A Brief Love Letter #10: 'Rear Window' (1954)
A Brief Love Letter #10: 'Rear Window' (1954)
Location, Location, Location!
Dear Rear Window,
Though Alfred Hitchcock is on the shortlist of directors that first come to mind when asked about the all-time greats, his sheer volume and prolific output as a filmmaker makes him, at times, difficult to fully grasp. While history is on one’s side for those attempting to provide insight into his filmography, they may find it less daunting to articulate their thoughts and feelings for filmmakers who have said so much with so little. Filmmakers like Quentin Tarantino, Paul Thomas Anderson, Denis Villeneuve, and even, going back further, Stanley Kubrick by comparison. Sure, these filmmakers— aside from Kubrick— have yet to hang up the apron on their impressive careers, but one can’t help but wonder if their best work is behind them and already available for all to enjoy. Juxtapose this with an artist like Hitchcock, who enjoyed perhaps his greatest run as a visual storyteller nearly 30 years after his first feature film. And personally, I must admit that this era of Hitchcock (1950’s and onward) is primarily the Hitchcock that I am familiar with and most admire. In the very center of this “run” is his 1954 classic Rear Window, a film as beloved as anything that came before or after for the master of suspense.
Similar to a musical score serving as the perfect complimentary companion by which a filmmaker can reveal story and character, Hitchcock’s use of setting here gives the audience everything we need to know within minutes of meeting L.B. Jefferies (Jimmy Stewart). The accomplishment is not simply revealing character and setting through pictures on the wall, a phone call our protagonist is in the middle of, a bead of sweat, a half body cast, or morning and nightly routines of neighbors. Each of these feats and many more are expertly achieved by Hitchcock without so much as a few words of dialogue. Rather, the real feat is leaving the audience feeling paradoxically both within and outside of L.B. Jefferies apartment. The audience, like Jefferies, takes comfort within the confined space that serves as home for nearly 2 hours, while simultaneously being fixated on what is outside the walls rather than in. Furthermore, Hitchcock confoundingly causes the audience to aspire to trade in their perfectly comfortable and spacious suburban homes for a claustrophobic, cramped, heat wave accepting, breach of privacy inviting New York City apartment and never look back (or maybe that is just me talking). Hitchcock’s execution of a totally unique, tangible, and quintessentially New York setting—manufactured entirely on a Los Angeles studio lot—is both the defining quality of this film and one of the filmmakers’ great career accomplishments.
For all Hitchcock’s proficiency as an architect of thrills, mystery, and setting, it is the human and moral questions he gives his characters that continues to impress as I continue to watch. The question that plagues Jefferies here is that of his own desire. But the audience cannot come to understand Jefferies and his desires without the aid of Hitchcock’s design. Audience needs character and character needs author. If what motivated Jefferies were simply written down for all to see, it would be far less interesting even if relatable and human. It seemed Hitchcock understood, as well as any, that not only plot and story, but character as well, deserved nuanced treatment that leaves the audience wanting more. Creating a character that is recognizable but perhaps not fully knowable. For some— certainly for Hitchcock— movies were the perfect storytelling avenue for such aspirations. A few beautiful shots in particular all but tell the story. Early in the film Jefferies views a newly married couple from his apartment and can’t help but smile to himself. This is immediately followed by his noticing the much older, seemingly more contentious portrait of marriage in another set of neighbors. The first, a natural response— recognizing something intrinsically good and beautiful. The latter, a response that gives in to pessimism. It seems as much time as Jeffries spends as voyeur searching for clues to uncover mystery, his propulsion for visual eavesdropping might be strangely therapeutic, as he finds pieces of himself in others. He sees what he could have in the older, more jaded marriage should he conform to the societal norms and pressures around him and choose to “settle down”. He sees what could be in the newlywed union if things were different for him. He sees a version of his current romantic interest, Lisa (Grace Kelly) in Miss Torso, attracting plenty of attention from others, and a version of himself in the songwriter (Ross Bagdasarian), a single-minded artist, unknowable to those in his orbit. Through an amazing visual sequence, proving Hitchcock’s reputation as master of suspense, Thorwald (Raymond Burr) looks into camera, discovering Jefferies as the peeping tom, leading us to a profound concluding summation of the film and its protagonist. Thorwald confronts Jefferies and asks, “what is it you want?” Jefferies silent response…. all too fitting an answer.
To Rear Window, Mr. Hitchcock, and all who had a hand in the film, thank you.
Sincerely,
movie lovers everywhere
Thanks for reading!
Sources: IMDb, Letterboxd
Film: Rear Window
Release Year: 1954
Director: Alfred Hitchcock
Production: Paramount Pictures, Patron Inc.