Category: Film

Film Review: Separate Tables

I always derive great pleasure from watching a well-adapted film version of a stage play. I think it’s because fundamentally what makes a good story is its characters and a stage play is, in essence, nothing more than a study of its characters. Of course, there’s usually a plot of some kind that unfolds, twists and turns and events that occur to affect the behaviour of those in the tale and thereby expose more about them as people to us, the audience. For me, it always lays bare the artists’ talents in the writing and the performing departments because there’s no whizz-bang action and explosions to boggle our minds or death-defying stunts to draw our attention away from the human element of the tale. It really is basic storytelling, which some would argue is the purest kind.

Usually, a theatre audience will retain a certain detachment from the performance it watches, never really giving in to the world of make-believe on the stage, never completely forgetting that it is enjoying (or not) a group of performers. By contrast, the cinema audience gets drawn into the world on screen (assuming the director knows what he’s doing), the camera lens acting as its eye. Yes, we know the camera is mounted on a dolly which is being pushed by a Grip along a New York sidewalk but when it comes to watching the end product we forget this, we are there in the Big Apple jostling through the crowds on East 42nd Street and on into Grand Central Station. A scream comes from behind and the camera swivels around to investigate saving us in our seats the effort of looking over our shoulders. For all intents and purposes, we are the camera lens and we can get as close up and personal to the most intimate of moments between characters or we can stand on the edge of a bluff and behold the most spectacular of vistas below our feet. We’re not so much watching it as witnessing it. Think about it. It’s quite magical.

That’s why a well-filmed stage play can be so rewarding. There’s nothing to distract you from the humanity of the story. There’s no bustling sidewalks or majestic panoramas to enjoy. The entire story is expressed through dialogue and body language and little else. Yes, the camera (our eye) now has the freedom to move around the room, to close in on an object or a facial expression or some other detail but more often than not, there’s still a sense of confinement, of being indoors and away from the rest of the world. And in the case of Separate Tables this confinement is the ground floor of a small hotel in Bournemouth, a seaside resort on the south coast of England.

Based on two one-act plays by Terrence Rattigan (Table by the Window and Table Number Seven), Rattigan himself stitched them together and added a few characters to hide the seam. The film was directed by Delbert Mann who had, three years earlier in 1955, won the Academy Award for his romantic drama Marty, a film which also won Ernest Borgnine the award for Best Actor in a Leading Role. No question that the guy clearly knew what he was doing then.

Separate Tables boasts an all-star cast with David Niven, Rita Hayworth, Deborah Kerr, Burt Lancaster and Wendy Hiller – two of whom would go on to win Oscars for their performances.  Niven plays Major Pollock, a spiffing, moustachioed war veteran who happens to be hiding a shameful secret. Sibyl Railton-Bell (Deborah Kerr), is a meek and rather dour spinster suffocating under the firm control of her Victorian mother (Gladys Cooper) who also appears to be the hotel’s resident matriarch. The sober hotel owner Pat Cooper (Wendy Hiller) is in love with a long-term resident, the alcoholic John Malcolm (Burt Lancaster), who in turn gets a surprise visit from his ex-wife Ann Shankland (Rita Hayworth). The plot lines of these five individuals are woven together with a deft subtlety that is absolute poetry. Their characters start to evolve as soon as the film begins but it’s not until the sudden discovery of Major Pollock’s awful secret, a revelation that divides and illuminates at the same time, that we really get to see what these people are made of.

Niven’s performance is possibly one of the best of his distinguished career and garnered him his only Oscar. His Major Pollock is all bluff and twitter as he regales boorish tales of his time at Sandhurst Military Academy or during the North African campaign always with just a little too much zeal. It’s obvious from the get-go that he’s not all he seems and when his world does come crashing down, the contrast in his behaviour is extremely well-judged. Like-wise, Lancaster’s performance is spot on and the arrival of his ex-wife (Hayworth at first purring glamour and controlled serenity but then revealing pain and loneliness) claiming that they can’t live without each other gives him the opportunity to show how vulnerable and doomed his character is. Deborah Kerr, playing very much against type, is shy and awkward and again conveys a loneliness that seems to be very much prevalent in most of the characters here. Indeed, Major Pollock, having just been told by Sibyl that they know all about him and his secret, tells her that they are really much alike in as much as they are both afraid of life. She’s utterly reviled by Pollock’s guilt but totally devastated too because she was secretly in love with the old fellow. Finally, Wendy Hiller who won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress for her role as the proprietress does a great job of keeping a level-headed perspective on the gossip and bigotry that affects her guest as well as coming to terms with the fact that the man she loves still loves his ex-wife. She’s without doubt the most sane person under her roof. Without giving too much away, the final scene of this film is simply perfect – at first excruciating in its uncomfortableness but then extremely moving. Bottom line, a classic drama that’s all about great writing and stellar acting. Highly recommended.

