Even among the masterpieces Alfred Hitchcock made, there's something fascinating and unforgettable about Vertigo, a film which this year managed the non insignificant feat of unseating Citizen Kane in the Sight and Sound Critics poll of the greatest films ever made. At first glance, Vertigo is a haunting mystery, a tale of a woman who may or may not be haunted by her own ancestors. And as it unfolds, Hitchcock creates an eerie, off-kilter atmosphere, one that only adds to the unease created by Kim Novak's haunted, strange performance. But if that's all there was to Vertigo, it would be great, but not the masterpiece that it is. No, Vertigo becomes truly great as you begin to understand that the film is one about obsession, a fact which becomes inescapable in the film's second half, which finds Jimmy Stewart's retired police officer becoming fixated in a horrifying, stomach-churning way that will leave even the strongest viewer feeling deeply disturbed. Indeed, the cloud of obsession hangs over every frame of Vertigo, from Novak's fixation on a long-dead matriarch to Stewart's inability to let go of his own past (yes, and sexual hangups). In many ways, of course, it's impossible to look at Vertigo and not become aware of the way it reflects Hitchcock's own filmmaking tendencies and hangups. An obsession with blond haired women of impeccable beauty? A desire to control others absolutely? These and so many more aspects of the story make Vertigo as much about Hitchcock himself as about Stewart's character, and only add to the hall of mirrors that end up composing the story. Hitchcock may have made more entertaining films (Rear Window and North by Northwest top the list for me), but for me, Vertigo is the most complex, fascinating, and certainly the darkest film he ever made. More than that, its tale of obsession and the darkness in even the most noble of men make it all the more timeless.
- Josh Mauthe
- Josh Mauthe
