://home.earthlink.net/%7Esons_secretary/" style="color: #990000;">The Sons of the Desert</a>, and has, over the years, met and enjoyed the company of many film buffs and performers of days gone by including Margaret Hamilton, William Windom, Penny Singleton and others - as well as Stan Laurel's daughter, Lois, and </i>Sons of the Desert<i> founder (and cartoonist) Al Kilgore.</i></span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFuSNbYZlKY1BikJfcsUG5dyumissZhgxhCEsE_2UFxBkaU7j4Qb_9yXhyphenhyphenbvigmbAucfoEjRSGSFOoQ0hJ01fhhN58Jax-v6RdzmuJuf3E3POAjnhIKrpdTu2-4H886CLPT2UCBW-lLjk/s1600/Bit+Part+Actors+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFuSNbYZlKY1BikJfcsUG5dyumissZhgxhCEsE_2UFxBkaU7j4Qb_9yXhyphenhyphenbvigmbAucfoEjRSGSFOoQ0hJ01fhhN58Jax-v6RdzmuJuf3E3POAjnhIKrpdTu2-4H886CLPT2UCBW-lLjk/s400/Bit+Part+Actors+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><i></i></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="color: black;"></span></i></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></div></div>

A Month of Vertigo Alfred Hitchcock Allen Hefner Ellen Corby Henry Jones Konstantin Shayne Margaret Brayton Molly Dodd Raymond Bailey Tom Helmore Vertigo VERTIGO, the Bit Players

by guest contributor Allen Hefner Kim Novak with Tom Helmore in Vertigo A movie as incredible as Vertigo (1958) is a collaboration of many ...

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Hitchcock Biographer Patrick McGilligan Discusses VERTIGO with John Greco

<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>by guest contributor John Greco</i></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF7MW8mtlG8AEiw16ZotH9r_0G4bm9HE1BQkgCmR8zdL9_5NORnvdoR79J1uUPG6oHiEiAQ1NmH-WKPb8cfLTJihUTkeyL480Z31rhGsXvqauBOOmsznpqI1FoSONrwYoheo3jXFF3w9yH/s1600/novak+and+hitchcock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF7MW8mtlG8AEiw16ZotH9r_0G4bm9HE1BQkgCmR8zdL9_5NORnvdoR79J1uUPG6oHiEiAQ1NmH-WKPb8cfLTJihUTkeyL480Z31rhGsXvqauBOOmsznpqI1FoSONrwYoheo3jXFF3w9yH/s400/novak+and+hitchcock.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /><span style="font-size: small;">J<i>ohn Greco of <a href="http://twentyfourframes.wordpress.com/" style="color: #990000;">Twenty Four Frames</a> recently interviewed award-winning biographer Patrick McGilligan, author of <u>Alfred Hitchcock: A Life in Darkness and Light</u> (Harper Collins, 2004). The focus of their dialogue was the director's mysterious and magnificent</i><i> </i>Vertigo<i>.</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /><a name='more'></a><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>John Greco</b> (<b>JG</b>): Where does <i>Vertigo</i> fall within your pantheon of Hitchcock films and films in general?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Patrick McGilligan</b> (<b>PM</b>): Honestly, I admire <i>Vertigo</i> more than I adore it but perhaps the reason for that is I am more inclined towards Hitchcock’s dark comedies with their playful humor -with major exceptions, I should say. Also, I have had the unfortunate experience, in recent years, of showing this film to undergraduates while teaching university film courses and have heard audible snickering in the audience during certain scenes, which isn’t true when you screen most of Hitchcock’s other accepted masterpieces. I think that is because there are some things about the film that can only be accepted by auteurists (the fact, for example, that it takes Scottie so long to recognize that Judy is/was Madeleine); you could say the same thing about the special effects for <i>The Birds</i> – brilliant then, somewhat dated now. And yet we fear the remake!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>JG</b>: How important was shooting the film in San Francisco to the film and Hitchcock?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk7Kf6ZfGxC8fcc7W7Ha7OHQU8OeVz_hmMDnoz5QgU-NlKkq2N2pTrB4oRML7fd1ceLlsO5LTh91nQXjozogoRVhiGFDiPA8HSYxI1R3kqjav3tnUiu40zVkeM5XuZEtMwNRNMwijQ4gJR/s1600/Palace+of+Fine+Arts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk7Kf6ZfGxC8fcc7W7Ha7OHQU8OeVz_hmMDnoz5QgU-NlKkq2N2pTrB4oRML7fd1ceLlsO5LTh91nQXjozogoRVhiGFDiPA8HSYxI1R3kqjav3tnUiu40zVkeM5XuZEtMwNRNMwijQ4gJR/s400/Palace+of+Fine+Arts.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Judy and Scottie and San Francisco's Palace of Fine Arts</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: small;"><b>PM</b>: San Francisco and the Bay area became increasingly important to Hitchcock after he bought a house up there during World War II and began commuting up on many weekends. It was part of his “Americanization,” though obviously, considering his accent and usual costume, never a completed process. The romance with the Bay Area really began with <i>Shadow of a Doubt</i>, which was a Hitchcock original tailored for that area, and it was a great pleasure for the director to imagine or (in the cases of <i>Vertigo</i> and <i>The Birds</i>) re-imagine European stories in his veritable backyard. Filming in the Bay Area, or even living there on weekends, was radically independent for Hollywood in the 1940s. Incidentally, I think this penchant is one of the things that makes Hitchcock a very intimate, personal director as well as a universal one. They now give <i>Vertigo</i> tours of San Francisco, I’m sure you know. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>JG</b>: <i> Vertigo</i> seems to have been a very personal film for Hitchcock. Scottie's obsession with the makeover of Judy into Madeline mirrors to an extent Hitchcock's own obsession with the making over of some of his leading ladies into his own vision of the icy blonde Hitchcockian ideal. Tippi Hedren, for example - true?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmCWElv1VUS_0-lTuwjbjfOsV6l5AQBGGOsVpeDaC9OzkpYNepi6sy0cxflN879rO4n9A9Pzdp7wIvwFT16PwM-yEFNYFVQ8jywMeODuFqhbMz0DjQTRxgtX3WEGepB1RFv9wMTvd3GJVc/s1600/kim_novak_spiral-french_twist_vertigo_1958.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmCWElv1VUS_0-lTuwjbjfOsV6l5AQBGGOsVpeDaC9OzkpYNepi6sy0cxflN879rO4n9A9Pzdp7wIvwFT16PwM-yEFNYFVQ8jywMeODuFqhbMz0DjQTRxgtX3WEGepB1RFv9wMTvd3GJVc/s200/kim_novak_spiral-french_twist_vertigo_1958.jpg" width="146" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An iconic twist</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: small;"><b>PM</b>: I don’t really buy this notion except very generally. Hitchcock’s career is full of different types of women, and not all the blondes are icy – Grace Kelly really isn’t, either in <i>Rear Window</i> or <i>To Catch a Thief</i>. I think it is a cliché about Hitchcock that is sometimes true and that he helped to promulgate as part of his self-publicity. At the same time, it is also true that, especially in the early days of the silent cinema, particularly in America, the blonde heroine was a fixture – the Mary Pickford type, whose looks photographed dramatically in black and white. Hitchcock was very aware of that tradition. Yet it is also true that Hitchcock liked to make over his leading ladies, picking out their costumes, consulting on their hair-dos, offering behavioral tips for scenes. So, I guess it is fair to say that Scottie’s make-over of Judy in <i>Vertigo</i> echoes (or prefigures) Hitchcock’s make- over of Tippi Hedren for <i>The Birds</i>, as long as it is understood that sometimes the make-overs had little to do with the icy blonde cliché, or that he did the same thing more subtly, often, with the male characters and actors.