Tuesday, September 1, 2015

More on Vertigo

This is a post I wrote a few years ago about Vertigo, which goes into more depth about the things I love about it. It doesn't have major spoilers, but don't read it if you haven't seen the movie.
 
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There is a wonderful moment in Vertigo that is almost overshadowed by the moment surrounding it. James Stewart is retired detective John Ferguson hired to follow a friend’s wife, Kim Novak. They wind up in front of a wild body of water, embracing while the waves crash in time with every kiss. That’s the moment everyone remembers, but they usually miss the fact that Madeleine calls John “Scottie.”
 
She does it so quickly it could almost be considered flippant. Previously John had told her that only close friends call him Scottie, and somehow between then and now, they have become so close that she feels she deserves that privilege. The simple fact is that they have fallen in love. I quite literally mean fallen. There are many references throughout the film to John falling in some way or another, referring back to the incidents involving his fear of heights and resulting vertigo, which have caused him a great deal of trouble.
 
My point is that it is the little things, the details, which make Vertigo click. When it was first released, people criticized Hitchcock for turning a simple mystery movie into something too slow and complicated. Well, it’s hardly slow and what’s wrong with complicated. This was certainly his most personal film and as such he took his time with it.
 
It is usually decided that the hidden story behind Vertigo is a moral Hitchcock was giving to himself. It was about women. The term “Hitchcock women” had already become associated with his films, even in 1958. They were always blonde, cold and rigid, and dressed in clothes that were plain with suggestive qualities only barely hinted. Looking back, the most alarming quality of these women was the shame that would regularly befall them. Alfred Hitchcock loved these girls, but knew they were created out of his own selfishness, causing him to guiltily destroy them.
 
Vertigo co-stars Kim Novak in a performance often horribly overlooked. She was cast, basically, to play the Hitchcock woman. Her Madeleine is cold and rigid, blonde, particularly famous for one very plain suit, and she repeatedly tries to kill herself. She does succeed in hurling herself from a building, at least, so says the jury afterwards. Imagine John’s demented excitement when he finds a girl who looks just like her walking down the street. He follows her to her apartment, convinces her to join him for dinner, and ultimately forces her to dress up to look exactly as Madeleine had before her demise.
 
This results in the most hauntingly incredible shot in the film, punctuated by Bernard Herrman's powerfully eerie score. It is the one where James Stewart turns around to see the person he created. Kim Novak, looking exactly the way she should, then slowly walks towards him while illuminated by an almost sinister neon light. The scene is a visual allusion to Hitchcock’s habit of creating women the way he wanted them to look and, just as John does in the film, for loving them when they look correct, but not when they are themselves.
 
The ultimate effect of Hitchcock’s manipulation, however, is in the creation of a character that he finds appealing, with the film made in a way that forces us to be entranced by her also. The first time we get a good look at her, it is in a mirror, which is really a trick because we are not actually seeing her, but a slightly altered version. Then there is the great scene in the graveyard, in which John gets closer, farther away, and then very close to her with each corner he turns. There is something very unreal, almost dream-like about these long scenes of Madeleine’s trail. They are almost enough to convince the viewer of the ghostly story John was hired to prove.
 
In the end, none of that can actually be real and even the romance doesn’t ever feel completely genuine. I can almost sense an even more cynical message underlying this movie. Take, for instance, the small character of Midge, John’s college sweetheart and confidant. She loves him and he doesn’t love her, yet she still reacts negatively to John spending all of his time running after this other woman. We almost feel bad for her when he more or less dumps her, but her scenes are shot very dispassionately. I don’t think we ever were supposed to care about what happens to her.
 
Her final scene is her walking down the hallway out of the hospital where John is being treated for melancholia. It is fascinating how much the look of a movie can change everything. When she had walked up the hallway to see John and then the doctor, it was brightly lit and occupied by friendly nurses. When she walks back down the hallway, it is dark, gloomy, and empty. We do not see her again.
 
The cinematography of the film in general is still a great thing to witness, especially for the moments when John is in a high place and looks down. Another great moment is in the creation of a surreal dream John has, which is made using rather simple editing techniques, but done in a way that is memorably unsettling. An interesting thing I have noticed is that most shots of James Stewart are relatively wide. Close-ups of his face only occur when he is with Kim Novak. Perhaps this is because he is seeing the world from an impersonal point of view prior to meeting the woman of his dreams.
 
Notice also the vibrant colors that seem to be designated to certain characters, following them everywhere they go. Stewart's color is brown, Novak's green, a certain other female character's is violet, and then there's the big red warning signs that Stewart chooses to ignore.
 
I must mention that, although eyes are automatically drawn to Novak whenever she is on-screen, that is not to say that Stewart’s performance is not also great. His early scenes are so confident and cheerful, as though he were in one of his screwball comedies. Even whenever he is trailing Madeleine, he is in detective mode and there is no connection between the two really until almost halfway through, right before her death. Stewart displays obsession admirably and the whole film depends on this portrayal.
 
The story is about two obsessions; one false and one very real. Madeleine’s obsession with a long-deceased woman named Carlotta Valdes and John’s obsession with Madeleine are the main points of the film, and they both provide great mystery movie qualities. I do not wish to lump this in with the idea of cheap murder mystery thrills, because it is really above all that. Vertigo doesn’t thrive on thrills, but on people, messed up though they may be..
 
The fact that this movie was virtually ignored during its original release is inconsequential, as it has since found its place amongst the movie classic elite. Alfred Hitchcock here continues to prove that he was one of the very greatest minds in cinema, and it may very well be the greatest film in his canon.

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