Thursday, December 1, 2011

Overanalyzing North by Northwest

Greetings, a new month is upon us and we are in the 11th hour for 2011. I’ve seen 45 films as of now from this year, so I’m well on pace to get to 50 by the end of the year. However in between these new features I’ve been revisiting a few of the classics, partially as extended research for that essential film list, but mainly because I’m educating someone on the finer points of classic cinema. Last night I watched North by Northwest for the third or fourth time and well it got me thinking.

I’d wager to say no filmmaker invites overanalyzing quite like Alfred Hitchcock. There’s a reason why he’s probably had more books written about his films than anyone in Hollywood history (with possible exception to Marilyn Monroe). His films are not just the mark of one of cinema’s most certifiable auteurs but layered with subtext, hidden meanings, and enough fat to chew so that no two people will have quite the same reaction.

Hitchcock's requisite cameo

North by Northwest was from what is now regarded as Hitchcock’s most iconic period. Sandwiched between Vertigo and Psycho it sometimes gets overlooked but by many people’s standards it holds up as well to those two films as any. For starters it is the least ambiguous out of that unrelated trilogy. Ernest Lehman wrote a very concise script and covered up most of the holes and faults in logic that often plague Hitchcock’s films. Whereas Vertigo relies on style over substance (Samuel Taylor’s screenplay has countless holes in it) and Psycho’s strength is primarily in it’s shock and at the time novelty, North by Northwest is driven almost entirely by plot.

Now that doesn’t mean that this is simply Hitchcock doing his best to film Lehman’s script as is and his only directorial flourish is his standard cameo. What I’m trying to say is that the main strength of this film is in the scenario. According to legend Hitchcock visited Mt. Rushmore and thought it would be interesting to film on the monument and with that little thread gave it to Lehman who fashioned the plot. This isn’t entirely unique to Hitch, who based the earlier Saboteur on a climatic Statue of Liberty finale. There’s always been some debate as to the “authorship” of Hitchcock’s films, but there is no doubt that once he was in his prime scripts were written specifically for him. He had some input but most of the nuts and bolts and nearly all dialogue was the result of the screenwriter.

In the dialogue department, Lehman’s script is about as memorable as any Hitchcock ever had. The diner cart sequence on the train between Roger Thornhill (Cary Grant) and Eve Kendall (Eva Marie Saint) is some of the most jam packed innuendo laced dialogue in cinema history. Even when the sequence ends Eve says “You better skip dessert” leaving a laugh as we realize Roger is thinking she’s all too eager, but knowing what he doesn’t know is that some police detectives just got on board at the unscheduled stop. This sequence is an example of our “right-to-know” as an audience. Throughout the film we are given some information, sometimes put directly in Roger Thornhill’s shoes, often knowing more than him, often seeing things from his eyes exactly. The master manipulator Hitchcock is able to play with the viewers emotions by giving us occasional bits of info denied other characters.

For example, we know that Cary Grant isn’t George Kaplan, but Philip Vandamm (James Mason) doesn’t. Following their intercourse where he plays it so cool, we don’t even know who Kaplan is supposed to be. After all Vandamm took the name and home of Mr. Townsend, who is a UN diplomat. This information is denied us at the time, giving us the Thornhill perspective because we are just as confused as him.

Another example is the strange enigma of Miss Kendall. When we meet her she seems like a kindly stranger who thinks Thornhill “Has such a nice face”. During their dining sequence we get the feeling this girl might be a total slut with the things she’s suggesting to Thornhill. Maybe she’s turned on by the prospect of sleeping with a wanted fugitive, especially one who killed a man. We have no idea that she’s the mistress of Vandamm nor do we even know Vandamm’s name or whether he’s on the same train. We couldn’t possible know her real affiliation, just that she seems all too willing to help Thornhill, he’s trusting to the kindness of strangers. We’re left little doubt even with 1959 censorship standards just what those two were up to in her room after the dust had settled. In this regard I’m giving the credit to Lehman who beats that horse to death with his racy dialogue. This is one of those “they don’t make ‘em like they used to” moments because today’s film, we’d see them have sex and be done with it, but in 1959 they had to get a little more creative.

