Monday, November 5, 2018

Alfred Hitchcock’s Three Modern and Influential Suspense Thrillers


Introduction
Alfred Hitchcock’s Rebecca, Suspicion, and Notorious each demonstrate a cinematic style archetypal to the suspense thriller genre. Through his mastery of point-of-view, tone, symbolic objects, and camera movement, Hitchcock creates influential and timeless films. These three movies and their unique cinematic qualities also influenced my thesis film: a suspense thriller entitled Magnolia Kane.

Rebecca
            “Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.” The famous opening line that begins the novel Rebecca also opens the film adaptation. Released in 1940, Rebecca is adapted from the best selling novel by Daphne Du Maurier. The movie is an influential thriller that remains popular today. The film’s point-of-view is not through Rebecca, but a character known only as Mrs. de Winter. Portrayed by emerging actress Joan Fontaine, her character arouses curiosity, terror, romance and aggression in a riveting, Oscar-nominated performance. 
Her point-of-view is introduced through the eyes of an insecure, awkward young woman employed as a personal assistant to a wealthy dowager vacationing in Monte Carlo. Fontaine brings a quiet innocence to the character, perfectly suited for these early scenes. When she meets the aristocratic, widowed Maxim de Winter (Laurence Olivier), she immediately falls in love despite their differences in age and class. As they become acquainted, her romantic optimism is counter-balanced by the darker murmurings she learns about Mr. de Winter and his late wife Rebecca. During a restless night’s sleep she imagines gossiping voices: “She was the beautiful Rebecca Hildreth, you know. They say he simply adored her. I suppose he just can’t get over his wife’s death. But he’s a broken man.” This plants the seeds of doubt within her mind and aligns her point-of-view with the audience. She may be in over her head, yet she also worries that Maxim de Winter is mentally unstable.
The tone in Rebecca’s thirty minute Act One is romantic despite the hints at darker themes. Hitchcock approached this first act with the intent of differentiating it from what follows. In Leonard J. Leff’s book Hitchcock and Selznick, the director addresses the establishing tone when he says, “I feel unless we do something like this our scenes in the house will not have the dramatic kicks that they should have, because visually we shall be unable to show any change in the girl.”[1]
The lighting, therefore, in the first act is much brighter, showcasing an optimistic tone. The characters’ wardrobe is also different. The future Mrs. de Winter wears white in almost every instance, emphasizing her character as the epitome of young and innocent. In the remainder of the film, taking place at the house known as Manderley, the tone darkens, as shadows and blacks dominate the color palette.
The tone shift begins in Act Two as the newly married Mr. and Mrs. de Winter arrive home to Manderley. The weather immediately changes to rain, setting the stage for darker events. The estate of Manderley is an imaginative display of expressive production design. With a brooding stone exterior of asymmetrical angles, the mansion is equally intimidating on the inside. Mrs. de Winter appears small and insignificant amidst the massive doors, staircases and cavernous rooms. In one symbolic composition she stands in front of an enormous fireplace that appears ready to swallow her whole.
This menacing tone continues when Mrs. Danvers (Judith Anderson) is introduced as the main antagonist to Mrs. de Winter, terrorizing her with constant comparisons to Rebecca. In one early scene, Mrs. Danvers presents Mrs. de Winter to Rebecca’s old bedroom. To emphasize the psychological haunting and trauma that Mrs. de Winter feels, Alfred Hitchcock creates an eerie atmosphere. Mrs. Danvers moves in and out of shafts of light cutting through the sheer curtains. She becomes a shadow, partially obscured in darkness – despite the action taking place in the middle of the day.
In one of his many interviews with the French director Francois Truffaut, Hitchcock discussed this moment. He said, “Mrs. Danvers was almost never seen walking and was rarely shown in motion. If she entered a room in which the heroine was, what happened is that the girl suddenly heard a sound and there was the ever-present Mrs. Danvers, standing perfectly still by her side. In this way the whole situation was projected from the heroine’s point of view; she never knew when Mrs. Danvers might turn up, and this, in itself, was terrifying. To have shown Mrs. Danvers walking about would have to humanize her.”[2]
Another striking display of tone occurs when Mr. and Mrs. de Winter watch home movies. With a film projector flickering images in the background, the room is cast in light and shadow. Even the soundtrack is grating, due to the projector’s repetitive sound. Mrs. de Winter, however, is more concerned with her husband. Feeling insecure amidst the looming presence of Rebecca, Mrs. de Winter changes her physical appearance. She coifs her hair and dons a more glamorous dress hoping to impress her husband. He does not notice. She feels helpless. She loses her grip on reality. She, and the audience, believes that Maxim is still in love with his dead wife Rebecca.