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>JG</b><i>: </i>Vera Miles was originally set to play Madeleine/Judy but due to delays in pre-production and her eventual pregnancy she was replaced by Kim Novak. Any thoughts of how Ms. Miles would have been in the dual role?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>PM</b>: Originally I think the part was tailored for Miles. Hitchcock had a yen for Miles and really tried to elevate her to a ‘name’ stardom. But Miles couldn’t play the part because of her pregnancy, and gradually the role was reworked, the script rewritten, for another type of actress, Kim Novak. James Stewart was really in favor of Novak, importantly, and so was Lew Wasserman. She really gives a stellar performance, although you almost can sense her squirming under Hitchcock’s not entirely satisfied direction. I think that gives the film a piquancy that wouldn’t have been there with Vera Miles, but it’s almost not fair to speculate. Ultimately Vera Miles would have played it differently, Hitchcock would have directed her differently, and the script would have been written differently.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>JG</b>: Kim Novak has been criticized over the years as being too lightweight an actress for the role. I, for one, think her lack of depth, her innocence, if you will, added a dimension that would have been missing with a more seriously trained actress. Does she hurt the film as some have said?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxqGpYf_lJ1btDJnjVPW9GMgIOGki6mlZohBNnwhNOnzUl3OCmj-HhWJoALhSNbT5ybGN56109qjMbt9tqhpvfe5Niu4haXXG_Qpmm3-7UhXXQs7p8dLf1EFl_VoMPZoehLii3HMXX1aqW/s1600/novak+vertigo+lombard+street.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxqGpYf_lJ1btDJnjVPW9GMgIOGki6mlZohBNnwhNOnzUl3OCmj-HhWJoALhSNbT5ybGN56109qjMbt9tqhpvfe5Niu4haXXG_Qpmm3-7UhXXQs7p8dLf1EFl_VoMPZoehLii3HMXX1aqW/s320/novak+vertigo+lombard+street.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mysterious 'Madeleine Elster'</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: small;"><b>PM</b>: I agree with you that Kim Novak adds rather than subtracts to the film. I’d say the first requisite for the character she plays is ‘mysteriousness.’ Neither Judy nor Madeleine is intended to have any depth, per se. For the ordinary moviegoer Novak is convincing and beguiling. For the serious moviegoer she is more: she overcomes all prejudices against her limitations while adding to the ‘subtext’ of the film. Hitchcock’s ability to mold the actress, to cast a spell over her, is part of the grand achievement of the film.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>JG</b>: Hitchcock's films were always filled with eroticism<i>. The 39 Steps </i>with the implications of the two handcuffed together, the kissing scene in <i>Notorious,</i> the afternoon tryst in <i>Psycho,</i> to name a few. In <i>Vertigo</i> it is implied, after Scottie saved Madeleine from drowning and took her back to his apartment, that she is naked (under the sheets), suggesting he most likely undressed her. Was Hitchcock playing out personal fantasies or fulfilling a need missing in his life?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhat5q0TJXrISIbZqbEEzGPhVMAAofGx0I6jUGTH4wNHlnDDdxTKpsFw013MG5tCvhTzk4XD_1ZqV3Ty3XtU-qwhtcWzZZQ-2n7zB1eCHl7hrBorwk_BY_RH2t-zNdo32mErbpKFkCNAvQt/s1600/Ernies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhat5q0TJXrISIbZqbEEzGPhVMAAofGx0I6jUGTH4wNHlnDDdxTKpsFw013MG5tCvhTzk4XD_1ZqV3Ty3XtU-qwhtcWzZZQ-2n7zB1eCHl7hrBorwk_BY_RH2t-zNdo32mErbpKFkCNAvQt/s320/Ernies.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gavin Elster and 'Madeleine' at Ernies</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: small;"><b>PM</b>: I certainly think that all the great directors play out their personal fantasies as well as fulfill needs missing in their personal lives. That is true of Hitchcock’s preoccupation with erotic symbolism, sexy actresses undressing before the camera, double entendre dialogue, and so on. At the same time it was part of his sophistication as well as his identification with his audience, that Hitchcock understood the ramifications of scenes that sometimes slipped by the censors, and that this quality in his films was enormously appealing and subversive to critics as well as ordinary moviegoers. One of the reasons the Hitchcockian sensibility can’t really be replicated by other filmmakers (despite many valiant efforts) is that it has so many components that are organic with him – his personality, his character, his life story - and yet work as part of his entertainment formula. The eroticization of scenes belongs to Hitchcock as much as the Macguffin or “the wrong man.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>JG</b>: Scottie is fanatical in transforming Judy into the image of the dead Madeleine, he is a man possessed. I found this to be one of James Stewart's most intense acting performances, maybe with the exception of some of his roles in Anthony Mann's westerns, his most extreme. He actually becomes less likeable as the film progresses.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div style="text-align: right;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKjewP8nQhfb0OveVRKyJzHrqKXi80sWVzcFpbNPL68C_Wb-pzU3SbGuVz0cW7OXWr4x-GiQahlhq7a-2E0sZ2gYQMKLkenanMPHi_DTXr0a2JRTtuLgbBVOIqHkiv5aE0KIemy83ra8yA/s1600/vertigo+in+vertigo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKjewP8nQhfb0OveVRKyJzHrqKXi80sWVzcFpbNPL68C_Wb-pzU3SbGuVz0cW7OXWr4x-GiQahlhq7a-2E0sZ2gYQMKLkenanMPHi_DTXr0a2JRTtuLgbBVOIqHkiv5aE0KIemy83ra8yA/s400/vertigo+in+vertigo.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"...a resurrection parable."</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: small;"><b>PM</b>: I think Scottie becomes pitiful as well as pitiable, which may be traced to Hitchcock’s Catholicism. (The whole story is a resurrection parable.) Stewart was a brave actor, willing to try anything and risk falling flat, and he had remarkable close collaborations with several of Hollywood’s top directors – Capra, Ford, Mann, besides Hitchcock. But he and Hitchcock had more of a true friendship and partnership; they were actual business partners on the four films they made together. When an actor lets himself go emotionally like Stewart does in <i>Vertigo</i>, or in the Anthony Mann films you mention – <i>even It’s a Wonderful Life</i> – apart from his considerable talent it shows his trust in the director.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>JG</b>: <i>Vertigo</i> was a critical and commercial failure at the time of its original release. Was the film too complex for audiences of the day to appreciate or was there another reason? It certainly has gained in stature in later years.