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Vertigo: The Search Goes On, Part III
by Davell Swan
'Vertigo': the ultimate surrealist voyage, romantic fantasy, psychic conversion, demon confrontation or bad dream?. photo: courtesy A. HitchcockNote: For the full effect of this article, read the rest of this four part series, see CineSource's "Vertigo" Investigations Parts 1, 2 and 4:
• Why Me: An Investigation of Hitchcock’s Vertigo (Nov, 2011)
• Vertigo: The Underworld Descent (Feb, 2012)
• Vertigo IV: Doom Or Happiness? (Sep, 2012)
Previously, Madeleine described a dream to Scottie, as part of the masquerade she's contriving with Gavin Elster. Meanwhile, Midge has followed Mad by leaving Scottie a note. We find Midge at home, applying the last brushstroke to an oil painting. She stuffs the source image into her yellow kitchen step-stool that Scottie swooned from earlier. Hearing his foot steps, she primps her hair.
As early as "Sabotage" (1936) our director began occasionally presenting characters alone as they prepare to be observed by another, in connection with an interest in private behavior as related to, yet separated from theatrical activity. The preparation always involves duplicity of some sort, a Hitchcockian constant.
Midge offers Scottie a drink, which he accepts, though it's not her thumb he's under. She moves the conversation toward the new piece.
Works of art function as major, yet often subtle signifiers throughout the HC canon. In HC's 1951 "Strangers On A Train", "Bruno" confronts his batty mom's DeKooning-like, jarring canvas, as does the viewer, with accompanying soundtrack clatter, for a touch of humor, which is also an index into her weak grip on reality. Hitch also comically utilizes modern works primarily as red-herring nods to those who consider modern art preposterous and inexplicable, as in "Rope" and "The Trouble With Harry".
Here, Scottie walks over to discover a painting similar to the Valdes portrait only to find an absurdity—Midge's contemporary mug, complete with her modern eye-glasses. Seeing her anxiously watching Scottie from behind the easel, thereby doubling its image, we're lead to understand in a myriad of ways, a pathetic and confused romantic desperation no words could convey. Scottie's crestfallen disappointment equals our own.
Kim Novak as Judy/Madeleine is a master at hanging on her beau's every word. photo: courtesy A. HitchcockNow alone, possibly permanently, Midge executes another private performance. She grabs her hair, addresses herself as a fool and an idiot, and after apparently placing a moustache on her own likeness, throws the long thin brush at the view framed by her picture window, only to wail—"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" This bit of dialogue is perfectly analogous to that of "Plan 9 From Outer Space's" contemptuous alien, though presently, instead of having our fun at the expense of a script writer, it's directed toward a fictional character.
Madeleine's earlier description of a dream-scape alludes to a well-known location about 90 miles south of San Francisco, the Mission San Juan Batista. Scottie takes the bait, advising that he's aware of exactly such a place, and that she can confront her demons there. He pilots Mad's Jaguar down Interstate 101 toward the mission, quite oblivious of the many consequences to ensue.
San Juan Batista. We're under a portico held by big vertical beams, curving at the top to create portals that the camera pans past and then penetrates. Scottie and Mad are found inside the carriage stable; he's enthusiastic, directing her attention to a faux horse similar to that of her dream. Mad professes her love for Scottie and tells him it's too late. She'd almost scuttle the plan, but realizes Elster would be violently opposed to this, as he waits atop the church tower, ready to toss the real wife's broken-necked corpse.
When "Psycho's" (1960) "Marion Crane" realizes she's almost made it to her boy friend's town, she's uncomfortable with disappointing motel-keeper "Norman Bates", and stupidly keeps the room. This mistake leads to her summary death. Mad/ Judy likewise could have decided to depart the mission with Scottie, thereby ultimately saving her own life, ending her participation in a nasty plot and gaining the option of a relationship with him. Of course, as with the later film, this potential situation would most likely have remained very untidy.
Mad/ Judy now anticipates "Marion" as she gives in to a compulsive desire and runs into the church, which bears a similar floor-plan to Mission Dolores. Scottie follows, as into the previous sanctum. The stairs ascend through a trap-door that he's sadly incapable of piercing. He hears a scream only to view what he believes to be his beloved, plunging past a window to her death.