Hitchcock’s use of objects is an essential visual component throughout the film. The new Mrs. de Winter sees signs of Rebecca, the first Mrs. de Winter, everywhere throughout Manderley. Rebecca’s clothes still hang in her old closet. Rebecca’s monogrammed stationary and address book fill her old desk, emblazoned with the visually striking, scripted ‘R.’ When asked about Rebecca, the house manager describes her as “the most beautiful creature I ever saw.” Maxim de Winter attempts to move on with his new life and does not speak of Rebecca. The one character keeping Rebecca’s memory alive is the housekeeper Mrs. Danvers – a raven-clad figure of menace and intimidation.
The film concludes with a very dramatic and cinematic finale, highlighted by the importance of expressive objects. Upon learning the secret that Rebecca had cancer and took her own life, Mrs. Danvers loses all grip on reality. She decides to burn down Manderley and eradicate all memory of Rebecca. In a scene that prefigures a shot discussed below in Suspicion, Mrs. Danvers carries an illuminated candle through the dark house.  She uses the candle to start a raging fire that spreads across the estate and engulfs the mansion in flames. With fire burning all around, Hitchcock pushes in on Mrs. Danvers’s face displaying the countenance of an unhinged madwoman. In the film’s final shot, the camera tracks in on the flames to reveal one burning object: Rebecca’s distinctively scripted monogrammed ‘R.’ This shot will be echoed one year later at the conclusion of Citizen Kane, as that movie famously concludes with the burning of a single biographical heirloom.
Hitchcock’s many motivated camera movements equally establish Rebecca’s suspenseful style. Act One concludes with a scene where the future Mrs. de Winter reveals to her employer that she and Maxim are to be married. Hitchcock visually depicts her psychological state in a highly creative manner. In one of the movie’s first cinematic flourishes, the camera tracks away from her. She recedes in the frame, composed amongst the hotel room’s furnishings. Her image shrinks as she hears a warning about her new life. This transitional moment also serves as foreshadowing the difficulties of her new role in Manderley with the soon to be encountered Mrs. Danvers.
Is her paranoia justified? It is Hitchcock’s brilliant camera moves that keeps the viewer captivated. The film’s overall style darkens throughout Act Two and culminates in the fourteen-minute boathouse sequence between Mr. and Mrs. de Winter. On the surface, this Act Two Climax is a long dialogue scene featuring revelatory exposition. As Maxim tells the true story of Rebecca’s death, he also reveals his disdain for Rebecca. Hitchcock approaches this material in a unique fashion: neither showing a flashback, nor focusing on either character’s face. Instead, the camera drifts across the room. It pans to important symbols that subliminally recall the events of Maxim’s tale. Serving as a visual recreation of Rebecca’s final moments, this technique helps the audience believe Maxim’s story. It builds sympathy for him and liberates the new Mrs. de Winter from Rebecca’s ghost. Leonard Leff writes about this scene as a significant struggle Hitchcock encountered while adapting the source material to the big screen. He writes, “Hitchcock intended the effect to differ from the “old fashioned ‘flash back,’” and it does, for it dramatizes not the incident but a refraction of it in space and time. As scripted or even filmed, the scene might or might not have worked; it nonetheless represented Hitchcock’s attempt to advance beyond a conventional mise-en-scène in a work that appeared somewhat resistant to cinematic treatment.”[3]
Shortly following this confession, Act Two concludes with a vital exchange between Mr. and Mrs. de Winter. Flush with new knowledge about her husband’s true feelings, she is now older and wiser. She wears black, standing on equal footing with Maxim. Hitchcock uses a long take where Maxim acknowledges the new maturity in his wife. Finally, they kiss and the camera pulls back to show them locked together. This Act Two Climax differs greatly from the above mentioned Act One Climax where the camera pulls back to show Mrs. de Winter alone and isolated. She is no longer solitary or afraid. She has overcome her obstacles and has blossomed. 
Rebecca continues to influence many contemporary films. One recent example is Darren Aronofsky’s Black Swan. Released in 2010, Black Swan features Natalie Portman in an Oscar-winning portrayal of an unhinged ballerina who or may or may not be terrorized by a rival dancer. Rebecca is also influential on my thesis film:  Magnolia Kane. The plot focuses on a character haunted by her lover’s previous wife. The style of several scenes will be replicated, including the use of sheer draperies to obscure characters. Similarly, the isolation of the protagonist within the frame, composing her to appear small and threatened within a large house will be a visual device employed throughout the film. Finally, the use of objects or “things” will be central to the story. As in many of Hitchcock’s films, objects play a central role within Rebecca. Leonard Leff refers to this when he says, “’Things’ still predominate, from the telephone in the cottage and the bones of a cold piece of chicken to Manderley itself. But unlike thirties Hitchcock, the Rebecca screenplay links the cool, stable surfaces of ‘things’ to the perturbed characters’ desires and fears.”[4] In Magnolia Kane, such “things” connected to characters’ motives include garden shears, a condiment knife, and an antique tea set.

