Rear Window: A Voyeur’s Paradise
Alfred Hitchcock’s Rear Window (1954) opens by introducing the audience to the apartment complex, and all its colourful inhabitants they will be watching so closely for the next two hours. We watch as they all begin their day fully unaware that they are being watched by both the viewer, and the film’s lead character, L.B. Jeffries (James Stewart). L.B. is wheelchair and house-bound in his Manhattan apartment due to breaking his leg. The boredom that ensues from his injury leads the photographer to begin spying on his neighbours. When, one night, he hears a cry and a bang across the courtyard, he begins to suspect that one of his neighbours may have murdered his wife. This is a plot set up that works so well it’s been referenced or homaged in everything from The Simpsons to the films of Brian De Palma to the mid 2000s Shia LaBeouf vehicle, Disturbia (2007). It has become a staple in many best film lists, with good reason. While the director has received some often well earned backlash for his depiction and treatment of women over the years, I want to explore how well one of Hitchcock’s most revered thrillers has aged over time?
The film’s use of voyeurism has not aged well in parts. While it may be tough to argue that voyeurism being featured in a film ages it badly, as it is one of the core concepts film is built around, certain aspects of the film’s use of it don’t hold up as well as they may have in 1954. The film’s setting is a voyeur’s paradise of sorts. L.B. has a perfect view into the lives of all of his neighbours. They go about their lives fully unaware that their every move might be watched. The most obvious example of this is the way in which one of L.B.’s neighbours is depicted. L.B. has dubbed the dancer that lives across the complex from him as “Miss Torso” due to her physique and how scantily clad she often is when walking around her apartment. The name of this character alone has her reduced simply to her body. The character often appears and brings the narrative to a standstill due to the lingering of the camera on her as she dances. It’s difficult to imagine a contemporary film depicting a character like this and coming out unscathed.
Many of Hitchcock’s leading ladies are often referred to as ‘Hitchcock Blondes’, which has its own issues by again reducing the characters to simply their appearance
This is the perfect example of the male gaze in classic Hollywood cinema and is further exemplified through the film’s portrayal of Lisa, played by Hollywood (and literal) royalty, Grace Kelly. While Lisa’s character may have a bit more agency than Miss Torso, the narrative is brought to a standstill on multiple occasions due to the camera panning up and down the beautiful gowns that she wears. While Lisa does come to the aid of L.B. on a few occasions with his investigation, mainly due to his lack of mobility, in the end her character arc is reduced to being the love interest and changing her aspirations to suit his. While this is more the film being a product of its time than attempting to push any particular agenda, it is at least progressive in the sense that Lisa is a key player in the conclusion of L.B. ‘s investigation. Though in relation to the film’s representation of voyeurism, it is worth noting that Lisa is not of interest or use to L.B. until she crosses the boundary over to Thorwald’s apartment. Suddenly she becomes the subject of his gaze and is of interest to him, allowing him to further indulge his voyeuristic fantasies. Many of Hitchcock’s leading ladies are often referred to as ‘Hitchcock Blondes’, which has its own issues by again reducing the characters to simply their appearance, however it’s most definitely the case that Grace Kelly’s Lisa has far less agency in this story than Janet Leigh’s Marion Crane in Psycho (1960).
This is the film that showcases why Hitch was often referred to as the ‘Master of Suspense’
While the aforementioned aspects of the film may not have aged well, as a thriller based around voyeurism the film still manages to surprise and thrill, as we can imagine it did in 1954. The audience discovers bits and pieces of information just as L.B. does and this helps to racket up the tension until the film’s unbearably tense final act. The audience feels the tension built through Hitchcock’s setting of the film which is set entirely within the confines of L.B.’s apartment. The view of the audience is almost solely what can be seen inside his apartment and from his apartment’s window. The audience only learns information as the protagonist does and the slow reveal of information teases the audience throughout of what the real truth may be. Just as the evidence mounts that L.B’s neighbour may, in fact, be guilty, so too does the tension. This is the film that showcases why Hitch was often referred to as the ‘Master of Suspense’ and while certain aspects of the film are a tad dated. The way in which Hitchcock builds and releases tension is unmatched by almost any modern film of the genre. Hitchcock crafted a film that showed what the true fascination with cinema has been all these years; peaking in on worlds that perhaps we shouldn’t.
