I have always been a fan of Alfred Hitchcock’s movies, and it’s not controversial to say he’s one of the best directors of all time (his personal life is another conversation altogether). In fact, my newest short film “The Walker” is done in a Hitchcockian vein (or so I hope). However, I had some gaps in his filmography, so I recently decided to watch for the first time—or in some cases rewatch—the five films made after The Birds in the ’60s and ’70s. This era, when he had signed on with Universal, is generally known to be his decline, as those movies don’t hold up as well as his Golden Age from approximately the mid-40s to the early 60’s, when he had one amazing film after another (though some may debate when this period began). Here are my thoughts on Marnie, Torn Curtain, Topaz, Frenzy, and Family Plot, and I’ll try to keep the major plot twists spoiler-free for anyone who wishes to be surprised by these films.
MARNIE
I had not seen 1964’s Marnie up to this point and had been looking forward to it, considering it stars Sean Connery and Tippi Hendren. Apparently, Hitchcock wanted to cast Grace Kelly, but since she was now married to the Prince of Monaco, her acting in movies was frowned upon. Hitch instead cast Hendren, whom he had just worked with on The Birds. I always liked her performance in that movie, and she’s doubly good here. It’s also nice to see early Connery playing a non-Bond type.
The plot involves a woman who takes on different personas to work for various companies that she ends up robbing. Connery’s Mark Rutland recognizes Marnie from a company he conducted business with but hires her to see what will happen. He begins a romance with her but is upset when she steals from him. He pretty much coerces her into marriage, but problems develop when she freaks out during thunderstorms and whenever she sees the color red. She also refuses any sexual advances from him. Additionally, Marnie has a troubled relationship with her mother, who doesn’t seem to be able to show love to her. Ultimately, the film explores her past and why she’s psychologically damaged.
As the film unfolded, I didn’t know whether I liked it or not, though the ending sticks to landing and is quite shocking for its time. Let’s just say that the presentation of her childhood trauma is quite upsetting to watch, yet is shot in classic Hitchcockian form, and I’m surprised more people don’t talk about that scene. However, leading up to it, the film meanders, and it’s often hard to figure out exactly what story it’s telling. For a while, it gives the impression that Mark is not what he seems to be and will end up being the villain, primarily due to how he manipulates Marnie—and in one disturbing scene, he forces himself on her. From what I’ve read, that scene was the reason Hitch wanted to make this movie (and when the original screenwriter refused to write that scene, he was fired). Despite how Mark’s character ultimately turns out to be, it was hard for me to get past that moment and feel sympathetic toward the character. Maybe that was Hitchcock’s intent.
While I would not consider Marnie a bad movie by any stretch (a scene late in the film involving an injured horse made me quite emotional), it lacks much of the suspense and innovative filmmaking Hitchcock was known for. It kept me guessing, but Marnie’s trauma was often laughable. When she sees the color red and goes into one of her fits, the screen is covered with a red filter. It comes off as rather silly instead of visually exciting (like the technique used in Vertigo is). I also have to question if a grown woman has had a meltdown every single time she has seen that color throughout her life. The implausibility is a stretch. Same with storms—maybe they’re rare in the part of the country where she lives. What’s more believable is her avoidance of any sexual relationship and her desire to know why her mother treats her the way she does. The psychology presented with those aspects is intriguing, and doesn’t make her into an hysterical woman.
There are some Hitchcock films I can watch repeatedly, but unfortunately, I think I’m one-and-done with Marnie.
TORN CURTAIN
1966’s Torn Curtain stars Paul Newman as physicist Michael Armstrong and Julie Andrews as his fiancée/assistant Sarah Sherman. Apparently, Universal insisted on these casting choices against Hitchcock’s wishes, which resulted in a lot of behind-the-scenes tensions. Perhaps that’s one reason why this didn’t gel as well as some of his previous collaborations with stars such as Cary Grant, Jimmy Stewart, and Grace Kelly.
Hitchcock moved away from psychological thrillers and horror that he explored in some of his more recent films prior to this one and decided to return to the spy thriller genre that he did in earlier work such as Foreign Correspondent and Notorious. The world was now in the midst of the Cold War, so that is the backdrop of this story, in which world-renowned physicist Michael Armstrong defects to East Germany. Of course, this turns out to be a ruse, as his real intent is to gain information from a German rocket scientist that only he can obtain. But to complicate things, Sarah surprises him by defecting also, not having knowledge of his secret mission.
