Vertigo the Thriller...it doesn't quite sound right. But add one word -- psychological -- and Vertigo has been properly described. A Psychological Thriller. There it is. So why does this work and not the other?
I do not come away from Vertigo feeling spooked, or exhilarated, or anything else that comes with the sensation of being thrilled. I do, however, come away feeling violated. My brain has been molested. Midge, when I saw your face painted onto the body of Carlotta, I felt betrayed. Vertigo is jarring in a way only a Thriller could be, but while the typical Thriller leaves me gasping for air, Vertigo had more of a dizzying effect. The former tries to surprise us, but we've signed up for this; in Vertigo, the elements of surprise work as unwanted invaders.
Laura Mulvey's explanation of the gazed-at woman in two other films can easily be applied to Madeleine in Vertigo: "She is isolated, glamourous, on display, sexualised. But as the narrative progresses she falls in love with the main male protagonist and becomes his property, losing her outward glamourous characteristics, her generalised sexuality, her show-girl connotations; her eroticim is subjected to the male star alone."
The conditions work exponentially; because she is isolated, she is his to behold. Scottie can have that creepy relationship with Madeleine/Judy, where every move she makes is for him to enjoy. If she were with others, especially another man, there would be too many distractions; his viewing would be diluted. In isolution, her glow brightens, she attains greater glamour, and she is certainly on display -- and eventually sexualized. When Judy actually falls in love with Scottie and the relationship is closer to mutual (though certainly still very unbalanced), he becomes even greedier towards her in an attempt to act on his sudden false sense of control. This is where things fall apart.
We expect so much. We expect the authorities to be running up the stairs of the church, when a nun is certainly the more practical option. Judy's reaction to the nun -- without ever seeing who is coming up the stairs she jumps to her death -- is bizarre. She was, of course, in a state of overwheliming shock, but why jump so prematurely? Even more bizarre, after witnessing the suicide, the nun makes a brief, snide remark before ringing the church bell -- business as usal.
Perhaps it's the shear mass of unexpected moments Hitchcock hands us, sometimes all at once, that make Vertigo more than just a Thriller. But it also seems that he has perfected the opposite. Whatever happens could not be farther away from what we expect. And that messes with out heads.
We expect so much. We expect the authorities to be running up the stairs of the church, when a nun is certainly the more practical option. Judy's reaction to the nun -- without ever seeing who is coming up the stairs she jumps to her death -- is bizarre. She was, of course, in a state of overwheliming shock, but why jump so prematurely? Even more bizarre, after witnessing the suicide, the nun makes a brief, snide remark before ringing the church bell -- business as usal.
Perhaps it's the shear mass of unexpected moments Hitchcock hands us, sometimes all at once, that make Vertigo more than just a Thriller. But it also seems that he has perfected the opposite. Whatever happens could not be farther away from what we expect. And that messes with out heads.
I like your point about how we expect so much out of the ending. I think that's also one of Hitchcock's strongest suits too. He knows that we all want a happy, solid ending, and he purposely takes that away from us. Take also for example the ending of The Birds, *SPOILER ALERT STOP READING IF YOU HAVENT SEEN IT* when they're walking towards their car surrounded by thousands of birds in the field, we wanna know if they get home safe, or if they die, or what. The same thing happens in Vertigo, where we're left wide open with what could possibly have happened after the film, and I think thats the genius of it.
ReplyDeleteThis is a really, really good analysis, and a very concise use of the ideas in the reading. Since you mentioned it, I'd really like to see you playing jarring Midge-head against what you're saying about how Scottie essentially owns Judy/Madeline entirely just by looking at her (scopophilia to the point of obsession). Something is going on with the way we, the audience, look at Midge too--her painting disrupts our gaze, and mocks it, in a way I can't quite put my finger on, but this blog points to.
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