Master Class
Years ago I was channel surfing late at night, and came across a black and white film playing on the local PBS station. I had missed the credits so I had no idea what the film was named or who made it. The actors were very familiar and — as I watched — their names came to me. The film was a comedy — a sort of elegant farce. Very witty and underplayed, beautifully so.
But there was something else. Despite not knowing who had directed this film there was no doubt in my mind that it was a master. The framing of every shot, the liquid grace of the cutting, the perfect balance of music and dialogue. The inventive sound work that was neither distracting nor artificial.
The film quite simply dripped quality. It glowed with the skill of whoever called the shots during its creation.
I finally fired up the ‘net and used what info I had to track it down. After a bit of effort, I succeeded.
The film was Mr. and Mrs. Smith.
The director was Alfred Hitchcock.
A couple of weeks ago I chanced across Strangers On A Train during an insomnia night. I settled back for what I knew would be a lovely way to waste two hours. I’d seen it before, of course, but — with a Hitchcock film — that merely meant that I could watch it a bit closer for the subtler goodies on display.
My favorite part of Strangers has always been the party scene where Bruno very nearly strangles an elderly matron when he catches sight of Anne’s younger sister. This scene displays Hitch’s genius quite handily: with a few shots, inventive sound work, music and pure sorcery of cutting and framing, he creates an emotional crescendo that is quite hard to describe in words. It’s something that has to be experienced.
Hitchcock, to my mind, is the rarest of the rare: a celebrity artist who not only deserves his immense critical reputation but who almost cannot be overrated. His impact and effect on modern cinema is incredible. Not only did he damn near invent sound film technique, he continually improved it over his career and took it to a level near perfection. He never allowed himself to rely on a few trademark tools. In every film he pushed that fabled envelope, challenging himself and an entire industry to grow and improve. When you watch a Hitchcock film you are drawn in. Not only do you experience a masterfully designed story, you find yourself admiring the sheer quality of the piece. His films are as aesthetically pleasing as the works of Monet or Rembrandt, but function first and foremost as incredibly entertaining narratives.
After seeing Strangers, I decided to look for a book on Hitchcock. I had a biography in mind, but the library failed to have one. Instead, I found something even better. Hitchcock’s Notebooks: An Authorized and Illustrated Look Inside The Creative Mind Of Alfred Hitchcock by Dan Aulier. Though it does contain quite a bit of biographical detail, the bulk of the book concerns Hitchcock’s art and style. It delves into how he made his movies — the system he used, the way he organized the production, how he chose his material and his collaborators.
Despite finishing the book in a single linear reading, I’ve been going back to certain sections and studying them in greater detail. Most fascinating are the reproductions of storyboards. One set is Hitchcock’s own from The 39 Steps. They reveal a talented draftsman and prove that the classic Hitchcock ‘look’ — the framing and use of light — was indeed his own from the start.
Almost as revealing are side by side comparisons of screenplay drafts and personal letters to and from Hitchcock and his collaborators.
The picture of the man that emerges from the book is of an extremely polite, dedicated, intellectual and passionate artist. He made film for the sake of the film, desiring above all a quality product. He did not hesitate to accept ideas when they were better than his own and he never failed to give credit where credit was due. He made many lasting friendships and was held in high regard by nearly every professional he worked with. He was a kind and loving husband and father. He valued the opinion and instincts of his wife Alma. He treated the extraordinarily beautiful women who starred in his films as favored nieces and proteges. He was — by all accounts — an entertaining man to be around who ran his set more like a wise father than a dictator.
I highly recommend this book to any fan of movies — and Hitchcock fans in particular. The tone of the book is friendly and casual. The writing is clear, direct and detailed.
By the way, my personal favorite Hitchcock film is The Birds. Not only is it one of the very few movies to actually terrify me when I first saw it, I also consider it to be perhaps the most darkly beautiful movie ever shot.
