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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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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The Costumes of VERTIGO

<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>by guest contributor Christian Esquevin</i></div><br /><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><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/AVvXsEhnDG8jqtfHXB5Lm7p0iALTRwxL05OvGK25z-HKQkTi4V9K8QmZwpyLfffJjkhJxcZCruU4u15_IFFChH9-eWeSMx21nfxSS0-RnjzNYhsCrlJy33L3eBNkcf_AM9SWU0eZRo1oHIL4Ac1o/s1600/Christian+Vertigo+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnDG8jqtfHXB5Lm7p0iALTRwxL05OvGK25z-HKQkTi4V9K8QmZwpyLfffJjkhJxcZCruU4u15_IFFChH9-eWeSMx21nfxSS0-RnjzNYhsCrlJy33L3eBNkcf_AM9SWU0eZRo1oHIL4Ac1o/s400/Christian+Vertigo+7.jpg" width="392" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“<i><span style="font-size: small;">I</span> don’t wear suits, and I don’t wear gray. Another thing, I don’t wear black pumps</i>,” said Kim Novak to Edith Head, the costume designer for <i>Vertigo</i>. “I don’t care what she wears as long as it’s a gray suit," Hitchcock retorted when Edith reported this conversation to him. Thus began the creative tension over the costuming of <i>Vertigo. </i>But in a clash of opinion over the visual aspects of a Hitchcock film, Hitch always prevailed. Indeed, he had the colors already in mind along with the costume types he wanted even before pre-production for <i>Vertigo</i> began. Kim Novak wore the gray suit with the black pumps - her iconic look in <i>Vertigo. </i>“I had never had a director who was particular about the costumes, the way they were designed, the specific colors,” said Novak about Hitchcock later.</span><br /><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><div class="MsoBodyText" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiMTzXKNcrnteOlU7OVUqvzJQAJPifcD2uK5Db8Ehf1tn5lurb7WPNGXxlODaIVx0fc9VkZuSWlO1R2Sb6QWSTnZTX9S1zNjGHVWBoR4Xrt76PuzRGo97h8Sun5QotVRLCGJqT8rgkZ_AZ/s1600/Christian+Vertigo+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiMTzXKNcrnteOlU7OVUqvzJQAJPifcD2uK5Db8Ehf1tn5lurb7WPNGXxlODaIVx0fc9VkZuSWlO1R2Sb6QWSTnZTX9S1zNjGHVWBoR4Xrt76PuzRGo97h8Sun5QotVRLCGJqT8rgkZ_AZ/s400/Christian+Vertigo+1.jpg" width="326" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: small;">The story theme within <i>Vertigo </i>is based on obsession, and the costume looks for the Madeleine/Judy character are a key symbol of that dysfunction. The “clash” that Kim Novak had with Hitch and Edith Head over her costumes was nothing new in Hollywood, but Alfred Hitchcock’s very specific clothing demands in type and color speaks volumes about <i>Vertigo </i>being for him a very personal film. The combination of the costumes and look of Kim’s Madeleine, the psychological tension caused by the character Scottie’s clash of opposite impulses towards Madeleine/Judy, and the ultimate futility of his possession of her, were all deeply embedded in Hitchcock’s psyche. As far as the costumes being good fashion, it didn’t matter that Kim’s pumps were black. They would have looked better in gray or brown, or as she wanted, in tan to match her nude-toned hose. Wearing flesh-toned pumps was an old trick she’d learned from Marlene Dietrich, a device to make your legs look longer. The gray suit was in a neutral and sedate color. Hitch believed it revealed how the Madeleine character felt about herself. Edith Head often designed gray suits for her film costumes, and wore them regularly believing that it gave her a non-competitive look when working with the stars. But Marlene Dietrich had worn a gray suit for Hitch in <i>Stage Fright,</i> as had Doris Day in <i>The Man Who Knew Too Much, </i>and as Tippi Hedren would wear in <i>The Birds. </i>So the gray suit and black pumps touched something within Hitchcock, and along with the blonde hair of his leading actresses, denoted for Hitchcock the “woman of mystery,” the cool and subtle beauty with a blazing inside.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><table 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/AVvXsEgEbssWbfcato9KYXmGseUFUB2SIKdcSS3PImblbL0aEPn3xjPaVx3EBwyUz8F5l2fKlzLbeTdEsFnK_nDLtIpkzaEvzroq0afJVsvkGTuZPwVIo3Gi7uqxygLWTI5zoUqhr5pyA3ABTk62/s1600/Christian+Vertigo+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/AVvXsEgEbssWbfcato9KYXmGseUFUB2SIKdcSS3PImblbL0aEPn3xjPaVx3EBwyUz8F5l2fKlzLbeTdEsFnK_nDLtIpkzaEvzroq0afJVsvkGTuZPwVIo3Gi7uqxygLWTI5zoUqhr5pyA3ABTk62/s320/Christian+Vertigo+3.jpg" width="316" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: small;">The color of the costumes and the sets had a symbolic meaning for Hitch as well. The gray represented modesty. When Jimmy Stewart as Scottie first sees Kim playing Madeleine, she wears a black gown but is covered in a green opera coat at Ernie’s Restaurant. The wallpaper of the restaurant forms a red background that vibrates with the green in these color opposites. For some reason green represented death for Hitchcock. Madeleine’s car is also green. It’s in the following scene where Scottie begins tailing Madeleine that she first wears the gray suit.  Scottie’s former love interest Midge is dressed in warm colors and soft fabrics – symbols of her nurturing proclivities towards Scottie. After Scottie saves Madeleine from drowning, she is dressed, albeit in his robe, in a vibrant red. Here the color evokes life and full-bloodedness. Then in a later scene when Scottie and Madeleine drive to the shore, she is dressed in black and white – a black dress with black gloves and a white coat. The black and white in this costume denotes not the un-ambiguous nature of her character, but rather the duality of her persona. As an added fillip, her black chiffon scarf blows freely with the ocean wind, perhaps a symbol of mystery, or one of doom.</span><br /><br /></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/AVvXsEhAkUl33X6yDEzP7BI3Srcu0KAVFI2pUGBvAwXklKmjD09RHKhi1Fhk2zHYRHQk-7kcKqu40MiYTkjr948UdczEKdNlqrQ5Ljuj8s4p2c-N0SSs57raa_ZxOThaHeYTeD4hZ1EgZ7GgSWyd/s1600/Christian+Vertigo+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAkUl33X6yDEzP7BI3Srcu0KAVFI2pUGBvAwXklKmjD09RHKhi1Fhk2zHYRHQk-7kcKqu40MiYTkjr948UdczEKdNlqrQ5Ljuj8s4p2c-N0SSs57raa_ZxOThaHeYTeD4hZ1EgZ7GgSWyd/s400/Christian+Vertigo+4.jpg" width="306" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: left;"></div><span style="font-size: small;">As the character Judy, Kim Novak is costumed by Edith Head to appear dowdy. She wears green – a green sweater made bulky by being worn over a blouse. The blouse is green with white polka-dots and with a peter-pan collar turned over the sweater. The look is accentuated by an unflattering hair style. The total look is purposefully unappealing. This look has several purposes: to define the character of Judy in contrast to Madeleine’s; to appear that she is “hiding” her identity; and to provide a stark difference with Madeleine in order to dramatize her make-over. When they go on a date and later go shopping for her clothes, she is dressed better but still very simply. The make-over itself is a key dramatic moment in the film, Judy’s reluctance, Scottie’s obsession in turning her visually into Madeleine, complete with gray suit and blonde hair, provide dramatic tension and then release at the conclusion of the scene. This scene is accomplished through various film techniques that dramatize her unveiling as the re-incarnated Madeleine – making her entrance bathed in a pale and ethereal green light and leading to a climactic kiss. Her gray suit, here as before, tightly accentuates her curves. In its contradictory fashion, it is sedate but seductive.