 

 

Film Review: Grand Prix

The recent buzz surrounding Ron Howard’s new film “Rush” got me thinking about motorsport in movies and in particular, Formula One. Films with a sporting theme at their core are always a little iffy with audiences and often don’t mirror the success in box office receipts as the sports themselves do with fans however, there have been a few exceptions over the years. Boxing and baseball seem to be the safest bet in Hollywood for studio bosses and yet, considering F1’s global popularity it’s cinematic outings are somewhat rare.

Arguably the most famous racing movie to date is Steve McQueen’s “Le Mans” from 1971 and love it or loathe it, you have to concede that it is a bonafide racing spectacle. But it’s not F1. It’s an annual 24 hour endurance race. And if we discount Asif Kapadia’s excellent “Senna” that came out in 2010 on the basis that it’s a documentary rather than a dramatised biopic or adaptation, we have to go back to 1966 to find a film based on Formula One.

John Frankenheimer, who helmed “Grand Prix” began his directing career in television shows like “Playhouse 90” for CBS but after making the transition to movies he found critical and commercial acclaim in the early ’60s with a string of hits including “Birdman of Alcatraz”, “The Manchurian Candidate”, “Seven Days in May” and “The Train” – four cracking films that share nine Oscar nominations between them. “Grand Prix” was his most ambitious project to date and oddly enough, it would also be his first shot in colour. Which of course helped capture the splendour and spectacle that was (and still is, for some) Formula One.

The film boasts an international all-star cast headed by James Garner and Eva Marie Saint as well as virtually all the racing drivers you care to mention from the era. And what an era it was! With beautiful cars unspoiled by sponsorship logos and downforce addendum, circuits that were little more than country lanes in places with no corner markers or kerbing to aid the drivers, it was a great deal more exciting than the regulation-strangled sport of today is. But then it was also far more deadly and according to IMDB, five of the real-life drivers who participated in the film died in racing accidents in the next two years and another five in the following ten years. It’s no wonder things had to change.

The film puts us right down there on the starting grid from the get-go with a highly charged opening sequence designed by the legendary Saul Bass – the man who gave us perhaps some of the most iconic opening titles in the history of cinema (“The Man with the Golden Arm” and “North by Northwest” to name but two). We can almost smell the gasoline and the hot engines of the racing cars as the 70mm Super Panavision film captures close-up images of spark plugs being tightened by mechanics, rev counter needles flicking towards redlines, tyres, exhaust pipes, the expectant crowd waiting for the Monaco Grand Prix to start. All these images overlaid with the soundtrack of a race about to thrill us. It’s gobsmacking.

The same goes for all the racing sequences throughout the film as we behold several of the world’s greatest circuits in their earlier days, Spa and Monza (complete with the infamous banking section) being of particular interest for the way they have now changed. For F1 fans, especially those that find interest in its history, this movie is a must-see!

The plot away from the racing leans a little towards soap-opera melodrama but it injects a dose of glamour and gives the actors something else to do other than race. (Apparently James Garner was so competent behind the wheel that real F1 drivers Graham Hill and Jack Brabham told him he could have been a successful driver had he not gone into acting). The film follows the fates of four drivers through a fictionalised version of the 1966 season, their ups and downs and the women who love them and try to deal with this most dangerous of lifestyles. On the whole, the acting is faultless.

The main character of “Grand Prix” though is the racing itself and Frankenheimer, who had always been a bit experimental with camera angles, was adamant to never cheat his audience with back projections or speeded up film. With cameras mounted onto the racing cars, (sometimes even swivelling from an ahead shot of the track round to the driver!) and on a following or trailing Ford GT40 camera car driven by Phil Hill (the only American-born driver to win a F1 Drivers’ Championship) he really nails the action. Add this to real footage of the 1966 season and there’s very little else like it other than watching a current race. And if you’ve ever seen his 1998 thriller “Ronin”, you’ll remember the car chase and you’ll know how good Mr Frankenheimer is at capturing excitement via speeding cars. The film won 3 Oscars at the ’67 Academy Awards – Best Sound, Best Film Editing and Best Effects/ Sound Effects and it’s not hard to see why.

