This is part of a series of articles reviewing the American Film Institute's Top 100 Films, as unveiled in 2007. Why am I doing this? Because the damned cinemas are closed and I have to review something.
(M) ★★★★½
Director: Alfred Hitchcock
Cast: James Stewart, Kim Novak, Barbara Bel Geddes, Tom Helmore, Henry Jones, Raymond Bailey, Ellen Corby, Konstantin Shayne.
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| The Matrix sequel was filming next door. |
God, this is such a weird film.
Following an hypnotic, unique-for-its-time opening credit sequence, it begins as a detective story with an unexpected kink. From there, Vertigo becomes a ghost story in broad daylight, then a peculiar whodunnit, a downward-spiralling tale of obsession, and a manic (if somewhat dated) look at mental illness.
This strange combination of styles, plus the peculiar way the story unfolds, as well as its bizarre "hero's journey" make it unlike any other Hollywood production of its time (or for a long time after, for that matter). As The Wordsworth Book Of Movie Classics puts it, Vertigo is "one of the bleakest, most perverse offerings to come out of mainstream American cinema in the 1950s". It's also a gripping watch, right from the get-go, despite (or perhaps because of) its unconventional nature.
Vertigo, like many films on this list, was not widely praised on its release. The Daily Mail famously labelled it "Hitch-poppycock", while The New Yorker judged it as "far-fetched nonsense". As 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die puts it, much of the criticism centred on its "unlikely plot dependent on a fiendishly implausible murder scheme on the part of a thinly characterised villain".
Vertigo is indeed a great film, and has been re-evaluated by critics, rising in prestige in the decades that followed its release to even surpass Citizen Kane on some lists. Even the AFI's voters looked at it differently between 1998 and 2007, bumping it up 52 spots. But the issues about its ridiculous murder plot haven't disappeared since they were flagged by the reviewers in 1958 - it remains one of the daffiest assassinations committed to celluloid, and it's something that keeps Vertigo just short of perfection.
Equally as stodgy then as it is now is the hard-to-swallow age gap and attraction between Stewart's acrophobic ex-cop and Novak's mysterious blonde. Even Hitchcock himself said that while Vertigo was one of his favourite films, he conceded the 49-year-old Stewart looked too old to play the 24-year-old Novak's love interest, even going so far as to blame this for the film's failure on release.
But several factors have ensured the film has endured beyond it's silly murder machinations and unbelievable romance (and creaky rear projections, while we're at it).
Hitchcock's visuals are part of the ongoing acclaim. The script may not be immediately quotable, but what lingers is the imagery, and the way it creates a chilling mood (aided by Bernard Herrmann's eerie score, Robert Burks' cinematography and Edith Head's costuming). When we first see "the wife" (she isn't named until about 40 minutes in - unless I missed it - as if she's merely some unnamed possession), she floats by like a disembodied spirit, the camera transfixed by her. Later, dressed in ghostly white, she seemingly disappears amid the sequoias, like a spectre in a dream.
It's part of the haunting quality of the film, which evolves into a sense of uncomfortable nausea that Hitchcock amplifies by bathing one particular scene in sickly neon green (and uses a brilliant rear projection trick that makes you forgive how bad the previous ones looked). Throw in some odd angle choices and the now-famous dolly zoom (which reportedly cost almost US$170,000 in today's money for a few seconds of film), and Vertigo is a fine example of how directors can throw viewers off-kilter.
But even more enduring is the mystique around the film. What is it really about? The shortlist from my first rewatching in more than 20 years is that it's about obsession, possession, mental illness, identity, and misogyny, but Vertigo, more than most films, has generated endless streams of analysis, meta-analysis, and psychoanalysis. What other movie can stir up a review like this which references Freud, Jung and Christianity in one breath, and then lines up authors such as Poe, Stevenson, and Melville in another? Elsewhere it forms a central part in a discussion on the male gaze in cinema, is studied in school for its disturbing takes on love, guilt and reality, and is even touted as kicking of the American New Wave of film-making that flourished in the '60s. Others have called it a meditation on film itself, a reveal of Hitchcock's own sexual predilections and love of dominating icy blondes, and the middle part of his Anxiety Trilogy (between Rear Window and North By Northwest).
And there's this brilliant video that shows Hitchcock's mastery in simply blocking out a scene:
Sight & Sound magazine, in crowning it the greatest film of all time, called it "the ultimate critics' film". Part of this, aside from the way it welcomes almost infinite dissection, is Vertigo's unconventional nature. Its structure is bizarre - a major character dies around the halfway point, the film's big reveal also comes with plenty of time to play, all of which leaves space for the film to plummet headlong into some weird territory involving its central disturbing relationship before climaxing with a truly crazy, out-of-nowhere ending.
It also gives us a wonderfully against-type performance from Stewart. He's the hero, yes, but he becomes damned unlikable by film's end. His relationship with his friend/ex Midge (a terrific Geddes) rings alarm bells early on as to the nature of Stewart's Scottie. And leaving the age gap aside, the Stewart-Novak combination is unnerving, which helps make the film both fascinating and unexpected. Novak is also amazing, adding layers to a role that could have been a mere mannequin.
Much like its freaky dream sequence, Vertigo was bold and ahead of its time. It's also gripping and entertaining. But it's not perfect, and unlike the other films I've watched so far on this list, it feels hokey in places, largely due to its ropey rear projections, its outdated psychology, and its wacky murder plot.
Still, this is Hitchcock pushing boundaries and the artform like few other Hollywood directors of the time dared. I'd put Psycho and even North By Northwest above Vertigo - they are closer to perfect for mine. But this is indelible, difficult and intriguing film-making. As The Incredible Suit notes, Vertigo is "Hitch's most awful, brilliant achievement", and it's impossible to argue with that.
(And if you can't be bothered watching the whole thing, Faith No More summarises the film pretty well in this great clip for an awesome song.)
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