The Movies of Alfred Hitchcock

John Buchan's popular novel, The 39 Steps, has been adapted for the big screen on three occasions, but Alfred Hitchcock's exquisite 1935 original is still comfortably the best.

Hitchcock took certain liberties with the source material, using it as a springboard for his own ideas, with the intention of creating suspense for the audience. However, John Buchan later admitted that he was very happy with Hitchcock's vision of his novel and it is easy to see why.

The outcome is a sensational, fast-paced adventure, brimming with exciting sequences, most notably the chase on the train that culminates on The Forth Rail Bridge.

It is also the first Hitchcock movie to explore a favoured theme that would become very prominent throughout his career; that of the innocent hero on the run from the law and/or the villains.

The 39 Steps is terrific fun and a sure sign of what was to come in later years from the master.

The Lady Vanishes is Alfred Hitchcock's best British movie and his first masterpiece.

It is also an early example of his fascination with trains as tools for suspense and excitement.

All aboard for this espionage themed mystery thriller, starring the charming Margaret Lockwood as the heroine, returning to England to marry her fiancée.

Hitchcock lays the tracks for the journey ahead and sets the story into motion, as Lockwood befriends the genial lady of the title and, when she vanishes, is shocked to discover that her fellow passengers do not acknowledge her existence on the train. Her only ally is the charismatic Michael Redgrave in her search for the truth.

The movie then gains speed, as Hitchcock masterfully conducts us through a series of exciting twists and turns, occasionally slowing for light comedy from the amusing passengers, before going full steam ahead to an exhilarating conclusion to our journey.

"Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again...."

So begins Rebecca, a chilling gothic thriller from the pages of Daphne Du Maurier's celebrated novel, vividly realised in an entrancing and truly unforgettable cinematic experience.

Joan Fontaine delivers a star-making performance as a naive young ladies companion, whose fairytale romance with the wealthy Maxim De Winter is curtailed by the overwhelming memory of his late wife, Rebecca.

Alfred Hitchcock's menacing masterpiece embraces the character of Rebecca and exerts her formidable influence through intrusive camerawork that lingers ominously, like an unwelcome guest.

Furthermore, he saturates the screen with imposing shadows, like a shroud of mystery and despair hanging heavily over Manderley, concealing the truth regarding the fate of Rebecca.

Lurking within the shadows is the gloriously sinister Mrs Danvers, whose obsessive devotion to the late Rebecca torments the new Mrs De Winter and is a catalyst for a mesmerizing finale.

Shadow of a Doubt is a sinister thriller that charms you with Teresa Wright's luminous presence, but simultaneously unsettles you with Joseph Cotton's insidious evil.



It was also Alfred Hitchcock's personal favourite, as he was interested in the contrast of the innocent and naïve small town America, whose closed community is so isolated from the dark perversions of the big cities.



In this movie, the darkness infringes upon the Arcadian world in the form of Joseph Cotton's Uncle Charlie; the 'Merry Widow' murderer, whose charming exterior masks a cold heart and malignant soul. He escapes from Philadelphia and journeys to sleepy Santa Rosa, to hide out with his sister and her family, who are completely unaware of his true nature.



Within the family is Teresa Wright's Young Charlie, who embodies the small town qualities and worships her uncle. His arrival in Santa Rosa casts a menacing shadow over the town and it is not long before Uncle Charlie's poisonous hatred seeps out, polluting Young Charlie's idyllic existence and threatening her life.



What follows is a remarkably suspenseful game of cat and mouse, brimming with moments of incredible tension that resonate throughout the movie, building to an astounding climax that ultimately shatters Young Charlie's innocence.



Shadow of a Doubt is quite simply one of the greatest achievements in movie-making and, in my opinion, second only to Rear Window in Hitchcock's impressive catalogue of work.

A single room in a middle-class London flat is the residence of one of Alfred Hitchcock's greatest thrillers, Dial 'M' For Murder.

We are invited into the lives of sophisticated gentleman, Ray Milland and his trophy wife, Grace Kelly; both playing out their roles in a marriage as theatrical as the staging of the movie.

As we peer beyond the façade, we are immersed in the murky waters of betrayal and murder, which washes away Milland's charming exterior to expose a cruel egotist, bruised by the infidelity of the fragile Kelly, seeking the love and affection deficient in Milland.

This is the raw material with which Hitchcock, the master craftsman, fashions a work of consummate skill and pioneering vision, indicative of an artist in complete control of his medium.

Furthermore, great praise is due to all who collaborated on this movie (and all the others), as they are the building blocks of the pedestal upon which Hitchcock sits.

The product is a glorious amalgam of sharp editing by Rudi Fehr, expressive cinematography by Robert Burks and an overwrought music score by Dimitri Tiomkin. These elements are unified in a claustrophobic and refined thriller that manipulates us with prods of tension, dwelling on every detail for maximum impact.