Suspicion
            Suspicion is a classic thriller once again dominated by a captivating Joan Fontaine. Her performance this time, however, proved to be an Oscar-winner. Released one year after Rebecca, Suspicion tells a similar tale of a timid woman whose sensational imagination overpowers her reason. It is told through a subjective technique, where all scenes and actions are shown from the main character’s point-of-view.
            Hitchcock continuously embraced the subjective technique. He compared it with objective shooting in his 1972 interview with Charles Thomas Samuels. He said, “The objective treatment, however, is also used when necessary; but for me, the objective is merely an extension of the theater because you are a viewer of the events that take place in front of you, but you are not necessarily in the mind of the person. Subjective shooting puts the audience in the mind of the character.”[5]
Suspicion’s subjectivity centers on Lina Aysgarth, a woman who falls in love, marries, and soon fears a potentially murderous husband. Lina is introduced as an intelligent, independent woman. When she meets handsome playboy Johnnie Aysgarth (Cary Grant) she throws caution to the wind and begins a relationship with the charming, yet constantly broke Johnnie. Lina’s father depicts Johnnie as “wild” with a notorious reputation for cheating at cards. When Lina overhears her father describing her as having “intellect and fine-solid character,” Lina rebels and immediately kisses Johnnie after previously rejecting him. Lina succumbs to her passion rather than the common sense and wisdom of her family.
Much of Suspicion’s point-of-view is filtered through Lina’s overactive imagination. As the film progresses, Lina and Johnnie get married, yet his strange behavior continues. Lina at first ignores the compounding fears when Johnnie loses his job, lies about it, and amasses large gambling debts.  It becomes more certain, through facts and witnesses, that Johnnie is undeniably a broke gambling addict. Lina even decides to leave him and writes a farewell letter. Yet she still loves him and admits, “I couldn’t stop loving you if I tried.” Aside from the financial concerns, Johnnie does not threaten Lina in any dangerous way. She decides to stay by his side and help him persevere. The turning point occurs when Johnnie enters into a real estate development deal with his friend Beaky as a scheme to pay off his debts. Lina quickly sees Johnnie’s true intention, which prompts Johnnie to caution her to not meddle in his affairs. Lina’s imagination again becomes overactive and she continues suspecting Johnnie of wicked intentions. Ultimately, in the film’s final scene, Johnnie explains that he never wanted to hurt Lina and, if anything, would only harm himself. Whether he is to be believed or not, the movie ends with Lina’s point-of-view that all is well. They drive off together with Lina, and the audience, no longer suspicious of Johnnie.
The suspenseful and menacing tone is established early in the story. Lina and Johnnie’s first date is presented in a classic Hitchcockian fashion, framing the shot in a misleading composition where the viewer sees a potentially violent act. The couple stands atop a hill during a windy day. The music swells in a dramatic climax. The couple struggles. Their tussle is not violent, but rather Johnnie’s attempt at a kiss. Lina also suspects a nefarious motive as she fights off his advances. Johnnie replies with a telling line, reflecting the audience: “Now what did you think I was trying to do: kill you? Nothing less than murder could justify such violent self-defense.”  This sets the tone for the entire story where Lina never knows for certain about Johnnie’s true motivation.
Soon after this moment, Beaky is mysteriously killed. Lina considers Johnnie as the prime suspect. The tone turns darker as Lina believes Johnnie of not only murdering his friend, but also plotting her own murder. Lina learns that Johnnie inquired about her life insurance policy. This detail is open-ended, yet allows Lina to infer murderous intent.
This apprehensive tone is brilliantly illustrated through the mise-en-scène at a dinner party. Lina and Johnnie sit around a table with a famous mystery author, and Johnnie and Lina are framed on opposite ends. They discuss a novel where the murderer uses an untraceable poison. Johnnie shows avid interest in the topic, openly discussing poison and the possible happiness of murderers. This contributes to Lina’s deepening fear, which culminates in a subsequent conversation with the author. At this point, the author confides to Lina that Johnnie has been pestering the author for secrets about murders and motivations, most of which center on the untraceable poison.
Hitchcock employs many symbolic objects as visual clues that help Lina suspect Johnnie. In one pivotal scene during a game of Anagrams (Scrabble), Lina focuses on the tiles to construct the words “doubt” and “murder.” As Lina’s gaze drifts from her spelling of “murder” to Johnnie’s face to a picture of the cliff-side location of the real estate deal, Lina has her one and only hallucination. These objects trigger a vision of Johnnie murdering Beaky by pushing him off the cliff.  As she imagines Beaky falling to his death, Lina panics and faints.
            The film’s climax features one of Alfred Hitchcock’s most signature shots – which also involves a creative depiction of an everyday object. While Lina is sick in bed, Johnnie carries a glass of milk up to her room. Hitchcock creates the suspicion that the milk is poisoned. To draw attention to the glass, he devised an intricate visual trick. He told Truffaut, “I put a light right inside the glass because I wanted it to be luminous. Cary Grant’s walking up the stairs and everyone’s attention had to be focused on that glass.”[6] This object, lighted in a hyper-real style, adds a haunting, eerie presence that heightens the tension.
Suspicion’s important camera moves are reserved for the most climatic scenes. Once again, the moment Johnnie carries the glass of milk represents the story’s highest point of suspense. The camera sweeps up the stairs in an excellent use of motivated movement. As stated above, Johnnie is shrouded in darkness and the glass is illuminated in bright white light. This builds the suspense as the camera moves up the stairs with Johnnie. The viewer’s attention focuses on the milk, linking it to the untraceable poison mentioned earlier. At this moment Lina completely surrenders to the idea of her husband’s murderous intent. She refuses to touch the milk, and is never known for sure whether it was poisoned or not.
Suspicion has inspired countless wife-in-peril thrillers. A most recent example is David Fincher’s Gone Girl. Released in 2014, Gone Girl is lead by Rosamund Pike’s Oscar-nominated performance as the terrified yet deceptive wife. Her husband, played by Ben Affleck, is portrayed as a lying, cheating character most likely to have murdered his wife. The plot, however, spins a tangled web of surprises and deceptions. For Magnolia Kane, Suspicion is influential in many areas. The unreliable lover, framed in a dominating manner will plant doubt within the audience. The subjective point-of-view, showing each event through the protagonist’s perspective, is also Magnolia Kane’s point-of-view. Finally, the prominent use of “things” to link the psychological to the visual will once again be magnified. Unlike the glass of milk that proved to be harmless, the antiques in Magnolia Kane will be more impactful.

