Seven Things to Know About Alfred Hitchcock Presents

1. Alfred Hitchcock's daughter, Pat, appeared in ten episodes of Alfred Hitchcock Presents. Her first appearance was in the season1 episode "Into Thin Air." Its premise was based on an urban myth known as "The Vanishing Hotel Room," which also served as the basis for the novel and film So Long at the Fair (the latter starred Jean Simmons and Dirk Bogarde). Pat also appeared in the memorable season 3 episode "The Glass Eye" (but more on that later).

2. The final episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents was never broadcast on network television. Written by Robert Bloch (Psycho), it dealt with a manipulative woman, an easily-influenced young man, and the famous magician's trick of sawing a woman in half. NBC censors nixed the episode for being too disturbing. However, was included in the show's syndication package and has since been shown on TV frequently!

Barbara Bel Geddes.

3. The two most famous episodes are undoubtedly "Man from the South" and "Lamb to the Slaughter." The latter, directed by Hitchcock from a Roald Dahl teleplay, stars Barbara Bel Geddes as a woman who murders her cheating husband with a frozen leg of lamb. It earned Emmy nominations for Hitchcock (Best Direction) and Dahl (Best Teleplay Writing). In 2009, TV Guide ranked "Lamb to the Slaughter" at No. 59 on its list of the 100 Greatest TV Episodes. "Man from the South," based on another Dahl story, stars Steve McQueen as a young man who makes a macabre bet on how many times in a row a lighter will light. The episode co-stars Peter Lorre and McQueen's then-wife Neile Adams. Both "Man from the South" and "Lamb to the Slaughter" were also adapted for the 1979-88 TV series Tales of the Unexpected.

Steve McQueen in "Man from the South."

4. A number of prominent writers had stories that were adapted or wrote teleplays for Alfred Hitchcock Presents, including: Ray Bradbury, John Cheever, Roald Dahl, Saki, Garson Kanin, Eric Ambler, Robert Bloch, Stirling Silliphant, Richard Levinson and William Link, Dorothy L. Sayers, Ira Levin, Charles Beaumont, and Cornell Woolrich.

5. CBS broadcast Alfred Hitchcock Presents for its first five seasons and the show was perennially ranked in the Top 30 shows according to the Nielsen ratings. The ratings dropped when it moved to NBC in 1960 and was aired opposite The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis. Although it never cracked the Top 30 again, Alfred Hitchcock Presents ran for seven seasons and 268 episodes. The show expanded to an hour in 1962 and was appropriately retitled The Alfred Hitchcock Hour. In that incarnation, it lasted three more seasons and 93 episodes.

Janet Leigh in Psycho.

6. When Alfred Hitchcock's plans to make Psycho in 1959 were nearly rejected by Paramount, the director cut production costs by using his Alfred Hitchcock Presents TV crew. Specifically, he "borrowed" the show's cinematographer (John L. Russell), set designer (George Milo), script supervisor (Marshall Schlom), and assistant director (Hilton A. Green) to make Psycho.

7. My favorite episode may be "The Glass Eye" from the third season. The remarkable cast features Jessica Tandy, Tom Conway, William Shatner, and Pat Hitchcock. Shatner's character tells the story of his sister, a lonely woman who becomes infatuated with a handsome ventriloquist and longs to meet him. As with many episodes, it ends with a devious twist--but this one packs a wallop (thanks largely to Tandy's acting). Stirling Silliphant (Route 66 co-creator and Oscar winner for In the Heat of the Night) penned the teleplay.

The Movie Quote Game (Alfred Hitchcock Edition)

This month, we're focusing on quotes from Alfred Hitchcock films. We will list a quote from one of his movies and ask you to name it. Try to answer these questions on your own without resorting to Google searches. As always, please answer no more than three questions per day so others can play.  If you have a response other than the intended one, just be able to defend it.

1.  "Last night, I dreamt I went to Manderley again."

2. "What are you doing here in Bodega Bay?"

3. "Mr. Rusk, you're not wearing your tie."

4. "You want a leg or a breast?"

5. "Whether you killed him or not, you've incriminated yourself. You'll have much more of a job explaining a body you didn't kill and buried than a body that you killed accidentally and buried."

6. "Oh, it's just like Sherlock Holmes and his fiddle. A stream of beautiful sound and then suddenly out pops the solution."

7. "Boris? Miss Henderson speaking. Look, someone upstairs is playing musical chairs with an elephant. Move one of them out, will you? I want to get some sleep."

8. "Hello, Monkeyface!"

9. "If I let you change me, will that do it? If I do what you tell me, will you love me?"

10. "You Freud, me Jane?"

11. "I've always wished for more artistic talent. Well, murder can be an art, too. The power to kill can be just as satisfying as the power to create."

12. "My theory is that everyone is a potential murderer."

13. "What are you doing here? It's rather a long story, Mr Fry. It all started with an unknown blonde, an aircraft worker at a factory in Glendale, California."

14. "She's too perfect, she's too talented, she's too beautiful, she's too sophisticated, she's too everything but what I want."

15. "God bless Mama, Papa, Captain Midnight, Veronica Lake, and the President of the United States."