Again from under the portico we cross the green, and recognize the ubiquitous black 1957 Cadillac limousine (beyond its regular use throughout as a picture car, there are stills of the interior, indicating Novak used it, as may have other cast or crew members, to rest between scenes), parked in front of a vintage structure containing Madeleine's inquest. Inimitable character-actor, Henry Jones, in his best role since that of "The Bad Seeds" (1956) unlucky janitor, adjudicates. He takes Scottie apart, intoning with a deadpan drawl, as only Jones could—"Mr. Ferguson's weakness, his fear of heights, would make him powerless when most needed... he could not face his own weakness and ran away."
Novak/Judy and Stewart/Scottie visit the iconic Northern Californian redwoods to find their place in both time and nature, the scene Novak later said connected her most to the film. photo: courtesy A. HitchcockThe jury finds that the death resulted from a self-inflicted fall, and Scottie is, in a legal sense, free. Gavin Elster, prior to escaping the scene of the crime, at this most-sensitive moment, finishes him off. He suggest's that they "both know who killed Madeleine", rudely ignoring the detective's stated skepticism, while insinuating the spirit of long-dead Carlotta Valdes is to blame. This unnecessary comment will most-likely provide the final straw, encouraging Scottie's disintegration.
The terror our hero felt witnessing Madeleine's death if anything, heightened his own vertiginous fear and cravings, leading to the sublime nightmare, represented with animation and live figures.
An occasional Hitchcock flick will, for a moment or much more, feature low-budget animation, as a surrealistic aside or exclamation point. "Foreign Correspondent" (1940) has a disconcerting cut to a sputtering, crudely draw airplane, while, famously, Hitchcock's 1945 "Spellbound" unsettles the viewer with a substantial dream sequence designed by the inimitable surrealist Salvador Dali.
We confront the Carlotta Valdes nosegay falling apart, reminding us of Mad's pre-splash throwing of petals into the bay, while alluding to the scattering of one's atoms, conceivably via a harsh fall.
With his attempt to maintain a grasp on an empirical reality having finally subsided, leaving nothing to hold onto, Scottie now falls through the darkness. The first stage of his compromise is complete. The nightmare circles back to the Valdes portrait, a reminder of the nearly-animated, small pans and zooms that occurred within it, creating a sick sensation, along with the many, vintage cartoonish oil paintings surrounding it. This spiraling return to the first act, as Scottie initially trailed Mad, mocks the strange thrill he enjoyed as his seemingly eternal quest for true love finally had found an acceptable object.
Exterior of a charming sanitarium, high on a San Franciscan hill of course. (Located on Buena Vista East, as it meets B. V. West) We find Midge's hopeful Karmann Ghia in front. Inside, wearing a meek cardigan sweater is Scottie, delicate and small; his barely-worried visage is expressionistically-heightened. From behind his shoulder, we see Scottie sitting surrealistically still, evoking the absurdity of the human form, as if through the lens of David Lynch. His legs are open at an odd angle, with his flat pants supplying an anti-phallic symbol, which stands in great relief against the innumerable phallic symbols Vertigo's packed with. Midge plays a Mozart LP, while lovingly reminding him that "Mother's here", all to no effect.
"The Beverly Hillbillies' " future banker, Milton Drysdale, in the person of actor Raymond Bailey as Scottie's psychiatrist, states he's suffering from acute melancholia with a guilt complex. The latter is shared with Gregory Peck's character, "Dr. Anthony Edwardes/ John Ballantine" in "Spellbound". Reflecting a more positive, or naive, psycho-analytic perspective, Edwardes finds himself miraculously-cured as he recalls a traumatic childhood incident. Our hero will not be so blessed. Congruent with Mad's made-up dream, told to Scottie as they stood next to the Pacific Ocean, Midge now disappears down the hospital corridor.
Scottie, released from the asylum some time later, must now wander alone. Though apparently aware of his surroundings, his mood remains one of melancholy. He finds himself near the Elsters' apartment auto-courtyard, which is still providing deep plunges on both sides. Discovering Mad's green Jaguar saloon, he tentatively approaches. The new owner is fascinated by Elster's wife's spectacular death, much to Scottie's despair. With a suave tip of the hat, he backs away from the vile matron.
Later, in front of Ernie's, Scottie stares plaintively. Again perched by the bar, from which he first spied Madeleine, he watches an elegant couple approach. To his surprise, the woman is not Madeleine. He orders a drink. Back at the Legion, Scottie nears and unnerves a woman he finds on Mad's bench. This sequence indicates how far the once-vital Scottie has "fallen" and how irreparably he's been harmed. He's now analogous to Carlotta, who wandered the city, vainly seeking her lost child.