The highlight of Dial 'M' For Murder is the magnificently realised attack on Grace Kelly. The darkened room conceals the evil intentions, but the creeping shadow casts an ominous threat. The edgy music gradually gathers momentum, cutting through your nerves with each thrust of the violin bow. Then, out of the darkness, echoes the forbidding ring of the telephone......The music erupts into a frenetic wail and the suspense breaks, yielding a brutal intensity that spirals out of control, before culminating with a grand finale that leaves a searing imprint on cinematic history.

'Rear Window' is the pinnacle of Alfred Hitchcock's distinguished career and one of the finest cinematic achievements ever to grace the silver screen.

"That's a secret private world you're looking into out there. People do a lot of things in private they couldn't possibly explain in public."

"Rear window ethics" come under the intimate glare of the zoom lens in this voyeuristic thriller, when a wheelchair bound James Stewart observes a medley of private dramas unfolding across the courtyard. Each is a disparate plot thread woven around the principal themes with imperious craftsmanship and witnessed by a subjective camera that serves as a gateway into an inextricable tapestry of human behaviour.

The ever reliable Stewart brings a touch of class to proceedings, impressing his considerable presence and talent to convey a vulnerability to his cynical character. He is matched in his efforts by a sterling supporting cast, including the acerbic Thelma Ritter, sophisticated Grace Kelly and laconic Wendell Corey. The chemistry between Stewart and Kelly is wonderful, crackling with entertaining interchanges, but Ritter and Corey also get in on the act, delivering sly black humour that offers light relief to a dark tale.

However, the name of the game is suspense and Hitchcock is the consummate master, gleefully playing the audience strictly to his rules. He and his crew have shrouded the movie in a sinister ambiance that gradually takes hold, smothering the playful humour with fragments of morbid intrigue, like pieces of a puzzle that form a frightening image of depravity.

To Catch a Thief is a luxurious Technicolor extravaganza from Alfred Hitchcock, which is far removed from his gloomy suspense thrillers of the 1940's with which he fashioned his considerable reputation on the world stage.

The movie is bathed in the dazzling sunshine of the French Riviera, smiling down upon Hitchcock and his crew with an opulent glow, as they frolic in the millionaires' playground.

In preparing this movie, Hitchcock was like a master chef, slyly serving up a delectable feast of luscious landscapes and exuberant frivolity, garnished with flamboyant flourishes; all the while basking in his own unashamed indulgence.

Cary Grant and Grace Kelly ease comfortably into the festivities with characteristic charm, infusing proceedings with their glamorous personas that befit the nature of the production.

Grant is suave and assured as 'The Cat', utilising his acrobatic origins to exhibit a feline agility, as well as a virile energy that lends an air of mystery and danger to his character.

Kelly is typically elegant and alluring as the fledgling heiress, preening seductively whilst displaying the poise of a ballerina, as she glides gracefully, on an aura of sophistication, towards the demure Grant.

To Catch a Thief is often unfairly rated in comparison to Hitchcock's master works, such as Rear Window and Vertigo. I believe that this movie and similar types, such as The Trouble with Harry, should be judged on their own merits, within the genre they reside.

To Catch a Thief is a gloriously enjoyable caper that amounts to nothing more than pure escapism. We are transported to the fantastical world of high society, brimming with cat burglars and affluent playboys, all encapsulated in a bubble of pristine locations.

'The Trouble with Harry' is that he is dead and everyone believes that they are responsible. Comedy escapades ensue as each character attempts to dispose of the body, whilst avoiding the over inquisitive local lawman. Even as a corpse, Harry proves to be a lot of trouble.

Alfred Hitchcock makes a rare foray into comedy with this unheralded gem that stands alone as a curious oddity in his portfolio.

'The Trouble with Harry' is a quirky, light-hearted caper with a liberal dose of morbid humour that serves as a catalyst for a farcical entanglement of death, comedy and romance.

It is beautifully played out by an array of endearingly eccentric characters, which are fully embraced by a fantastic cast, including Hitchcock stalwart Edmund Gwenn, the flamboyant John Forsyth and the charmingly kooky Shirley MacLaine in her feature debut. Each performer delivers their amusing, inoffensive dialogue with a visible enjoyment that is in keeping with the lively spirit of this gentle slice of entertainment.

The tranquil New England setting is a pleasure to behold, vitalised on screen by a ravishing autumnal palette that keenly admires the serene beauty of the untarnished Vermont countryside, where much of the movie was filmed.

Finally, Bernard Herrmann's mischievous and playful music score wonderfully captures the delicate tone of the movie, shifting effortlessly between overbearing macabre and humorous, jaunty tunes, which contributes greatly to a hugely enjoyable experience, from beginning to end.

"The Trouble with Harry is over"

In the early 1950's, Alfred Hitchcock narrowly missed the opportunity to dramatize a novel by the French duo Pierre Boileau and Thomas Narcejac, titled 'Celle qui n'etait plus'. This was taken up by Henri-Georges Clouzot and released as 'Les Diaboliques' in 1955, to worldwide acclaim.

