A Question of VERTIGO
August 19th, 2008 by Scott Marks
Last week I received a frantic late night call from my friend Herb Ross asking to help clarify a plot point in Hitchcock’s Vertigo. Eager to assist a fellow stickler for logic, I popped in my DVD, synced up with Herb and in no time put his mind at ease. After going through the effort of walking to the bedroom, locating my copy (filed alphabetically by director in chronological order) and carefully nesting it in my player, I figured WTF?, why not give the film of films another look?
It had been years since I sat down and watched the big “V” from beginning to end. With the exception of Midge’s comic relief, it’s all so damn depressing. My last audience was in 1997 when Robert Harris and James Katz “restored” Hitchcock’s obsessive masterwork. Though the 70mm blowup effectively reinstated the film’s original VistaVision aspect ratio and removed the heinous Universal logo hot-spliced onto the last shot of the 1984 reissue, the anemic color, heightened sound effects and computer enhanced stereo (the film was originally released in mono) proved little more than “pay attention to us” tinkering on the part of the self-serving preservationists.
For decades, it was impossible to see Vertigo in any format. I have meaningless memories of a Best of CBS telecast, but I was only six at the time and, having not yet been exposed to Under Capricorn, could not possibly have appreciated The Master’s inner-dialog. Hitchcock bought back the rights to Vertigo, along with Rope, Rear Window, The Trouble With Harry and the Technicolor remake of The Man Who Knew Too Much. The films were not put on public display until years after his death when they were re-released as a package with the proceeds going to his daughter and grandchildren.
Of the five “lost” Hitchcocks, only Rope was withheld me until the 1984 reissue. Three of the group were made readily available thanks to my nitrate “brother” Rick Marks who owned 16mm dye transfer prints of Rear Window, TMWKTM and Harry, We were so jaded that one night, while his print of Rear WIndow screened at an after hours party for the Parkway Theatre staff, we sneaked up to the projection booth to study a Marcus Welby, M.D. rerun.
Somewhere in 1980, Rick secured a video cassette copy of Vertigo. It was before I owned a VCR, and I was fortunate enough to watch it with Dave Kehr, Tom Bruggeman and Lloyd Sachs on Dave’s 15″ Sony. Instead of Motion Picture High Fidelity, this 90th generation dupe appeared to have been photographed in the grandeur of Macular Degeneration. At least it was letterboxed.
Nothing will ever rival the day I received a call from a mole who, in whispers, informed me that the School of the Art Institute was screening a private collector’s 35mm dye transfer print. I was more intent on getting a seat for that screening than a guy dressed as a cereal box standing on line for a taping of Let’s Make A Deal. Unless some eccentric billionaire film junkie decides to single handedly bring back VistaVision, this is as close as I would ever get to experiencing how the film played on its original issue. The owner’s identity remained shielded and I was never able to shake his hand and personally thank him for his generous use of the print. Projected in razor sharp focus (standard operating procedure at the A.I.) it forever spoiled all subsequent screenings of Vertigo. Nobody, not even Jerry Lewis, uses Technicolor quite like Hitchcock. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen Kim Novak flare Technicolor red as she exits Ernie’s. By comparison, the Harris/Katz version looks like faded Deluxe stock.
Hitchcock punctuates numerous scenes with expressionistic bursts of light or color. In addition to Madeleine’s sensual crimson unveiling there is the night scene where Judy appears unannounced at John’s apartment and Hitchcock purposely delays the interior light hitting her face until seconds after the door is open. When Judy consents to go full-Madeleine, the screen becomes bathed in a soft, green gauze that’s just slightly less vibrant than the emerald rooftops John Robe ascends in To Catch a Thief.
Light and color used to express sexuality, duplicity and revelatory moments are staples of Hitchcock’s visual wit, yet there is one scene that doesn’t compute and I need your help. Johnny-O and his object of repression Midge pay a late afternoon visit the Argosy Book Store in order to enlist Pops’ help in researching the mysterious Carlotta. The camera, placed inside the store, records a dialog between John, Midge and Pops. Towards the end of the scene, the frame begins to darken as though a cloud has passed across the sun. More than likely, Hitchcock was attempting to compress time and subtly (and oh-so cinematically) make the transition between day and night. (The scene immediately following takes place in the early evening.)