Like Rope there is more than a hint of gay subtext as well. Leonard (Martin Landau) is more than just a little jealous of Eve. At the time they could just follow the bro-code that follows that all dames are no good in movies. The type of rampant sexism quite prevalent in films of the day (see King Kong for the most obvious example I can think of). However we never see Leonard with a woman, and he seems more than a little attached to Vandamm. Younger audiences who first saw Landau as Bela Lugosi in Ed Wood might be surprised by his rather sinister turn here. Let’s just say there’s something not quite right about him. Lehman himself freely admitted to that subtext in his audio commentary for the DVD.

Gay? Surely you jest

Now let me take a minute to discuss the film’s most famous sequence, the crop duster scene. Those of you who’ve had to take a film class might have watched this sequence a dozen times and analyzed every shot. I have had this “pleasure” which does more to suck the fun out of everything, but also got me thinking far too much about it. For starters, like The Birds Hitchcock realizes that things can be far more tense with no music. Bernard Hermann is allowed free reign throughout the film, contributing a very memorable theme and no doubt he and Hitchcock had one of the best and more mutually beneficial director/composer relationships in film history. However this is one sequence where Hitchcock didn’t use his services.

For those who know Chicago, the sequence shows a sign for Route 41, which runs north from Lake Shore Drive all the way up to Milwaukee. Seeing how it’s 1959 I made the joke that it’s probably only about 10 miles out of the city, because that area was as rural as you’d expect as little as 50 years ago. The fact that most of the field is barren brings up the sequences’ first clue when a man waiting for a bus (who Thornhill initially suspects might be the real Kaplan) points out that that crop duster is dusting where there aren’t any crops. Even without looking at the cover of the DVD you know that nothing happens for no reason in a Hitchcock film, and that’s going to be important.

Not to dig too deep into this sequence, the more I think about it the more questions I have. For starters, who in their right mind thinks a crop duster is a good way to kill someone? Is it to have a getaway, being able to fly where cops can’t pursue? The fact that after a couple of swoops the plane starts firing shots at Thornhill seems to make a little more sense. Again this is probably one of those “don’t think too much” moments where they probably just thought it would be a novel idea and look cool.

My questions don’t stop there though. Who the hell is flying the plane? Is it one of Vandamm’s men whose hell bent on getting rid of Thornhill? That makes sense, but what about the government. Finding out that Kendall works for the government she’s the one who technically sends him out there. Did she check in with Vandamm to set him up, or is Uncle Sam trying to get him out of the way? We’ve seen authority be very callous in Hitchcock films so I wouldn’t put it past them.

Last and probably the biggest one to stick in my craw, is how the hell the damn plane crashes into that gas truck? I mean clearly the plane was flying low and pulling up throughout the sequence, all of a sudden a truck that’s stopping somewhat slowly (considering it nearly runs over Thornhill) is too much for the plane to fly over? Again I’ll answer my own question by saying two things, one don’t think too much it’s a cool explosion, and the sequence had to end someway and it wasn’t like it was actually going to kill Thornhill. This is one of the problems that arise when I start peeling back layers in Hitchcock films, so my apologies.

I will applaud the narrative of the film again though. There aren’t really that many holes to be found. We can write off the fake shooting of Thornhill at the Mt. Rushmore observatory because after all movies in 1959 never showed blood. This wouldn’t tip us off that Leonard and Vandamm knew it was a fake. After all Vandamm didn’t even find out until Leonard found Kendall’s gun. We may also point out that Leonard might not have done any snooping if there wasn’t that overwhelming suspicion that he was very gay for Vandamm.