</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span id="goog_2073969721"></span><span id="goog_2073969722"></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVa8ic5NnDHlLZlqcX84quGPesAjJcgW1EXueQu781YxVeF-A-Vj9HmQoduHUxKj5OkqKXbVloEK90LO7IoiUplPCiwxBsDsx4jnvZAZn3XORS03ALTxRshnwbHN26yqxB6P1vTwErnVPK/s1600/Christian+Vertigo+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVa8ic5NnDHlLZlqcX84quGPesAjJcgW1EXueQu781YxVeF-A-Vj9HmQoduHUxKj5OkqKXbVloEK90LO7IoiUplPCiwxBsDsx4jnvZAZn3XORS03ALTxRshnwbHN26yqxB6P1vTwErnVPK/s320/Christian+Vertigo+5.jpg" width="268" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: small;">The nature of the costumes, and the make-over, reverberated not only with the character’s roles, but with the actor’s and the director’s deep psychology. Hitch exercised his darker side in molding an actress into his own obsession, while directing Jimmy Stewart to do the same. Kim Novak as Judy wondered why Scottie couldn’t love her as she was, just as Kim Novak really felt about Hollywood in general. But the gray suit worn with the black pumps allowed Kim Novak to not only be in character, but by taking her out of her comfort zone in dress enabled her to more effectively be an actress that plays a part of a character that is pretending to be someone else.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAICkjFdaOmA_GzWkfyo1oYCfKdnuXLV5QKIa5oQWoQrdpgrZ0r9K5SIEMtKn_3Ys6qUWhn2snnsJPoxy8JPpfEgCpPZBGveWmSxhImFI4_63hTe4Hj7e1bFwdSPEUfrBwr1sQ9KvaeJHH/s1600/Christian+Vertigo+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAICkjFdaOmA_GzWkfyo1oYCfKdnuXLV5QKIa5oQWoQrdpgrZ0r9K5SIEMtKn_3Ys6qUWhn2snnsJPoxy8JPpfEgCpPZBGveWmSxhImFI4_63hTe4Hj7e1bFwdSPEUfrBwr1sQ9KvaeJHH/s400/Christian+Vertigo+6.jpg" width="273" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-size: small;">Hitchcock must have recognized his own dilemma in creating <i>Vertigo. </i>At the climactic end, Scottie demonstrated his tragic disappointment with Judy, “He made you over just like I made you over,” he says accusingly to Judy. Only he (Elster) had made her over first, and thus Scottie was only re-creating another man’s fantasy. And perhaps worse, he accused her of being “an apt pupil,” which she hadn’t been for him. That demonstrated to Scottie, and served the film’s underlying theme, that the pursuit of an empty ideal is futile. For Hitchcock, it was a deeply ingrained motif, one that would keep repeating itself as he tried to mold one Hitchcock blonde after another into his fantasy, only to have her leave him. With the character Scottie, this creation fantasy was played out not as a means of domination, but rather one where once his fantasy woman was created, he could surrender and succumb to her. But we know that that too would have been another fantasy - another twirling and spiraling movement creating a feeling of vertigo.</span><br /><br /></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><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/AVvXsEjridZmwCUn7PwD8Fqi4aqIoVrwDqqi5vHbrFG5BHH2nxpekyeQ2DMla3vhliArJ8oYk4iCt5wrDPywlEWZvJUn1vqSn2VGoBSJwTVOWzFGzVr-vefZyk3SL_vcAkxYRguV-7M8sHPDBxm7/s1600/Christian+Vertigo+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjridZmwCUn7PwD8Fqi4aqIoVrwDqqi5vHbrFG5BHH2nxpekyeQ2DMla3vhliArJ8oYk4iCt5wrDPywlEWZvJUn1vqSn2VGoBSJwTVOWzFGzVr-vefZyk3SL_vcAkxYRguV-7M8sHPDBxm7/s400/Christian+Vertigo+8.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Vertigo </i>received several Oscar nominations, including Best Art Direction. Edith Head was not nominated for Best Costume Design, which was won by Cecil Beaton’s florid <i>Gigi. </i>And she had just been snubbed for her outstanding costumes for Grace Kelly in Hitchcock’s <i>To Catch a Thief. </i>It seems that a fabulous gray suit as character-delineating costume was too subtle to pick up awards. No matter, she had already won five of her eight Oscars by then. Worse, Hitch wasn’t nominated either for this iconic classic.</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;"></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/AVvXsEjLsyM8dY0N7CjW_gQYIkRpxaoV1M0HWHTF9PVJ02BghgVHXGtgL5_Ao4bfcEImUN7vrFyeRfj08z0dxzRX22ZkIhbY6l0JKzsZdyt6AFp8W4IJnxByIRkrVzU2iWE-e7cO8qTZhl_G13yu/s1600/Christian+Vertigo+9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLsyM8dY0N7CjW_gQYIkRpxaoV1M0HWHTF9PVJ02BghgVHXGtgL5_Ao4bfcEImUN7vrFyeRfj08z0dxzRX22ZkIhbY6l0JKzsZdyt6AFp8W4IJnxByIRkrVzU2iWE-e7cO8qTZhl_G13yu/s320/Christian+Vertigo+9.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">~</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Christian Esquevin</b> is the author of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Adrian-Silver-Screen-Custom-Label/dp/1580931936/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1325219252&sr=8-1" style="color: #990000;">Adrian: Silver Screen to Custom Label</a>, published by the Monacelli Press in 2008. The book is about the life and career of MGM’s famed Golden Age costume designer Gilbert Adrian and his subsequent fashion business. Christian also produces the <a href="http://www.silverscreenmodiste.com/" style="color: #990000;">Silver Screen Modiste</a> blog covering classic film fashion.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">Christian was born in Marseille, France, and moved with his French parents to Los Angeles when he was four. Los Angeles had a small but close-knit French community at the time that provided the social context for his youth in 1950s and 1960s L.A. One of his great-aunts was the vendeuse for lingerie at the art-deco palace Bullock’s Wilshire. Another one of Christian’s great-aunts had been the Head Cutter-Fitter for the old RKO Studio Wardrobe Department in the 1930s, where she worked under Walter Plunkett and supervised the fabrication of the costumes for Ginger Rogers, Katharine Hepburn, Lucille Ball, Anne Miller, and the other RKO stars. Her knowledge and skill in making period costumes was an influence on Plunkett’s specialty in that area. While she had retired by the time Christian arrived in L.A., she used to dress him and his mother and other French-heritage participants in traditional French folk costumes for the Disneyland holiday parades and other ceremonial occasions. She bequeathed him her collection of costume sketches and photographs that started his interest in classic film costume design.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">Christian has a Master’s degree in Library Science from USC and is the Director of the Coronado, California, Public Library. Christian’s book on Adrian was the result of several years of research and collecting. The lack of an “Adrian archive” and the disposal of much of the early film studios’ material heritage has fueled his efforts to preserve at least one aspect of film history. He is currently working on a combined biography of the costume and fashion designers Walter Plunkett, Irene (Lentz Gibbons) and Helen Rose. He is a collector of original costume design sketches and has organized several exhibits featuring film costume design based on his collection. Christian launched Silver Screen Modiste in 2009 in order to cover the history, heritage, and fashion influence of classic Hollywood costume design. He has written about Edith Head in several posts and considers her work with Alfred Hitchcock to be among her finest.</span></i><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggyBRU2H20aDYIfprOL3KuRJvO9REKNitdGOYfhRFmDyojkhmNipNPIU8-FkpRWsoZ6cjyfJgeu45LQMGZLslrAovcyQZwFlS_PHEl-Jt2IlLBNei0NChF15lcvVoq8NbfZIr56rVOXbA/s1600/silver+screen+modiste.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="104" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggyBRU2H20aDYIfprOL3KuRJvO9REKNitdGOYfhRFmDyojkhmNipNPIU8-FkpRWsoZ6cjyfJgeu45LQMGZLslrAovcyQZwFlS_PHEl-Jt2IlLBNei0NChF15lcvVoq8NbfZIr56rVOXbA/s320/silver+screen+modiste.JPG" width="320" /></a></div></div></div>

A Month of Vertigo Alfred Hitchcock Christian Esquevin Edith Head James Stewart Kim Novak Vertigo The Costumes of VERTIGO

by guest contributor Christian Esquevin “ I don’t wear suits, and I don’t wear gray. Another thing, I don’t wear black pumps ,” said Kim No...

