It would have been interesting had Stewart's character been darker, e.g.
You might say, c'mon, we're pretty sure something's going on, this is a Hitchcock film after all, but consider the uncomfortable light Stewart's character is placed in: spying on neighbors with binoculars and a gigantic zoom lens, suggesting that his friend break the law by searching the guy's apartment without a warrant, and even (gasp) having Kelly over for a little sleepover, despite only having a single bed. Things get serious when he notices one of the neighbors (Raymond Burr) leaving his apartment multiple times in the wee hours of the night, and that the guy's wife has mysteriously disappeared.įrom then on, there is a tension to the film, as we're not sure what's going on, or if anything at all is going on, as Stewart's detective friend (Wendell Corey) is skeptical and provides some alternate explanations. Stewart (slash Hitchcock) is a bit of perv, and he's kidded about that by his tough little nurse (Thelma Ritter) and glamorous girlfriend (Grace Kelly). He also dials up some eye candy circa 1954 with a dancer who regularly prances about her apartment. The plot device is that during a heat wave, these neighbors leave their curtains drawn or shades up at all times, well, with the exception of a pair of newlyweds, whose implied activity (and its frequency) is a little joke Hitch gives us early on. To this day, it's not very often, or arguably even at all that other filmmakers are able to that.Hitchcock's nod to voyeurism has a very simple premise: a photographer (Jimmy Stewart) is laid up with a broken leg, and finds entertainment in looking out his second floor window at his neighbors. In his films and the astounding ways he could shoot them, viewers were almost like trespassers in his most chilling scenes, almost drawing us in so far as to practically become participants in the horror of them ourselves. Perhaps it made him feel better if other people were scared of the same things he was. In that way, he was almost a filmmaking sadist - a director so hell-bent on making you feel the true terror and discomfort of a scene, that he almost reversed the experience to one where audiences were not just there to be entertained. Hitchcock's true and most enduring legacy in filmmaking was that he had an almost preternatural way of making audiences feel uncomfortable through the unique way he was able to leverage suspense and immerse people in his films. However, there are certainly themes that often repeat in them and his fear of authority and female sexuality were certainly two that featured prominently. Hitchcock's true legacy probably lies in the fact that his overall style of filmmaking can never be nailed down to one particular trait or aspect. And Hitchcock employed a fast-motion reverse shot to make it look like the blade actually pierced Marion’s abdomen."
The shower set was constructed so that any of its walls could be removed, allowing the camera to get in close from every angle. "Much of the scene, which was storyboarded in consultation with the legendary designer Saul Bass (and took a week to film), was shot in extreme close-ups, with swift edits, so that the nudity and violence is implied-felt-but never actually seen. The History Channel recounted the famous scene by explaining some of the true genius behind its more nuanced aspects: To this day, the famous shower scene in Psychois an everlasting testament to just how effectively Hitchcock injected fear into his films. When he used fear in films, it was usually done in such brilliant and unsettling ways that audiences were left feeling truly uncomfortable and horrified.
This deep psychological manifestation of fear at such a young age, coupled with his phobia of policemen, was the reason why fear of authority and other Hitchcock anxieties were so prominently featured in his films.
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