Notorious
            In Notorious, Ingrid Bergman’s portrayal of Alicia Huberman is a complex display of confidence and fear that remains mesmerizing after seventy years. Released in 1946, the movie is an intricate tapestry of undercover agents and sexual betrayal set in the period immediately following World War II. The film uses an objective point-of-view, yet the emphasis is Bergman’s Alicia. She is introduced as the American daughter of a German spy. Unlike the Joan Fontaine characters, Alicia is a confident socialite. A risk-taker with a penchant for men and drinking, Alicia is also a strong independent woman. Most significantly, she takes an anti-Nazi, patriotic stance against her own father. This builds sympathy and establishes her as the clear protagonist.
   The central plot begins almost exclusively through Alicia’s point-of-view when she meets the American government agent Devlin (Cary Grant). He recruits her to help infiltrate a ring of ex-Nazis regrouping in South America, but before the mission starts, Alicia and Devlin fall in love. Unfortunately, the blissful times end at the Act One climax when Devlin tells Alicia about her new assignment: she must use sex as a weapon to win the trust of Alexander Sebastian – a high-ranking ex-Nazi who happens to be Alicia’s former-lover. The plot shifts and Alicia must now play a new role. She needs to be a convincing actress on a high-stakes stage of international espionage. Alicia cannot raise suspicions as she needs to permanently stay in character. When Sebastian proposes marriage, Alicia first consults Devlin for one final appeal for his love.
Sebastian’s discovery that Alicia and Devlin are collaborating leads to a dramatic shift in the story, where the viewer now sees events from Sebastian’s point-of-view. Hitchcock focuses exclusively on Sebastian, telling the story through his actions. He faces an imperative decision: what to do with the woman he loves. The suspense builds as the audience learns that Sebastian suspects Alicia, yet she is unaware of his discovery. As Act Two reaches its climax, Alicia is not shown. She remains off-screen for nearly six-and-a-half minutes. To build tension, Hitchcock instead shows the antagonists plotting against her. Unlike Suspicion, the protagonist is actually poisoned. This results in an exciting Act Three where Alicia slowly descends into certain death. The perspective shifts several times throughout the final act as the viewer sees the story from Devlin, Alicia, and in the film’s thrilling finale, Sebastian as he meets his fate.
The tone in Act One is conveyed through sexually-charged scenes including an infamous moment between Alicia and Devlin that has been described as the longest kiss in screen history.  This climactic reveal is loaded with unspoken feelings between Alicia and Devlin as neither one admits the truth. Devlin will not confess his love for her, allowing Alicia to give herself to another man. Alicia does not refuse the mission, accepting the role of sexual-spy. Because neither character concedes their true feelings, they each wound the other, setting Alicia on a dangerous, life-threatening course.
The suspenseful tone builds as Devlin searches Sebastian’s house while he knows that he could be discovered. When Devlin explores the wine cellar, he slowly nudges a wine bottle. The audience sees a close-up of the bottle teetering near the shelf’s edge. It finally shatters in an explosive, cacophonous burst. This shock is not used for cheap surprise; it is a crucial plot point that all characters need to either discover or protect. Inside the bottle is not wine, but Uranium Ore – a Cold War threat that elevates Alicia’s mission to one of global importance.
As Sebastian decides to confess to his mother, Hitchcock composes a very similar shot from Suspicion. Sebastian’s shadow appears in a lighted doorway. He then enters and slowly ascends the grand staircase. This is virtually the identical shot from Suspicion when Johnnie carries the glass of milk; both shots set the atmospheric tone for the approaching climax.
Once again, Hitchcock emphasizes many symbolic objects throughout Notorious. Near the Act One climax, a champagne bottle represents the lost love between Alicia and Devlin. It is the physical representation of their affection. It is shown in a before-and-after moment when Devlin buys champagne for a special night, yet forgets it at the government office when his superiors recruit Alicia for the mission. In that instant their love is broken and the central plot’s stakes are raised.
Next, an important wine bottle contains Sebastian’s hidden Nazi secret. It is first introduced at a dinner party when one of Sebastian’s cohorts panics in its presence. That same bottle then reveals the secret that Alicia is risking her life to learn. When Sebastian discovers its shattered remains, he literally pieces together the clues about Alicia and Devlin. This leads to his decision to poison Alicia.
The wine cellar key is the central object throughout Act Two. It becomes Alicia’s focal point and the mechanism to transfer her allegiance from Sebastian to Devlin. By taking an enormous risk and stealing it from her husband to give to Devlin, she shows her inner strength and true character. When she fails to return it to Sebastian’s key ring before he notices, the key serves as the final linchpin for Sebastian to turn against her.  
After Sebastian decides to murder Alicia, a coffee cup becomes the main object of attention. The distinctive shape of the cup and saucer is shown in the foreground in several pivotal scenes representing the poison and Alicia’s slow death. Through framing and focus, the coffee cup repeatedly occupies a central place within the frame through the beginning of Act Three. Ultimately it is the coffee cup that reveals the poison to Alicia when Dr. Anderson almost drinks from her cup. Alicia notices as Sebastian and his mother overreact to stop him.
Each of these essential objects are photographed prominently in the frame, exaggerated and highlighted. Yet these objects and their appearance only support the story, which Hitchcock referred to as straightforward. He told Truffaut, “Notorious was simply the story of a man in love with a girl who, in the course of her official duties, had to go to bed with another man and even had to marry him. That’s the story.”[7]
