and
Anyway.
Based on a 1942 short story by Cornell Woolrich by the name of “It Had to Be Murder”, Rear Window centers around a location (a room facing out towards the back of a New York City apartment complex) and a man (L.B. Jeffries, played by the illustrious James Stewart). Jeffries was a photographer, a damn good at that, until an encounter with a rather surly race car earned him a cast on his leg and an unplanned vacation. With nothing on the radio and reality TV still 4 decades away, the former man of action is left with far too much time on his time. Visits from his nurse Stella and his fiance Lisa Carol Fremont alleviate some of the boredom, even if he thinks Lisa is too dainty for his kind of lifestyle, but his main hobby is looking out his window into the lives of his various eclectic neighbors. In one window is Ms. Torso the buxom blonde ballet dancer, in another The Pianist, in yet another the salesman and his invalid wife, and so on. A rich tableau of the human experience, a glimpse into their personal lives, all from the comfort of his apartment. And he didn’t even have to pay for it!
On the last week on his convalescence however, Jeffries’ innocent voyeurism turns upon something strange. The salesman’s invalid wife has up and disappeared, and the salesman is engaging in some… questionable activities. Late night trips, long distance phone calls, wrapping up knives and saws in newspaper, things which could lead to some macabre conclusions. Which is exactly what Jeffries does, becoming absolutely convinced that the salesman (Lars Thorwald, played by Raymond Burr) murdered his wife and is trying to hide the evidence, even convincing Lisa and Stella of it. Trouble is, how exactly do you prove anything happened when all you’ve got are a couple of suspicious scenes from a window? Moreover, how far is Jeffries willing to go to prove that he’s right? Pretty damn far, as it turns out.
While I’m not an expert on Hitchcock’s work by any means, what I do like about his films is how very simple they appear on the surface. Within the first few seconds of the film starting you understand exactly where you’re at in the world of L.B. Jeffries, and the same goes for Stella and Lisa during their introductions. You know who they are, what their motivation is, and what their relationship is to the other characters. Not just our main cast either, the entire film is built on this premise of constructing narratives based on the small amount of information we’re given. It’s as if Jeffries is situated across from a wall in which multiple theaters are each playing its own (mostly) silent film, each with its own protagonists dealing their own trials & tribulations. Possibly a metaphor for life, but I don’t want to put words in anybody’s mouth.
Hitchcock was, as his business cards would attest, the master of suspense, and Rear Window is no exception to that. Unlike Rope, the Hitchcock movie that I always love to trot out during comparisons, this is not snowballing anticipation of inevitability. This is a slow burn, almost mundane to a degree, until suddenly you realize that your footing isn’t quite as strong as it used to be, and that’s when Hitchcock springs his trap. The fact that there’s little in the way of a score, preferring instead the sounds of the city and muffled piano, only serves to heighten the sense of paranoia growing in your gut as Hitchcock nudges you right next to Jeffries. I don’t know if I was necessarily on the edge of my seat, since Rear Window is probably the most reused Hitchcock concept in pop culture next to the shower scene from Psycho, but seeing the original does have an appeal that imitators lack.
Acting is at generally the high standard you expect from a Hitchcock film, which is pretty impressive considering this is a movie where most of the people on screen are practically mimes and that it’s only the second time our leads have worked with him before (James Stewart with Rope back in 1948, and Grace Kelly with Dial M for Murder released earlier in ‘54). James Stewart as L.B. Jeffries is deceptively (natch) charismatic, seeming for all the world like an obsessive crank, but his enthusiasm is so infectious that you can’t help but identify with him. Grace Kelly, as one might expect from her famously brief film career, is a unique talent, seemingly embodying everything that makes up the perfect fiance: Beauty, elegance, wit, devotion, dynamism, the whole shebang. Every time she’s on screen she draws the attention to herself, and her radiance is often heightened by the dingy brownish squalor of Jeffries’ apartment. I’m not 100% sold on the chemistry between the two, I think James comes across as a bit of a cold fish in the more passionate moments, but that may just be me. By the end you’re invested in these characters anyway, so I suppose it doesn’t really matter.
Rear Window is one of the quintessential Hitchcock films, one that captures the essence of what made him such a influential filmmaker, and as such easily snags the recommendation. Simple but never simplistic, easily digestible but never bland, it’s so damn easy to just watch Hitchcock’s films that I can’t think of any reason why you wouldn’t. Give Rear Window a try, hell throw on three or four of his movies, and you’re bound to have a great Halloween. Just remember to be cautious around windows, you never know who might be watching.
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