Ron Howard’s new film is rightly garnering the attention at the moment and it may even go some way to improving Formula One’s image in the United States however, it was undoubtably Frankenheimer’s “Grand Prix” that laid the cornerstone 47 years ago. If you’ve never seen it and you love racing, I urge you to do so. It’s a rush!

Film Review: The Stranger

Isn’t YouTube a marvellous resource? As a video library to delve into for few moments of pleasure it’s practically a bottomless pit of entertainment. The choices of things to watch are virtually limitless. But it should come with a warning just to remind you that it’s all too easy to end up spending hours rather than minutes of your spare time engrossed as you segue from one upload to the next. The suggestions that pop up at the end of each video do a fine job of enticing continued viewing.

But aside from the cute videos of pets and babies and the millions of other “caught on camera” moments, YouTube is for me, a great film library. Thanks to a copyright lapse in many old classic films, there are a plethora of great movies available and just one click away. I found one such film this morning. The Stranger from 1946 starring Edward G. Robinson, Loretta Young and Orson Welles (who also directed) is a superbly put together drama that, thanks to its style, is also a fine example of film noir. Robinson is always good to watch and with great support from Welles and Young, the hour and a half that this film runs for, simply flies by.

Edward G. Robinson plays Mr Wilson – a “detective, of sorts” for the United Nations War Crimes Commission – who is hunting down a Nazi fugitive called Franz Kindler (Orson Welles). Kindler, having carefully erased all evidence of his former life and assumed a new identity – Charles Rankin – is now a prep school teacher in small town U.S.A. On the day we meet him, he marries Mary Longstreet (Loretta Young) who happens to be the daughter of the local Supreme Court Justice. In short, he’s managed to transform himself from a Nazi war criminal into a pillar of an American community.

Wilson releases Kindler’s former right-hand man Meinike (Konstantin Shayne) from prison in the hope that he will lead him to Kindler which of course, he does. All the way to the pretty town of Harper, Connecticut. But he loses him before he makes contact with Kindler. When Meinike (now a religious convert) and Kindler do meet, he begs his former superior to repent and to confess his sins. However, Kindler, afraid of being exposed by his former associate, strangles him instead.

The story unravels in a gripping, almost claustrophobic way as the determined hound chases down the wily fox. Wilson is pretty sure Rankin and Kindler are one and the same but without having witnessed Meinike meeting with him, he had no proof. So it’s left to Father Time and Kindler’s own fear at being exposed, a fear that will force him to make a paranoiac mistake – to betray his true identity to his pursuers.

As a screenplay, it’s a wonderfully taut piece of writing (Oscar nominated too) with very good dialogue – particularly from the authoritative figure of Wilson. Edward G. Robinson plays this to perfection and he lends his character an intelligent doggedness that is simply believable. Welles is also excellent at conveying a man desperately trying to hide something while Loretta Young is convincing as the new wife who refuses to accept that she fell in love with the wrong man. The town is dotted with other great characters too, in particular, Mr Potter the town clerk and proprietor of the local store/diner. He’s a hoot whenever he’s on screen.

Apart from the opening few minutes, all of the action takes place in Harper – a pretty little town where “there’s nothing to be afraid of” as quoted by Mary Longstreet. For a fugitive, it seems an ideal refuge but of course, for a local it seems like the last place on earth where something like that would occur. Welles’s direction confines us within the town, never giving us any long shot vistas of space and scenery, helping to create the sense of suffocation that Kindler must be feeling as his past captures up with him and his world closes in. Welles’ camera moves beautifully too on cranes and dollies and there are a few reminders of his Citizen Kane brilliance with emotive use of light and shadow in some of the interior shots as well as a lovely reflection in a camera lens. The film builds beautifully to a highly charged climax of which the set piece brings to mind Hitchcock’s Vertigo.

Curiously, The Stranger was the only film made by Welles that had any impact at the box office upon its original release. Hard to believe considering how highly some of his work is now regarded. Coming out shortly after the Second World War perhaps its anti-Nazi theme and the fact that war criminal fugitives really did exist, caught the public’s imagination. It contains, supposedly for the first time in a feature film, actual footage of concentration camps and although what we see is brief, together with Edward G. Robinson’s dialogue, it’s enough to horrify.