Another stylistic breakthrough in Notorious is Alfred Hitchcock’s fluid camera movements. Trademarks throughout his early films, several long-takes are featured here to highlight significant dramatic shifts. First is the very critical marriage proposal scene, where he covers the action with two single shots between Alicia and Devlin – despite the presence of other characters. In his interview with Truffaut, Hitchcock highlighted the importance of showing only their dialogue and reaction, rather than building the suspense of whether she will say yes or no. He says, “It has nothing to do with the scene; the public can simply assume that the marriage will take place. I deliberately left what appears to be the important emotional factor aside. . .The thing that really matters is that, against all expectations, the man she’s spying on has just asked her to marry him.”[8] Thus the director frames both characters in isolation for the scene’s duration.
Next is the scene between Sebastian and his mother immediately following the marriage proposal. This long take is the first time Sebastian’s perspective is highlighted without Alicia.  In a low-angle two-shot, Sebastian attempts to convince his skeptical mother to trust Alicia. The camera follows the entire conversation as Sebastian starts at one end of the room, crosses over then exits, all while his mother remains seated in the foreground – foreshadowing the power she will ultimately wield over Alicia’s fate.
One of Notorious’s most brilliant sequences occurs at a party thrown by the newlyweds. Alicia uses this opportunity to invite Devlin into her home to uncover Sebastian’s secrets. This sets the stage for a crucial, pressure-packed exchange. Alicia has stolen the key to Sebastian’s wine cellar and plans to give it to Devlin. It begins with a high-angle, long swooping shot of the party taken from an upstairs vantage. The camera booms down into the crowd, onto Alicia and Sebastian, and continues into a close-up of the wine cellar key in Alicia’s hand. Hitchcock explains this scene’s significance to Truffaut: “There again we’ve substituted the language of the camera for dialogue. In Notorious that sweeping movement of the camera is making a statement. What it’s saying is: ‘There’s a large reception being held in this house, but there is a drama here which no one is aware of, and at the core of that drama is this tiny object, this key.’”[9]
The excellent use of camera movement continues in the final bedroom scene between Devlin and Alicia. As he saves her from poisoning, Devlin finally confesses his true love. In yet another “long kiss,” Hitchcock covers the three-and-a-half minutes in three long takes, always keeping both characters in frame within the shot – unlike the singles during the marriage proposal outlined above. At this climactic instance, Hitchcock moves the characters from the bed, across the room, and then out the door all within a series of fluid camera moves.
The final cinematic movement appropriately concludes the movie. It is a tense, suspenseful moment as Sebastian’s fate is sealed. Once again, the perspective has shifted back to Sebastian. Devlin and Alicia have driven away, and Sebastian is left to explain to his German partners. More importantly, he must suffer the consequences which are left to the viewer’s imagination. The shot begins with Sebastian standing in a close-up. As he slowly turns and walks away, the camera remains stationary. It then tracks behind him as he walks up the steps and back to his house. He disappears within. In a spectacular end to the film, the camera continues moving forward until the front door closes and the film ends. 
With its visual panache and psychosexual themes, Notorious has influenced many films including David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive. Released in 2001, it featured a star-making performance by Naomi Watts as a struggling actress caught in the deceptive and depraved underbelly of Hollywood. Instead of secret agents, the characters in Mulholland Drive deceive rivals through show business dreams and illusions. While misleading others, they find they are also deceiving themselves – a left-turn from Notorious where the characters’ deceptions redeem themselves. Notorious has inspired Magnolia Kane through several ways including the use of poison as the murder method. More significantly, the overall story’s depiction of a female protagonist acting a role in a dangerous high-stakes game. This theme was a considerable factor in the development of Magnolia Kane and it likewise attracted Hitchcock to the original material. Leonard Leff quotes Selznick International executive Margaret McDonell saying, “Hitchcock would ‘very much like to do a story about confidence tricks on a grand scale in which Ingrid could play the woman who is carefully trained and coached in a gigantic confidence trick which might involve her marrying some man. He is fascinated with the elaborateness with which these things are planned and rehearsed and I gather that his idea would be to have the major part of the picture with the planning and training and the denouement more or less as the tag.’”[10] This approach, bold for 1946, continues to fascinate. Magnolia Kane aims to delve into this psychological characterization, updated to a modern world.
Conclusion
In three landmark films released over seventy years ago, Alfred Hitchcock’s filmmaking style created the standard for the suspense thriller genre. His movies, along with the subsequent generation of influenced films, have inspired the thesis film Magnolia Kane. The title character of Magnolia is a spirited, yet delicate protagonist in the tradition of the thrillers listed above. In addition, the point-of-view, suspenseful tone, use of objects, and camera movements enhances her psychological characterization. Ultimately it is the high-stakes, cat-and-mouse deception of the film’s protagonist that commands the viewer’s attention, drives the story, and establishes an emotional connection with the audience.


