The Most Relentlessly Awesome Films Ever: Rear Window

This latest article of my 'Most Relentlessly Awesome Movies...' series is a tad delayed - originally I intended to write and post it during December, but never found the time; and then the same happened again during February.  But here it is, which means that there'll be an article in this series two months in a row - I can sense your excitement from here..!  So without further ado...

THE MOST RELENTLESSLY AWESOME FILMS EVER - PART SEVEN:

REAR WINDOW (1954)

I am pretty sure that 'Rear Window' is the first Alfred Hitchcock movie I ever watched and consciously took on board that it is one of several great films, in a tremendous body of work, that bears the classic hallmarks of what made him known as 'The Master of Suspense'.  I first saw it about 17 years ago, as part of a season of films screened on TV in tribute to James Stewart who had passed that year.  I'm sure I had seen 'Psycho' or  'The Birds' (or, at least, parts of those films), which are classic movies in their own rights, but when I saw 'Rear Window' I finally 'got' what made a Hitchcock film so distinctive, and - as with much of his work - such great pieces of cinema.  And the fact this film makes full use of a limited setting and almost austere premise impresses me as much now as it did upon that first viewing.  It is marked with a black, knowing sense of humour about death and sex, features a leading turn from a classic blonde actress, and has a murder mystery at its centre - if you wanted to sum up the consistent elements of Hitchcock's films, then there are all present in this.  It even manages to make some subversive swipes at human nature, and also at the medium of cinema itself.

The artistry and attention to detail that went in to realising the back-apartment lot over looked by photographer J.B. 'Jeff' Jeffries (Stewart) is nothing short of impressive.  Even in today's era of CGI effects work, the execution of every aspect of the set is pretty astounding: the shared garden, each apartment window, even the side alley looking in across a busy street on to a café.  Aiding the illusion are a myriad of extras, cars driving past, that make the whole thing feel alive - not just some construct on a Studio lot somewhere.  As the film opens, and the camera pans around taking in the view of the other apartments from Jeffries' window, you're immediately taken in to accepting the setting as alive because of the way the other residents are introduced.  Though we never learn their names, straight away we learn a lot about these individuals: the songwriter, 'Miss Torso' the dancer, the sculptress, 'Miss Lonely Hearts'; and despite them having little relation to the central plot, we become as invested in their lives as Jeffries does, watching them while he convalesces.

Adventuring Photographer JB Jeffries (Stewart) thinks that Lisa (Kelly) is too good and sophisticated for him - but she's as tenacious, brave and adventurous as he is...

The film does such tremendous work in fully realising the setting and establishing Jeffries and his some-time girlfriend Lisa Fremont (Grace Kelly), that when the apparent murder that is the main thrust of the plot only occurs a third of the way through the film you are so involved it doesn't feel to have dragged.  Just in this opening half hour there is so much of what keeps people analysing and appreciating Hitchcock's films; I love how the camera allows the viewer to become, like Jeffries, a voyeur on his neighbour's lives - and when the camera cuts back to Jeffries' reactions to them, there is a knowing humour.  Like when he pans his camera's lens over the apartment where newly-weds have moved in - and have had the curtains drawn since; his reaction is a mixture of disappointment and sheepish guilt - which must be shared by the audience, who like him probably were curious as to what the couple were getting up to!  It draws a laugh which is a mixture of humour and a little guilt!