Overall then, The Stranger is a great waste of an hour and a half.

Film Review: Carve Her Name with Pride

This 1958 British movie set during the Second World War tells the story of the courageous Special Operations Executive agent, Violette Szabo. It’s based on R.J. Minney’s book of the same name which is itself based on fact.

Violette’s parents were a French mother and an English taxi-driver father who had met during World War I. She was born Violette Reine Elizabeth Bushell in Paris on 26 June 1921 and that’s where she spent her early years. Some time later the family moved to London where Violette attended Brixton Secondary School until she was fourteen. She found work as a hairdressing assistant and then as a department store sales assistant.

The movie doesn’t cover that early part of her life but it picks it up around this time, when she was a young woman working in London. It was on 14 July 1940 that she met Etienne Szabo, an officer in the Free French Army, at the Bastille Day parade in London and after a whirlwind romance, the couple were married just 42 day later on 21 August.

Their happiness seemed complete when Violette became pregnant with their daughter, Tania, but then Etienne was sent to North Africa where he died at the Battle of El Alamein in October ’42. He never saw his child.

It may have been for reasons of revenge or simply because she felt she had to do her bit for the war effort in the hope that her husband’s death wouldn’t have been in vain but whatever the reason, some time after receiving this tragic news Violette agreed to work for the Special Operations Executive (SOE).

She underwent intense training in everything from weaponry and explosives to cryptography and unarmed combat and on 5 April 1944 with little Tania tucked up in bed under the roof of her parents’ house, she was sent on her first mission into German-occupied France. Together with an SOE colleague, her task was to reorganise a resistance network that had been broken up by the Nazis and under the code name “Louise”, which also happened to be her nickname, she led the reformed group into blowing up a railway viaduct. Despite being picked up and questioned by a suspicious Gestapo, she was released and managed to return to England on 30 April. Mission accomplished. She’d proved herself to be courageous, capable and reliable.

Unfortunately, her second mission wouldn’t go quite so well. She was flown into central France on 7 June ’44, the day after D-Day, with the task of coordinating the activities of the local Maquis to sabotage German communication lines to aid the Allied invasion of Normandy. She was riding in a car that came upon an unexpected roadblock and after a brief running gun fight, during which she remained behind to allow her Resistance accomplice to escape, she was captured and taken for interrogation to Limoges.

Refusing to give up any information, she was transferred to Gestapo headquarters in Paris for further interrogation and torture but she remained uncooperative to the Germans and was moved to Ravensbrück concentration camp in August ’44. There she endured hard labour and malnutrition. Having been reunited in Paris with two recently caught fellow agents whom she had befriended during their initial training, Lilian Rolfe and Denise Bloch, the three women were executed by SS firing squad in February 1945. Violette was just 23 years old. Her body was cremated in the camp’s crematorium. The film ends with her daughter Tania, accompanied by her grandparents to Buckingham Palace, accepting the George Cross from the King.

As a movie, it’s perky and, in the right places gripping. Director Lewis Gilbert, whose career spanned six decades and included titles like Reach for the Sky (1956), Sink the Bismarck! (1960), Alfie (1966), The Spy Who Loved Me (1977) and Educating Rita (1983) does a great job in pacing the action. Virginia McKenna who plays Szabo in a BAFTA nominated role, really got her teeth into the character and spent weeks training physically for the part. She manages to portray Szabo with a realism that leaves you feeling terribly sad as the end credits roll and yet so thankful to her and all those other individuals who gave their help and in many cases, their lives, to defeat Nazi Germany.

I remember (albeit a little vaguely now) what I was doing when I was 23 years old and it certainly wasn’t dodging bullets, blowing up viaducts and having my body scarred by torture. If you’ve never seen this movie or heard of Violette Szabo, then I recommend you check it out. She was a true heroine and paid the ultimate price for the risks she took but her memory will live on.

Film Review: The Importance of Being Earnest

At a dinner with friends the other evening the conversation meandered onto the diversity of the British accent and its plethora of dialects from various geographical points and social classes. Numerous attempts were made around the table to vocally replicate a variety of the nation’s populace, which for a while had the room in stitches. Overall, it seemed easier for those of us without an inherent talent to reproduce Ricky from Eastenders rather than Elyot from Private Lives. Which got me thinking because I’ve always quite liked “plummy”. It brought to mind the actress Joan Greenwood with her wonderfully precise elocution, which in turn led me to the film for which she is probably best known – The Importance of Being Earnest.