The statue that they were so eager to bid on winds up tying a lot together. It explains why they were in Chicago. After all it might seem like they were following Kaplan around, when in reality we know that through Kendall Kaplan’s fake hotel bookings are tipping them off to where Vandamm is headed. Now the statue filled with microfilm is a classic Hitchcock MacGuffin, a term he used to describe a meaningless plot device. It could be microfilm, it could be drugs, it could be secret blueprints, classified documents, whatever. The point is that statue and what’s in it are important. Hitchcock was famous for coming up with any meaningless thing to motivate a plot. Perhaps none more famous in film history than the mysterious glowing suitcase from Kiss Me Deadly (later referenced in Pulp Fiction).

Thornhill in an elevator with his mother

One more point to nitpick at is the casting. Joyce Caroll Landis plays Cary Grant’s mother in the film. After looking this up, she was actually 11 months younger than Cary Grant when the film was made. Of course in old Hollywood (still today to some degree) younger actresses were always paired with older men. Unfortunately 55 year old Cary Grant seemed perhaps too old for the role. Perhaps the Grant of Notorious would have suited the part better. Eve Marie Saint who plays Kendall was 35 at the time the film was made. Now I’m not going to get all crazy saying the love affair of people 20 years apart is preposterous by Hollywood standards. After all Humphrey Bogart married Lauren Bacall who was more than 20 years younger than him, and that was real life. Since Mason was 50 at the time, it could easily be explained that Kendall just had a thing for older men. Perhaps my complaint is that the script actually specifies that she is 26 years old. Does anyone really think Eve Marie Saint looked 26 when that film was made? That said if we’re to take her at her story age then that would imply a 30 year gap between her and her romantic lead. Again that’s Hollywood for you, I should stop complaining, just pointing it out.

Perhaps I’m getting older myself, but after a few viewings I have no problem putting North by Northwest among my favorite Hitchcock films. The central premise used to irritate me, but I think it’s ingenious now. After all for decades Hitchcock made numerous “wrong man” films, and this is easily the best of all of them. That early sequence where Vandamm’s men identify him as George Kaplan is directorial brilliance. It’s so slick and subtle that the first time you’re watching the film there’s no way you would think to pay attention. After all Thornhill is talking about wiring his mother about the theater that evening, and just the precise second he calls to the waiter, he’s paging George Kaplan. An insignificant detail, but the second time you watch the film you realize that once again there is nothing out of place in a Hitchcock films. This is a very concise and jam packed 136 minutes.

7 comments:

  1. There is dialog before the crop-dusting scene that establishes that it's an hour and a half south of Chicago, not north. It's a nice disconnect between the script writer and the props person: there is indeed a highway 41 running south from Chicago that would have been the way the bus would have gone to Indianapolis in the 1950's, before I-65 was built. But it's US 41, not Indiana 41 as shown by a sign at the bus stop (a fake sign as the scene was really filmed in California's Central Valley).

    And, no, US 41 north out of Chicago was not that rural in 1959. The north shore suburbs were fully built up by then. I know because I lived in Waukegan from 1951 to 1962.

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  2. This is one of my favorite movies. Watched it many times, and just a couple weeks ago. But...Van Damme and company are smart people. They would have wondered why "George Kaplan" showed up at the Townsend home with his Mom and the cops. This is not what spies do. This should have tipped them off that they were barking up the wrong tree.

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  3. Agree...and, further @thatsRich is that the cops would have known a member of the community like Townsend so how’d they not realize he was not the real Townsend (or his wife for that matter)?

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    1. Agreed. And the cops would have surely known that Townsend's wife was deceased . Anyway great film.

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  4. "Joyce Caroll Landis plays Cary Grant’s mother in the film." You mean Jessie Royce Landis, I believe.

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  5. "Joyce Caroll Landis plays Cary Grant’s mother in the film." You mean Jessie Royce Landis, I believe.

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  6. True theory. The cropduster was neither Van Damn's man nor US government personnel. No theory in either camp made sense. It was merely a redneck who was doing illegal activity and wanted to kill the observer as he thought Thornhill was a government man coming to inspect him. Beautiful Eve sent Thornhill out to the rural area where government men were supposed to meet up with him and get him out of trouble but the cropduster tried to kill Thornhill first before they could arrive. No proof that Leonard was gay. Mygenes.co.nz.

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