Scottie is standing in front of the flower store (Podesta Baldocchi, 224 Grant Avenue) that he'd seemingly long-ago tailed Madeleine into. The shot begins with a closeup of a nosegay in this window, similar to Carlotta and Mad's. Just as with that of the Argosy Book Shop, this window reflects images of vital life, but the business now is in complete contrast; previously, Scottie was energetic, but now he's exhausted. He spies yet another Madeleine Elster manque', who happens to be the all-to-real Judy Barton, Elster's counterfeit Madeleine.
As Vertigo closes in on itself, everything becomes a pale imitation of the previous. Our former detective is tepid yet uncomfortably aggressive as he begins to obsess on the girl, while Judy is merely crass. Noticing her open the window of her hotel room (an invitation to pierce a portal?), Scottie hurries across the street, as if a revitalization is taking place. Again relying on his detective skills, he finds his way directly to her door. If he'd heeded the two hallway warning signs—"FIRE ESCAPE" and "ONE WAY", he'd have avoided more heartache.
Novak earns her fee now, striking a taut balance between appearing to be threatened by, and yet tentatively interested in the man she played for a sucker. Along with showing Scottie her drivers license, Judy asks if he wants to check her thumb prints, as if he's still on the force. If his cop sense remained, he would've checked the prints—the coroner didn't! "She's dead, isn't she?" Judy offers.
Below her reflection in the make-up table mirror, are black and white shots of Kansas parents. Her hairdo now lacks the spiral. Scottie asks her to have dinner with him; she claims she will. However, Judy plans on making a hasty departure, terrified that he'll consequently learn of her role in the deadly charade. She visualizes the events of Madeleine's phony death for us, which was a controversial move on the director's part.
Those who mistakenly believe this deflates the suspense, have failed to understand Hitchcock's well-known chestnut, regurgitated during every interview he ever submitted to. By divulging information the protagonist lacks, such as a bomb set to explode at a certain moment, the suspense is stretched, whereas simply having it detonate supplies one big shock, but nothing more. Here he's going for sustained suspense. We begin to identify with Judy, because we're now scared Scottie may discover the ruse. Conversely, we're also hoping he'll realize the injustice he's suffered, but don't know that he will. In fact, there's a certain unease created by these tensions, particularly because we feel there may be a violent outcome. All of this adding to a mood and concern as opposed to the loss of momentum.
Judy begins to write Scottie a letter, explaining her disappearance while releasing him from the guilt he feels for failing to save Mad. The question is, will she tear it up, as with the nasty note Melanie Daniels planned on leaving for Mitch in "The Birds" (1963), or will she depart? To extend your suspense, we're going to save this secret for the final installment, to be found within next month's issue.
Posted on Jun 26, 2012 - 04:34 PM
by Davell Swan
'Vertigo': the ultimate surrealist voyage, romantic fantasy, psychic conversion, demon confrontation or bad dream?. photo: courtesy A. Hitchcock• Why Me: An Investigation of Hitchcock’s Vertigo (Nov, 2011)
• Vertigo: The Underworld Descent (Feb, 2012)
• Vertigo IV: Doom Or Happiness? (Sep, 2012)
Previously, Madeleine described a dream to Scottie, as part of the masquerade she's contriving with Gavin Elster. Meanwhile, Midge has followed Mad by leaving Scottie a note. We find Midge at home, applying the last brushstroke to an oil painting. She stuffs the source image into her yellow kitchen step-stool that Scottie swooned from earlier. Hearing his foot steps, she primps her hair.
As early as "Sabotage" (1936) our director began occasionally presenting characters alone as they prepare to be observed by another, in connection with an interest in private behavior as related to, yet separated from theatrical activity. The preparation always involves duplicity of some sort, a Hitchcockian constant.
Midge offers Scottie a drink, which he accepts, though it's not her thumb he's under. She moves the conversation toward the new piece.
Works of art function as major, yet often subtle signifiers throughout the HC canon. In HC's 1951 "Strangers On A Train", "Bruno" confronts his batty mom's DeKooning-like, jarring canvas, as does the viewer, with accompanying soundtrack clatter, for a touch of humor, which is also an index into her weak grip on reality. Hitch also comically utilizes modern works primarily as red-herring nods to those who consider modern art preposterous and inexplicable, as in "Rope" and "The Trouble With Harry".