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Bernard Herrmann - Composer Of Haunting Music and Treacherous Dreams

<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>by guest contributor Whistlingypsy </i></div><br /><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOzF0A5oQmKbye4S5l40RMzi1S22tRf1tKR3yQT52Z3GC3cYEUP853Rq1rdK8G3xerqvqv_NWIKqarXh9DhWrgjyBeOspMPJ0Aq8LZX-JHp3tPM5Ntvj66wSFa-Mck6sTkKueGRM5MhtA/s1600/1aABernardHerrmann1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692811207392367874" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOzF0A5oQmKbye4S5l40RMzi1S22tRf1tKR3yQT52Z3GC3cYEUP853Rq1rdK8G3xerqvqv_NWIKqarXh9DhWrgjyBeOspMPJ0Aq8LZX-JHp3tPM5Ntvj66wSFa-Mck6sTkKueGRM5MhtA/s320/1aABernardHerrmann1.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0 12px 12px 0; width: 309px;" /></a><br /><i>Just as my fingers on these keys</i></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>Make music, so the self-same sounds</i></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>On my spirit make a music, too.</i></div><div style="text-align: right;">~ <span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">excerpt from </span><i style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Peter Quince at the Clavier</i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> by Wallace Stevens</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>"I don’t think Mozart’s going to help at all."</i></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: right;">~ Midge in <i>Vertigo</i></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">British composer Ralph Vaughn Williams, who greatly influenced young Bernard Herrmann and for whom he had a great admiration, took the subject of film score composition seriously and in encouraging his contemporaries to do the same said, “I believe that the film contains potentialities for the combination of all the arts such as Wagner never dreamed of, and I would therefore urge those distinguished musicians who have entered the world of the cinema to realize their responsibility in helping to take the film out of the realm of hack work and make it a subject of a real composer.” Music constitutes an essential part of the film experience, yet we often fail to acknowledge its importance to the way we perceive film. This is not to say that music is comprehensible only to those who have formal training; to the contrary the ability to appreciate music is a capacity we all share. The often overlooked genius of composing for film in general, and of Bernard Herrmann specifically, is an ability to work within the parameters of music theory while exploiting the viewer's instinctive knowledge of musical conventions, creating a lush musical landscape perfectly suited to the emotional content of the image captured on film.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /><a name='more'></a></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Composer and conductor Bernard Herrmann was born on June 29, 1911 at New York City’s Lying In Hospital, the eldest of three children born to Abraham and Ida Herrmann. Benny, as he was known to his family, suffered a major health crisis at an early age in the form of St. Vitus’s Dance, which he barely survived. He spent much of his time as a boy and a young man reading biographies of artists and composers, learning musical works through his father’s collection of 78rpm recordings <img alt="" border="0" height="320" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692811316891839074" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUE6eqeSxpgDsBTEF1yAjFU36TuyqAOhiRy2vGILKV9T8JsBZwGsHVfLKFxSuPG-y_Oxgrf-KmgEzapDH9fxkWGoamGitHo2kQDmsioITBVQ0X8wu02CseB3poB38gmusuDx7kElumNPA/s320/1aABernardHerrmann2.jpg" style="float: right; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 0pt 12px 12px; width: 152px;" width="243" />and attending live performances of the New York Philharmonic at Carnegie Hall. His literary discoveries through the New York Public Library included the <i>Treatise on Orchestration</i> by Hector Beriloz (he was familiar with the composer’s <span style="font-style: italic;">Symphonie Fantastique</span> and later claimed the book convinced him to become a composer). Herrmann wrote many small-scale works as a teenager, most of which remain unpublished. He studied music at the Juilliard Graduate School, and at the age of twenty he formed the New Chamber Orchestra of New York.<br /><br />He joined the Columbia Broadcasting System in 1934 where David Ross, CBS’s top announcer, asked Herrmann to compose music for his poetry reading series. Herrmann’s setting for <span style="font-style: italic;">La B</span><span style="font-style: italic;">elle Dame Sans Merci</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"> </span>(a favorite poem at the time) so impressed CBS executives that he was given a job conducting and six years later became Chief Conductor of the CBS Symphony Orchestra. Through his many and diverse projects for CBS, in 1938 Herrmann was selected composer-conductor for <i>The Mercury Theatre on the Air</i>, which brought him to the attention of Orson Welles. The young director left no room for negotiation in his meetings with RKO executives concerning his choice to score his film, and he insisted Herrmann should receive a competitive salary despite his inexperience, “If he’s good enough to do my score, he’s good enough to get the best price.”<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK1FRrJz3Ksir3QtIA2enzRqsqbptADjyDaA0Q30b9ysUftxO5IEw4z0QtNW5qD1_1DI6ntxGYSWBDtUtNpOGSAxu_oLT-3gmkRr1uQ4YWHhm-39U4NFfmp6k7ESmdoIMBGVFpOv4imyM/s1600/Welles+and+Herrmann+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK1FRrJz3Ksir3QtIA2enzRqsqbptADjyDaA0Q30b9ysUftxO5IEw4z0QtNW5qD1_1DI6ntxGYSWBDtUtNpOGSAxu_oLT-3gmkRr1uQ4YWHhm-39U4NFfmp6k7ESmdoIMBGVFpOv4imyM/s320/Welles+and+Herrmann+2.jpg" width="276" /></a></div>Herrmann was no snob about cinema, he was familiar not only with American films and composers but also with their European counterparts, but he was well aware of the obstacles in composing for film. A film composer often completed scores in as little as two or three weeks, rarely had time to do his own orchestration, and once the music was written and conducted had little to say about the sound levels or dynamics of the score in the finished film. Herrmann was confident, however, that working with Welles would be different and it was with no small excitement that he announced his leave of absence to go to Hollywood. His career as a composer for film was demanding and rewarding, in addition to his outstanding scores for <i>Citizen Kane</i> (1941) and <i>The Magnificent Ambersons </i>(1942), he earned his reputation for glorious music on films such as <i>Jane Eyre</i> (1943), <i>Hangover Square</i> (1945) and <i>The Ghost and Mrs. Muir</i> (1947), all of which were about to bring him to the attention of another Hollywood genius, Alfred Hitchcock.<br /><br />The sometimes variable nature of film composition often left the composer without work and Herrmann wrote the score, the first of two "television operas," for a 1954 television adaption of Dickens's classic holiday story. His original compositions for television also included <i>The Twilight Zone</i><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>from 1959 through 1964, for which he composed the original theme as well as scores for seven episodes (at least three of which were included as part of the Syfy Channel's New Year's Day marathon). His work for <i>The Alfred Hitchcock Hour</i> from 1963 through 1965 included original compositions for seventeen episodes.