Vertigo is the greatest
film ever made, according to the prestigious Sight and Sound poll conducted
amongst a wide selection of film critics and academics once a decade, finally
trumping Citizen Kane, which held the top spot for the past five
decades. Although it is of course pointless to name any film as the best ever –
such a reputation will only damage the film in the eyes of those yet to see it,
creating a level of expectation that no film could ever life up to – it does
represent the odd staying power of Vertigo.
Vertigo is nominally the
story of a detective called Scotty (James Stewart) following Madeleine (Kim
Novak) through the streets of San Francisco at the behest of her husband Elster
(Tom Helmore), who seems to believe that she has been possessed by the spirit
of the tragic Carlotta Valdes, who may be related to Madeleine and who
committed suicide years before. The film was reviled when it was first released
and it was slow to gain a following amongst critics and audiences. It wasn’t
until the 1970s that the film was becoming less and less easy to dismiss as a
languorous exercise in dull melodramatic excess with a ridiculous twist, and it
has crept up the Sight and Sound poll ever since (appearing 8th in
1982, 4th in 1992 and 2nd in 2002).
Vertigo isn’t the greatest
film ever made – and, for my money, Sight and Sound where nearer the mark with Citizen
Kane – but it does have its own distinct and eerie fascination, which will
force the viewer to go back and watch it endlessly, a mysteriousness that looks
forward to films like Persona and Mulholland Dr. As such, it is
difficult to write about without spoilers.
Vertigo is a film about
passion and love and trying to overcome the past, though all of these themes
are problematized (the film is rarely as simple as it looks). Scotty falls in
love with Madeleine as he follows her through the streets of San Francisco and
beyond, though it is never clear when his obsessive tailing becomes obsessive
love. The scenes of Scotty following Madeleine in his car are long and shots
are held for much longer than they seem to need to be, but they convey an
almost hypnotic quality, capturing the obsession and the strange intimacy that
must come with following a stranger without their knowledge. But has Scotty
fallen in love with Madeleine herself, or with Madeleine as Carlotta, since he
is supposedly following Madeleine only when she has been ‘possessed’ by
Carlotta. These scenes are complicated further on a rewatch when we know that
Scotty is not following Madeleine at all, but an actress called Judy Barton who
is pretending to be Madeleine. Scotty’s love, already perverse, is made
stranger by the fact that he may be in love with three women or fragments of
all three.
Either that or Scotty himself is
simply a nut – Hitchcock leaves us little hints that Scotty himself is not
entirely sane, though they remain subtle until the film’s final act. An example
of one such hint follows Madeleine’s/ Carlotta’s/ Judy’s jump into San
Francisco Bay. Scotty saves her, brings her back to his house and undresses her
and puts her in bed. After this scene, Scotty seems to be much more enthralled
with her, begging the question of what changed during the film’s fade out. The
film becomes a subversive love story, the kind that Nicholas Ray might have
made with swelling operatic music, ghostly locations and crashing waves.
Scotty promises to save Madeleine
from Carlotta, but he fails. Thanks to his vertigo, he cannot climb up to the
top of the clock tower to save Madeleine from throwing herself to her death.
Numb with guilt, Scotty wanders through San Francisco, revisiting the locations
where he followed Madeleine. He has a nightmare with ghosts and open graves and
appears to go into a comatose state. There is a theory that the film ends here,
or at least that the action does. The rest of the film takes place in Scotty’s
head as he tries to find a way to resolve his guilt, inventing a mad story
about Elster hiring an actress to play Madeleine in order to get away with the
murder of the real Madeleine. Judy as Madeleine lured Scotty to the clock
tower, knowing he couldn’t get to the top and yet would nevertheless be able to
act as an eyewitness to Madeleine’s supposed suicide. Scotty, by inventing a
story to relieve himself of the guilt of his failure to protect the real
Madeleine, is trying to overcome the past by changing his perception of what
that past was.
The above is just one
interpretation and not a particularly interesting one since it imposes a little
too much sense on this so fascinatingly odd film, but it does reveal in its own
way the appeal of Vertigo, a film that is simple and yet incredibly
ambiguous, supporting so many different possibilities.
Taking the final act at face
value, we are left with a bizarre love story. By suddenly seeing Judy on the
street, Scotty starts to try to bring Madeleine back to life (not realising
that Judy was the version of Madeleine that he fell in love with), buying Judy
new clothes and altering her appearance. Judy plays along, because she did
genuinely fall in love with Scotty while she was playing Madeleine (which begs
the question of how much Judy there was in the version of Madeleine that Scotty
fell in love with), but now she is left with the odd situation of being in love
with a man who is really in love with a different woman and the same woman.
Judy becomes jealous of Madeleine, even though Madeleine is really her.
Meanwhile, Scotty tries to recreate Madeleine, getting increasingly obsessive.
As an example of Hitchcock’s
strategy with Vertigo and the film multiplicity of meaning, when Scotty
is begging Judy to dye her hair to match Madeleine’s hair colour, she refuses
and he says, “It can’t matter to you.” This line has two possible meanings. The
first is that Scotty has indeed gone mad – of course it would matter to Judy
that she dye her hair. The second is that Scotty knows that Judy has already
played Madeleine and has, hence, dyed her hair before so it shouldn’t matter to
her now. This suggests, however, that Scotty is complicit in the knowledge of
what happened to the real Madeleine, but would prefer to ignore it until he can
get his version of Madeleine back from the dead one more time. Only after he
has finally got his Madeleine back – in a scene in which the green neon of the
sign of Judy’s grotty hotel and Scotty’s undying, obsessive love for Madeleine
seems to have a transformative power, bringing Scotty and Madeleine back
through space and time to the moment when they were last together – he is able
to allow himself to notice the giveaway necklace.
Vertigo is
not a film that can support any particular interpretation. Even taking the plot
at face value, there are some inconsistencies that don’t fit, such as
Madeleine’s/ Judy’s disappearance from the McKittrick Hotel early in the film. Vertigo
is a strange, eerie and perverse love story and it is the story of Scotty’s
love for Madeleine (whoever she is and wherever in time she is) that is the
subject of the film. It is a film of love and loss, shot through with obsession
and darkness but also tenderness and real feeling, perfectly paced and wholly
engrossing. The music swells operatically, waves crash on the shore just as the
couple share their first kiss and everything is shot through with surreal
colour and hazy filters. All one needs to see is that revolving shot when
Scotty kisses Judy dressed up as Madeleine and is transported to know that, for
all of Hitchcock’s tricks, Vertigo is utterly genuine.
Vertigo is being screened at the Dungannon Film Club at 7:30pm on Wednesday 10 September.
No comments:
Post a Comment