A Conversation with Hitchcock

Your first film with Tippi Hedren was The Birds. This film was one of the worst movies ever made and certainly the worst film you ever made. I am not alone in that view. It looks low budget, from the beginning to the end. It failed on many levels—let us count the ways. First, it looks like a movie made by a bunch of grimy, unwashed first year film students, a low budget, no budget mess. As usual the plot of the movie—a bunch of birds attacking and killing people in the village of Bodega Bay for no apparent reason—is way beyond belief. I didn't believe any of it and neither did film critic Brandon of the New Yorker in 1963. He called it a "sorry failure." Stanley Kauffman of The New Republic called it "The worst thriller of Hitchcock's I can remember."I agree with both of these perceptive critics. Did the special effects people let you down Alfred? Were there any special effects people even hired? I mean I laughed out loud when I watched crow hand-puppets trying to chew their way through a thick sheetrock wall, in order to get to their quivering human victims. That unconvincing and artificial scene alone dumped the movie for me. Then there is the scene where a seagull swoops down on a poor random man at a gas station, knocking him clear out and causing the gas hose to spill gasoline, which then starts a huge fire—and it is simply not believable.

What viewers see is water running from the gas hose. Alfred old man, really, gasoline and water do not pour in the same way, nor do they have the same visual characteristics. Water pours more energetically, and splashes with more force. It is clear. Gasoline has more body, tends to be darker and golden in color and pours differently—is heavier with a different level of viscosity. It also stains concrete with a darker color, as gasoline is oil based and water is not. Gas and water don’t pour alike and they don’t look alike. What comes from the hose during this scene is obviously water and I as a viewer and a retired police detective was surprised when all that water, (after a series of clever editors’ cuts) magically caught on fire. Again, I chuckled at this glaring error. Any fire fighter or street cop would also see this error as well.

The Birds has no convincing ending. The protagonists simply get in a car and drive away. Where were they going? What was coming next for them? I suspect when your sexual advances towards Tippi Hedren were not taken seriously during filming, and she continued to reject you as kindly as she was known to do, you told the producers to end the movie as you were no longer interested in it. This is only a suspicious but it would make sense. The other issue with this film is the absolute lack of a musical film score. The film drags on and on and has the flat feeling of a documentary, because there is no music during the film at all, only the odd “soundscape” that Hitchcock and Bernard Herrman consulted on, using an electro-acoustic Trautonium.

Years later, during an interview, Tippi Hedren described when you assaulted her. She is quoted as saying: "He suddenly grabbed me and put his hands on me. It was sexual." And did you really threaten to destroy her career because she rejected you? She said you did. How reprehensible! How terrible of you to threaten a young woman, an aspiring actress with ruin because you couldn't get into her panties. And what about your poor wife Alma Reville whom you married in 1926? Did Alma know you were ready to ditch her if Hedren agreed to marry you? A very despicable picture of you is painted here Alfred old man. It is a picture of an old, corpulent and sexually frustrated hypocrite on a power trip—the kind of man who liked to just screw with people’s lives because he could. That was you, wasn’t it? So old chap, let us carry on. Your film North by Northwest again shows both your penchant for yet another impossible, never-going-to-happen, plot twist. I mean really Alfred, when we see Cary Grant and Eva Marie Saint scrambling to climb across the presidential faces of Mt. Rushmore, I just had to sigh. Who was it that convinced you that having the lead characters being chased across these iconic sculptures was a good idea? It not only looks silly it is totally unbelievable, dangerous and certainly illegal. To your credit you do follow the tried and true “sexual tension” formula of the lead characters not liking each other at first. I mean Eva Marie Saint actually shoots Cary Grant in the middle of the film, but then in the end scene they ride the train into some kind of tunnel of love. It is formula, but it works. Most viewers want a happy ending. It is the same formula used in almost every Western movie ever made. So, good on that count, Mr. Copycat.

This film embodies both a lousy plot but I must say in a couple of instances it shows your technical genius regarding camera angles. You did learn about camera angles and lighting from some of the best film directors Germany had to offer when you studied there in the 1920's. You learned from the likes of Ernst Lubitsch, Frederick Willhelm Murmau and of course the original genius the Fritz Lang. I believe you learned the most from Fritz Lang as his awareness of Mise-en-scène was exquisite and his camera angles and lighting were also genius and something that he is known to have created himself. Perhaps I should explain Mise-en-scène to my readers, in case they don’t know that it means. Mise-en-scène is what the camera sees, the sets, costumes and lighting as well as the movement of the actors, and how it all works together. You learned it well, Albert.