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>PM</b>: Who knows? It could have been doomed by the advertising or release pattern. It may have done well overseas. It was certainly embraced by the French. It might be too strong to call it a failure – maybe a disappointment. I know that Hitchcock found fault with the film, even with James Stewart, not his performance, but with hindsight the director thought Stewart might not have had the necessary romantic appeal. But it’s a curious love story after all, and not the usual mystery or suspense, so American audiences in the 1950s may have been left scratching their heads. And much of what Hitchcock critics and scholars treasure about it – all the embedded auteurism – wouldn’t have been obvious to those moviegoers. I’m not sure it is obvious to audiences today. After all, while <i>Vertigo</i> wins over the critics and scholars, other Hitchcock films like <i>Rear Window</i>, <i>North by Northwest</i> or <i>Psycho</i> are more reliable as crowd pleasers.</span><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheFIt01WO-tLLn2zD6ZAtveriUq5xtVHglepLorBSDgu-XgHNVxvoA6U3AJMWatzQqraDmeBRQkaDspJwOK-pkappqFxQLCGTwyj5ac_KT6XPf0QE0bdW6wSnVb8ql3rSamr7-qURyze3b/s1600/Patrick_McGilligan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheFIt01WO-tLLn2zD6ZAtveriUq5xtVHglepLorBSDgu-XgHNVxvoA6U3AJMWatzQqraDmeBRQkaDspJwOK-pkappqFxQLCGTwyj5ac_KT6XPf0QE0bdW6wSnVb8ql3rSamr7-qURyze3b/s400/Patrick_McGilligan.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Biographer Patrick McGilligan</td></tr></tbody></table></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> ~</div><br /><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>Guest author <b>John Greco</b> has entertained a lifelong fascination with cinema and photography and has been blogging on classic film for about 3½ years at </i>Twenty Four Frames<i>. He recently launched another blog featuring his own photography (<a href="http://johngrecophotograpy.com/" style="color: #990000;">johngrecophotograpy.com</a>). Pat McGilligan’s <u>Nicholas Ray: The Glorious Failure of an American Director</u>, was published in July. <a href="http://twentyfourframes.wordpress.com/2011/08/05/interview-with-author-patrick-mcgilligan/" style="color: #990000;">Click here</a> for John’s interview with the author regarding this most recent biography.</i><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT53j16b-pwmkt7HV-Uysf8aZUAY8xU1SPdsjBI3cPuS542tIu9O6MrHWgMAPoBlg0yNT0LaRmZplM9QIS_UFPjkfCIpcTuz1CAtxN94TZ4He4PRm_s6cRAoCE1WK4bUDqHrER_YpycL8/s1600/Twenty+Four+Frames+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT53j16b-pwmkt7HV-Uysf8aZUAY8xU1SPdsjBI3cPuS542tIu9O6MrHWgMAPoBlg0yNT0LaRmZplM9QIS_UFPjkfCIpcTuz1CAtxN94TZ4He4PRm_s6cRAoCE1WK4bUDqHrER_YpycL8/s400/Twenty+Four+Frames+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div>

A Month of Vertigo Alfred Hitchcock James Stewart John Greco Kim Novak Patrick McGilligan San Francisco Vertigo Hitchcock Biographer Patrick McGilligan Discusses VERTIGO with John Greco

by guest contributor John Greco J ohn Greco of Twenty Four Frames recently interviewed award-winning biographer Patrick McGilligan, author ...

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An Inconsequential Yarn

<span id="goog_932988669"></span><span id="goog_932988670"></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">by guest contributor Steven DeRosa</span></i></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCgPE0fsRPY8R6hm6vUeismJ9RLViYNQGoghEjgoCpgD_DbiUks2ZkDOQaRwvj4RV3CngSDg2uPp4PCTxSQnfSaFkaW50bWtWli1gN6YXbNFJBmL0ZJbFRZNFunhDhlAsuGNDLPYjnInpF/s1600/good+finale+graphic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCgPE0fsRPY8R6hm6vUeismJ9RLViYNQGoghEjgoCpgD_DbiUks2ZkDOQaRwvj4RV3CngSDg2uPp4PCTxSQnfSaFkaW50bWtWli1gN6YXbNFJBmL0ZJbFRZNFunhDhlAsuGNDLPYjnInpF/s400/good+finale+graphic.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 15pt 0.0001pt 42pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“They say every true San Franciscan has one foot on a hill and the other in the past.”—Kate in Samuel Taylor’s <i>The Pleasure of His Company</i></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Since <i>Vertigo</i> is a film that garners such personal reactions, I wanted to begin this piece on something of a personal note. It’s not a matter of whether one likes the film or doesn’t.  For those who truly connect with <i>Vertigo</i>, it’s because it resonates with something inside of them. I was in high school when I saw <i>Vertigo</i> for the first time and the build up to seeing it was intense. It was only a few months before that I had begun to seriously study the master’s work, having been introduced to <i>The Lodger</i>, <i>The 39 Steps</i>, <i>Sabotage</i>, <i>Notorious</i>, <i>Rear Window</i>, and <i>North by Northwest</i>. Having become hooked on Hitchcock through that line up in school, I began my own exploration of every Hitchcock film I could get my hands on and by reading the corresponding chapter from Donald Spoto’s <i>The Art of Alfred Hitchcock</i> afterward. Then I’d re-watch the film over again, etc. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /><a name='more'></a><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Given the laudatory opening paragraphs on <i>Vertigo</i> in Spoto’s chapter, as well as its massive size in relation to chapters on other films, I knew to expect something very special. When I finally did see <i>Vertigo</i>, I was swept away by its beauty, its movement, the emotional punch it delivered, and by its haunting images and score. Over the next five years or so, I would watch it once a month—yes, I was that obsessed (I would perform the same monthly ritual with <i>Rear Window</i> and <i>North by Northwest </i>as well). To this day, I still get goose bumps during certain sequences, and on occasion well up by the final moments of the film.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">After a few years of immersing myself in my own Hitchcock education, I had become increasingly curious about his collaborators, particularly his screenwriters. I was of course familiar with the countless statements Hitchcock made about how for him the most creative part of the filmmaking process was the writing and preparation stage, and that the actual process of shooting the picture was boring. Statements like this fed my curiosity to know how much of an impact his writers had on the finished films. What did they bring to the table? What contributions did they make beyond the dialogue? I found myself becoming more and more fascinated by these writers who had sat beside Hitchcock, not merely observing him create and taking down dictation, but who’d earned a seat in the inner sanctum and engaged with him in creating these films. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg12Dv5d1hEpwVf-ChIYDmBCG3xKn91C4l864anpn6TYotN2hxvNnPV4eEXP8MdhJyVGE_WHhMVgyeRLsS_4rMHz43xzLE9mp7F3y1-FRn-VU2NtdoK4olObpBHJ9g5K4md6wXkAVaWekiG/s1600/Vertigo+Taylor+1+b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg12Dv5d1hEpwVf-ChIYDmBCG3xKn91C4l864anpn6TYotN2hxvNnPV4eEXP8MdhJyVGE_WHhMVgyeRLsS_4rMHz43xzLE9mp7F3y1-FRn-VU2NtdoK4olObpBHJ9g5K4md6wXkAVaWekiG/s320/Vertigo+Taylor+1+b.