Therefore, when Boileau and Narcejac published 'D'Entre Les Morts' in 1954, Hitchcock insisted that Paramount secure the rights to the novel and, four years later, 'Vertigo' was unleashed on an unsuspecting public.

'Vertigo' is a thrilling story, draped in the rich tapestry of Greek mythology, alluding to the tales of 'Orpheus' and 'Eurydice'. It explores the fascinating themes of the return of a dead beloved to life and the tragic consequences of clinging to the past.

These are key elements of the movie and they are invigorated by eloquent cinematography that gently caresses the screen, casting a seductive spell, which induces you into a psychological labyrinth that descends into the murky depths of insanity.

The structure of the movie is a compelling myriad of intrigue, shrouded in a dream-like haze of poetic fantasy. Gradually, the fabric unravels with a hypnotic rhythm and each disparate thread cuts an ominous path through the romantic mirage, unveiling a sinister undercurrent of manipulation and deceit.

As the last thread falls, the doleful reality manifests as a chilling obsession, which shatters the dream state, fragmenting into shards of misery and despair that penetrate deep into your consciousness. Each harrowing blow is presided over by Bernard Herrmann's haunting music score that resonates profoundly like a grand opera of human frailty.

James Stewart delivers an intense and unsettling performance as the tragic hero, affecting a devastating transition from a vulnerable soul, enamoured with the alluring Kim Novak, into a twisted figure of desperation, slipping into a desolate abyss of suffering. Stewart succeeds in extracting every nuance of emotion from the story and casts a foreboding shadow that looms over proceedings, culminating in a truly disturbing finale.

Alfred Hitchcock invites us to go "North by Northwest", on a stylish and expansive Cross-country pursuit, from New York to South Dakota. We joyously trail Cary Grant through a series of memorable scenes and iconic set-pieces, danger looming ominously over our hero, as a case of mistaken identity implicates him as an unwitting player in an international cold war - inextricably entangled with refined villain, James Mason.

Each dazzlingly staged episode is a disparate fragment of an exciting and colourful collage, punctuated by interludes of protracted suspense, providing the raw material for an exhilarating and flamboyant composition, assembled by the hands of the master and his fellow craftsmen.

The stand-out moments of this diverse artistry are the crop-dusting plane attack and the climactic chase across the faces of Mount Rushmore. The former is a visual treat, as the glorious panoramic images capture the plane swooping down from the glaring sun, like a bird of prey, chasing our stranded hero across the dusty wilderness of Highway 41. The latter is equally spectacular, boasting searing tension that is balanced on a knife edge, as precarious as Cary Grant and Eva Marie Saint dangling from the face of the famous monument.

"North by Northwest" is yet another fruitful collaboration between Hitchcock and regular composer, Bernard Herrmann; the latter scoring a lively commentary on the elaborately plotted action, beginning with a boisterous overture that sets the tone for a bold and dynamic adventure.

The sprawling script by Ernest Lehman is lightly humorous, brimming with snappy and sophisticated dialogue that is justified by the charismatic Grant, who is particularly enjoyable during the steamy train journey, when he first encounters the elegant seductress, Saint. We are treated to sizzling chemistry between the two charming leads, both eagerly getting their mouths around Lehman's suggestive words.

"North by Northwest" is a rip-roaring thrill ride, relentless from the opening flourishes through to the very peculiar finale - from mortal danger to wedded bliss in the blink of an eye.

The impact of this notorious 1960 shocker may have diminished slightly with time, due to a generation raised with a taste for graphic violence from the likes of Friday the 13th and A Nightmare on Elm Street. However, Psycho remains a supremely suspenseful and exquisitely crafted thriller that lives long in the memory.

In the beginning, director Alfred Hitchcock lulls you into a false sense of security by laying the foundations of a conventional story. Furthermore, he offers you the comforting familiarity of the presence of major Hollywood star Janet Leigh in the central role.

However, as the movie progresses, Hitchcock gradually turns the screw until you feel unsettled. The mounting tension is palpable and Bernard Herrmann's ominous score screeches prominently and frantically, like a prophetic warning of doom.

Finally, silence settles as a glowing neon sign slowly appears on the rain soaked landscape and it becomes clear that the portended doom is close at hand.

At this point, the movie shifts and the overwhelming tension of earlier is replaced by a far more sinister tone. This is brimming with a latent menace that yields remarkable suspense, as it gradually manifests through a series of meticulously executed set-pieces that exhibit Hitchcock's flair for the macabre.

In the first, he gleefully victimizes his ill-fated heroine in the infamous shower scene and orchestrates the brutal demise of another principle character in the second. Both set-pieces will have you rejoicing in the breathtaking excitement and technical brilliance that have become synonymous with the master.

The third and final set-piece is the grand revelation and Hitchcock expertly draws out the tension, tearing at your nerves as he builds to a tremendous climax, before concluding with a truly chilling finale.