“We’ve become a race of Peeping Toms. What people ought to do is get outside their own house and look in for a change,” says Stella in “Rear Window.” Several of Alfred Hitchcock’s films have the tendency to place the audience in the point-of-view of his characters, seeing things through their perspective and experiencing the self-reflexive nature that makes the viewer fully aware of the voyeuristic nature that comes with watching a movie. Sometimes, the images that the viewer sees through the eyes of the characters are things that the viewer is not supposed to see, but has to because they are placed in the position of the voyeur. Three films that employ the theme of “looking” is “Rear Window” (1954), “Vertigo” (1958) and “Psycho” (1960).
“Rear Window” can be described as Hitchcock’s response to the viewer’s strange pleasure with engaging in voyeurism at the movies, as well as the art of filmmaking itself. According to Donald Spoto’s book, “The Art of Alfred Hitchcock: Fifty Years of His Motion Pictures,” he says, “‘Jeff’ is in fact a surrogate for ‘Hitch’ in this regard: chair-bound, he takes up a camera with telephoto lens and then field glasses, through which he peers into the rectangular windows of his neighborhoods and sees people, gives them names, makes up stories about them, tells others these stories and then directs a ‘crew’ (Lisa, Stella, Doyle) he sends forth onto the ‘set’,” (219). In the film, professional photographer L.B. “Jeff” Jefferies (James Stewart) is temporarily placed in a wheelchair after an accident on the job at a racetrack. To pass the time, he uses his camera and apartment window to watch the people in the building. Later, Jeff has a feeling that he has witnessed a murder, and employs the help of his girlfriend, Lisa Fremont (Grace Kelly) and homecare nurse, Stella (Thelma Ritter), to help confirm his startling suspicions. Throughout the film, there are many point-of-view shots, provided by cinematographer Robert Burks, that help the viewer understand Jeff’s obsession with looking through the window. He makes a living looking through a camera, so his need to “look” is appropriate. When the film begins, the camera is facing Jeff’s window, which is broken up into three sections. As the opening credits roll, each section of the window slowly has its shade pulled up to reveal, little by little, the view of the world that Jeff is temporarily restricted to. The whole opening credits scene is done in a long take. As the credits end, the camera slowly moves closer to the edge of the window for the viewer to get a more detailed look at the apartment building. There is a long take of the windows shot from a distance as the camera takes in the view. A few cuts later, the camera becomes involved in another long take as it moves from one window to another, acquainting the viewer with Jeff’s, and very soon the viewer’s, subjects of voyeurism. The camera then pulls back into Jeff’s apartment as he’s sleeping. As he’s doing so, the camera moves around his apartment as the viewer learns a few things about Jeff’s character by looking at his possessions. The camera focuses on his broken leg, his broken camera, photographs that he has taken on the job, more cameras on a table, a framed photo of Lisa and a stack of fashion magazines with her on the cover. It makes sense that Jeff is sleeping during this scene because he doesn’t know the viewer is watching him, just like the other apartment attendants don’t know that he’s eventually watching them.
The final confrontation between murderer Lars Thorwald (Raymond Burr) and Jeff displays how the latter’s voyeuristic tendencies assist in saving his life, but also paints Thorwald as somewhat of a victim of said voyeurism. After he enters Jeff’s apartment, he says in a pleading tone, “What do you want from me? Your friend, the girl, could have turned me in. Why didn’t she? What is it you want, a lot of money? I don’t have any money. Say something. Say something! Tell me what you want!” As he’s saying this, the camera cuts back and forth from Thorwald to Jeff. Both are mostly covered by darkness, appropriate for Thorwald because he’s the villain. But, when Jeff is covered with shadow, he almost seems like a villain himself because he doesn’t respond at first to Thorwald’s plea. He just sits there and looks as if he wants to torture him by not saying anything. As Thorwald begins to walk towards Jeff, he uses his camera flash to stall him. At this instant, the point-of-view flips because as Thorwald is briefly blinded by the flash, the viewer gets a POV shot from his perspective as his vision is hindered, and then goes back to normality. In this scene, the viewer can see that both the hero and villain are guilty of something: in Jeff’s case, it’s voyeurism, and in Thorwald’s case, it’s murder.
Hitchcock’s “Vertigo” is a film that a viewer might not associate with voyeurism. However, in the scene where John “Scottie” Ferguson (James Stewart) obsessively follows his love interest, Madeleine (Kim Novak), comes dangerously close to voyeurism. Spoto writes, “‘Vertigo’ opens to the strains of Herrmann’s haunting prelude, as the camera draws in to a close-up of a woman’s face, moving from her lips to her eyes as she glances anxiously from left to right,” (275). The emphasis on the eyes can be related to Scottie’s obsession to watch and follow Madeleine earlier in the film, and later for having an eye for Madeleine’s characteristics as he meticulously tries to make his seemingly new love interest, Judy (also played by Kim Novak), try to look exactly like Madeleine. Cinematographer Robert Burks is paired with another James Stewart film, creating shots that reflect the main character’s desire to look as he follows and watches Madeleine, just as his other character did to the neighbors in “Rear Window.” Throughout this scene, there is a constant back-and-forth between Scottie’s POV and his reaction shots. As he begins to follow her in his car, the POV shots make the viewer feel as though he is Scottie, and also makes the viewer experience the character’s obsession. These POV shots are effective because as Scottie is following Madeleine, the viewer hopes that he won’t lose her path. There’s that need to see what her character is all about. When he follows her into an alleyway, Scottie sees Madeleine go through a door. Once he follows her inside and opens another door, he sees that she is in a flower shop. The way he watches her through the open door without her knowing resembles the scene in Psycho where Norman Bates watches Marion Crane through the peep hole. This is then followed by a reaction shot of his visible eye through the opening in the doorway, with a mirror next to the door, reflecting Madeleine so the viewer is able to see her during this reaction shot.