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Screenwriter Samuel Taylor</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: right;"></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Of the Hitchcock screenwriters of the 1950s and 1960s, Samuel Taylor was not the most prolific. Although he directed a film after having written only two screenplays, Taylor did not adapt quite as well to the Hollywood lifestyle as say John Michael Hayes, Ernest Lehman, or even Joseph Stefano. Each of these writers found their niche—Hayes as adapter of “difficult” material, Lehman as adapter of road-show musicals, and Stefano brought his special touch to the small screen as principal writer for <i>The Outer Limits</i>. Sam Taylor however was more at home writing plays in Maine and then seeing them through to production on the New York stage. Yet, in spite of a short list of screenwriting credits in comparison to say Lehman or Hayes, Taylor played a significant role in shaping and refining Hitchcock’s most dreamlike film.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><u><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">An Unconventional Screenplay</span></i></span></u></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgTWEpckP4HUK87NjtG28E6o7t09SU3zY_n2SatAtOkuusDH8d8xRUyRA2Y9sCT7pWtdX2jJYukaWBLOWpZC4LHJfEuu8NDkQCVGTpXUm3N6zhVZEVYkw6HIDZ3M8apLeBJ5G2S0CD0UPY/s1600/opening+credits.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgTWEpckP4HUK87NjtG28E6o7t09SU3zY_n2SatAtOkuusDH8d8xRUyRA2Y9sCT7pWtdX2jJYukaWBLOWpZC4LHJfEuu8NDkQCVGTpXUm3N6zhVZEVYkw6HIDZ3M8apLeBJ5G2S0CD0UPY/s320/opening+credits.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">By conventional screenwriting standards, the screenplay for <i>Vertigo</i> could be regarded as a failure. It contains so many “no-nos,” cheats, and just plain writing crutches that most writers would never attempt to get away with all in the same script—flashbacks, a dream sequence, and a lengthy voiceover where a character composes a letter <i>on screen</i> in order to explain much of the plot. But these devices, to name just a few, are exactly what make <i>Vertigo</i> work. The illusory nature of the movie required an unconventional script.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">By the end of 1956, Hitchcock had already been through three writers in adapting the Boileau and Narcejac novel <i>D’Entre les Morts</i>. Playwright Maxwell Anderson had a go at a first draft which Hitchcock found lacking in mood, direction and structure. Hitchcock then turned to his old friend Angus MacPhail who knocked out a very rough outline—what today might be called a step-sheet. Structurally, the MacPhail outline closely resembles the finished film and Hitchcock hoped he would be up to the task of roughing out a construction or treatment from which Anderson would write a second draft. However, MacPhail opted to bow out gracefully. Hitchcock then turned to Paramount contract writer Alec Coppel, who had provided the text for one of the threatening notes used in <i>To Catch a Thief</i> when a re-take was needed after principal photography. Coppel worked closely with Hitchcock in fashioning a screenplay that followed MacPhail’s structure and now included most of the visual set pieces that Hitchcock envisioned for the film. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">With Coppel’s draft, Hitchcock now had a mysterious, moody love story with elements of the supernatural, and a big twist to be revealed in the final scene—the supernatural elements were merely a hoax conceived to cover up a murder. Hitchcock returned to Anderson to finesse the dialogue and clarify the characters’ motivations, but the writer turned him down. As was custom when he needed a new writer, Hitchcock reached out to his go-to agents, one of which was Kay Brown, who on learning the film was to be set in San Francisco immediately suggested her client Samuel Taylor.  </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbqafi3qSNa1bzo77JGw0Qh9NbMawUCoo9irVuyPTnwwkLtft5tuw1LEW_syKwT9_ppRNg37UF2VUpPPjUsA8PDF7wX9Lu_3GSh_IY3YOFLB2ZJm_5VUHaclEemtvijGz3IjBvlPDOA13S/s1600/SF+hill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbqafi3qSNa1bzo77JGw0Qh9NbMawUCoo9irVuyPTnwwkLtft5tuw1LEW_syKwT9_ppRNg37UF2VUpPPjUsA8PDF7wX9Lu_3GSh_IY3YOFLB2ZJm_5VUHaclEemtvijGz3IjBvlPDOA13S/s400/SF+hill.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><u><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Hitchcock’s New Writer</span></i></span></u></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Although born in Chicago, Samuel Taylor grew up in San Francisco and attended the University of California, Berkeley, so he was already quite familiar with both the flavor and history of the City by the Bay. In fact, at the time Kay Brown suggested Taylor to Hitchcock, he was busy writing his play <i>The Pleasure of His Company</i> which was also set in San Francisco. No doubt, this appealed to Hitchcock who longed to film the city for the big screen (an early treatment for <i>I Confess </i>and an aborted adaptation of David Duncan’s <i>The Bramble Bush</i> had both been set in and around San Francisco).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Taylor</span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"> was sent the Coppel script and Hitchcock’s notes and after some initial uncertainty, he accepted the assignment and met with the director. “When I read the screenplay that had been written, I was quite confused because I couldn’t follow it at all,” recalled Taylor. “When I saw Hitchcock after I read the script, I knew what the problem was. I said to him, ‘It’s a matter of finding the reality and humanity for these people. You haven’t got anybody in this story who is a human being—nobody at all. They’re all cut-out cardboard figures.’”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">This was exactly what Hitchcock wanted and needed to hear. When writing for Hitchcock, you were hired because you brought something to the table that Hitchcock, as producer, felt the project needed. In the case of <i>Vertigo</i>, it was the emotional story and characters that needed work at this point. Taylor told Hitchcock he would need to invent a character to help make Scottie real. To Taylor’s surprise Hitchcock said, “Fine.” And with very little discussion about it, he went off and created Midge. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoQfSagBoFIi44JLz3mwMbN3ZjT23tTvmm-7sl8yBb7PsTYkeykAg3LDciU3sE-_2dyou73Z_Nmunk3wsKc8R-LGMUEjaM_RMXmxdrFlZMlr4xjQDPa7D3zQsMT8vSFpSM_mxx0jfyIgAP/s1600/midge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoQfSagBoFIi44JLz3mwMbN3ZjT23tTvmm-7sl8yBb7PsTYkeykAg3LDciU3sE-_2dyou73Z_Nmunk3wsKc8R-LGMUEjaM_RMXmxdrFlZMlr4xjQDPa7D3zQsMT8vSFpSM_mxx0jfyIgAP/s400/midge.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">According to Taylor, once he invented Midge, the whole picture fell into place for him.  “All the Midge scenes were mine,” recalled Taylor. “He didn’t know anything about Midge until he read the script and liked it.” Midge provided Taylor the opportunity to give Scottie more back story and allowed him to eliminate any scenes with Scottie’s police colleagues. Midge became the cynical voice of reason—much like Stella in <i>Rear Window</i>—not believing in any of the Carlotta Valdes nonsense. Taylor also added to the San Francisco flavor of the story by changing Madeleine’s dead ancestor from the novel’s Pauline Lagarlac to Carlotta Valdes, drawing on the local Spanish history. The Carlotta Valdes back story—that she was of Spanish-American ancestry, had been raised on a mission settlement, and that at a young age was a cabaret entertainer who became the kept woman of a wealthy, powerful man who abandoned her after having his child—added a social/sexual subtext that had been lacking in the previous scripts. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfskzjCignYXMkSChgkTcI-RgsVrruGveWx5NreckzEfuL1QswHHHIWKg8lITwiu3eV1nBcB5zC5Zf6nIdP5QUCs84MGM3QNWcVsLQY4Lzd_XwyGbGgLzMjfLCnyvOtgj-fu__vwrEIYkr/s1600/pop+leibel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfskzjCignYXMkSChgkTcI-RgsVrruGveWx5NreckzEfuL1QswHHHIWKg8lITwiu3eV1nBcB5zC5Zf6nIdP5QUCs84MGM3QNWcVsLQY4Lzd_XwyGbGgLzMjfLCnyvOtgj-fu__vwrEIYkr/s400/pop+leibel.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">To speak even more about that history, Taylor added the character Pop Leibel. The Pop Leibel Taylor recalled from his childhood ran a candy store instead of a bookshop. Taylor knew the bookshop atmosphere well from having worked in a similar one while in college. With the invention of Pop Leibel, Taylor introduced a phrase that added to the script’s subtext. “Power and freedom” are used three times in the film significantly—first by Elster to Scottie, then when Pop Leibel refers to the man who left Carlotta but kept her child, and finally by Scottie to Judy. All the talk about “wandering” that pervades the movie also came from Taylor. And with these changes, Taylor helped Hitchcock layer the script into something very special.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And yet Taylor found that something was still missing. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He told Hitchcock that it was lacking a “Hitchcockian thing.” And then it hit him. Rather than saving the big reveal for the ending, they should let the audience in on the secret—that Judy was the woman who had pretended to be Madeleine. “The whole first act is deception,” said Taylor. “But once you get past the death and actually have destroyed the man, you’ve got to tell the audience that this was a plot. It can’t be a surprise. You can’t go all the way to the end of the picture.” </span></span><br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglj8Vfd1Te3EMBB4vdqBQOTuFS3U71GSHHkoIAPbdb-StD9QuIXiTvlmuihN_luB71aN0f1Pel52XvT9d5LP31r1k53vpcWNOhCGkR5QVq1HSi5Ftp9TwaZEaZlzExIPi6syl61F9kznPc/s1600/reveal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglj8Vfd1Te3EMBB4vdqBQOTuFS3U71GSHHkoIAPbdb-StD9QuIXiTvlmuihN_luB71aN0f1Pel52XvT9d5LP31r1k53vpcWNOhCGkR5QVq1HSi5Ftp9TwaZEaZlzExIPi6syl61F9kznPc/s400/reveal.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Hitchcock agreed. Thus the flashback showing Judy reaching the top of the mission tower where Elster was waiting with his dead wife and Judy’s letter writing scene were written. Taylor’s instinct was exactly correct and followed the Hitchcock suspense principle in providing the audience with information. Yet, in retrospect, Taylor felt that the letter writing scene was weak. “I think, Hitchcock and I goofed,” remembered Taylor. “After the Mozart scene, we should have said, ‘What about the girl? This is the time to tell the audience what is happening.’ And we should have gone back to Gavin Elster. We shouldn’t have forgotten about him and the girl that cavalierly.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Taylor</span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"> said years later that the letter writing scene was inept; pointing out that he also hated resorting to it in the film adaptation of his own play <i>Sabrina Fair</i>, which he adapted with Billy Wilder. Taylor suggested that the “argument scene” between Judy and Gavin Elster should not have been played offstage. “You would get a much stronger feeling about the girl if she had to face Gavin Elster and say, ‘You’re going away, and without me.’”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtNgTmw4nd-0QRsYInrMI8FtwodJfJc8w70DE_YzLhfIS7CHycAGr-E5FBoL6fjvLOenXGR-89PqXTAGIha8mATLrx7kmvAYmEmXzk7XSIrDQmE2uUMIs1U2_sTWhbJTeNBv7onLv8qn-T/s1600/scottie+and+judy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtNgTmw4nd-0QRsYInrMI8FtwodJfJc8w70DE_YzLhfIS7CHycAGr-E5FBoL6fjvLOenXGR-89PqXTAGIha8mATLrx7kmvAYmEmXzk7XSIrDQmE2uUMIs1U2_sTWhbJTeNBv7onLv8qn-T/s400/scottie+and+judy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Taylor</span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"> reasoned that primed with this knowledge before hand, the audience would have a much greater sense of apprehension, anxiety, and foreboding at watching Scottie wander around San Francisco looking for Madeleine. On this point, I couldn’t disagree more. The audience needed to meet Judy from Scottie’s point of view <i>before</i> Hitchcock could cut away to hers. Furthermore, Hitchcock’s concern was with Scottie and Judy. There was no dramatic reason to see Elster or Midge again. As the world of the film became smaller—i.e. fewer and fewer characters—the situation between Scottie and Judy intensified. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Perhaps Taylor’s Monday morning quarterbacking was due to the criticism <i>Vertigo</i> received on its initial release. Nevertheless, even with its disappointing performance at the box office, Hitchcock had enjoyed working with Taylor enough to invite him back to collaborate on the screenplay for <i>No Bail for the Judge</i>—after Ernest Lehman turned him down. Sadly, Taylor’s script was victim to the director’s move from Paramount to Universal in 1961 and it remained unproduced. Taylor and Hitchcock would remain friends socially, and the writer came back to help Hitchcock with a rewrite on the troubled <i>Topaz.</i></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><u><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Inconsequential Material</span></i></span></u></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I’ve always felt that Samuel Taylor best articulated Hitchcock’s approach to film and to working with writers when he said that constructing a film was like putting together a mosaic. And for Hitchcock, that mosaic was comprised of his favorite scenes, but when he didn’t have a good writer, there were pieces missing in that mosaic. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Taylor</span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"> also understood that to Hitchcock, plot was secondary to story, observing that while the plot of <i>Vertigo</i> may be farfetched, the story is honest and true. “Hitchcock was a very emotional man,” recalled Taylor. “And having a good actor in Stewart, and having a good situation of a man driven almost to madness by what has happened, he was able to infuse it with enormous emotion. He preferred telling an inconsequential yarn, but bringing to it all the artistry he had.” </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><span style="font-size: small;"> <span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Taylor</span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"> was not denigrating his own work when he referred to <i>Vertigo</i> as “an inconsequential yarn.” To put it in other terms, one could say that the director and his writers were constructing their yarn out of—if not smoke and mirrors—mirrors and some carefully placed fog. The film was constructed and designed to be Hitchcock’s ultimate love story, and in that respect, it succeeded on every level.