And then we have the introduction of Grace Kelly (how aptly named she was...) as Lisa, as she stirs Jeffries from a half-slumber with a dreamy, soft-focus kiss.  So much has been written about Hitchcock's apparent obsession with Blonde women - but in this film he doesn't merely fetishise them (although this shot, and a later one where she is nuzzling in to Jeffries' neck, are arguably more sensual and erotic than much of 'Fifty Shades of Grey').  We learn that Lisa is smart, capable, and an activist - as she helps Jeffries with his investigations we see she is far more than the immaculately dressed New York fashion socialite that Jeffries has pegged her down as.  Despite his commitment issues, over the course of the film we see that Lisa is in fact an ideal match for him - as tenacious, brave and adventurous as he is.  Looking back at this film, and this character, with a 21st Century feminist-influenced mind-set, there are still elements of her character that betray how women were limited in their roles throughout society at the time: she is still expected to be immaculately and beautifully turned out in fashionable clothes, she still cooks dinner for her man.  But while Jeffries is physically unable to put himself in the location of the crime they're investigating, she is able to go ahead and do so - unlike many women at the time would have been.  Of course, it adds to the tension of that scene later on that she is also vulnerable in some ways, especially as the suspected killer is a physically larger and clearly stronger figure than her.   Whilst other films before and since then would put a female character in such a perilous position and ultimately would have made her another victim, this film distinguishes itself by allowing Lisa to use her wit, cunning and guile to get out of the situation.

Once the film sets out the central mystery, Hitchcock absolutely mines it to its full potential.  As we only see and hear what Jeffries does, we as the audience are only as strong as Jeffries himself in the conviction that he has witnessed one of his neighbours, Lars Thorwold (Raymond Burr), murdering his wife.  We are kept within the confines of Jeffries' apartment, only seeing what he can from his window, and it is easy  to have that conviction swayed as other characters express their doubts.  Solving this mystery requires an unflinching eye observing the entire apartment complex, and by the time Jeffries is absorbed in his surveillance the audience is equally so - thanks to the way in which Hitchcock has made the viewer as engrossed in watching Jeffries' neighbours as he is.  (Ironically, after the film has so plausibly realised a living, breathing apartment yard, the white dye applied to Burr's hair to age him is the only thing to break the spell it has cast - if only slightly!)

It all builds to two scenes of almost unbearable tension - firstly, as Lisa breaks in to Thorwald's apartment to retrieve his dead wife's wedding ring; and then in a final confrontation between Thorwald and Jeffries in his darkened apartment.  Both scenes work because the lead actor is physically limited to the one room, and by tying the camera to that location we feel his helplessness as he first watches Thorwald confront Lisa in his apartment, then secondly as Thorwald tries to eliminate him as the only witness to his crime.  There is a simplicity to these scenes that makes it possible to see how they might have been more mundane or trivial if executed differently - but again, these show the prowess of Hitchcock as the 'Master of Suspense'; these set pieces are realised to the full potential in terms of tension and, well, suspense.

Jeffries is a voyeur - but then again, so is the audience - we've been watching everything he has..!

The Director's humour is clear throughout, but none moreso when, at the end, we realise like Jeffries' nurse Stella (Thelma Ritter), we have been involved in quite an unpleasant situation; and even more than that, our human nature inevitably makes this the case.  There is something instinctual in human behaviour to observe other people, to the point where we are all to some degree voyeurs.  There are moments where Hitchcock allows the viewer to look back at Jeffries and to tut judgementally, before wryly reminding us that we have been watching his neighbours as intently as he has, so who are we to judge!  The medium of film is part of this behaviour - we all have lurid fascinations, to varying degrees, to even the most darkest elements of human activities; even with sex and murder.  These are part of the appeal of cinema - we can watch these played out in the safety of other (fictional) people's lives, but the voyeuristic drive is the same.  When Hitchcock makes the viewer laugh at Stella's reaction after her assertion that 'she wants no part of it', he is also inviting us to laugh at that element of ourselves, too.

There are many outstanding classics from Hitchcock's body of work that would provide any movie fan with an entry point from which to begin to appreciate his films.  'Rear Window' did that for me, and years after that first viewing I remain as impressed as I was then; by its technical achievement in realising an entire apartment lot and making it feel vibrant and truly alive, and in getting the full potential from what on the surface is a simple premise.  Critics and film buffs would debate which of his films is his greatest work, or which most exemplifies what marked him as a great director - 'Vertigo', or 'North by North West', or 'Psycho'.  But 'Rear Window' was, for me, the perfect introduction to Hitchcock, enabling me to appreciate that he was a 'Master' not just of suspense, but of cinema in general; and for that I will always hold this film with a special regard.