Lang's film "M," starring Peter Lorrie was one of the two best films ever made. I can see some of Lang’s influence in your film, North by Northwest. For example, the Birdseye shot looking down on Cary Grant as he leaves the UN building is pure Lang. You never would have thought of that on your own. It was a great angle and great shot showing a lot of perspective. Your other famous scene, the murderous pilot in the crop duster who tries to kill poor Cary Grant stuck out in the middle of nowhere without any place to hide was also genius ala Fritz Lang. I give you kudos for those two scenes but the lame and impossible plot ruins the whole project.

Although the film features yet another Ice Blond in Eva Marie Saint, you don't kill her off as you usually do, but the plot has a man murdered, instead. I guess you cannot make a film without someone dying in it. I have to wonder just what your attraction is and compulsion to focus so exclusively on murder? Are your films depicting murderous desire a tool for acting out your unconscious fantasies? Do you want to murder someone but can only have it done vicariously through your films? I believe your choice of brutal murder scenes also says a lot about who you are. And what it says is not good. It says the voyeur in you is evil.

Now, let us take a look at Rear Window, released in 1959. It is well-known as the best movie you ever made and in my opinion, for two reasons. First, the plot is entirely plausible—a first for you. It is about an apartment dweller in New York City who murders his annoying, and dependent invalid wife. That is plausible. Then he chops her body up in little pieces which all seemingly fit into a convenient little suitcase—gruesome, yet still plausible.

Rear Window screams high budget. It was produced well, with lots of backers who had money to burn. You built an entire set to look like a real apartment building, no easy task. This way you could have Jimmy Stewart, your leading man, a character called Jeff, reacting to other actors in their apartments across the courtyard, all acting out their various parts in real time. The expressions on Stewart's face are genuine as “Jeff” observes the other apartment dwellers going about their daily or nightly activities. They are an odd bunch.

There are the newlyweds, fighting and making up, the lonesome songwriter who plays the same melancholy ballad over and over on the piano, the dancer Jeff calls “The Torso,” practicing her routine, the sweet older lady who lowers her cute dog in a basket so he can piddle only to discover one late night that he’s been strangled. And of course there is Miss Lonely Hearts drinking alone and pretending she has company, to then burst into tears of despair.

Being able to control the lighting and movement of all the actors at the same time shows your exquisite control of Mise-en-scène and your ability to direct your actors. Congratulations on that aspect of your professionalism. The film however, is still essentially a voyeur sneak-peek at Jeff’s neighbors with a telephoto lens and binoculars. The character of Jeff is in my opinion, the voyeur within you, Alfred old man—another way of acting out your fantasies? Of seeing things in real life that you could only see through your actors playing the parts?

Another signature Ice Blond of yours, in this film is Grace Kelly, but your plot does not have her either raped or murdered. You manage to make the film interesting through the voyeur lens of Jimmy Stewart without a lot of visible bloody gore, sexual violence or tangled entrails. Here we see that less is more and that the plotline works just fine without gushing blood.

Did you learn from your past plot mistakes? Apparently not. You went on to make Psycho in September of 1960, the year following the release of Rear Window. The film is an exercise in blatant woman hatred, with transparent Madonna/Whore syndrome dynamics within it, and some people believe you traumatized an entire generation of women and young girls. Women were afraid to take a shower after seeing Psycho for years, including the lead actress Janet Leigh who claimed the filming of that scene and the need for her to scream repeatedly during the filming of it, so traumatized her that she could never shower again without fear. I am not going to discuss Psycho too much, as it was too perverse, disgusting and sometimes even bloody. But your obsessions with blondes continued and in Psycho the Ice Blond chosen was Janet Leigh. Again your voyeurism manifested itself as the silent figure in black who watches a naked women take a shower before murdering her, the fate of all beautiful women in most of your films. History tells us you used 78 camera set ups and 52 cuts for that one single scene, the shower scene. Obviously you were obsessed with watching Janet Leigh in the shower. Your voyeuristic compulsion to fuss over the details of that particular scene went on for over a week, a third of the films entire shooting schedule! Years later, it was revealed that people working on the set joked they could hear you panting in the background. This film exposes the nauseating misogyny and the voyeuristic blood lust inherent in the monster that I believe you were. You are the silent figure in black here aren't you—the Anthony Perkins character? One film critic, Richard Brody of The New Yorker synopsizes you perfectly after you produced Marnie and his take could also apply to Psycho when he wrote of Marnie:

The film is, to put it simply, sick, and it’s so because Hitchcock was sick. He suffered all his life from furious sexual desire, suffered from the lack of its gratification, suffered from the inability to transform fantasy into reality, and then went ahead and did so virtually, by way of his art. That’s why Hitchcock’s methods—Hitchcock’s meticulous and mysterious plots, Hitchcock’s style of image-making, Hitchcock’s process of designing his movies, their images and sounds and performances, with a supremely analytical specificity and intentionality—are relevant to Hitchcock alone. That’s why the veneration of Hitchcock as the reigning model of directorial precision and control is grotesquely counterproductive for filmmakers and critics—and for the history and progress of the art of moviemaking. His films are the beautiful rendering of his own ugly fury.

Brody’s analysis of your film making and you is right on target, isn’t it Alfred?

Now, to your being knighted by Queen Elizabeth the II in 1980. The Queen has knighted many internationally known figures, among them Mick Jagger, Paul McCartney, Sean Connery, Anthony Hopkins and even Billy Graham, to name only a few. So, the honor of being knighted is a sort of general life time achievement award for regular folks who made good. I wonder if the Queen would have so honored you had she realized what a misogynistic voyeur you really were? I certainly hope not, although I can see some humor in the entire process—I present Sir Alfred, The Chubby. He is propped up on a white horse staggering under his tremulous corpulence, clad in armor with a jousting lance in his hand.

It is quite the visual picture I'd say. Gallop away now Sir Chubby, Gallop into the history books!

Since you have made over fifty films, Alfred, I don't have the time, desire or inclination to discuss them all. Suffice it to say, old man, you would not like what I would have to say as it would be more of the truth. The truth is, you were a pervert. Making movies starring beautiful women was the only way you could surround yourself with beautiful women, controlling them by contracts and threats and sometimes even the terror and repulsive awkwardness of physical and sexual assault, as with Tippi Hedren.

In your acceptance speech when you received the Lifetime Achievement award, March 7, 1978, in Hollywood, I will repeat a quote from that speech when you were waxing sentimental about your dear wife Alma Reville. You said: "I beg to mention by name only four people who have given me the most affection, appreciation and encouragement and constant collaboration. The first of the four is a film editor, the second is a scriptwriter, the third is the mother of my daughter Pat, and the fourth is as fine a cook as ever performed miracles in a domestic kitchen...and their names are Alma Reville."

Were you thinking about Tippi Hedren, Alfred, and the day you groped her, terrifying and repulsing her, when you eulogized your wife? Did your wife know you intended to marry Tippi Hedren and had begged her repeatedly to agree to marry you, ignoring her kind refusals again and again? Did your wife know that you would have gladly thrown her out the door had Ms. Hedren accepted your proposals of marriage? She may have, or perhaps she chose to be blind to the whole thing.

Your poor wife Alma must have known, on some level, about your lusting and unwanted sexual advances towards numerous other women, because those kinds of things get around in the film industry. She must also have known or suspected about your inappropriate feelings for Tippi Hedren, as Hedren told several people during the filming of The Birds that you had not only assaulted her more than once while on the film set, but had begged her to marry you repeatedly. Decades later, as mentioned previously in this essay, Hedren wrote about your obsession with her, stating publically: "He suddenly grabbed me and put his hands on me. It was sexual."

Along with the rest of your perversions Sir Alfred, I will add the 8th deadly sin of hypocrisy. You were a classic hypocrite. I hope your Royal chubbiness was turned away at the pearly gates and I hope that you are naked and rotting in hell for the horrible way you treated women and especially Tippi Hedren.

You made some good films, but in many ways you were an ugly monster, a failure as a man and the biggest hypocrite in the film making industry and certainly one of the most woman hating directors of all time. 

By Don DuPay

Edited by Theresa Griffin Kennedy