Rear Window (1954)

I have a book that makes a claim for the 1001 films to see before you die. The one director who features in there more than any other is the great master of suspense, Alfred Hitchcock (18 times I think). So, when I feeling a bit lazy and hung-over on Easter Sunday I decided to opt for a mini marathon of his films, beginning with the great classic, ‘Rear Window’.

‘Rear Window’ is in many ways the perfect Hitchcock film, combining suspense and murder with comedy and complex sexual relationships. Also, the way in which the film engages its audience as complicit in the protagonist’s actions is a perfect example of how Hitchcock had mastered the manipulation of his audience to great effect. The film also features two of Hitchcock’s greatest stars in James Stewart and Grace Kelly, as well as a whole host of supporting characters, each with their own stories that contribute to the overall atmosphere of voyeurism as we glimpse moments of their private lives.

The plot centres on Jeff (Stewart), an adventurous photojournalist who is cooped up in his apartment with a broken leg. He absentmindedly gazes at his neighbours across the courtyard: a frustrated composer; an attractive ballet dancer in her underwear nicknamed Miss Torso; a desperate solitary older woman known as Miss Lonely Hearts; and a salesman, Thorwald, who bickers with his invalid wife – to name a few. Jeff’s curiosity becomes more voyeuristic as he pries into these private lives, culminating in him suspecting the salesman of murdering his wife, chopping up the body and proceeding to get away with murder. With the help of his beautiful girlfriend Lisa (Kelly) and his nurse (a brilliantly funny Thelma Ritter), Jeff is able to further investigate his suspicions, until eventually, the salesman discovers he is being watched.

Much has been written about the excellence and sophistication of this film. It is a perfect example of cinema, with Jeff’s voyeurism representing the audience’s own (he even observes close-ups through a telescopic camera lens), as we curiously pry into the various characters’ private lives – including Jeff’s. Placing Jeff in a wheelchair only able to look out of his window relates him to the audience bound by their seats on the wrong side of the screen to intervene in the course of action. This also has the effect of rendering Jeff impotent, in his inactiveness, and this provokes a subplot where he rejects the stunning Grace Kelly, claiming they are too incompatible to marry and causing her to try and seduce him by becoming involved in his rear window drama. As a result, we see Jeff becoming increasingly excited by Lisa, creating a fetish-like involvement with murder and suspense.

The suspense is also aided by Jeff’s impotence, as he observes Lisa being attacked by the salesman, Thorwald, but is unable to act, creating extremely tense moments where we are willing the heroine to escape but are powerless to have any impact on her fate. This is paralleled by Miss Lonely Hearts’ subplot in which she is about to commit suicide, an intensely private moment, that Jeff is witness to, and calls to police to try and prevent. This embodies the complexities of the films ethics, as we know Jeff is effectively a Peeping Tom but in a harmless way – although is Thorwald is innocent then Jeff has grossly mistreated him. The climax of this difficult relationship with his neighbours comes when one woman, the owner of a dog who has been found strangled, berates her neighbours for not taking an interest in each others lives and being involved with one another. We can’t help feeling a little sympathy for Jeff here, for at least he has involved himself with their lives, even if it is in a secretive, invasive way. Hitchcock, here, is almost providing his audience with an excuse for being fascinated with murder and mischief in his characters’ lives.

Technically, the camera use is excellent, with stunning crane shots across the impressive set, drawing together all the disparate narratives. The music is used intelligently, emanating from radios or the composer’s apartment, and never afraid to stop altogether, even in the tensest moments. The composer’s progression, in fact, as he struggles to develop his piece, mirrors the progression of the film, and it is when he finally performs the finished work that Miss Lonely Hearts is saved from her attempted suicide and Lisa is attacked by Thorwald. All the music is also recorded from Jeff’s point of view, eerily drifting across the courtyard towards him, which has a great effect on building the atmosphere. The editing, alternatively, is deceptively simple and largely revolves around Jeff looking at something, the image of that something, and then Jeff’s reaction – very basic shot-reverse shot editing, but it works perfectly here.

The only thing that strikes me that I’ve never heard anyone else mention, but which is perhaps only more relevant in modern times, is that Jeff only looks out of the window, rather than turning on the television. Of course the whole film falls down if he doesn’t look out of the window, and there’s no evidence of a television set in the apartment, but it’s interesting that whilst parallels are drawn with a cinematic audience, there are no references made to cinematic or televisual media. Of course nowadays we would just chuck on a DVD or computer game (as I did) but then the charm of the film is its period. Some humour can be taken from the prudish shock at the idea of Lisa staying the night at Jeff’s without him telling his landlord; supposedly an insight into his own privately immoral lifestyle. ‘Rear Window’, however, is timeless, and a quintessential cinematic masterpiece. Anyone interested in cinema must know the work of Alfred Hitchcock, and anyone who loves Hitchcock must love this film.