Here, Scottie walks over to discover a painting similar to the Valdes portrait only to find an absurdity—Midge's contemporary mug, complete with her modern eye-glasses. Seeing her anxiously watching Scottie from behind the easel, thereby doubling its image, we're lead to understand in a myriad of ways, a pathetic and confused romantic desperation no words could convey. Scottie's crestfallen disappointment equals our own.
Kim Novak as Judy/Madeleine is a master at hanging on her beau's every word. photo: courtesy A. HitchcockMadeleine's earlier description of a dream-scape alludes to a well-known location about 90 miles south of San Francisco, the Mission San Juan Batista. Scottie takes the bait, advising that he's aware of exactly such a place, and that she can confront her demons there. He pilots Mad's Jaguar down Interstate 101 toward the mission, quite oblivious of the many consequences to ensue.
San Juan Batista. We're under a portico held by big vertical beams, curving at the top to create portals that the camera pans past and then penetrates. Scottie and Mad are found inside the carriage stable; he's enthusiastic, directing her attention to a faux horse similar to that of her dream. Mad professes her love for Scottie and tells him it's too late. She'd almost scuttle the plan, but realizes Elster would be violently opposed to this, as he waits atop the church tower, ready to toss the real wife's broken-necked corpse.
When "Psycho's" (1960) "Marion Crane" realizes she's almost made it to her boy friend's town, she's uncomfortable with disappointing motel-keeper "Norman Bates", and stupidly keeps the room. This mistake leads to her summary death. Mad/ Judy likewise could have decided to depart the mission with Scottie, thereby ultimately saving her own life, ending her participation in a nasty plot and gaining the option of a relationship with him. Of course, as with the later film, this potential situation would most likely have remained very untidy.
Mad/ Judy now anticipates "Marion" as she gives in to a compulsive desire and runs into the church, which bears a similar floor-plan to Mission Dolores. Scottie follows, as into the previous sanctum. The stairs ascend through a trap-door that he's sadly incapable of piercing. He hears a scream only to view what he believes to be his beloved, plunging past a window to her death.
Again from under the portico we cross the green, and recognize the ubiquitous black 1957 Cadillac limousine (beyond its regular use throughout as a picture car, there are stills of the interior, indicating Novak used it, as may have other cast or crew members, to rest between scenes), parked in front of a vintage structure containing Madeleine's inquest. Inimitable character-actor, Henry Jones, in his best role since that of "The Bad Seeds" (1956) unlucky janitor, adjudicates. He takes Scottie apart, intoning with a deadpan drawl, as only Jones could—"Mr. Ferguson's weakness, his fear of heights, would make him powerless when most needed... he could not face his own weakness and ran away."
Novak/Judy and Stewart/Scottie visit the iconic Northern Californian redwoods to find their place in both time and nature, the scene Novak later said connected her most to the film. photo: courtesy A. HitchcockThe terror our hero felt witnessing Madeleine's death if anything, heightened his own vertiginous fear and cravings, leading to the sublime nightmare, represented with animation and live figures.
An occasional Hitchcock flick will, for a moment or much more, feature low-budget animation, as a surrealistic aside or exclamation point. "Foreign Correspondent" (1940) has a disconcerting cut to a sputtering, crudely draw airplane, while, famously, Hitchcock's 1945 "Spellbound" unsettles the viewer with a substantial dream sequence designed by the inimitable surrealist Salvador Dali.
We confront the Carlotta Valdes nosegay falling apart, reminding us of Mad's pre-splash throwing of petals into the bay, while alluding to the scattering of one's atoms, conceivably via a harsh fall.
With his attempt to maintain a grasp on an empirical reality having finally subsided, leaving nothing to hold onto, Scottie now falls through the darkness. The first stage of his compromise is complete. The nightmare circles back to the Valdes portrait, a reminder of the nearly-animated, small pans and zooms that occurred within it, creating a sick sensation, along with the many, vintage cartoonish oil paintings surrounding it. This spiraling return to the first act, as Scottie initially trailed Mad, mocks the strange thrill he enjoyed as his seemingly eternal quest for true love finally had found an acceptable object.
Exterior of a charming sanitarium, high on a San Franciscan hill of course. (Located on Buena Vista East, as it meets B. V. West) We find Midge's hopeful Karmann Ghia in front. Inside, wearing a meek cardigan sweater is Scottie, delicate and small; his barely-worried visage is expressionistically-heightened. From behind his shoulder, we see Scottie sitting surrealistically still, evoking the absurdity of the human form, as if through the lens of David Lynch. His legs are open at an odd angle, with his flat pants supplying an anti-phallic symbol, which stands in great relief against the innumerable phallic symbols Vertigo's packed with. Midge plays a Mozart LP, while lovingly reminding him that "Mother's here", all to no effect.