We cut to an exterior set. John and Midge exit the store and stand off to the right leaving Pops center frame in his darkened store. No other characters were introduced, so it’s safe to assume that Pops was alone in the shop. In an instant, the lights inside the Argosy switch on, but how? David Elliott’s guess is that the lights were on a timer, but according to Wikipedia, “Electromechanical timers reached a high state of development in the 1950s and 60s because of their extensive use in aerospace and weapons systems.” Does that mean they were made affordable to the general public by 1958? It had to have been intended as an expressionistic device, but for the life of me I can’t crack its meaning.
Seeing it again was like watching it for the first time. As with all profoundly moving works of art, Vertigo grows with you. After a dozen or so viewings, it thills me to find an unanswered question. Can any of you shed some light on this problem of expressionistic illumination?
While I’m at it, does anyone have a screencap of the painting of Midge as Carlotta. I practically spit Coke every time I see it and would love to have a copy for the Image Vault. Thanks in advance. I’ll hang up and wait for a reply.
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Vertigo Photos
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12 Responses to “A Question of VERTIGO”
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You sent me to my dvd of the “restored” version. I see two possibilities for the light coming on:
A) The store owner turned them on himself. It appears to me that while Stewart and Bel Geddes are on the street the store owner very briefly walks off the frame to the left and as he’s walking back in the frame the lights come on. I think he walked over and switched on the lights which didn’t come on until a moment or two later. Whether the delay was intended or not I couldn’t say, but it looks clear to me that he was turning on the lights himself. This would also bolster the idea that the lights grow dim in the shop because Hitch is suggesting that night is coming on.
B) They were turned on by a ghost. Just like Johnny-O.
Sorry I can’t help you with the screen cap, but my old laptop is a failure as a media player. It’s funny to me that you nearly spit coke every time you see that. It’s such an awkward, squirm-inducing moment. He’s got a great woman stuck on him but goes chasing his (dead!) fantasy instead, then Midge paints this painfully embarassing thing. You should do a blog sometime about laughter at things like that.
Can’t offer an answer on the lighting question, but steer far away from “according to Wikipedia” references. That site has all the accuracy of whoever handled continuity on the Stooges’ shorts.
Really appreciate the details on the various tinkerings done to “Vertigo” and other Hitch re-issues and enjoyed the memories of your quest to see it “pure.” I didn’t see any of the “lost” features until that 1984 string of re-releases. I was unaware of any technical problems, of course, so they pretty much blew my 16-year-old mind.
A guilty confession: “Vertigo” is not one of my Hitch favorites. I know, I know…it’s a criminal statement. Of course, I like it and admire its unquestionable artistry. I’m not going to be the guy to challenge its position as the height of Hitch (or filmdom for that matter). I guess the study in morbid obsession has never been as relatable to me as the voyeurism of “Rear Window,” the perverse gamesmanship of “Strangers on a Train,” or the twisted thriller kicks of “Shadow of a Doubt” or “Psycho.” And the stately pacing never drew me in as much as his other top works. But, having only seen it twice, I know I need to revisit it, and will do so. To paraphrase the Elvis cover, “100,000,000 ‘Vertigo’ Worshippers Can’t Be Wrong.”
Matt: I’ve watched this more times than the Zapruder footage. He never exits the frame (you can see his elbow) and the lights come on when he’s center frame. Unless he has a clapper, there’s no way Pops turned on the lights. I’m not really looking for a logical answer. There isn’t one. I’m in search of a stylistic/thematic explanation.
Joel: Your credibility took a hit. There’s “Kane,” “Rules of the Game,” “The Searchers” and “Vertigo.” Everything else is second best.When it comes to sheer personal artistry and expression, nothing can touch “Vertigo.” See it again. And again and again and again.
I’m like the rest of the guys.