Even though I’m a fan of the over-the-top exploits of James Bond, I also enjoy more down-to-earth twisty-turny espionage stories like this where an average person faces realistic threats. A highlight of the film happens early on when Michael has to visit a farm run by spies for the West. A security officer who was assigned to babysit him turns up unexpectedly and discovers Michael’s plan, and a fight between the two men and a German woman ensues while a taxi driver waits outside the farmhouse. The scene (which plays out without music) is intense because it’s choreographed as if they were real human beings and not superpowered cartoon characters. A later scene is similarly tense when Michael and Sarah have to escape a university after the authorities have instructed all the students to search for them. It’s successful because of the realism of the situation, and I put myself in that scenario and wondered how I’d get out of that building. Another scene that worked for me was when Michael gets the information he needs from the German scientist. The two are at a chalk board writing and erasing equations (I have no idea if these equations mean anything—I’ll leave that to the experts), but I enjoyed seeing how Michael manipulates the elder professor into revealing his secrets while outside the room, the authorities come to realize that Michael is actually a spy and searches for him.
One criticism I have for the film—and I admit I’m judging it through a 2024 lens—is the character of Sarah. Julie Andrews is wonderful, but Sarah’s inclusion in the story seems to be only for the purpose is to be the love interest in danger. She makes lame decisions, such as insists on joining Michael on his initial trip to Copenhagen despite him making every excuse why she should stay home. Then she defects, because she wants to stand by her man, I suppose. If you remove her from the story, it doesn’t change the plot at all. In fact, it weakens Michael’s character because he planned to pretend to leave her anyway, so why didn’t he just break up with her before the trip? He brought her along for the ride, then had to be cruel to her to get her to reject him as he “defects”. That said, I do appreciate how Hitchcock staged the scene when Michael finally tells her what’s going on, showing the two on a hill from the point of view of their East German escorts not hearing what’s being said, but only seeing their body language.
Hitchcock was famous for not wanting to film on location. He got the master shots and background plates on location, and then staged the closeups in a studio where he could have precise lighting, using a sodium vapor process to superimpose the actors against the location backgrounds (i.e. early “green screen” except it was yellow). This is really evident in the farm scene while Michael is riding with an American agent on a tractor (which has almost no engine noise, so they can talk without yelling). This kind of composite effect (or perhaps it was rear projection?) caused an otherwise effective and suspenseful sequence late in the movie to look really cheesy. The main characters are being smuggled out of East Germany on a bus. The camera is pretty much inside the bus with the characters, so we see from their point of view (something Hitch liked to do), and various threats that arise are shown through the windows. It looks very fake and sometimes unintentionally funny.
During the ’60s, the way movies were being made was shifting to more realism (thanks to Hollywood following in the footsteps of the French and Italian New Wave and the loosening of the Hayes Code). Hitchcock’s style was once innovative and creative but was increasingly looking outdated. This “staleness” of visual style was evident in Torn Curtain. From what I’ve read, Hitch wanted to shoot on location in the Eastern Bloc, but was rejected. I wonder how much better this film would’ve been if he had been able to do so.
Another thing to note is this film ended Hitchcock’s string of successful collaborations with composer Bernard Hermann after Hitch rejected the score Hermann created. Instead, John Addison composed the score, which isn’t great. The Blu-ray includes several scenes with Hermann’s original music, which is far superior. I’m not sure what Hitchcock’s problem was, but unfortunately this decision made the film suffer.
Overall, Torn Curtain was serviceable. It follows his typical formula of an ordinary man in extraordinary circumstances and has some individual scenes that are done quite well. However, as a whole, it falls flat compared to many of the films that came before. In particular, it is probably closest in theme with North by Northwest but without the wit and charm that film has. While I wouldn’t rush out and rewatch Torn Curtainagain anytime soon, I wouldn’t object to a rewatch at some point.
TOPAZ
1969’s Topaz is the second spy thriller after Torn Curtain. It’s another examination of the Cold War, though told from a different perspective. Instead of dealing with East Germany, it’s a fictional look at 1962’s Cuban Missile Crisis. Specifically, French agent Philippe Dubois working with the American government to gather intelligence on what the Soviets are doing in Cuba.
One thing I find interesting about this film, and which was probably a factor in the tepid response it received, is that Hitchcock didn’t cast A-list actors like he was known to do. Dubois is played by Frederick Stafford, who was better known in Europe than in the United States. John Forsythe plays an American agent, a little over a decade before his starring role on the TV series Dynasty, and Roscoe Lee Browne shows up in a supporting role. I always enjoy seeing him on screen. I like the fact that I was watching characters rather than movie stars, though Stafford generally lacks the charisma of someone like Cary Grant, Jimmy Stewart, or Paul Newman (who clashed with Hitch on Torn Curtain).