</span></span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHKjVn8deOZe0YqhlwazrSvk1Eb9iBE3qT1-sQlfztA3OFYIwwke8wmWEomh756ILHsIyc1GeQLEUdEPW3qvDEJX12WillRtQ_8qB0iRkPc5xw5BxmApuR2flouyeewD6AOENWkhwfDwfx/s1600/finale+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHKjVn8deOZe0YqhlwazrSvk1Eb9iBE3qT1-sQlfztA3OFYIwwke8wmWEomh756ILHsIyc1GeQLEUdEPW3qvDEJX12WillRtQ_8qB0iRkPc5xw5BxmApuR2flouyeewD6AOENWkhwfDwfx/s400/finale+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Samuel Taylor is quoted from a talk he gave at Pace University (my alma mater) in June 1986, and from the BBC’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Omnibus</i> (1986).</span></li><li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">For more on the structure of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vertigo</i> screenplay see <a href="http://youtu.be/iu6tI8nCslI" style="color: #990000;">The Hitchcock Kiss</a>.</span></li><li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">For a complete account of the screenplay’s development, I recommend Dan Auiler’s <i>Vertigo: The Making of a Hitchcock Classic.</i></span></span></li></ul><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">~ </span></span></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF5aGuc7m8LmI9ymHHj0qdgqG2An1tSob9X94Iq7y7iTsfJadXw6v_Yi99iA1QUbh337BfaQ801-2ba3RUBc-iFOMNnweSKHlmjP1333N4vN0kgEK2_gp3LAIXUnJlrsnw6cW5x5qLz5DL/s1600/Steven+DeRosa+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF5aGuc7m8LmI9ymHHj0qdgqG2An1tSob9X94Iq7y7iTsfJadXw6v_Yi99iA1QUbh337BfaQ801-2ba3RUBc-iFOMNnweSKHlmjP1333N4vN0kgEK2_gp3LAIXUnJlrsnw6cW5x5qLz5DL/s320/Steven+DeRosa+3.jpg" width="275" /></a></td></tr><tr style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steven DeRosa</td></tr></tbody></table><i><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Steven DeRosa</span></b><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"> is the author of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Writing-Hitchcock-Collaboration-Alfred-Michael/dp/0983205604/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1326502456&sr=8-1" style="color: #990000;">Writing with Hitchcock</a>. He has lectured on screenwriting and film at NYU's Hitchcock Centennial Conference, The American Museum of the Moving Image, Film Forum, and New School University, and has been a contributing writer to the Writers Guild of America Awards. Steven can be seen on-screen in the documentary, </span></i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The Master's Touch: Hitchcock's Signature Style</span><i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">, available on Warner Home Video's 50th Anniversary Blu-ray of </span></i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">North by Northwest</span><i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">, as well as in featurettes on Paramount's forthcoming Blu-ray of </span></i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">To Catch a Thief</span><i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">. Steven's website is </span></i><a href="http://blog.writingwithhitchcock.com/" style="color: #990000;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Writing with Hitchcock</span></a><i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">. He has a <a href="https://www.facebook.com/writingwithhitch" style="color: #990000;">facebook page</a> of the same name and can be found on Twitter as <a href="https://twitter.com/#%21/WriteHitchcock" style="color: #990000;">@WriteHitchcock</a>...</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"></ul>

A Month of Vertigo Alfred Hitchcock Samuel Taylor Steven DeRosa An Inconsequential Yarn

by guest contributor Steven DeRosa “They say every true San Franciscan has one foot on a hill and the other in the past.”—Kate in Samuel Ta...

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VERTIGO: More than just the streets of San Francisco...

<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>By guest contributor Michael Nazarewycz </i></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS4fLHjEo3dXvCUAPDz4hBdJHw1O5Dt6BF8M-Y_iRiCpCNnoRJuWLBRfKloMRurmuY4J5lq9gwedZdeSb7aPRrFFttZJbJk6yYMDjs3g8JAI0RSMUPefxMSFNjzJ1qbwknhbnKS4YrKnM-/s1600/SF+1+b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS4fLHjEo3dXvCUAPDz4hBdJHw1O5Dt6BF8M-Y_iRiCpCNnoRJuWLBRfKloMRurmuY4J5lq9gwedZdeSb7aPRrFFttZJbJk6yYMDjs3g8JAI0RSMUPefxMSFNjzJ1qbwknhbnKS4YrKnM-/s1600/SF+1+b.jpg" /></a></span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: small;">It’s easy to take for granted a film’s location.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Some settings, of course, are mandatory to support the historical accuracy of a film; consider the importance of location in a war picture or biopic.  Other settings might not be important for historical accuracy per se, but are critical to the believability of a film.  For example, Oliver Stone’s <i>Wall Street</i> (1987), title aside, never would have worked anywhere else but in New York City, given the high-finance, decade-of-decadence aspects of the story.  Beyond instances like these, though, it’s easy for filmmakers to pigeonhole movie locations into high-level descriptions like big city, sprawling country, hot resort, or cozy hamlet.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But where do you set your film when you need more than geography?  Where do you set your film when the location is less about sense of place and more about state of mind?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br /><a name='more'></a><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">If the film is <i>Vertigo</i>, Alfred Hitchcock’s 1958 masterpiece about a man who might be crazy and a woman who might be possessed, then the setting can only be San Francisco.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Early in the film, the fact that the setting is San Francisco is of little, if any, consequence.  The story opens with John “Scottie” Ferguson (James Stewart), a San Francisco police detective, chasing a criminal on foot across the rooftops of the city; a uniformed officer assists him in the chase.  Rooftop foot chases are nothing new in movies, so this action could have occurred in any major city. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_yR3yesUWPrywosnMHZmfyeH0DV4Uy_Pq5wOPfCfQR0flEyZChBAw46fv19GoASl5ioGDO7zojZFKrmbF1WEjx8cTTR8uup6cgxApZ0OoRKamgWLmMfmhGoGTcTiQVx34A-YN5qKJgTIU/s1600/Vertigo+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_yR3yesUWPrywosnMHZmfyeH0DV4Uy_Pq5wOPfCfQR0flEyZChBAw46fv19GoASl5ioGDO7zojZFKrmbF1WEjx8cTTR8uup6cgxApZ0OoRKamgWLmMfmhGoGTcTiQVx34A-YN5qKJgTIU/s400/Vertigo+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;">The scene ends after Scottie slips on a slanted roof and finds himself dangling from a gutter.  The uniformed officer ends his pursuit of the criminal to help Scottie, but slips on the roof tiles and plummets past Scottie to his death.  The ordeal triggers within Scottie a case of acrophobia – the fear of heights – and he is forced into early retirement.