The cemetery scene, which is nearly all POV shots and reaction shots, follows shortly after and continues the sense of voyeurism provided by these shots. As Scottie is carefully watching Madeleine in the cemetery, many of the POV shots are as Scottie is viewing her from a distance, reflecting his and the viewer’s realization that although they are watching her, they need to provide her with some space to respect her visit to the grave of her great-grandmother, Carlotta Valdes. The point where there is the feeling of complete unease is when Madeleine begins to walk back, and Scottie hides a few feet away from her as she stops right in front of him. The uneasy feeling comes in a POV shot of Scottie looking at her from his hiding place, and the viewer feels as though he is hiding with Scottie as well. It’s in this moment that the viewer is worried because of the possibility that she will spot Scottie, and, in a sense, the viewer. Afterwards, Scottie continues to follow her in his car as there are more POV shots and reaction shots from him. Once again, there are the POV shots as he first watches Madeleine from a distance in the museum. However, he is then able to get closer to her. What’s most important in this scene are the comparisons that Scottie, and therefore the viewer, are able to make between Madeleine and the painting of Carlotta Valdes through the act of voyeurism. There are the POV shots of Scottie looking at the small bouquet of flowers sitting next to Madeleine and a similar bouquet that’s held by Carlotta in the painting, and there is the comparison of Madeleine’s hairstyle and Carlotta’s. Whenever Scottie looks at an aspect of Madeleine or the painting, the camera always moves in on whatever he’s looking at, giving the audience a full view and understanding of what he’s thinking.
“Psycho” opens in a fashion similar to “Rear Window.” With cinematography by John L. Russell, the camera’s three establishing shots pan over Phoenix, Arizona in a way that recalls “Rear Window”’s opening shots of outside the apartment building. Just like “Rear Window,” the camera takes in the bigger area before focusing on a main subject. At the end of the third establishing shot, the camera focuses on a hotel from a distance. The film then cuts closer to the hotel as the viewer sees a window that’s slightly open. The voyeurism automatically kicks in, and the viewer feels invited to look inside, but at the same time knowing that what the viewer is about to see is something the character’s don’t wish him to see. According to Spoto, “The audience manipulation is more than simply perverse; it has an artistic, even a moral purpose. Involving us deeply in the half-wishes and secret desires of the characters, Hitchcock involves us by the very act of watching,” (320). The film then cuts even closer to the window as the camera finally enters the hotel room. As Marion Crane (Janet Leigh) and Sam Loomis (John Gavin) sit on the bed together, there is a long take that reflects the theme of the viewer seeing something they shouldn’t, which is Marion’s afternoon with Sam. The camera stays on them as they’re on the bed, and the audience watches this romantic entanglement that Marion wishes to remain a secret.
One scene that especially places the audience in the realm of the voyeur is when Norman Bates (Anthony Perkins) is spying on Marion. When Marion goes back to her room after having dinner with Norman, he removes a painting from a wall in his parlor that is hiding a peep hole that give him a view into Marion’s room. In his parlor, Norman is surrounded my stuffed birds, predatory-looking animals to match his predatory gaze. When Norman looks through the hole, there is a POV shot of Marion undressing. There is then a cut to a close-up reaction shot of Norman’s eye, which then cuts back to a POV shot of Marion. This is all a self-reflexive moment because by putting the viewer in the POV of Norman, the viewer is then positioned in that voyeuristic space, the space that defines how voyeurism reflects the nature of cinema and its accompanying desire to watch. Bernard Herrmann’s music adds to this scene. According to Jack Sullivan’s book, “Hitchcock’s Music,” he says, “Herrmann’s music is inseparably linked with the film in the popular imagination; indeed, without it, ‘Psycho’ would probably not exist,” (243). In this scene, there are the sounds of the string instruments playing a sinister tune as the audience sees a side to Norman that makes him seem increasingly more dangerous. The strings get to a loud screech as the viewer gets the POV shot of Marion, making the viewer feel even more uncomfortable than he already is in this voyeuristic position.
The groundbreaking shower scene holds a voyeuristic aspect to it as well. After Marion collapses from her fatal attack, the camera watches as the water and her blood flow into the drain. The camera closes in on the drain, which then dissolves into an extreme close-up of Marion’s eye, right where the drain was on screen seconds before. By then, the camera begins to track back in a long take as the viewer gets a full view of her lifeless eye, the eye staying right in the middle of the frame the whole time. The shot of her eye emphasizes how because the audience had the desire to see into her life, it has now witnessed a brutal act of violence that ended it. The viewer’s desire to look led to something the viewer wouldn’t normally wish to see.
Movies are watched all the time as a form of escapism. However, Hitchcock was able to make them a form of something else: a way for viewers to satisfy, to a new level, their desire to peer into the lives of the characters that they are watching. There are things on screen that audiences want to see, and then there are things that the viewer sees that he might wish he hadn’t. What Hitchcock does is address the unsettling nature of cinematic voyeurism, and dares the audience not to look away.
Works Cited
Spoto, Donald. The Art of Alfred Hitchcock: Fifty Years of His Motion Pictures. New York: Anchor Books, 1992.
Sullivan, Jack. Hitchcock’s Music. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2006.
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