One positive is this movie deals with intelligence gathering in a realistic manner. For instance, one of the most suspenseful scenes involved the agents having to steal a briefcase from Cuban military officials in a hotel in Harlem. It’s well-staged and the threat danger felt real. However, the movie is told in an episodic fashion, and Dubois isn’t even introduced until a good way into the story, and it’s not apparent he’s the main character when he does show up. If he had been played by a well-known name actor, then his appearance would have had an impact.
The film starts off with an excellent sequence involving a Russian official and his family defecting to the United States, then follows Forsythe’s character for a while before moving on to Dubois. After that, the story unfolds with self-contained chunks of narratives, which makes the movie feel disjointed, and it’s hard to get emotionally involved in proceedings. This is one instance where Hitchcock made a film from an objective point of view instead of subjectively putting the audience in the perspective of the protagonist. Also adding to the dispassionate feel is a distinct lack of humor—an oddity for Hitchcock—making this movie a dry viewing experience. At times, the pacing is slow, causing boredom (another Hitchcock oddity). I didn’t care about Dubois’s marital trouble, and his lying to his wife and cheating on her causes him to be unlikeable (and the wife cheating on him doesn’t do her any favors, either). And it all builds to a lackluster ending that just kind of ends.
While I wouldn’t write Topaz off as awful, as there are some good, tense scenes, I can see why it’s listed among the bottom tier of Hitchcock’s filmography. It’s a movie that should have been better. Instead, it ends up being forgettable.
FRENZY
Alfred Hitchcock’s penultimate film is 1972’s Frenzy. Unlike the previous three, I had seen this one before, but it had been a lot of years, and I didn’t remember much about it other than I had liked it. Having rewatched it now in succession with the previous entries, I have an even better appreciation of it.
Frenzy is a thematic successor to Psycho, not just in the name but in the fact that it’s about a psychotic killer—in this case a man who has been sexually assaulting and murdering women by strangling them with neckties, hence being known to the public as The Necktie Murderer. This was Hitchcock’s first R-rated film (not counting when the MPAA inexplicably re-rated Psycho as R upon home video release), and it contains a very brutal murder scene, nudity, and I believe the first instance of cussing in a Hitchcock film.
Shot in London, Frenzy feels very British, which is a good thing. It also has a contemporary (as in 1970s) vibe as opposed to having an old-fashioned sensibility, which his past three installments were guilty of. The film is fast-paced and exciting, while having some great Hitchcockian flair. My favorite scene is when the killer leads a victim upstairs to his apartment and to her certain death, the camera stays one flight below to watch them enter the flat, then slowly retreats down the rest of the stairs, out the door, and across the street to see the entire front of the building. What makes this a fun shot technically is it’s done to appear in a single take, yet the interior was shot on a sound stage and the exterior is on location—there’s a hidden cut that transitions from indoor to outdoor.
Similar to Hitch’s previous entry, Topaz, this film does not star any big-name actors. The cast is British and have a naturalistic way about them that’s fitting for the subject matter. However, the story follows a common Hitchcockian trope, that of an innocent man wrongly accused. In this case, it’s Richard Blaney, a recently fired bartender (played by Jon Finch), who gets blamed when his ex-wife falls victim to the real murderer. Richard is not a very nice guy, and his personality and circumstances make it believable that he could be the killer. As it’s set up by the story, the audience it led to suspect that he could be the killer early on (one scene is done in an extended take where two police officers discuss the case in the bar with Richard in the frame behind them). Of course, the real murderer is revealed soon enough, and the suspense builds as a new victim is targeted while the police hone in on Richard. There’s a great scene with dark humor when the Necktie Murderer must try to retrieve a tie pin from the clutches of a victim’s hand, which has frozen with rigor mortis, and he struggles with the corpse while in the back of a potato truck. Hitchcock’s brand of humor runs through this entire film (something which Topaz sorely missed), in particular with the Chief Inspector’s wife, who continuously feeds him questionable exotic dishes for dinner.
