Hitchcock's Repeated Compositions

We were discussing the similarity of the technique used in creating these two "trick shots" which reveal simultaneous action from The Man Who Knew Too Much and Vertigo at the WWH Facebook page, and it got me thinking about other images and juxtaposed shots that Hitchcock repeated in his films—kind of like the second Mrs. De Winter's father who liked the paint the same tree over again.

Here are just a few that come to mind:

Of course Hitchcock used stairways so very often, but the framing he used in The Lodger, Blackmail, and Vertigo were strikingly similar.

Designer Saul Bass had a hand in both the Vertigo title sequence and the shower sequence in Psycho, but it was a design that Hitchcock chose in two of his key films.

The Catholic Hitchcock repeated variations of his own Pietà, but the images in The Lodger and Topaz are most similar.

As Hitchcock's films progressed in the 1950s he explored more deeply the frailty of the human psyche. Notice how these two scenes in consecutive films—The Wrong Man and Vertigo—are nearly identical. Here a desperate Manny goes into Dr. Banay's office to ask about Rose's condition. Dr. Banay leans back on his desk, arms crossed, explaining the healing will take time. Later Manny departs, walking away from the camera down the long corridor of the sanitarium. Below, an equally desperate Midge goes into the office of Scottie's doctor and departs down a similar corridor after telling the doctor Mozart isn't going to help.

In each of these scenes from The Wrong Man and Psycho as the discussion turns to someone being institutionalized or being "put someplace", both Rose Balestrero and Marion Crane begin clutching and rubbing an arm.

In both of these scenes from The Man Who Knew Too Much and Topaz, the listener is receiving information he'd probably rather not have heard.

It doesn't matter whether it's the police or a couple of henchmen, on the front steps of your own home or through the lobby of a New York hotel in broad daylight, Hitchcock knew that being taken into a car against your will could be equally frightening and filmed these scenes from The Wrong Man and North by Northwest in much same way.

Then, of course, there's the way Hitchcock filmed kissing scenes, but we covered that already!

In response to news of a proposed remake of Hitchcock’s The Man Who Knew Too Much

I can hear the pitch now … why remake when we can make it a sequel?

It’s 2012…and Hank Conway…um, I mean McKenna, now in his mid-60s has arrived in Washington DC to attend the Kennedy Center Honors which is being awarded posthumously to his mother Jo the following evening. After checking into his hotel suite, he telephones his daughter Joanna who is traveling by train to meet him. Joanna has a fear of flying and hasn’t been quite right since the divorce. She travels with her 7 year old son, Ben. Hank tells Joanna he’ll pick them up at the station in the morning.  

That night, as the train makes its way toward the nation’s capital, curious little Ben wanders to the empty observation car while his mother sleeps one off. Three foreign speaking men enter and Ben overhears their conversation. Parts of it in English lead him to believe they’re going to murder somebody. Inadvertently, Ben makes a sound and the men know someone is in the car with them.

When Ben goes back to find his mother, she’s vanished! The waiter, the conductors, the other passengers, have no recollection of her being there.

In the morning, Ben arrives to find his grandfather waiting on the platform…as Hank begins to ask where Ben’s mom is, his cell phone rings…

They’re holding Joanna… and she’ll be freed as long as young Ben keeps his trap shut. But being his father’s son, Hank isn’t about to let that stop he and his grandson from recovering Joanna. The action all leads to the Kennedy Center where one of the foreign men is going to assassinate the President of the United States just as Lady Gaga belts out "Whatever Will Be" during a medley of Jo's greatest hits.

Hey, you never know. But seriously, if you guys want to use this....ring my agent.

Alfred Hitchcock and the One Note Man

Alfred Hitchcock describes how the idea of Albert Hall sequence in the original version of The Man Who Knew Too Much was derived from a Punch magazine cartoon by H.M. Bateman called "The One Note Man."

Alfred Hitchcock's Perfect Trifecta of Music as Plot Device

Discussion of Alfred Hitchcock's use of music as a plot device, particularly in the 1956 version of The Man Who Knew Too Much, where each of the musical selections serves as commentary in addition to serving the plot. For more in depth analysis of the lyrics to the Storm Cloud Cantata, the Portents Hymn, and Whatever Will Be, see the forthcoming new edition of WRITING WITH HITCHCOCK.

Had Hitchcock Heeded Peggy's Advice ...?

It was 45 years ago today—September 9, 1965—that Peggy Robertson, Alfred Hitchcock’s longtime personal assistant, did what might have been considered the unthinkable by her employer. After consulting with Lew Wasserman and trusted agent Ned Brown, Robertson included John Michael Hayes’s name on a list of writers suggested as possible script doctors for the ailing screenplay of Torn Curtain.

The trio Hitchcock relied upon for so long secretly hoped that the decade which passed since the falling out with Hayes might have softened the director’s attitude toward the writer that once helped put him back in the good graces of his audience with a string of box office successes—Rear Window, To Catch a Thief, The Man Who Knew Too Much. Such was not the case.

Although their reasoning was sound—production was scheduled to begin in less than 6 weeks—it was a matter of ego and principal not easy for Hitchcock to overcome. As it was, Hitchcock was indifferent to the other writers on Robertson’s list—one of which had just had an off-Broadway play produced which left the director unimpressed, and another who refused to fly and would only work in New York. It’s difficult not to imagine Hitchcock asking, “He doesn’t expect I’ll come to him, does he?”

And so in spite of the behind-the-scenes maneuvering, which may have been more compelling than the script Hitchcock was about to direct, the once great team failed to come together. Although Robertson would try to reunite Hitchcock and Hayes at least twice more during the decade, I always come back to this date and wonder what might have been had Hitchcock been amenable to Robertson’s suggestion. It may be that even with Hayes's help Torn Curtain was beyond salvaging. The story had already drifted far from Hitchcock's original concept for the film, and the casting had left Hitchcock cold. But the "what ifs" remain. 

Torn Curtain made money, but by most accounts, it was the first time in a long time that Hitchcock went forward with a movie that he didn’t want to make. When it happened in his mid-30s (Waltzes from Vienna), he was able to bounce back mightily, as the best of his creative energies hadn’t even been tapped yet. When it happened in his late-40s (The Paradine Case), he  was already looking forward to the greener pastures of independence from David Selznick. But on the wrong side of 65 years of age and with his one-time agent (Wasserman) now effectively his boss, bouncing back from Torn Curtain would be another matter entirely.

Of course you can read all about it in Writing with Hitchcock.