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It’s at this point that it would be easy to look at the setting of San Francisco and say, “Of course!  San Francisco has hills, and buildings on hills.  A man suffering from acrophobia surely would be tortured by living in that city.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Maybe, but that’s no more true than if he were living in New York with its towering skyscrapers, or in Denver with its mile-highness.  Let me make this clear now – Scottie’s acrophobia is nothing more than a plot-point.  The film is called <i>Vertigo</i>, not <i>Acrophobia.</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Not long after the tragic event, Scottie is contacted by an old college friend, Gavin Elster (Tom Helmore).  Gavin hires Scottie to follow his wife, Madeleine Elster (Kim Novak), spinning a tale of a woman whose recent behavior has been peculiar to the point that Gavin thinks his wife might be possessed by a ghost.  Gavin wants Scottie to get to the bottom of what his wife does with her days – things that conflict with what she tells him she has done and where she has gone, things that rack up too many miles on the odometer.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And so it begins: not just Scottie’s pursuit of the truth, and not just his descent into madness, but the revelation of the core reason why San Francisco is vital to this film; so vital, in fact, that to have shot it anywhere else would have made it one of Hitchcock’s lesser works.  The city, its places and its layout, are all physical representations of the inner-workings of Scottie’s mind.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Pd4jwu8BGP3fBM6PD34-eaK_1RK8zZZSgVo8cHSn51sC_B1s_de7YCqVHVIeUH_4wzzM-Clob4NMdKE8f_w_yxj2Fyju4Ve7TPkA26YW-nPwl7yYZvae8MXNwMhgzA0h_OEaHI5Mz97K/s1600/Vertigo+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Pd4jwu8BGP3fBM6PD34-eaK_1RK8zZZSgVo8cHSn51sC_B1s_de7YCqVHVIeUH_4wzzM-Clob4NMdKE8f_w_yxj2Fyju4Ve7TPkA26YW-nPwl7yYZvae8MXNwMhgzA0h_OEaHI5Mz97K/s400/Vertigo+3.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;">Hitchcock’s shrewdness with setting is established immediately after the rooftop chase.  Scottie is in the apartment of old friend and former love Midge (Barbara Bel Geddes), who has three large windows that overlook San Francisco, and through these windows, we get a clear sense not just of how high Scottie and Midge are but, because of the city’s legendary hills, we get a sense of how far down other things are … how far down Scottie can fall.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I mentioned before that this film is not called <i>Acrophobia</i>, it’s called <i>Vertigo</i>.  Acrophobia is a fear of heights.  Vertigo is a dizzy, confused state of mind.  The difference is an important one.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After meeting with Gavin, Scottie begins his surveillance of Madeleine by waiting for her to leave her apartment so he can tail her car.  This is, of course, what any good detective would do, but by following her, he is, in effect, being led by her.  He doesn’t know it, but as his curiosity becomes obsession, every move he makes is not proactive by him, but reactive to her.  And where does she lead him on this first encounter?  Down a labyrinthine path, with several turns and slow weaves through traffic, coming to a stop in an alley.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Of course, streets and turns and traffic and alleys aren’t unique to San Francisco, but its hills are.  San Francisco, with heights ranging from sea level to 900+ feet (that’s 90+ stories) above sea level, has a unique combination of population density and radical height differences – a combination you won’t find in another city.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYIWNMjc05PIXOb4w0N2xinF_atTeLHaXAxOwGcAib2Ua5Y08FKHWc-xIEFv0-6YnONckJTi2ZZOsn4PkXWMpG9F8K9JlFbAH_iCYjzkVPse9lbTbRbx5nV6DW3_P4NZ8bDCP7DUFQWxhs/s1600/Fillmore+St.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYIWNMjc05PIXOb4w0N2xinF_atTeLHaXAxOwGcAib2Ua5Y08FKHWc-xIEFv0-6YnONckJTi2ZZOsn4PkXWMpG9F8K9JlFbAH_iCYjzkVPse9lbTbRbx5nV6DW3_P4NZ8bDCP7DUFQWxhs/s400/Fillmore+St.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">With that, the most important word in the description of Scottie’s first surveillance of Madeleine is “down.”  Scottie’s first physical trip down the steep, hilled streets of San Francisco in pursuit of the truth about Madeleine is his first psychological step down the steep, perilous path of obsession with (and madness over) this beautiful and mysterious woman.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After purchasing flowers, Madeleine continues to lead Scottie, and her next stop is the cemetery at Mission Delores.  This location is critical, too.  It isn’t just a cemetery, nor is it just a cemetery adjacent to a church.  It’s a cemetery that requires you to navigate through a church to get to it.  And the grave she visits requires a walk along a winding path through the cemetery.  And all of it – the grave at the cemetery next to the church – is a downhill drive away from the flower shop.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The further down the hills of San Francisco Scottie follows, the further down the path of obsession and madness Madeleine leads.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And continues to lead, this time to the Palace of the Legion of Honor – the art museum where she stares at the painting of the woman we later learn is Madeleine's great grandmother.  This time, the drive is relatively flat, but the walk from the car to the museum is a long one.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">When it comes to visiting these places, the drives and walks aren’t short and quick.  They are twisting and turning and long and eventual, just as Scottie’s descent into madness isn’t a short and quick plummet; it, too, is twisting and turning and long and eventual.  Whether on paths though alleys (the darker side of Scottie’s soul?) or churches (Scottie’s own shot at redemption?), every physical step brings him closer to Madeleine – a closeness that only feeds his obsession.  </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVQ9xoUYAhwMBvvoawKvcs3-XBhHMcfmQsvU-LqpQjBICz0bzgItAI_Zw74CSjHe3PfW6KIfm99JCR-XVmagmbvHZWdo471pVQXkQcfntQn_QXtlgFYKlzIU9mohXzhVPS9oW-Wx1NV6Zy/s1600/Vertigo+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVQ9xoUYAhwMBvvoawKvcs3-XBhHMcfmQsvU-LqpQjBICz0bzgItAI_Zw74CSjHe3PfW6KIfm99JCR-XVmagmbvHZWdo471pVQXkQcfntQn_QXtlgFYKlzIU9mohXzhVPS9oW-Wx1NV6Zy/s400/Vertigo+4.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;">Madeleine’s last stop is the McKittrick Hotel.  Again, the ride is flat, but something different happens.  Scottie watches Madeleine enter the hotel and pass by a second-story window.  But to enter the hotel, he must climb a steep flight of stairs (which he does), and to get to the second floor, he must climb another steep flight of stairs (which he does again).  Yes, these climbs lend to the ongoing effort and Scottie’s willingness to surrender to Madeleine, but when he gets to the second story room, she’s not there.  And that’s because she’s not up … she’s down.  