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><object height="359" width="485"><param name="movie" value="https://www.youtube.com/v/H6W_MSxnPAw?version=3&hl=en_US&rel=0"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="https://www.youtube.com/v/H6W_MSxnPAw?version=3&hl=en_US&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="359" width="485"></embed></object></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Bernard Herrmann's "Concerto Macabre," <i>Hangover Square</i></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />Much has been written regarding the turbulent end to the collaboration between Bernard Herrmann and Alfred Hitchcock, both from the composer’s and the director’s perspective. Herrmann and Hitchcock were, for most of their eleven years of collaboration, friends as well as associates and Steven C. Smith, author of <u>A Heart At Fire’s Center</u>, observes, “The rapport between the two was strong from the start.” The Hitchcocks often played host to the Herrmanns; Benny and Lucy were invited to spend the weekend at Hitchcock’s secluded Bel Air home, where days were spent in leisurely conversation and evenings spent enjoying Alma’s superb cooking.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiHR5I1R3U9pf-KFcUE8CswIgi4S9qfkvljaXvo2gqRx4OReNcZ5I3o3fFp1TohTW2ENDYZ9D0Rla-JuYbbt7tHReDkSb3xASAmHbhyZft_Ihnr_9ThkPXn8how6kCmi_vRsJTYWJswck/s1600/hitchcock+and+herrmann+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiHR5I1R3U9pf-KFcUE8CswIgi4S9qfkvljaXvo2gqRx4OReNcZ5I3o3fFp1TohTW2ENDYZ9D0Rla-JuYbbt7tHReDkSb3xASAmHbhyZft_Ihnr_9ThkPXn8how6kCmi_vRsJTYWJswck/s320/hitchcock+and+herrmann+2.jpg" width="234" /></a></div>Jack Sullivan, author of <u>Hitchcock’s Music</u>, suggests the director’s relationships with his composers were often passionate, and as often troubled, in part because the director was "intoxicated by and knowledgeable about music.” Hitchcock's music and sound notes for <i>Vertigo</i> were more specific than on past projects, but what finally emerged as Herrmann’s film score is very different from what Hitchcock had planned. The film’s original title, <span style="font-style: italic;">From Among The Dead</span>, was a reference to the French novel on which the story is based, and Herrmann’s composition was to be supplemented by passages from a lost score that had haunted the director for decades.<br /><br />Hitchcock had seen <span style="font-style: italic;">Mary Rose</span>, a dramatic tale of lost love regained written by J. M. Barrie, during the play’s London run in 1920 and became enthralled by the music of Norman O'Neill.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGO28CkdNePKhUtOI7YTTv0KY1qsCRoqqGkml6ocOHQ59SQanPQDF-2es2Yfio9KW82Am6nkw8s3j5hjEj6Cr7qzj9U53QOSlec40v8G25MnVg12LUDA3NUd0mN89thuqo0pkk3tZ5J6c/s1600/herrmann+conducts+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGO28CkdNePKhUtOI7YTTv0KY1qsCRoqqGkml6ocOHQ59SQanPQDF-2es2Yfio9KW82Am6nkw8s3j5hjEj6Cr7qzj9U53QOSlec40v8G25MnVg12LUDA3NUd0mN89thuqo0pkk3tZ5J6c/s320/herrmann+conducts+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><i>The Musical Times and Singing Class Circular,</i><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"> </span>Volume 62 dated March 1, 1921, described the composer and his work for <i>Mary Rose</i> as follows: “A dreamer of dreams and a mystic, Norman O’Neill has the power of expressing in his music the ethereal world in which he dwells. His flights of fancy, intangible though they are, touch a responsive chord in the hearts of the imaginative. . . .The ‘Mary Rose’ call continued to haunt the ear with gentle insistence long after it had reached echo-land.” Hitchcock was especially struck by 'the Call' connected with the heroine's disappearance, he later remembered the sensation as "celestial voices, like Debussy's <i>Sirenes nocturne</i>." Hitchcock twice failed to uncover the music, which he had also intended to use as part of the <i>Rebecca</i> film score, and as usual he deferred to Herrmann with memos and notes reflecting his confidence in the composer, "Mr. Herrmann may have something to say here" and "All of this will naturally depend upon what music Mr. Herrmann puts over this sequence."</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></div><div face="Verdana,sans-serif" style="text-align: center;"><object height="359" width="485"><param name="movie" value="https://www.youtube.com/v/E5Y7mbfS5r8?version=3&hl=en_US&rel=0"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="https://www.youtube.com/v/E5Y7mbfS5r8?version=3&hl=en_US&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="359" width="485"></embed></object></div><div face="Verdana,sans-serif" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Esa-Pekka Salonen and the Los Angeles Philharmonic, Debussy's "Sirenes nocturne"</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />If there is truth in the notion that music is the language of the inexpressible; Bernard Herrmann’s film score for <i>Vertigo</i> has given a voice to an ordinary man who finds himself in extraordinary circumstances. Herrmann’s main title sequence intentionally avoids an identifiable melody, exploits unpredictable rhythmic changes and flirts with tonal ambiguity. Kathryn Kalinak, author of <u>Settling The Score</u> observed, "The combination of violins and tubas played in alternately ascending and descending arpeggiated chords (played in succession rather than simultaneously)" and moving in contrary motion creates an asymmetry (if you will) of sound keeping the viewer continually off guard musically. Herrmann's main title music is heard first, but the musical effect in combination with Saul Bass's visual imagery in the opening credits reinforces the feeling of vertigo. The visual acts as counterpoint to the music; the spiraling images create a visual vortex in the same manner the music creates a spatial vortex and the viewer enters the world of the film suspended between two possibilities. Film criticism often invites the amateur “to see into” the life of a film, which results in as many interpretations of dramatic themes and visual cues as there are viewers. Film music makes a distinction between the life experienced by the characters and the life viewed by the audience.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span id="goog_150159566"></span><span id="goog_150159567"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgffgMiJHmdpQq54wolT32s51Bn9jSEmVfZO_yWlGXRk0-fiktrDIPjOah_lXEu7CeZLPIrT7TdVAIyT8lGpftU3U1tjdlPabNCb5H1sWunRbuqI0o1VkLyks0RVq4oswX4ATZfQaWEshA/s1600/Stewart+hangs+b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgffgMiJHmdpQq54wolT32s51Bn9jSEmVfZO_yWlGXRk0-fiktrDIPjOah_lXEu7CeZLPIrT7TdVAIyT8lGpftU3U1tjdlPabNCb5H1sWunRbuqI0o1VkLyks0RVq4oswX4ATZfQaWEshA/s1600/Stewart+hangs+b.