The play was written during the summer of 1894 and premiered the following year on 14 February at St James’s Theatre, London. The Importance of Being Earnest marked the pinnacle of Oscar Wilde’s career and remains undoubtedly his most popular play. However, it would also be his last.  A little over three months later, he would be in prison. But that’s another story.

This 1952 film was adapted and directed by Anthony Asquith, a stalwart of British cinema who gave us many notable movies such as Pygmalion (1938), The Winslow Boy (1948), Carrington V.C. (1955) and The V.I.P.s (1963) during his 40 year career.

Having been a student of drama many moons ago, I have a pretty good knowledge of this wittiest of farces and one thing I love about this film is its faithfulness to Wilde’s play. A couple of acts are broken into shorter scenes with different locations but generally what you hear is what you’d read. Indeed Asquith sets out to give us as near a theatrical experience as he can by opening the film in a theatre and introducing the action from a theatre audience’s perspective, opening curtain and all. With camera movement kept to a minimum, you could be forgiven for thinking it actually was a filmed theatrical performance you were watching which of course has a tendency to bring the acting into sharper focus. However, there’s no worry here. This cast does not disappoint. Michael Redgrave and Michael Denison are ideal (albeit perhaps just a tad too old) as the two young men-about-town who both pretend to be a man named Ernest in order to get the girl of their dreams. Joan Greenwood and Dorothy Tutin are equally up to the challenge of portraying young Victorian girls who men dream about (Greenwood’s elocution is just sublime). Margaret Rutherford (later of Miss Marple fame) is perfect as governess Miss Prism as is Miles Malleson who plays Dr. Chasuble, the rector. The three chaps who play the butlers are worth a mention too because they do great things with their small roles. But the show-stealer is without doubt Edith Evans who pretty much is and always will be Lady Bracknell. Her performance is so indelibly stamped on the character that it has since provided a challenge for anyone else taking on the role. The sets are small but lavishly detailed and wonderfully colourful and the period costumes are exquisite.

Dorothy Tutin received a BAFTA nomination as Most Promising Newcomer for her role and Asquith was nominated for a Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival. If you’re familiar with the story and have perhaps seen the 2002 film version with Rupert Everett and Colin Firth playing the two gents, give this one a look too. It’s a simple unfussy production that absolutely highlights the extraordinary wit and sublime writing of Oscar Wilde as well as the extremely high standard of those in the cast. If you’re not familiar with the story at all, then lucky you. Today you’ve discovered a true gem.

Film Review: Strangers on a Train

It may have come about as a result of an exhausting train journey I endured a few days ago or possibly because it’s Wimbledon fortnight – tennis being a daily headline at the moment. Maybe it happened because of both of these things or perhaps neither. However yesterday, Hitchcock’s 1951 thriller popped into my mind, vied for my attention and consequently prompted me to put pen to paper, so to speak.

Actually I’m surprised after looking back at the titles I’ve reviewed for this website over the past sixteen months that I’ve only reviewed one other Hitchcock film – North by Northwest. After all, I am a great admirer of his work. Maybe I’ve restrained myself on account of his films having been so extensively written about already but then, when one thinks of his best known films, Strangers on a Train often gets overlooked. And yet for me, it’s one of his finest efforts.

The plot is a simple one and I shall refrain from giving too much away for those who might not yet have seen it. It begins with a chance encounter between two men on a train. Guy Haines (Farley Granger) is a semi-famous tennis player (ergo the Wimbledon connection) with designs on a political career, a slut of a wife, Miriam (Laura Elliott) whom he’s hoping to divorce and a real dish of a girlfriend, Anne Morton (Ruth Roman) who just happens to be the daughter of a senator (Leo G. Carroll). The other man, Bruno Anthony (Robert Walker) is a smooth-talking weirdo with a worrying line in small talk. The two men chat over lunch in Bruno’s compartment and Bruno, who is aware of Guy’s private life via the gossip columns, explains his idea for the perfect murder. A simple criss-cross theory. Two complete strangers with nothing to connect them, swap the murders they would like to commit thereby absolving themselves of any motive and giving the police no clue as to the guilty parties. Bruno says that he’ll murder Guy’s unfaithful wife, leaving him free to marry Anne if Guy will murder Bruno’s overbearing father. Naturally enough, Guy makes a polite but hasty exit from the train compartment however, unfortunately for him, Bruno thinks a deal has been made.