Vertigo really makes me uncomfortable.
A great film nevertheless. There was a reference to a recent film that paralleled some of its classic shots, that was on an online article. I try and link it if I remember where I saw it.
Personally, it’s Strangers on a Train, Shadows of a Doubt and Psycho as my personal favorite of good old Al.
I was working for the American Cinematheque and we had a beautiful print of Vertigo with Kim Novak(!) in the audience. Unfortunately, she separated herself from the rest of the audience and sat up in the balcony away from everyone. To quote Garbo, she wanted to be alone.
I also got to see a great widescreen 35mm print of “Kiss Me Stupid”. I love that film. You turned me on to that one, Scott. Thank you.
Manny Farber has died at the age of 91, 1917 - 2008. I don’t know if he had written anything about VERTIGO before, I am sure it would have been interesting to read. He will be missed.
http://www.davekehr.com/?p=87#comments
http://www.jonathanrosenbaum.com/?p=14534
http://www.villagevoice.com/2008-08-12/film/manny-farber-1917-2008
Hi, Ho,
I read of Manny’s passing, but as you can probably tell there hasn’t been much action on EC this week. I was having problems with my host (and I don’t mean the body of Christ) and couldn’t post any articles. All of my books and magazines are in storage, so I couldn’t go back and revisit any of Manny’s articles, something I would have needed to do in order to write a proper obit, so I’m afraid that there will be no hole dug for Manny on EC.
BTW, your last name wouldn’t happen to be Ngai? I had a former student named Ho Ngai that I have very found memories of and I was hoping you were him.
Scott
If you’ve really seen this more than the Zapruder film, I take it you never sat through “J.F.K.”?
Listen, I didn’t mean to try and spoil your celebration of mystery here. You’re right, of course, that he doesn’t exit the frame and his elbow remains visible. I gotta tell you, though, I think he could be flicking on the light with his other arm. Why else did he walk over there to begin with?
As for expressionistic explanations… I dunno… somethin’ ghostly suddenly comin’ to life?
Hey — maybe Midge had a moment of clarity and a light went off over her head! I loaned my copy to Duncan, the local Reader critic, to get his take. More as the situation develops…
Scott,
I am flattered that you still remember lil’ o me. Thank you for the kinds words. Yes, I am still around and in Chicago. In the Reader’s blog, I found out that you are still “alive and well and living online” I hope San Diego is treating you well. Great to see your presence online. Once again, you have provided more entertainment for me outside of the classroom. I’ve been lurking around on this site and I am sorry that I didn’t have the time to properly introduce myself. Now, you know where to find me and let’s catch up soon. Long live Emulsion Compulsion!
Ho
P.S. Hi Joel Wicklund!
Check your email, my friend.
PS: Watch out for Wicklund. He bites!
Ah! Your Vertigo lighting problem. Well, I’ve had Stewart Geddes & Pop rocking back and forth frame by frame, and it’s my humble opinion that Pop puts the light on himself. He may be out of sight for a frame or two as a shopper passes by, but he merely rounds the desk, before making a hand movement to what I suspect to be a light switch on the desk, before a sudden illumination (followed by a delightful puff on his cigar and ash-flick). If a shop alarm switch can be wired up beneath a desk, then I’ve no problem with accepting a light switch up top. None too convinced by the ‘timer’ theory.. can’t see such a device being that common in the late 50’s, or at least that well recognized by a general audience. Hitch turns the lights down low for dramatic effect naturally, and gives us a nice campfire mood for the Carlotta spooky tale. Bookshops may be founts of knowledge, but they also house myths, half truths and fictions..Jimmy as Detective represents logic and is naturally more at home in the light of day, so Jimmy is the first to march out of the growing gloom and back into the street populated by the living. The spell broken (though having successfully laid the seeds of unease), the shop’s dark recesses are vanquished. In this Noir world Jimmy attempts to shine a light of reason into the dark unknown. Explaining the supernatural, exposing the crime and unlocking the eternal mysteries of woman.
How’s that sound Mr.C?