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />The classical film score can often combine <span style="font-style: italic;">nondiegetic</span> music, music heard by the audience but not experienced by the characters, and <span style="font-style: italic;">diegetic</span> music, music heard as part of the world in which the characters move and live. The two instances in which diegetic or “live” music occur in <i>Vertigo</i> are scenes of emotional significance for Midge and Scottie. The first occurs after a bit of magical thinking on the part of Hitchcock, when Scottie is inexplicably delivered from hanging precariously between life and death. The scene opens on a cozy domestic setting, the man and woman could be husband and wife, could be brother and sister. We learn about both through their comfortable exchanges and through the use of music. John-O, as she calls him, and Midge share a past but appear uncomfortable in their present relationship. Her choice of music, an <span style="font-style: italic;">Overture by </span><span style="font-style: italic;">J. C. Bach</span>, and her taste in contemporary furniture slyly hint that she is comfortable making brief visits to the past while living very much in the present. He is uncomfortable sitting in her Eames style chair and tells her the music is the cause of his vertigo (all important cues in the events that will soon engulf Scottie). The second, and perhaps more significant, occurs in the use of <i><span style="font-style: italic;">Mozart’s 34th Symphony</span> </i>as “a rope from heaven” to draw Scottie from his abyss of acute melancholia with guilt complex.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcKULmIfmVoPicvrIXw_WcbMqmiYxCFSYEE1Gt42zSWDtYbu-TGnQdAyWrciWknlv3yMMUOW4QfDzNAj_tNq-w1dnzLUQYdbTVbRdbfr9uAUJlMj9v1rjDiMDx-NA2gUPall7xmilkhYE/s1600/midge+and+scottie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcKULmIfmVoPicvrIXw_WcbMqmiYxCFSYEE1Gt42zSWDtYbu-TGnQdAyWrciWknlv3yMMUOW4QfDzNAj_tNq-w1dnzLUQYdbTVbRdbfr9uAUJlMj9v1rjDiMDx-NA2gUPall7xmilkhYE/s400/midge+and+scottie.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Musical therapy was first used after World War I in an attempt to reach veterans suffering from profound mental trauma, and Scottie's musical therapist has told Midge that Mozart is the boy for him (Author and physician Oliver Sacks relates in <span style="font-style: italic;">Musicophilia: Tales of Music and the Brain</span> not only is music haunting, irresistible and unforgettable, but "music occupies more areas of our brain than language does and humans are essentially a musical species"). Scottie responds to Midge, following her with his eyes and turning his head in her direction, but we can't help but agree with Midge that Mozart isn't going to help at all.<br /><br />James Stewart’s Scottie is half enthralled to possibility, but remains half captive to reality. A man no longer content with his passivity in the face of life’s acting on him; he is trapped in a sort of tenacious, immaterial fantasy rendering him incapable of action. In his ability to capture the ineffable quality of this character’s waking nightmare, Herrmann essentially created a film score that can be heard on two levels simultaneously. His use of leitmotifs reminiscent of both Wagner’s <span style="font-style: italic;">Tristan and Isolde</span> and Berlioz’s<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">Symphonie Fantastique</span>, share thematic similarities but are by no means derivative. Herrmann is here demonstrating his comprehension that some members of his audience will recognize the reference to these musical passages, while all will understand the emotional content of his music (an equivalent can be found in the screenwriter who includes lines of poetry by John Keats which reference the Romantic era against which the film is set. Those familiar with Keats’s life will understand the specific reference; those unfamiliar with Keats’s life will hear the beauty of the poet’s words).<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWqLDczLa6WhX3ggvxkXTVyD3HQz6L4lhEX3TAn32awLWaRWOZ8UTD7i4naxhr85CAc8FaUsSXMuRr2cAE8EaXGe3gB2ptjqgpjEjUiAfnLUxqrUK_ixIbTHdZ8zqonPsfg_OhHvDbT5s/s1600/scottie+and+madeleine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWqLDczLa6WhX3ggvxkXTVyD3HQz6L4lhEX3TAn32awLWaRWOZ8UTD7i4naxhr85CAc8FaUsSXMuRr2cAE8EaXGe3gB2ptjqgpjEjUiAfnLUxqrUK_ixIbTHdZ8zqonPsfg_OhHvDbT5s/s400/scottie+and+madeleine.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Bernard Herrmann has been called "Hitchcock's Maestro," and while he might have been uniquely suited to capture the spirit of the dark and troubling tales the director brought to the screen, his work before the famed collaboration would establish his reputation. His affinity for the Romantic era, equally the composers as the poets, his "pastoral poetic gloom" and artful mourning of that which is irrevocably lost can all be heard in the hauntingly similar <span style="font-style: italic;">Portrait of Jennie</span> (1948) for which he composed the theme song but was not credited. An observation regarding <i>Vertigo</i> highlights the intrinsic nature of Herrmann's score in the film's storytelling: close your eyes and listen to any passage and be immediately transported to locations and scenes in the film. The true power of Herrmann's score is in the music's ability to be heard independently from Hitchcock's images (the dream fades, the music lingers). Esa-Pekka Salonen, conductor of the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra, recognized the art of Bernard Herrmann's film music, performing and recording many of Herrmann's compositions. <span style="font-style: italic;">Scene D’Amour</span> is the moving heart of a poignant film portrayal of a man suspended between action and despair, death and life, love and obsession, themes worthy of any Romantic era composer.<br /><br /><i>In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song</i><br /><i> Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong</i><span style="font-style: italic;">.</span><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>~ excerpt from <i>Piano</i> by D. H. Lawrence.</div><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><object height="359" width="485"><param name="movie" value="https://www.youtube.com/v/_naJH44Lk3I?version=3&hl=en_US&rel=0"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="https://www.youtube.com/v/_naJH44Lk3I?version=3&hl=en_US&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="359" width="485"></embed></object></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Esa-Pekka Salonen and the Los Angeles Philharmonic, "Scene D'Amour" from <i>Vertigo</i></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br />~</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/AVvXsEj9vyqpnmvdPbpAmXB30r_oEdlFzZy-ouKK40C0laQ3fzQhg_Hw4nqLCkk-3zos_Lx6iCUb2XcABgSGtForp04NuaUbp78yuhNoYpAtzOiRp9h_Y_SyY1-jd4sCOcFkEIfLRu5h1HSkop4/s1600/Whistlingypsy.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/AVvXsEj9vyqpnmvdPbpAmXB30r_oEdlFzZy-ouKK40C0laQ3fzQhg_Hw4nqLCkk-3zos_Lx6iCUb2XcABgSGtForp04NuaUbp78yuhNoYpAtzOiRp9h_Y_SyY1-jd4sCOcFkEIfLRu5h1HSkop4/s200/Whistlingypsy.jpg" width="147" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /><i><b>Whistlingypsy</b>/aka/Karin of </i><a href="http://distant-voicesandflickering-shadows.blogspot.com/" style="color: #990000;">Distant Voices and Flickering Shadows</a><i> is a technical writer working on a contract/freelance basis who lives in the beautiful Hill Country of Texas. She was inspired by The Lady Eve (the blogger not the movie) to begin a blog and share her fascination for Jazz Age music and Silent Era films. She considers herself an enthusiastic amateur with an interest in films, music and writing.</i><i><br /></i></div>

