Although Sight and Sound Magazine recently anointed my personal favorite movie, Vertigo as the greatest film of all time, my wife, Lisa, always preferred an earlier Alfred Hitchcock/Jimmy Stewart pairing, Rear Window. Out of the two choices, it’s the more approachable and epitomizes Hitchcock’s directorial prowess better than any other film.
Some have proclaimed Rear Window as Hitchcock’s ultimate tribute to both the power and limitations of the movie-going experience. As mere observers, audiences are at the mercy of the film-makers, unable to change or interfere with anything that transpires within the realms of the story. We must sit and observe. In the film photojournalist L.B. “Jeff” Jeffries (Jimmy Stewart) is incapacitated, bound to a wheel chair, nursing a broken leg, unable to physically avert the course of the actions he witnesses. Even when his girlfriend (also named Lisa) falls into jeopardy, he is powerless to stop it.
Hitchcock capitalizes by adhering to a disciplined approach: The entire film occurs within Jeff’s tiny apartment. We never leave his side. When he observes the square enclosure of his surrounding neighborhood apartment buildings, the camera almost never strays from what Jeff witnesses. If there’s ever a closeup, it’s only because Jeff is glancing through a camera or binoculars.
Hitchcock only breaks the illusion twice. Early in the film, as Jeff sleeps, we’re presented one piece of visual information. I’m not entirely sure why Hitchcock chose to reveal this except to add a shred of doubt to Jeff’s theories: Maybe he’s wrong about the murder. The other is the only camera shot that’s taken from outside Jeff’s apartment: when the villain finally notices Jeff’s surveillance–and stares right back. Suddenly, the voyeur is now prey to the same device.
Hitchcock frames the shots of Jeff’s neighborhood based on his point-of-view. The camera perfectly displays information crucial to the core of the suspense. For instance, there’s a moment when the supposed killer returns home while Lisa searches his apartment for incriminating evidence. Again, Hitchcock never places the camera inside the assumed killer’s apartment. We’re right along side Jeff. We can see both actions simultaneously through separate windows: Lisa surveying the apartment and the suspect killer approaching the apartment door. The tension builds because neither party is aware of the other. As the killer gets closer to the door, Jeff and the audience are experiencing the exact same response and are incapable of doing anything to prevent it.
The singular plot gimmick alone makes Rear Window a brilliant thriller, but the story stretches even further. There’s also the subplot about Jeff’s waning relationship with the beautiful, high-society fashion consultant Lisa (Grace Kelly). Rear Window’s screenplay by John Michael Hayes, based on a short story by Cornell Woolrich, really strikes cords on the universal fears as well the keen contrasts between the sexes. Lisa is rich and wants Jeff to give up his international photography escapades in order to strengthen their relationship. Jeff foresees issues–smugly denouncing the very idea of marriage–believing he and Lisa’s mismatched lifestyles will inevitably doom their love: a series of romantic interruptions and frustrations that strike true even after 60 years!
Before the murder plot initiates, Lisa arrives with a gourmet dinner prepared to celebrate Jeff’s last week of a recovery. With every extravagance Lisa gives him, the further she pushes Jeff away. The conversation erodes into the time-old argument between men and women when neither is fully able to understand the other. She asks Jeff, “You don’t think either one of us can even change?” He says ‘no’. She storms out. That same evening, Jeff hears the harsh cry of a woman screaming and suspects fowl play. Lisa soon returns and assists Jeff, endangering her own life in order to solve the mystery–and possibly prove her tenacity and independent spirit to Jeff. As the story carries on, Lisa soon manages to prove her worth as the adventurous, tenacious woman he always wanted her to be. The subplot never distracts from the main story. But Hitchcock continuously instills subtle hints over the Jeff’s growing affection has as Lisa faces increasingly dangerous moments. Also, it begs the question: Would Lisa have put herself into such circumstances if she had nothing to prove?
That also poses questions for Jeff. Is he really concerned about whether a woman is murdered? Is he subconsciously hoping there is a murder in order to maintain his adventure-seeking even within his humble dwelling? Or maybe it was validation for his voyeurism. When Jeff finally confirms that a murder did occur, we somehow feel relieved, don’t we?
There’s also Lisa’s famous first moments, which remain some of the most iconic and alluring series of frames in the history of cinema. Jeff wakes from a nap and sees only Lisa’s beautiful face. Hitchcock shoots her up close as she stares luminously back at him. His eyes widen, she leans forward and kisses him. Hitchcock uses a surreal mix of slow motion to emphasize the effect. He allows the audience to fall in love, to fall under her spell, before she even utters a word. In just a few brief moments, Hitchcock cements the character and her relationship with Jeff.
Grace Kelly made three films with Hitchcock before retiring from acting to become the Princess of Monaco, where she remained until her premature death in 1982. In Rear Window, she gives Lisa a strong-willed edge. She’s willing to please Jeff by going along with his murder theory without compromising her own individualism.
The trademark blondes of Hitchcock’s films tend to be women who inevitably cater to the demands of their men. In the latter film, Vertigo, Kim Novak changes her very identity in order for her man to fully reciprocate her love–at least creating the illusion of mutual affection. Lisa isn’t as constricted, but is just as eager to appease Jeff. In the final moments, there’s one last trademark Hitchcock joke that tells us Lisa has limits to her accommodations, even for the man she loves. Who says Hitchcock didn’t appreciate women’s lib?
Hitchcock started directing during the waning years of the silent era, yet always managed to make films that favored basic visual elements to tell a story. The surrounding apartments have a bevy of characters: the flirty ballerina dancer, Ms. “Lonelyheart”, the struggling piano musician, the finicky elderly woman, the newly-wed couple where the groom resurfaced through the window sill only to be pried away once again by his uber-affectionate bride. Hitchcock creates a sense of place before any nefarious activities ensue. He even allows Lisa and Jeff to play out their drama long enough so we’ve established character and setting. Like Alien and many of the best thrillers to follow, Hitchcock’s patience merits grander rewards and suspense.
Inevitably, it’s Hitchcock’s reservation that works so well for Rear Window. Aside from the opening and closing credits, all of the music is ambiance from Jeff’s apartments, where the piano player infuses a haunting quality to some of the most intense moments. There’s also the final showdown in which Jeff is alone and helpless, who, like the audience, are prey to wills of a murderer–and the Master of Suspense, Alfred Hitchcock.
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