Climbing won’t get Scottie closer to Madeleine – only descending (into madness) will.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The next day, Madeleine leads Scottie from her apartment straight to the museum (which is still a downward drive, representing Scottie’s ever-growing psychological descent), and from the museum, she leads him to Fort Point, which sits at the base of the Golden Gate Bridge at San Francisco Bay.  Down, down, down Scottie continues to go, both physically and mentally.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Fort Point is at sea-level, and there is no going lower than that in San Francisco … unless you go into the Bay itself, which Madeleine does, with a jump that appears to be a suicide attempt.  Of course, Scottie follows to rescue her.  Short of donning scuba gear, Scottie has reached the end his descent – he can go no lower physically, nor can he go any lower mentally.  He appears to be Madeleine’s, lock, stock, and sea-level barrel, but Hitchcock makes sure to prove that to us the next day.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span id="goog_2062155625"></span><span id="goog_2062155626"></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsBPIqZEXSMMYGAakfcchVZP_XI6XAlqM_m8YELB_njSvgqvVspygIaXrfHOWnTKcurtVlvmi-elNv-WjID8GflddWqrF2XTC-FexTr2cN-8oes8UtkKwowFFD5nSRLYAcMC0A1AtrsbY6/s1600/scottie+saves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsBPIqZEXSMMYGAakfcchVZP_XI6XAlqM_m8YELB_njSvgqvVspygIaXrfHOWnTKcurtVlvmi-elNv-WjID8GflddWqrF2XTC-FexTr2cN-8oes8UtkKwowFFD5nSRLYAcMC0A1AtrsbY6/s400/scottie+saves.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: small;">After saving Madeleine, Scottie brings her to his townhouse (the exterior of which is always shot by Hitchcock at a downward angle), but she soon slips out while he is on the phone.  The next day, Scottie resumes his surveillance, and Madeleine leads him on the longest journey yet through the heart of the city, with more turns and steeper hills, only to end up back at his place.  This is Hitchcock at his best in this film; this is Hitchcock telling us that Scottie, in order to find himself, must travel long and winding and down.  And then Hitch gets even better.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">When Scottie meets Madeleine at his place, neither have specific plans, so they decide to “wander” together, but before they go, when she is in her car and he is on the outside talking to her, she mentions to Scottie that he left his home door open.  This seems so random and meaningless on the surface, but that door represents the last chance Scottie has of reclaiming himself.  If he runs to the door and runs inside the house and closes the door behind him, never to see Madeleine again, he can begin his psychological ascent back to normal.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivV16p1ps8FBt7EY8Rh_gFHx3VLdPTStiB6xuBKwQkRxCADgSbO63nbHZNObR0ThiSxEqwBQOafKutIKtdugzk6LE54ViFvGTuy3EV11ckiNFH2aTNKvOfY1l5Btd6xqYXmktgFaGe5Sty/s1600/Vertigo+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivV16p1ps8FBt7EY8Rh_gFHx3VLdPTStiB6xuBKwQkRxCADgSbO63nbHZNObR0ThiSxEqwBQOafKutIKtdugzk6LE54ViFvGTuy3EV11ckiNFH2aTNKvOfY1l5Btd6xqYXmktgFaGe5Sty/s400/Vertigo+6.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;">Instead, he rushes to close the door; and as the viewer you know, right there, that he has pushed all of his chips into the center of the high-stakes Madeleine table, closing the door to his past self and going all-in with her, no matter how far down all-in might be.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Their next destination is another long and winding drive, this time to see the Big Basin Redwoods.  And while these mighty, centuries-old trees might suggest something to do with height, I’m more intrigued by the fact that she drove the car; Scottie is no longer in control of his own destiny at this point.  By giving into his obsession to her, he is merely along for the ride … her ride.  It’s also on this trip when they kiss for the first time.  Deal sealed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The rest of the film is cinematic history.  If you have seen it, you know.  If you haven’t, I hope I haven’t spoiled anything for you.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In three short days, Scottie not only fell in love with Madeleine, he became obsessed with her to the point of sacrificing his own sanity to be with her.  And therein lies the key to the importance of San Francisco to <i>Vertigo</i>.  Where other cities in other films might represent cookie-cutter locations or easily-recognizable landmarks in otherwise two-dimensional stories, San Francisco offers something no other city could for this story or this film: a sprawling and beautifully architectured representation of one man’s soul.</span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif9_00fV90cB2o1bw5veD4kKger-hoXwurousfN7APHATBTUoo35rytzM_pQecyW27Bcn-24ZXgjRPg7O1wL3x4fBoeerLBt9KYxB7KVi64FNuZGYwB6rD2vUuXto4flHMk7KaCoZJSSY/s1600/Coit+Tower+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif9_00fV90cB2o1bw5veD4kKger-hoXwurousfN7APHATBTUoo35rytzM_pQecyW27Bcn-24ZXgjRPg7O1wL3x4fBoeerLBt9KYxB7KVi64FNuZGYwB6rD2vUuXto4flHMk7KaCoZJSSY/s1600/Coit+Tower+3.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">~ </span></i></span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdiBkmPvlUgEZxsCdafE3914OfrvNjji1MSZ0VRjYbndNRwT0HYFLXchLOaOid5c6imobhmLsEVWkueyaMvI17-vo8qPH7rAKeG6wfa0eHAxlzmiyJFPrPZTwMtvy56zFQgX52D33cPjk/s1600/Scribe+Hard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdiBkmPvlUgEZxsCdafE3914OfrvNjji1MSZ0VRjYbndNRwT0HYFLXchLOaOid5c6imobhmLsEVWkueyaMvI17-vo8qPH7rAKeG6wfa0eHAxlzmiyJFPrPZTwMtvy56zFQgX52D33cPjk/s200/Scribe+Hard.jpg" width="195" /></a></div><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><b>Michael Nazarewycz</b> is a film buff and writer who spent his childhood watching old black-and-whites and cheesy horrors on UHF.  He's been hooked ever since, and readily admits that he'll watch anything anyone would consider a motion picture, from a nickelodeon silent to a digital epic.  Michael is an Editorial Contributor for US-based <a href="http://manilovefilms.com/author/scribehard/" style="color: #990000;">ManILoveFilms</a>, a Writer for UK-based <a href="http://www.filmoria.co.uk/author/michael-nazarewycz/" style="color: #990000;">Filmoria</a>, and he has just launched a new blog, <a href="http://scribehardonfilm.wordpress.com/" style="color: #990000;">ScribeHard on Film</a>, where he will share more personal thoughts on movies, as well as perform in-depth analysis of the classics.  Michael invites you to follow him on Twitter <a href="http://twitter.com/scribehard" style="color: #990000;">@ScribeHard</a>, where he Tweets mostly about ... what else? ... movies.</span></i></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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A Month of Vertigo Alfred Hitchcock Michael Nazarewycz San Francisco Vertigo VERTIGO: More than just the streets of San Francisco...

By guest contributor Michael Nazarewycz It’s easy to take for granted a film’s location. Some settings, of course, are mandatory to support ...

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