BIBLIOGRAPHY
Leff, Leonard J. Hitchcock and Selznick. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987.
Samuels, Charles Thomas. Encountering Directors. New York: Capricorn Books, 1972.
Truffaut, Francois. Hitchcock/Truffaut. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1983.


[1] Alfred Hitchcock quoted in Leonard J. Leff, Hitchcock and Selznick (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987), 45.
[2] Hitchcock quoted in Francois Truffaut, Hitchcock/Truffaut (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1983), 129-130.
[3] Leff, 46.
[4] Leff, 54.
[5] Hitchcock quoted in Charles Thomas Samules, Encountering Directors (New York: Capricorn Books, 1972), 233.
[6] Hitchcock quoted in Truffaut, 143.
[7] Hitchcock quoted in Truffaut, 168-169.
[8] Hitchcock quoted in Truffaut, 170-171.
[9] Hitchcock quoted in Truffaut, 116.
[10] Margaret McDonell quoted in Leff, 175.

Monday, October 1, 2018

Charlie Chaplin's performance in "City Lights"


Charlie Chaplin's City Lights from 1931 is considered one of the most romantic movies of all-time. It is also one of the most visually inventive comedies of the silent era. Chaplin’s acting performance establishes a highpoint in physical comedy that anchors the entire movie. Both his facial expressions and physical body movement interact with the film’s cinematography to create visual surges that are both hilarious and cinematic. 
The best example is the “At the Club” scene. This initiates with the cigar lighting sequence where Chaplin utilizes the power of the close-up camera to read his face in a series of expressive tics and gestures. The scene begins with a visual sight gag: lighting his friend’s cigar by mistake. When it continues to be lit and re-lit, the gag turns into a long running and frustratingly repetitive joke. Chaplin’s eyebrows arch, his cheeks twitch, and his mustache dances from left to right as he reacts to relighting the cigar. It is a well-choreographed and extensively rehearsed sequence of pantomime representative of the purely visual tradition of early cinema.

This tradition, with emphasis on expressions, would soon disappear with the rise of sound pictures, thus giving this sequence an added significance. Jokes quickly shifted to more verbal, dialogue-driven telling. As a future example, the famous “Who’s on First?” joke by Abbot and Costello would take influence from this style of repetitious, frustrating humor. Chaplin’s lighting and relighting without a word spoken will be supplanted by a verbal pattern of retelling a single line for comedic effect.
 