Hitchcock traditionally did not like filming on location, so it’s refreshing that there are so many on-location scenes in this film. Most are in Covent Garden, which was where fruit and vegetable markets were located in London, and where Hitchcock grew up. The opening credits are done over a helicopter shot flying over the River Thames, ending on a speech being given along the riverbank. The audio of the speech slowly fades in as the camera gets closer. I can’t help but appreciate the timing of it. Also, Hitch’s cameo is in the gathered crowd, and he actually appears in two different shots.
Frenzy is Hitchcock back on his game. It’s fun, funny, and suspenseful. The R rating gave him more freedom to explore elements that he could only previously hint at, which gives this film more authenticity than some of his earlier work. I won’t give away the ending, but it had a surprising twist, and the finale made me smile. I’m glad Hitch was able to deliver one more great film before his career came to a close.
FAMILY PLOT
Alfred Hitchcock’s final movie is 1976’s Family Plot. I was dreading this one because it’s one of his weakest entries in his filmography. I had seen parts of it when I was a kid, and even at that age I knew it wasn’t great, and then I watched it as an adult and my opinion didn’t change. But now, after viewing the previous four films in succession, I’m looking at it with fresh eyes. I still don’t consider it one of his better films, but I have new appreciation for it.
The story concerns two couples whose paths intertwine. Blanche Tyler (Barbara Harris) is a fake psychic, and her boyfriend George Lumley (Bruce Dern) is an out-of-work actor and cab driver. She is enlisted by a rich, elderly woman to track down her nephew, who had been given up for adoption as a baby so he can inherit the family wealth. Meanwhile, San Francisco jeweler Arthur Adamson (William Devane) and his girlfriend Fran (Karen Black) kidnap wealthy men to get expensive gemstones as ransoms. George pretends to be a detective and traces the missing now-grown boy to Arthur, who believes he’s being investigated for the kidnappings. Plot twists involve fake headstones, devious mechanics, a treacherous mountain road, shenanigans inside a church, and a hidden cellar room. The title is a play on words, referring both to graves belonging to a family and also to the connivings of characters involving family secrets.
This is Hitchcock at his most light-hearted, and it’s rather refreshing coming after the dour and serious Topazand the dark and grizzly (though morbidly funny) Frenzy. I can understand why Hitch was drawn to this material in what ended up being his finale. In a way, it’s a throwback to the fun adventure of North by Northwest, and true to form involves mistaken identities, or at least mistaken intents and intentionally misleading identities. The plot is not the most complex, nor is it one that is full of intrigue—yet kept me entertained. I liked how the two storylines ended up converging and how one pair of characters tried to outguess the other pair.
While all four leads were well-known at that time, I don’t know if I’d classify any of them as A-listers, so Hitchcock continued his trend of avoiding working with name headliners. Unfortunately, it shows. While all of them are decent actors, I can’t help but think of this as a cast you might have found on The Love Boat. However, it was nice seeing Katherine Helmond in a non-comedic supporting role.
The primary scene this movie is remembered for is when Ed Lauter’s hired killer character cuts the brake line in George’s car, which goes out of control while George and Blanche drive down a windy mountain road. Using a technique Hitch had done previously (such as the bus sequence in Torn Curtain), the camera stays inside the car to show the characters’ point of view with shots looking out the window at the chaos going on before them. Oncoming cars zip past, bicyclists dive for cover, near-misses with the cliff on the side of the road abound. It’s an enjoyable sequence marred only by the bad blue screen effects of the people inside the car—heavy black lines surround the characters against the background plate of the road outside the rear window (Hitchcock pun unintended). It’s also played for laughs with Barbara Harris unrealistically climbing all over Bruce Dern in a panic. I almost wish Hitch just kept the camera trained on what was happening outside the windshield.
Great trillers live and die on their endings, and unfortunately, the conclusion of Family Plot was a letdown. Given that the stakes were slight—the only onscreen death was the of fault the deceased—I suppose you couldn’t have a fight to the death. It annoys me when movies suddenly ratchet up the danger at the very end just to have the villain die. A death like that has to be earned, so in this regard the fate of the villains is appropriate. However, it still feels like a shrug instead of catharsis. Plus, the final shot has Barbara Harris breaking the fourth wall to wink at the audience. That is how Hitchcock’s glorious career as a filmmaker ended, with a literal wink at the camera. He—and his fans—deserved better.
Was this movie a total failure? No. It was lightweight fun, nothing too serious, but engaging enough to be on par with an average episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents. As his finale, it’s a letdown, but put in context to the decade of films that preceded it, I’ll forgive it. I may even watch Family Plot again at some point if I need something frothy but that I don’t have to think too much about.