26 July - 1 August 2001
Issue No.544
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Al-Ahram Weekly Online 26 July - 1 August 2001 Issue No.544 |
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Limelight
Master of chills and thrills!
He must have always looked like that - even at birth. Early pictures of his youth show the same ovoid-shaped mass, lining this head with his knees with a slight interruption where the neck should have been, yet his semicircular profile graced many a magazine cover, together with his much awaited cameo appearances, (1940-1966) which made him as much a box office draw as his stars. He became the most recognisable director in the history of cinema. He is Sir Alfred, Lord Hitchcock, or if you prefer, just plain "Hitch"! Come 13 August he will celebrate his 102nd birthday. It matters little that he has been dead for the last 22 years. He has continued to chill and thrill since he started producing his silent films, early in the last century. Since his centennial, two years ago, the world has gone wild over Hitch. A plethora of honours, exhibits, retrospectives, lectures, screenings, publications, reproductions of his works continue at academies, universities, institutes and museums.
This summer, the Georges Pompidou Centre in Paris is jumping with joy at its new acquisition of the special exhibit of "The art and art objects" used by Hitchcock in many of his 56 films. From June to September, a variety of lectures, screenings and discussions are presented at the "Centre," which procured this exhibit fresh from the Modern Art Museum of Montreal, where it opened last November, entitled "Coincidences Fatales". This "Hitchcockienne" world includes sketches by Salvador Dali of the famous dream sequence of Ingrid Bergman in Spellbound (1945), as well as the various art and art objects of knives, scissors, lighter, handcuffs, and other fetish favourites of Hitchcock. The visitor gets a chance to plunge into the eerie atmosphere of mystery and suspense, and to revel in the erotic and erratic tension for which he was famous. Hitchcock once again, fulfils his mission from the grave, to "simply scare the hell out of people".
The creator of Psycho (1960), his greatest financial success, started more than a "genre", developing a cult status that will endure as long as film shall. The suspense thriller opens a window onto the tortured soul, probably resulting from his feeling of isolation as a Catholic, growing up in England, at a time when Catholicism was unpopular. Born to a grocer in London's East End, 13 August 1899, Alfred Joseph Hitchcock, had a very strict upbringing between his father and Jesuit College. His recurring theme of the ordinary man wrongly accused of a crime, becoming hopelessly involved in a tangled web of mystery and intrigue, must stem from the depths of a tormented soul. He uses his effects masterfully, by providing the audience with information denied his endangered characters, thereby creating his own form of unbearable suspense. This has been copied and repeated mercilessly, but has yet to be equaled.
Psychosis is yet another recurring theme. Sexual obsession, rooted perhaps in his own lack of self worth, was often revealed in his love-hate relationship with women (Vertigo 1958, Psycho 1960). For the most part his women were beautiful, blonde, cool, aloof, detached, and not a little bit amoral. They were often thieves, Psycho 1960, Marnie 1964 (another psycho-analytical film), but behind the cool surface, they were as daring as they were dangerous. He relished in putting us through the most nightmarish situations leaving us petrified, quivering and quaking in abject fear. But through it all, there is a promise that order will be restored. You can almost hear him laugh hysterically at us - his mission accomplished.
In the last 30 years, intellectuals and critics have been examining and dissecting his work, his unique ambiances, his pictoral images and his deeply tormented characters. He used the viewer as the voyeur, peering into the tortured soul of his protagonists.
Hitchcock as Hitchcock
His brilliant editing aided by George Tomasini; the effective dramatic compositions by Bernard Hermann; his bright stars, James Stewart, Cary Grant; his blondes, Grace Kelly, Kim Novak, gave him his best period between 1950 and 1960. Rear Window, Dial M for Murder, The Man Who Knew Too Much, North by Northwest, and above all Vertigo considered by critics today as not only his masterpiece, but as one of cinema's greatest masterpieces (except for critic Pauline Kael, who called it "junky Hitchcock").
Hitch's sense of timing is legendary. He used it unconventionally, boldly and effectively. Film institutes teach us about his skillful use of time, such as his famous eight-minute murder sequence culminating in the clash of cymbals in The Man Who Knew Too Much, 1956. The notorious kiss, lasting seven minutes that sizzled on the silver screen between Ingrid Bergman and Cary Grant in Notorious in 1946, still sensuous to this very day. The crop-chopper chase in North by Northwest, which lasted 8 minutes 36 seconds, is credited for initiating the chase-genre in cinema. His humour was also legendary. When accused of deriding actors, in his own defence, he explains, "I did not say actors are cattle, what I said was actors should be treated like cattle!" He made more than one television series where he would make a personal appearance to introduce and conclude the show. It was a much-awaited moment, like a favourite uncle promising an exciting, scary, bedtime story in his "sotto voce", an inaudible but fierce murmur, which seemed to rise with difficulty from somewhere between the larynx and the trachea. He never won an Oscar, though he was nominated five times. He never won an Emmy, though he was nominated eight times. Yet four of his films are on the list of the "100 best films of the century". Regretting its years of neglect, the American Academy of Motion Pictures, rewarded him with the Irving G. Thalbert award for Life- Achievement, in 1968.
Though born a cockney, he spoke impeccable English. Though puffy and swag-bellied, he was always impeccably dressed. His perfect outward appearance concealed an imperfect tormented psyche. Though married to Alma Reville for over 60 years, and had one daughter, Patricia, his one and only love in life was his work. In spite of suffering liver and heart ailments in the last seven years of his life, he was always busy "working on my next project".
On a visit to Hollywood, I was invited to meet the famous director while he was filming North by Northwest. The set was bare yet majestic with an impressive reproduction of Mount Rushmore rising in the back. Mr. Cary Grant and Ms. Eva Marie Saint were on hand, but I only had eyes for Mr. H. He extended his hand from the elbow. It was limp and round but warm and gentle. In a husky, tutorial, baroque fashion he gurgled "How do you do" and while we conversed, he focused on his mountain and how the four American Presidents will serve him in making our flesh creep, our hair stand on end and our blood run cold. When he muttered "action" you could hear a feather drop. Everyone seemed to have stopped breathing. I ordered my heart to stop beating, lest it disturb him - the master was at work.
On New Year's day in 1980, he was knighted Commander of the British Empire. His Lordship enjoyed the title for a few months before his death in April of the same year. To me, however, he was always Sir Alfred, Lord of Suspense, Wizard of the Weird, Master of chills and thrills.
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