"The Beverly Hillbillies' " future banker, Milton Drysdale, in the person of actor Raymond Bailey as Scottie's psychiatrist, states he's suffering from acute melancholia with a guilt complex. The latter is shared with Gregory Peck's character, "Dr. Anthony Edwardes/ John Ballantine" in "Spellbound". Reflecting a more positive, or naive, psycho-analytic perspective, Edwardes finds himself miraculously-cured as he recalls a traumatic childhood incident. Our hero will not be so blessed. Congruent with Mad's made-up dream, told to Scottie as they stood next to the Pacific Ocean, Midge now disappears down the hospital corridor.
Scottie, released from the asylum some time later, must now wander alone. Though apparently aware of his surroundings, his mood remains one of melancholy. He finds himself near the Elsters' apartment auto-courtyard, which is still providing deep plunges on both sides. Discovering Mad's green Jaguar saloon, he tentatively approaches. The new owner is fascinated by Elster's wife's spectacular death, much to Scottie's despair. With a suave tip of the hat, he backs away from the vile matron.
Later, in front of Ernie's, Scottie stares plaintively. Again perched by the bar, from which he first spied Madeleine, he watches an elegant couple approach. To his surprise, the woman is not Madeleine. He orders a drink. Back at the Legion, Scottie nears and unnerves a woman he finds on Mad's bench. This sequence indicates how far the once-vital Scottie has "fallen" and how irreparably he's been harmed. He's now analogous to Carlotta, who wandered the city, vainly seeking her lost child.
Scottie is standing in front of the flower store (Podesta Baldocchi, 224 Grant Avenue) that he'd seemingly long-ago tailed Madeleine into. The shot begins with a closeup of a nosegay in this window, similar to Carlotta and Mad's. Just as with that of the Argosy Book Shop, this window reflects images of vital life, but the business now is in complete contrast; previously, Scottie was energetic, but now he's exhausted. He spies yet another Madeleine Elster manque', who happens to be the all-to-real Judy Barton, Elster's counterfeit Madeleine.
As Vertigo closes in on itself, everything becomes a pale imitation of the previous. Our former detective is tepid yet uncomfortably aggressive as he begins to obsess on the girl, while Judy is merely crass. Noticing her open the window of her hotel room (an invitation to pierce a portal?), Scottie hurries across the street, as if a revitalization is taking place. Again relying on his detective skills, he finds his way directly to her door. If he'd heeded the two hallway warning signs—"FIRE ESCAPE" and "ONE WAY", he'd have avoided more heartache.
Novak earns her fee now, striking a taut balance between appearing to be threatened by, and yet tentatively interested in the man she played for a sucker. Along with showing Scottie her drivers license, Judy asks if he wants to check her thumb prints, as if he's still on the force. If his cop sense remained, he would've checked the prints—the coroner didn't! "She's dead, isn't she?" Judy offers.
Below her reflection in the make-up table mirror, are black and white shots of Kansas parents. Her hairdo now lacks the spiral. Scottie asks her to have dinner with him; she claims she will. However, Judy plans on making a hasty departure, terrified that he'll consequently learn of her role in the deadly charade. She visualizes the events of Madeleine's phony death for us, which was a controversial move on the director's part.
Those who mistakenly believe this deflates the suspense, have failed to understand Hitchcock's well-known chestnut, regurgitated during every interview he ever submitted to. By divulging information the protagonist lacks, such as a bomb set to explode at a certain moment, the suspense is stretched, whereas simply having it detonate supplies one big shock, but nothing more. Here he's going for sustained suspense. We begin to identify with Judy, because we're now scared Scottie may discover the ruse. Conversely, we're also hoping he'll realize the injustice he's suffered, but don't know that he will. In fact, there's a certain unease created by these tensions, particularly because we feel there may be a violent outcome. All of this adding to a mood and concern as opposed to the loss of momentum.
Judy begins to write Scottie a letter, explaining her disappearance while releasing him from the guilt he feels for failing to save Mad. The question is, will she tear it up, as with the nasty note Melanie Daniels planned on leaving for Mitch in "The Birds" (1963), or will she depart? To extend your suspense, we're going to save this secret for the final installment, to be found within next month's issue.
Posted on Jun 26, 2012 - 04:34 PM