A Month of Vertigo Alfred Hitchcock Barbara Bel Geddes Bernard Herrmann James Stewart Kim Novak Vertigo Whistlingypsy (author) Bernard Herrmann - Composer Of Haunting Music and Treacherous Dreams

by guest contributor Whistlingypsy Just as my fingers on these keys Make music, so the self-same sounds On my spirit make a music, too. ~ ex...

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Deadly Obsession: Alfred Hitchcock's VERTIGO

<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>by guest contributor R.D. Finch</i></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Q461R4v6TaoOiZsNb__lq68SMG7t1x6WOayngCaFhVkhfU2MWnIGy6ZoP_1OmzNlbfTSTC9aXvLv8MwQVI4sbq5-sADXjD3FcW0bxx6vYYDBryIM0fdWvmKyscbhnKaamrzd0GCZmK_J/s1600/RD+vertigo+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Q461R4v6TaoOiZsNb__lq68SMG7t1x6WOayngCaFhVkhfU2MWnIGy6ZoP_1OmzNlbfTSTC9aXvLv8MwQVI4sbq5-sADXjD3FcW0bxx6vYYDBryIM0fdWvmKyscbhnKaamrzd0GCZmK_J/s1600/RD+vertigo+8.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">"What's that old Oscar Wilde thing? 'Each man kills the thing he loves...' That I think is a very natural phenomenon, really."</span></i><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: small;">Alfred Hitchcock, in a 1963 interview</span></div><br /><span style="font-size: small;">In his fifty-five year long career in films, Alfred Hitchcock directed sixty-seven movies. At least a dozen of these are bona fide masterpieces, and about an equal number are excellent movies that fall just short of the masterpiece mark. By any measure that's an impressive record, one unequaled by any other filmmaker I can think of. Even more impressive is that Hitchcock's pictures are not rarefied works of art of interest mainly to aesthetes and film scholars, but full-blooded movies that appeal equally to ordinary filmgoers looking for accomplished entertainments and to cinephiles looking for an intellectually and artistically stimulating film-viewing experience. Of all Hitchcock's pictures, none managed to combine these two modes—entertainment and art—so skillfully, so intriguingly, and so pleasingly as his 1958 film <i>Vertigo</i>.</span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br /><a name='more'></a><span style="font-size: small;"> Most people are familiar with the plot of <i>Vertigo</i>. A retired San Francisco police detective, John "Scottie" Ferguson (James Stewart), psychologically traumatized after a rooftop chase to apprehend a criminal ends badly, is targeted as a dupe by his old college friend Gavin Elster, who exploits Scottie's crippling fear of heights to bring off an intricate scheme to murder his wife Madeleine (Kim Novak). The film's plot is a clever one and since this is a mystery thriller with hints of the supernatural (can Madeleine really be the reincarnation of her ancestor, as she believes?), neither the audience nor Scottie realizes what is really happening until quite far into the film. This allows the viewer's understanding of the situation to be manipulated, just as Scottie's is, to create a mood of suspense and, after the truth is revealed to the viewer about three-quarters of the way through the film, for that suspense to be prolonged as the film proceeds in a completely unexpected direction right up to its shock ending.</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;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvzUFAe1aYlBpATnyvewIqIhDd87pwj_0Fq4llaSlw5J3YxCFT5sEG4wLdKrkcg0B1uwRWunVg11MMEUDKSXdgqmDOdTdEXEPuH5KJsfi5WkB4FN0aovjxlOshmns6lqcB_XIxmR_57Vfg/s1600/RD+vertigo+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvzUFAe1aYlBpATnyvewIqIhDd87pwj_0Fq4llaSlw5J3YxCFT5sEG4wLdKrkcg0B1uwRWunVg11MMEUDKSXdgqmDOdTdEXEPuH5KJsfi5WkB4FN0aovjxlOshmns6lqcB_XIxmR_57Vfg/s320/RD+vertigo+5.jpg" width="243" /></a></div><span style="font-size: small;">Such a narrative strategy requires that the viewer's reactions be precisely guided at every turn, and nobody was more expert at this than Hitchcock. Well known for his need for absolute control over all aspects of his films from conception to release, Hitchcock was by temperament the epitome of the film auteur, the director who puts his stamp on every element of his work. The way he accomplished this was by meticulous attention to detail. Because each shot was storyboarded in advance, the final film essentially needed no editing and thus was immune to tampering with by producers and studio executives. Like most filmmakers who began by directing silents, Hitchcock viewed cinema storytelling as essentially a visual process, with dialogue, music, and sound used to augment the film's imagery. Because the way he chose to show the action—placement and movement of the camera, the use of visual effects that formed his famous set pieces, the exact way images succeeded one another to form a spatial and narrative continuum—was the product of his own imagination, his films always seem expressions of a personal and very distinctive vision. Many directors have made movies in the Hitchcock style, but I can't think of a single one of these films that on close viewing could actually be mistaken for the work of the master himself.<br /><br />Because of the convoluted and deceptive nature of its plot, <i>Vertigo</i> is even more dependent on Hitchcock's almost obsessive attention to detail as a means of controlling audience response than any other film he made. But in <i>Vertigo</i> he uses his working methods as much more than merely a practical means of telling a story in his own way. He amplifies his control-freak approach to directing until it becomes an all-encompassing aesthetic used to suggest a great deal more than is apparent in what at first seems little more than a deftly contrived suspense melodrama. It is this effect of using every device in his vast panoply of cinematic tricks to evince the complex psychological and thematic undertones of the film that makes <i>Vertigo</i> Hitchcock's greatest achievement. It's a haunting film that can be watched again and again and still continue to entertain and thrill and deliver new revelations.<br /><br />Perhaps the most powerful and resonant thing about the film is the way Hitchcock uses repetition to emphasize the idea of doubling. Elements in the first part of the film recur later in the film, and elements in the later part of the film mirror those in the first part, giving the film a strange pattern of symmetrical associations. Scottie seeks out places where he saw Madeleine in the beginning of the film and revisits them later in the film: the missions, the florist's shop, the museum, Ernie's restaurant. He watches Judy at her hotel window the same way he watched Madeleine at her hotel window earlier. His transformation of Judy into Madeleine exactly duplicates Elster's transformation of Judy to pass her off as his wife.<br /><br />Near the end of the picture Hitchcock expresses the complete fusion of Madeleine and Judy, of past and present, of Scottie's memories and his dreams, in the most striking of several memorable set pieces in the film—a long, passionate kiss between Scottie and Judy after he sees her for the first time as the fully re-created Madeleine. The camera swirls, Scottie and Judy swirl, and the room appears to revolve around them. The background fades from Judy's room to the stable where Scottie and Madeleine kissed for the last time and finally back to Judy's room again, while Bernard Herrmann's glorious music—clearly inspired by Wagner's <i>Tristan und Isolde</i>—surges and pulses in unison with the intense emotions of the passage. It's the most rapturously erotic scene in a Hitchcock movie since the kiss in <i>Notorious</i>.</span><br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><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/AVvXsEhASvzr1-h-M6YtpfVA_PbFsm8wxDUuQFoVPi2O4mx85GoDSZlJ2nlWEIoi-bLYuWRtj9wFgFuFp947ix19nr22Fe1YS4-2pEV8iwjXBbLPStuCB0frUKFcK2N8iiT7V5XAsr4mdheRHvPd/s1600/RD+Vertigo+3+b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhASvzr1-h-M6YtpfVA_PbFsm8wxDUuQFoVPi2O4mx85GoDSZlJ2nlWEIoi-bLYuWRtj9wFgFuFp947ix19nr22Fe1YS4-2pEV8iwjXBbLPStuCB0frUKFcK2N8iiT7V5XAsr4mdheRHvPd/s1600/RD+Vertigo+3+b.