Throughout Chaplin’s cigar lighting sequence the camera remains static. It is one long, continuous take, lasting for just under one minute. This is the second shot in the “At the Club” scene, following a conventional establishing master shot. For this second angle, the camera moves in closer, yet remains motionless for the duration of the joke. This enables both actors to express all the humor themselves, without having any attention drawn away by elaborate camera moves or even rapid cutting. As a result, the cinematography here is as crucial to the scene’s humor as any other visual element.
 
The second part that utilizes Chaplin’s physical humor is the scene’s final dancing sequence. Unlike the cigar lighting section, Chaplin utilizes his entire body from head to toe while executing several elaborate and hilarious dance moves. The first moment occurs when the woman begins shaking her body in front of Chaplin. His whole body reacts; not by moving, however, but by not moving. He completely freezes. This is a hilarious contrast to his previous toe-tapping, hands-thumping, rhythmical response to the upbeat band music. He looks the woman up and down as the audience can only imagine what he might be thinking or about to do. She is swept away by another dancer, yet the seeds of arousal have been planted. When the next dancer appears in front of him, Chaplin leaps up and grabs her. He swings her around the dance floor, twirling her away in a series of pirouettes that imitate an ice skating duo. This physicality is a very visual movement along the z-axis of the cinematic frame, which adds a level of physical dynamism to the scene in contrast to the previous moments at the stationary dinner table. Chaplin concludes the scene when his dancing partner is replaced by the waiter, and the mismatched pair spiral down to the floor.
 
Once again, the cinematography plays a crucial role in this portion of the scene. When the band strikes up its first rousing notes, the camera tracks backwards from the trombone player and continues through the middle of the crowded dance floor. This very elaborate camera move is followed by a second intricate tracking shot of the dancers’ feet across the floor, then landing on Chaplin’s tapping toes. The camera then tilts up to reveal Chaplin’s fully expressive posture. The two elements are subsequently joined at this moment combining for the perfect apex to the scene: Chaplin’s full-bodied physical performance along with the elaborate cinematography. This intricate visual series occurs at the perfect moment to provide a rich texture to the “At the Club” scene’s climax, which is a cinematic technique utilized by filmmakers to this day.

Thursday, September 13, 2018

Left-Right Character Analysis of Norman Bates in Alfred Hitchcock's "Psycho"


Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho introduces the richly complex character of Norman Bates, and proceeds to show many parts of his divided personality. He is a man who attempts to break free of his demons and live a normal life, but he cannot and regresses to psychotic behavior. As a result, his screen direction changes sides according to his personality. 
When Norman Bates stands at the left edge of the frame and looks right, he is well-adjusted and living as a normal member of society. When he stands right and looks left, he is sliding back to a dysfunctional character from his sinful past. What makes Psycho such a fascinating movie, however, is that Hitchcock has added a third element: when Norman stands front and center and looks straight ahead. This is where Norman is caught in the middle of rationality and reason; an emotional purgatory that also implicates the audience as an unwilling voyeur to his struggles, crimes, and ultimate hell.
A close study of the film reveals twelve key moments when Norman illustrates a left, right, or center position that corresponds to a facet of his personality. Each of these examples showcases Hitchcock’s masterful control of the film’s visual structure, while subtly influencing the audience’s perception. This is a highly illuminating technique that shows the subliminal power of the motion picture frame.
“Gee, I’m sorry I didn’t hear you in all this rain.” - 00:28:15
Norman is introduced walking from left to right. He appears perfectly normal, and the audience believes he is a good guy. Since Marion Crane is the movie’s protagonist, Norman helping her in the rain is perceived as a positive action. He is kind, polite, and even self-sacrificing as he gives Marion his umbrella (again from left to right).
“Mother isn’t quite herself today.” - 00:33:55
Norman’s next action is also from left to right. It is again a positive action, helping the protagonist as he brings her dinner. It is a thoughtful gesture, and he comes across as a friend. He even makes light of his mother, attempting humor and social graces.
“We all go a little mad sometimes.” - 00:42:25
At this point Hitchcock reveals Norman’s dark side. As they sit inside the parlor, Norman sits on the right edge of frame and looks left. He is also framed in the eerie position surrounded by the stuffed birds. The conversation turns deep, and Norman’s tone visibly shifts after Marion mentions a mental institution. This pivotal scene not only reveals Norman’s psychology, but it also serves as Marion’s turning point as she decides to return to Phoenix with her stolen money.
Behind the painting. - 00:44:40 
This is the most perplexing action in the film. Norman stands left and looks right, but is not behaving properly. Or is he? This can be perceived either way. A first-time viewer might think he is simply spying on her. But a knowledgeable viewer will know that Norman is the killer, and thus planning his attack. Or is he? Again, Norman may just be Norman and totally in control at this point. Not the murderous “mother” at this exact moment.
Murder #1: Shower Scene - 00:47:37 
The first murder takes place front and center. Again, a first-time viewer will not know this is Norman. Yet the informed viewer can see that his placement in the center of the frame represents the middle void where Norman is sadly trapped. He is revealed here as a murderous monster, unable to control his psychotic instincts. Norman surprises everyone. . . even the viewer.
“Oh God, Mother! Blood!” - 00:50:15
In the aftermath of the murder, Norman remains centered. This is the first time Norman as Norman is seen in the center, linking him visually with the recent murder. He is neither heroic or evil, but the audience witnesses him clean up the mess and cover up the murder, so therefore knows that Norman is not the gentle hero as he first appeared.
Sinks the car, eats the candy. - 00:59:20 
For the next scene, Norman continues to occupy the center of the frame. He completes the criminal act of hiding the evidence and at various points looks directly at the audience. This extends the audience’s uncertainty as well as implicates the viewer in the crime. Yet at the same time, the audience empathizes with Norman when he feels relief as the car completely sinks.
 “She might’ve fooled me, but she didn’t fool mother.” - 01:11:19 
As Norman is questioned by Private Investigator Arbogast, he stands right and looks left. The scene becomes contentious and Norman is forced to lie. He stutters, sweats, and ultimately loses his composure. Arbogast figures it out, right before Norman throws him out.
Murder #2: Staircase Scene - 01:17:18 
Again, the first time viewer will perceive this differently, as the murderer’s identity is still unknown.  Unlike the shots of Norman in the center, he now enters from right to left, clearly regressing to past behavior. No ambiguity in this scene, as it is a clear brutal attack.
“Check in any other place in this country without bags and you have to pay in advance.” - 01:30:00 
As the investigation into Marion’s disappearance grows closer, Norman is increasingly defensive. The audience knows Norman is now lying. He stands right and looks left, as he represents negative behavior. He is distrustful and not willing to help. Even worse, Norman may be plotting to murder the couple.
Norman as Mother - 01:41:15 
Surprise! Norman attacks front and center. At the movie’s climax, the audience finally sees that Norman is both his mother and the killer. Again, he’s neither on left or right, but moving toward the viewer. If the left side is Norman looking forward, and the right side is Norman regressing backwards, then center position is stuck in a psychotic limbo. This scene highlights Norman’s split personality; the ultimate mother-son fusion of the psyche.
“She wouldn’t even harm a fly.” - 01:47:25 
In the film’s closing moment, Norman sits in police custody, isolated in a solitary cell. The audience hears his rambling thoughts as his psychosis takes over his rationality. Norman’s final position is stuck in Hitchcock’s third dimension: center of the frame, looking straight at the audience. It is unclear if he is Norman, or Mother, or a chilling hybrid of both. Either way, Hitchcock gives the audience a direct gaze into the psychotic mind.
Related Work
Very few movies employ all three dimensions of left, right and center. One extraordinary example beyond “Psycho” is Krzysztof Kieslowski’s “Blue.” Juliette Binoche’s character of Julie is often photographed in the center, blurring the line between her past and present life. She is a complex woman, with a muddled history and an uncertain future. In short, she does not fully know who she is at any given moment – nor does the audience. As a result, Kieslowski allows the viewer to watch and decide, leaving the audience with an ambiguous, haunting ending.
Another complex example is in the television series “Breaking Bad.” In the “Fly” episode (Season 3, Episode 10), Walter White and Jesse are trapped in the lab for the entire show. As Walter drifts off to sleep, he recalls a dark chapter from his life when he was an unwitting accomplice to murder. While he starts the episode exclusively on the left of frame, he drifts to the right and remains right as he recounts the dark, regretful story.  At the show’s climatic moment when Walt fights the fly (a metaphor for his inner demons) he is centered and looks straight ahead. This episode is a fascinating and successful study of Left-Right-Center orientation directed by the filmmaker Rian Johnson. 
 Conclusion
 Although many films place a character at the left edge of the frame looking right to signify the future, and the right edge looking left to signify past behavior, very few incorporate the use of the center. Studying Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho reveals how and when to fill the center of the frame. It is not for every character and story, but when a morally ambiguous character uncertain of his own place in the universe needs a place to hide, the least obvious space of front and center can be most effective.


Bibliography
Durgnat, Raymond. “A Long Hard Look at ‘Psycho.’” BFI Publishing. 2002.
Oliver, Kelly and Trigo, Benigno. “Noir Anxiety.” University of Minnesota Press. 2003
Robertson, Robert. “Cinema and the Audiovisual Imagination.” I. B. Tauris & Co. 2015.
Wells, Amanda Shehan. “Psycho.” York Press. 2001.