Vertigo (1958)

Alfred Hitchcock’s 1958 thriller Vertigo is a film that stays with its audience long after its viewing. Almost flawless as a whole, the film possesses (no pun intended) the rare quality of simultaneously charming and frightening the viewer. Beautiful actors and equally attractive cinematography are paired with a dark, convoluted storyline to create an unforgettable experience. 

Vertigo follows the plight of former detective John “Scottie” Ferguson (James Stewart), who, after an incident on top of a building late one night culminating in the death of a fellow officer, is left with an intense sense of guilt and severe fear of heights. Having quit the force because his acrophobia, Scottie spends his free time visiting his best friend Midge (Barbara Bel Geddes), a woman to whom he was once engaged, but with whom things have since considerably cooled off. One day Scottie gets a call from an old college acquaintance, Gavin Elster (Tom Helmore), who recruits Scottie to follow his wife due to increasingly strange behavior. Although skeptical of Elster’s theory that his wife has been possessed, Scottie is titillated by the prospect of more detective work, and agrees.

He begins to follow Mrs. Madeleine Elster, a housewife apparently so well-off that she has nothing to do with her time other than take several consecutive trips to gardens, churches, museums and hotels. Scottie tails Madeleine as she drives around town, and it is a wonder that she never realizes she’s being watched – although this might be justified with the idea that she’s really out of it and has no sense of the things happening around her.

When she parks at the base of the Golden Gate Bridge, he witnesses her try to jump into the bay and rescues her. The two quickly fall in love (which is probably his fault for taking her back to his house rather than hers after she fell in the bay). This is made even creepier by the fact that he presumably undressed her while she was unconscious, intending to rid her of her wet clothes.

Time goes by and the couple falls even more deeply in love. One fateful night, however, they are torn apart when Madeleine (supposedly under a possessed spell) throws herself off the bell tower at mission-turned-museum San Juan Bautista. Scottie becomes depressed, and for a time stays in a psychiatric ward. Upon his release, Scottie sees a woman who looks exactly like Madeleine (except for her brown hair), and follows her back to the hotel that Madeleine frequented. The woman tells him that she is Judy Barton from Kansas (also played by Novak), is offended that he is so enamored with her only because she “reminds him of someone,” but agrees to have dinner with him anyways. Scottie and Judy begin dating, but a growing suspicion hints to him that she may not be entirely honest.  

The rest of the film is for the reader to seek out, as I won’t be the one to give away Vertigo’s shocking ending. Anyone familiar with Hitchcock knows that he was not only a “master of suspense,” but a master of plot twists, and such readers will be happy to find that Vertigo is no exception. 

Although there are no overt sexual references, the film hints at sexuality in a refreshingly subtle manner – something many films today would be wise to imitate. When Scottie asks Midge if she “supposes many men wear corsets,” she responds in the affirmative, and he tauntingly inquires, “Really, do you know that from personal experience…?” (To which she simply responds, “Please.”) The world-wary Judy Barton, at first skeptical of Scottie’s advances, admits that she’s “been picked up before.” When he implores her to spend more time with him, she mistakes his fascination for sexual desire, and tells him that, “I understand, all right. I’ve been understanding since I was seventeen.” Vertigo doesn’t brush off sex and sensuality, nor does it linger on establishing every intimate detail. Rather, it offers up just enough insight as to make the characters visceral while still maintaining a level of class significant to Hitchcock’s films.

            In fact, the camera’s treatment of its female characters is the most provocative thing about the film. There are a few too many “wow, Kim Novak is gorgeous” shots, lingering on her for several seconds every time she walks through a doorway, and enhanced by Bernard Herrmann’s score swelling up and exploding into a passionate cue. Coincidentally, these seem to diminish once she transforms into her brunette alter ego. Without the blonde hair, the allure is gone – she’s just a normal woman.

For a split second, Novak’s character becomes likeable. When Judy is alone, we see that she seems much more complicated than Madeline – much more real – complete with a haunting history and secrets that she can’t bear to divulge to the man she loves. But any confidence the viewer may have in Judy is lost almost immediately. She proves to be painfully submissive. When Scottie becomes deranged, trying to transform Judy into Madeline by purchasing her new clothes and making her dye her hair, she complains, but ultimately stands by and lets him. This is the biggest red-flag that the film was not directed by a woman, as no self-respecting female would ever put up with being taken advantage of in this way. Nor would she accept the fact that a man loved her because she reminded him of someone else as an excuse to stay with him. Judy submits to Scottie’s every demand, too afraid to say no. At one point, she even begs, “If I do what you tell me, will you love me?” Even women who don’t fancy themselves feminists by definition should be angered by this kind of mistreatment. The saleswoman at the dress shop completely ignores Judy’s pleas for Scottie to stop choosing all these clothes for her, presumably because at the time a man’s request was still valued over a woman’s.

And yet, even themes of sexism and male dominance can’t be regarded as “flaws” in the context of the film. No doubt Hitchcock sculpted them as carefully as every other detail in the film to create an even more disturbing world.

The visual imagery of Vertigo is sublime. This is the film that perfected the “car shot,” as there are several such shots of Scottie peering through his windshield at Madeleine as she goes through her daily routine. Yet these never become boring or trite, and each one adds something special to the story as a whole. Then there’s the iconic and perfectly-timed shot of Madeleine and Scottie kissing just as a huge wave crashes over the rocks behind them, a cinematic gem in every way. Add to these a San Francisco setting that just begs to be admired, and Vertigo becomes a film just as riveting and complex in its visuals as its storyline.

Another of the film’s strong points is its choices in casting. Stewart and Novak exhibit tremendous chemistry. At times their characters embrace passionately; at others, she is terrified of his domineering and forceful nature. At all times, however, the actors are clearly in perfect synchronization with each other. The final scene especially showcases both of their capacities for brilliant intensity, as Scottie works up the courage to once again visit the bell tower.

At its core, Vertigo is a story about beautiful, complicated people trapped in a beautiful, complicated world. An elaborate and endearing film, it is highly recommended for anyone interested in mystery films and classic cinema.