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hitchcock was famous for his lack of interest in the acting of his performers, and for saying that actors should be treated like cattle, that is, prodded into doing what he needed for the shot he was working on. This was perhaps a holdover from his silent days, when facial expressions, body language, and movement were more important than character development and line delivery because the director essentially created the performance visually, through the staging and editing of the film. This is one reason experienced theater actors often found working with Hitchcock such a frustrating experience. Yet for all this, in <i>Vertigo</i> he gets two remarkable performances from his stars.<br /><br />It is well documented that Kim Novak was not Hitchcock's first choice to play Madeleine/Judy; Vera Miles was. But by the time he was ready to begin shooting, Miles was pregnant and so somebody else had to be cast. I have no idea how he hit on the idea of casting Kim Novak, but I did notice that just as Elster and Scottie transform Judy into the image of Madeleine, Hitchcock almost seems to transform Kim Novak into an uncanny image of Grace Kelly, right down to her hair and makeup, and her accent and diction. I can't help wondering if one of the reasons <i>Vertigo</i> seems to be Hitchcock's most personal film is his own understanding of the compulsion behind Scottie's Pygmalion-like behavior.<br /><br />At any rate, Novak, who under the right conditions could be a much better actress than she is generally given credit for, does a tremendous job as the mysterious, spaced-out Madeleine. But her more demanding incarnation as Judy is even more impressive. If Madeleine is an enigma, Judy is a fully defined character. Hitchcock and his writer, Samuel Taylor, make a daring narrative decision that happens soon after Scottie meets Judy. The conventional thing to do would have been to conceal the truth about the murder plot from the audience until the end then reveal it to the viewer and Scottie at the same time, in the kind of twist ending typical of films of this kind. Instead Hitchcock and Taylor devise a situation in which Judy writes a letter to Scottie explaining everything to him then impetuously tears it up before he sees it.<br /><br />The audience is now aware of the true nature of events even if Scottie isn't, and the entire tone of the movie has changed. Now that we know the truth, the point of view shifts much more in Judy's direction. The crux of suspense is no longer what really happened, but how long will it take Scottie to figure it out and what will be his reaction when he does. What all this means for Novak's performance is that she can no longer play her character as an enigma, but must externalize the conflict Judy feels about what she has done to Scottie and the ambivalence she feels about his controlling attitude. Novak's role immediately becomes much more demanding, and she handles the requirements of those demands admirably. If only she looked less like a caricature of a rather common shopgirl!<br /><br />But the real center of the movie is James Stewart's Scottie, a character who inspires Stewart to give one of the most remarkable performances of his career. We tend to think of the screen persona of James Stewart as that of an optimistic, boyish everyman. But in truth Stewart's characters often had a dark side to them, a willfulness that threatened to cause the passion of their emotions to spill over into obsession. We tend to forget this because until <i>Vertigo</i>, even though that dark side might threaten to take over whatever character Stewart was playing—George Bailey or even Jefferson Smith for Frank Capra or one of the revenge-driven men in the Westerns he made with Anthony Mann, for instance—at the end of the film his character always managed to pull back from the brink before he went over the edge. Hitchcock himself perceived the latent darkness in Stewart's screen image and used it as a sort of dangerous recklessness in the characters Stewart played in <i>Rope</i> and <i>Rear Window</i>. But in <i>Vertigo</i>, for the first and only time I can think of, Stewart's character is completely overcome by the darkness in him and propels the film to a catastrophic conclusion.<br /><br />During the course of the picture, Stewart must convincingly go through a series of changes that illustrate the stages of the disintegration of Scottie's personality. At the beginning of the movie, he seems like the familiar James Stewart. He has experienced a traumatizing event, his life has been drastically changed by it, and he must live with the handicap of disabling acrophobia. But his resilience and sense of proportion intact, he seems able to cope with the changes in his circumstances. As he reluctantly follows Madeleine, he finds his detective's curiosity about this mysterious woman aroused. Curiosity soon turns to fascination and then to passionate love. At this point he is already beginning to lose his objectivity as he desperately tries to rationalize Madeleine's delusional behavior.<br /><br />After Madeleine's death, he is a broken man, a state he conveys in his scenes in the mental hospital through his dazed expression and total lack of affect. If he seems to have regained a precarious sense of balance after several months of treatment, he begins to lose it as soon as he first spots Judy. As he grows closer to her, he progressively loses control of himself until he has become an emotional juggernaut moving inexorably toward the annihilation of both himself and the object of his love. This idea that external and internal forces could collude in such a way to transform a person's ego into an unstoppable engine of destruction is a chilling one indeed.</span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQpiNl0Djp-SxMcLF7OPyWZmjxRhZDFv7AaDfJH1qNYFdFHJadf5Egp6OKAvAPc9d3aNlpHrOu7TIISMR8uAovvwHNhO39J7iG4u8CwhcpEyyHb2fXT_2ECCT0qqvLu96G4NYuF02Ou7SH/s1600/RD+vertigo+9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQpiNl0Djp-SxMcLF7OPyWZmjxRhZDFv7AaDfJH1qNYFdFHJadf5Egp6OKAvAPc9d3aNlpHrOu7TIISMR8uAovvwHNhO39J7iG4u8CwhcpEyyHb2fXT_2ECCT0qqvLu96G4NYuF02Ou7SH/s1600/RD+vertigo+9.jpg" /></a></div></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;">By the film's conclusion, Hitchcock has carefully guided us to a place where he is at last able to make the point he has been aiming for all along: the fine distinction between passion and obsession, between real life and dreams, between creation and destruction. The death of Judy at the end makes real the fake suicide that was staged for Scotty's benefit earlier. What began as make-believe has taken on a terrible life of its own and become reality, a reality born of the destructive potential when love overpowers reason.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">~ </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><i>A nearly life-long cinephile, <b>R. D. Finch</b> lives in rural Northern California. His favorite films are the classics (roughly 1930-1980), both American and foreign. His blog,<a href="http://themovieprojector.blogspot.com/" style="color: #990000;">The Movie Projector</a><span style="color: black;">, was honored with two CiMBA Awards in 2010 from the Classic Movie Blog Association: Best Film Review (Musical or Comedy) for his post </span></i><span style="color: black;">Love Me Tonight (1932)<i>, and Best Classic Movie Article for his piece </i>The Best Fred Astaire Musicals Without Ginger Rogers. </span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRnTmRO1yjFf66xDkJjVVVGxWhfpebXHMz7G6WoPVXm9PV1LDeJz7KSV_g3gt-yyAR_OV8J5C3iaDc2LeQgo9azZkZ4PKlbgxey9WqoVrCKKK5sPKjO8F7pcIqxJrKBy73Uh2jZb0YFb0/s1600/The+Movie+Projector+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="77" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRnTmRO1yjFf66xDkJjVVVGxWhfpebXHMz7G6WoPVXm9PV1LDeJz7KSV_g3gt-yyAR_OV8J5C3iaDc2LeQgo9azZkZ4PKlbgxey9WqoVrCKKK5sPKjO8F7pcIqxJrKBy73Uh2jZb0YFb0/s320/The+Movie+Projector+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div></div>