Sometime later, Bruno follows Miriam and her two boyfriends to an amusement park and after a short boat ride, he strangles the life out of her in the darkness on the Isle of Love. Meanwhile Guy is on a train chatting to a drunk college professor who turns out to be an unreliable witness when, called by the police to corroborate Guy’s alibi claim, says he can’t remember their meeting. Guy is shocked and horrified that Bruno actually went ahead and murdered Miriam and is repeatedly harassed by Bruno and told that he now has no choice but to kill Bruno’s father. What ensues is a sublimely constructed thriller, perfectly paced, with just the right amount of humour (supplied in the main by Patricia Hitchcock who plays Anne’s younger sister Barbara) to make it still scary yet hugely entertaining.

Fade outs to black and swipes between scenes are replaced by a quick editing style and often cross-cutting between Guy and Bruno via their dialogue and movements, thereby seamlessly moving from scene to scene, the tempo never letting up. Strangers on a Train is a masterclass in how to build tension all the way to the finale and in true Hitchcock fashion, the climax takes place within a great visual location – this time aboard an out of control carousel spinning like a centrifuge. Implausible it may be with Guy’s legs flailing behind him like a sequence from The Simpsons but the skill behind the execution is evident in its greatness. With fighting and explosions and splintering wooden horses and screaming children it’s an incredible blend of close-ups, miniatures and background projections.

In my humble opinion, the film is worth watching for the Oscar nominated black and white cinematography alone. The gorgeous use of light and shadow is perhaps some of the finest of any Hitchcock film and it would see cinematographer Robert Burks begin a fourteen year run with the director and shooting every one of his remaining pictures with the exception of Psycho in 1960. The lighting is frequently dark and moody and choice camera angles and optical effects – so typical of Hitchcock’s style – add to the overall atmosphere of the film and keep the visuals interesting without ever going too far. There are several almost surreal shots from intriguing angles but perhaps the most famous shot of all (and one that is still studied in academic circles) is when Bruno strangles Miriam at the amusement park, the moment captured in the reflection of her glasses after they fall to the ground during her brief struggle. It’s simply cinematic perfection. Numerous other little blink-and-you’ll-miss-them gems are peppered throughout the film – Guy wiping lipstick off his face before meeting Anne’s father, Bruno’s shadow in the tunnel of love looming over his intended victim, Bruno again standing alone on the Jefferson Memorial, his dark figure an unwelcome stain on the white purity of the structure’s marble. It’s these subtleties, telling us the audience so much, that reveal the genius of the director.

The casting is spot on from the clean-cut figure of Guy Haines to Marion Lorne who plays Bruno’s befuddled mother (another character that adds a little comedy) but the performance of the movie and – one would argue – of his life, comes from Robert Walker. He’s just superb; charming, erudite, a bit of a dandy, but dark, deeply unbalanced, brooding. It was a role meant for him and I couldn’t imagine anyone else doing as good a job as he did. Sadly he died two months after the film’s release aged just 32 but his performance here will live on and be lauded for as long as people watch films.

Of course, all this visual brilliance starts with the written word and this came from a novel of the same name by Patricia Highsmith. In the end there would be numerous differences between novel and screenplay and Hitchcock had a bit of a hard time getting the script he wanted. Originally, he had hopes for a proven writer to lend the project some clout and was looking at people like John Steinbeck and Dashiell Hammett but they showed little interest. Raymond Chandler wrote a draft but fell foul of Hitchcock when the two couldn’t get along and so after a suggestion from Ben Hecht – who had already written Spellbound and Notorious for Hitchcock but was unavailable – he hired Hecht’s assistant Czenzi Ormonde. She was a fair haired beauty who had no formal screen credit but had recently published a collection of short stories which was well received by critics. At their first meeting, Hitchcock encouraged her to forget all about Highsmith’s book and proceeded to tell her the entire story himself. It clearly worked because the film has a crisp linearity from beginning to end and a leanness to every scene. There’s no wasted dialogue and not a single unnecessary frame.

Bottom line – a true classic.