What Ever Happened To Camp?
What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962) opens with a scene that perfectly captures the relationship between the titular Baby Jane (Bette Davis) and her older sister, Blanche (Joan Crawford). The film opens with a flashback to 1917 when the child star, Jane, is performing for a sold-out crowd in a theatre. We see how Jane adores the spotlight, how she relishes in the admiration of her adoring fans; however, her dark side is revealed when she turns on her family as soon as the curtain falls. We see how Blanche is compliant with her spoiled and demanding younger sister, but also that there is a rage bubbling underneath that might just be a match for Jane. The film then jumps ahead by almost two decades and we can see how the tables have turned. Jane’s meek sister has become a full-blown movie star, while Jane’s star has begun to fade. Flashforward forty something years and this dynamic is still in place, Jane has a much nice demeanour in place when there’s company but as soon as they’re alone behind closed doors, she acts cruel and vindictive towards her sister, now wheelchair-bound due to a mysterious accident in the 1930s. What ensues for the remainder of the film is a tense battle of wits between the siblings, that overshadows any sibling rivalry portrayed on film since.
Davis relished at the opportunity to provide a showstopping performance, one worthy of the iconic character.
While there are many things to admire about Robert Aldrich’s films, the most enduring aspect of the film is easily Bette Davis’ towering performance as Baby Jane Hudson. This performance has entered the pantheon of camp film performances, a type of performance so rarely seen these days. While Crawford turns in a quiet, nuanced performance; it’s towered over by Davis every time she appears on screen. Davis chews the scenery to such an extent that it only makes her character appear more menacing and showcases how unhinged Jane has become after being locked away all these years. Davis relished at the opportunity to provide a showstopping performance, one worthy of the iconic character. From the over-exaggerated make-up to the dresses more suited to young girls to the childish demeanour she maintains throughout, it’s a note perfect performance and something I wish there was more of today. So often we hear and read about how committed actors get with their roles, it’s not that often we see an actor be committed and have fun with it. Jared Leto, take note.
The public and the industry pit women against each other for their own entertainment.
It would be amiss to discuss the film without broaching the topic of the infamous off-screen feud which rivals the bitter rivalry depicted on-screen. Famously depicted in Ryan Murphy’s FX mini-series, Feud, the rivalry began before the production of Aldrich’s film and continued long after. In terms of infamous behind the scenes feuds, Bette Davis and Joan Crawford walked so Florence Pugh and Olivia Wilde could run. The behind-the-scenes drama of the films of the aforementioned actors threatened to overshadow What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? and more recently, Don’t Worry Darling (2022), although Wilde’s film may have already been all but forgotten apart from the alleged spats she had on set with the film’s lead star. What had begun as snide remarks towards one another in the tabloids allegedly became physical violence towards one another onscreen, and audiences ate it up. The sad truth to be seen here is that not much has changed now from how things were then. The public and the industry pit women against each other for their own entertainment.
Aldrich’s film was almost threatened to be overshadowed by the media frenzy surrounding the film’s production, however, thankfully the film has more than enough merits to stand on its own and be remembered by more than the tabloid inches it resulted in. Beneath the camp and macabre exterior, the film is a harrowing depiction of how the entertainment industry chews up and spits out its stars, while also creating bitter rivals of the women within the industry. This aspect of the film makes it as relevant as ever. The final scene of the film is heart-breaking in its reveal that Blanche caused the accident that left her paralysed, not Jane. There is such sincerity to Davis’ line read of “You mean we could’ve been friends all this time?” that one can’t help but think she may not have entirely been acting for this scene but instead talking to her co-star.