A Month of Vertigo Alfred Hitchcock Bernard Herrmann James Stewart Kim Novak R.D. Finch Vertigo Deadly Obsession: Alfred Hitchcock's VERTIGO

by guest contributor R.D. Finch "What's that old Oscar Wilde thing? 'Each man kills the thing he loves...' That I think is ...

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The Shop Around the Corner (1940): A Lubitsch Christmas

<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt;"><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/AVvXsEhAzt1SDq_UCjXtGsFUectodi0C84FwSFK3utZ78NgblIAlEekAFJSrW5fWEinH4E6ix2pvnwuXQlLjK0VUm0-rh_fOlwIsW0Dtl1_AeFN9lAnmkVw1gUVxcmUq9l44aL8_UMBocYH0BwXx/s1600/Shop-Around-the-Corner+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAzt1SDq_UCjXtGsFUectodi0C84FwSFK3utZ78NgblIAlEekAFJSrW5fWEinH4E6ix2pvnwuXQlLjK0VUm0-rh_fOlwIsW0Dtl1_AeFN9lAnmkVw1gUVxcmUq9l44aL8_UMBocYH0BwXx/s1600/Shop-Around-the-Corner+2.jpg" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">It is only occasionally that a film ages with extraordinary grace. Ernst Lubitsch's 1940 classic,</span><i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">The Shop Around the Corner</span></i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">, has mellowed in the manner of</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> a rare and prized bottle of Hungarian Tokaji </span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Aszú...</span></div><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="mso-cellspacing: 0in; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 0in 0in; mso-yfti-tbllook: 1184;"><tbody><tr style="mso-yfti-firstrow: yes; mso-yfti-irow: 0;"> <td style="padding: 0in 0in 0in 0in;"></td></tr><tr style="mso-yfti-irow: 1; mso-yfti-lastrow: yes;"><td style="padding: 0in 0in 0in 0in;"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div></td> </tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt;"><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/AVvXsEiuRVIHjfaog4jbW36Mi0nl9Adt9qc0_NG8ULdtOUOhQOQdj1HO36fe4E2Szz1HL1vhWfxkDRn8GZAFFSufGspKyTMrUuy36bBDnM4slz8dlPgvBGAq8crDBJc7iNx9TUXkUn5gk1B6HR4C/s1600/shop+7+a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuRVIHjfaog4jbW36Mi0nl9Adt9qc0_NG8ULdtOUOhQOQdj1HO36fe4E2Szz1HL1vhWfxkDRn8GZAFFSufGspKyTMrUuy36bBDnM4slz8dlPgvBGAq8crDBJc7iNx9TUXkUn5gk1B6HR4C/s400/shop+7+a.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Balta Street, Budapest</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Director Lubitsch, revered for sophisticated films spun with his light-as-air "touch" and at an artistic peak in 1940, took special care with <i>The Shop Around the Corner</i>. It was one of his favorites of own films, and he wrote, “Never did I make a picture in which the atmosphere and the characters were truer…” This atmosphere is unmistakable. With the first strains of “Ochi Tchornya” heard over Leo the Lion’s roar, in the dreamlike setting near Budapest’s historic Andrassy Street and in unique and distinctive characters, the spirit of old Europe is alive on screen. </span><br /><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span><br /><a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Set during Christmastime in the snow-dusted capital, the story follows a series of mix-ups and missteps between employees of a picturesque gift shop in the heart of the city. Two clerks carry on a battle-of-the-sexes while romantically pursuing anonymous pen pals; the shop owner suspects betrayal at home and at work; a duplicitous clerk is up to ugly mischief and a wisecracking errand boy has an eye for the main chance…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"><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/AVvXsEidFfYhqjUwui2PBxIzu2Zu2-uYY6knwaNWDL1IrA5th_tx_fpcS6kgoqzdwtD9qdakPeCzKIGAYfXML01IKcNMd9PuzFtI-_AqvGEN0mwDpNb3KROUFdVvKIOHUFz4gDAEoK69Si0JJWzT/s1600/shop+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidFfYhqjUwui2PBxIzu2Zu2-uYY6knwaNWDL1IrA5th_tx_fpcS6kgoqzdwtD9qdakPeCzKIGAYfXML01IKcNMd9PuzFtI-_AqvGEN0mwDpNb3KROUFdVvKIOHUFz4gDAEoK69Si0JJWzT/s400/shop+4.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Matuschek's gift shop</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Samson Raphaelson (<i>Suspicion</i>, <i>Green Dolphin Street</i>) penned a screenplay based on Nikolaus (Miklós) László’s play; William H. Daniels (<i>The Naked City</i>, <i>Cat on a Hot Tin Roof</i>) shot it and Werner Heymann (<i>Ninotchka</i>, <i>To Be or Not to Be</i>) wrote the score.<br /><br />A sparkling ensemble cast features several of MGM’s top supporting players. Among them is Frank Morgan in one of his most interesting roles as Mr. Matuschek, the colorful charmer who owns the gift shop. A somber turn in the subplot gives Morgan a chance to portray his character's darker emotions. <br /><br />Peerless Felix Bressart plays the meek/endearing clerk, Pirovich. Versatile Joseph Schildkraut defines ‘loathsome’ as Vadas. Also in the featured cast are Sara Haden, William Tracy and Inez Courtney.</span><br /><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> <iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/TD7Nsdb1_Lk" width="420"></iframe></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;">Felix Bressart and James Stewart</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">The legendary  chemistry between stars James Stewart and Margaret Sullavan illuminates the screen. Stewart is at his most appealing as Mr. Kralik, head clerk and right hand man to Mr. Matuschek. In this role, Stewart's broad signature mannerisms are tempered by the sensitivity with which he portrays Kralik's romantic yearnings. But it is Sullavan's performance that mesmerizes. Her Klara Novak, a headstrong shop girl blinded by lofty ideals, is a high-strung romantic whose breathless eagerness is offset by her brittle fragility. </span></div><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="margin-left: 12.0pt; mso-cellspacing: 0in; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 0in 0in; mso-yfti-tbllook: 1184;"><tbody><tr style="mso-yfti-firstrow: yes; mso-yfti-irow: 0;"><td style="padding: 0in 0in 0in 0in;"></td></tr><tr style="mso-yfti-irow: 1; mso-yfti-lastrow: yes;"><td style="padding: 0in 0in 0in 0in;"></td> </tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt;"><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/AVvXsEhpYhgyPNMYbIptxP_Hmyl3MJRCmrmPA98t_Q00R8XlBuVJHFW_bsPKmzgZ7Awk-yumiW5xTag4zML5nBlKf42iOFQQVKXolb_TdxmRNTE0_HviA802SGGJ-lu4ZfLbAPkbQ0GYghXf5G13/s1600/the-mortal-storm-margaret-sullavan-1940%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpYhgyPNMYbIptxP_Hmyl3MJRCmrmPA98t_Q00R8XlBuVJHFW_bsPKmzgZ7Awk-yumiW5xTag4zML5nBlKf42iOFQQVKXolb_TdxmRNTE0_HviA802SGGJ-lu4ZfLbAPkbQ0GYghXf5G13/s400/the-mortal-storm-margaret-sullavan-1940%255B1%255D.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Margaret Sullavan</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Margaret Sullavan was discovered on Broadway by director <span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none;">John M. Stahl</span> (<i>Leave Her to Heaven</i>) who brought her to Hollywood to star in <i>Only Yesterday</i> (1933) with John Boles. By this time Sullavan had already married and divorced Henry Fonda and would soon marry director William Wyler. By 1936 the actress was married to agent/producer Leland Hayward and about to make her best films: <i>Three Comrades</i> (1938), for which Sullavan earned a Best Actress Oscar nomination, <i>The Shopworn Angel</i> (1938), <i>The Shop Around the Corner</i> (1940) and <i>The Mortal Storm</i> (1940). In the last three she co-starred with Stewart. The pair had first worked together on <i>Next Time We Love</i> (1936), a result of Sullavan suggesting her friend Stewart for the part. In <i>The Shop Around the Corner</i>, the third of the their four collaborations, the co-stars seem to all but dance together, such is the rhythm between them. <br /><br />With the closing scenes of <i>The Shop Around the Corner</i>, Lubitsch demonstrates his consummate finesse…</span></div><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="mso-cellspacing: 0in; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 0in 0in; mso-yfti-tbllook: 1184;"><tbody><tr style="mso-yfti-firstrow: yes; mso-yfti-irow: 0;"><td style="padding: 0in 0in 0in 0in;"></td> </tr><tr style="mso-yfti-irow: 1; mso-yfti-lastrow: yes;"> <td style="padding: 0in 0in 0in 0in;"><div class="MsoNormal"></div></td> </tr></tbody></table><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/AVvXsEiNCGycQSweTQgc_UXeQoQeE7cl4ekvm0DNsOlRbJwl65gzmvsbV2oZw6vrK5tBMuakXS9o-qmd2IsHGPStnDAYw8J2_BzGLumEZTELWC3Yf3Lb-ea3ZSky8pQ1qkuShgusWS8j9BH2FB_N/s1600/shop+5+a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNCGycQSweTQgc_UXeQoQeE7cl4ekvm0DNsOlRbJwl65gzmvsbV2oZw6vrK5tBMuakXS9o-qmd2IsHGPStnDAYw8J2_BzGLumEZTELWC3Yf3Lb-ea3ZSky8pQ1qkuShgusWS8j9BH2FB_N/s400/shop+5+a.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Frank Morgan and Charles Smith</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Mr. Matuschek returns to his store on Christmas Eve to total the day’s receipts, thank his staff and hand out bonuses. It is closing time and as the wistful shopkeeper departs, he says goodnight to, and we have our last glimpse of, most of the other characters as they depart for the holidays. <br /><br />When the shop's new errand boy, Rudy (Charles Smith), emerges, Matuschek takes him under his wing and out to a glorious Christmas dinner of roast goose, potatoes in butter…and “a double order of apple strudel in vanilla sauce.” The two, no longer facing a lonely Christmas Eve, strike up a jubilant rapport.<br /><br />Inside the darkened shop, Stewart and Sullavan move in perfect harmony as Kralik and Klara finally discover each other. This last scene, one of the most deeply romantic and witty ever confected, reveals the distilled essence of Lubitsch’s “touch.”</span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUcv9y8lr_bVCbjtWt0ieoEsDl2ThvGWLJl-sp30h0rowKzVOJQ-hsazlAOEoBcn0iWk1oNZMAQEfF4FsUIBAFdcTSTIiyTnyOuCUJJAA3rD1eTgEIqYD87voz1x5Afs8Vb0_KjzzWFXaY/s1600/shop+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUcv9y8lr_bVCbjtWt0ieoEsDl2ThvGWLJl-sp30h0rowKzVOJQ-hsazlAOEoBcn0iWk1oNZMAQEfF4FsUIBAFdcTSTIiyTnyOuCUJJAA3rD1eTgEIqYD87voz1x5Afs8Vb0_KjzzWFXaY/s400/shop+3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div>

Ernst Lubitsch Felix Bressart Frank Morgan James Stewart Joseph Schildkraut Margaret Sullavan The Lady Eve (author) The Shop Around the Corner The Shop Around the Corner (1940): A Lubitsch Christmas

It is only occasionally that a film ages with extraordinary grace. Ernst Lubitsch's 1940 classic, The Shop Around the Corner , has mello...

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