Alfred Hitchcock Presents: Season Two

Since Alfred Hitchcock Presents debuted on Peacock TV last spring, we've been working our way through the show's entire run. Last July, we reviewed the impressive first season. We recently finished the second season, which--by comparison to season one--was a disappointment. Too many episodes felt like filler material and there seemed to be a disproportionate emphasis on comedic episodes. The low point was a three-parter called "I Killed the Count," which would have been boring at a single episode--much less three! Plus, it wasted the dryly amusing John Williams (once again playing a police inspector).

Still, there were some bright spots among the 39 episodes, with the highlights being:

William Redfield as the murderer.

The Manacled - As a detective sergeant escorts a convicted killer on a train ride to San Quentin, the latter tries to negotiate his freedom. Like several episodes, this is essentially a two-character play, but it's extremely well acted by Gary Merrill as the detective and especially William Redfield as the intelligent criminal who seeks out human weaknesses. The teleplay features dialogue by the great Stirling Silliphant, with my favorite passage being when the killer explains he already knew everything about the man who would escort him:  "I thought whoever it was would be wearing a ready-made suit off of a basement rack, his heels would be run down. Be the kind of man who was living on the installment plan. Doesn't really own anything, just pieces of things. A piece of a cheap car, a piece of an ice box, a piece of a bedroom set. And all the stuff he has pieces of is already falling to pieces. But he'll keep paying on it and paying on it, month after month because that's the kind of man he is. Just a piece of a man."

One More Mile to Go - During a violent argument, a man (David Wayne) kills his wife in a rage. Instead of calling the police, he cleans up the crime scene and puts her corpse in the trunk of his car. His goal is to dump the body, but a malfunctioning tail light and a persistent highway cop cause persistent problems. Directed by Hitchcock, this tense episode opens with an mesmerizing sequence without dialogue as we view the crime through a window from outside the house. 

Jessica Tandy and Robert H. Harris

Toby - Albert Birch (Robert H. Harris) is shocked when his former flame Edwina (Jessica Tandy) contacts him out of the blue. Upon meeting again, their romance is rekindled and Edwina agrees to marry Albert. She also reveals that she has custody of her dead sister's baby, Toby. However, she refuses to let Albert--or anyone else--see Toby. The climatic twist is not unexpected, but that doesn't negate the impact of this low-key, unsettling episode. Jessica Tandy gives a haunting, disturbing performance--seven years before she appeared in a pivotal role in Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds.

Evelyn Rudie and Cedric Hardwicke.

A Man Greatly Beloved - A young girl named Hildegarde (Evelyn Rudie) befriends a grumpy recluse (Cedric Hardwicke), who may be a famous retired judge. Through his friendship with Hildegarde, the man gradually becomes an esteemed member of the community. Again, the twist is not surprising, but this episode is elevated by charming, natural performances--especially young Evelyn Rudie. The supporting cast includes Robert Culp in an early role. Based on a short story by Winnie the Pooh author A. A. Milne. Incidentally, Evelyn Rudie earned an Emmy nomination the same year for an episode of Playhouse 90. 

Alfred Hitchcock Presents: Season One

The new streaming app Peacock TV officially launches on July 15, 2020. However, it's available now for customers of Comcast's Xfinity cable service. Most of the TV shows on Peacock are recent ones from NBC. A wonderful exception is Alfred Hitchcock Presents, the classic anthology series that aired for seven seasons starting in 1955. (Incidentally, The Alfred Hitchcock Hour is also available.)

While not as consistently good as The Twilight Zone, Alfred Hitchcock Presents was an above-average series comprised of twisty tales. Each episode also featured a wryly amusing prologue and epilogue starring Alfred Hitchcock. Occasionally, these were better than the stories that they book-ended!

The actors that appeared on AHP were a mix of big-name stars (Claude Rains, Joseph Cotten, Barry Fitzgerald, Thelma Ritter, Claire Trevor), promising newcomers (Vera Miles, Joanne Woodward, John Cassavetes, Charles Bronson), and Hitchcock movie regulars (John Williams, Pat Hitchcock). The Master of Suspense directed four of the 39 episodes.

Here are our picks for the best episodes from the first season:

Vera Miles in "Revenge."

Revenge - The first episode of the series is one of its finest! Vera Miles stars as a woman, recovering from a nervous breakdown, who claims she was assaulted in her mobile home. Later, she identifies the assailant to her husband. The twist ending is downright chilling. Hitchcock directed.

Premonition - A man (John Forsyte) returns to his hometown from Paris, packing only his toothbrush. He wants to make up with his estranged father, but everyone keeps putting obstacles in his way. Forsyte is excellent, but the outcome becomes apparent just before the climax.

Salvage - An ex-con (Gene Barry) seeks revenge on the woman who caused his brother's death. Yet, instead of killing her, he has a change of heart at the last minute--and then proceeds to help her become successful and content. A devious plot that works quite well.

Joseph Cotten in "Breakdown."

Breakdown - Hitchcock directed this tale in which style takes precedence over content. A ruthless businessman (Joseph Cotten) becomes completely paralyzed in a car accident and cannot communicate that he is alive. But we, the audience, can hear his thoughts as he becomes more and more desperate. An unique and satisfying episode.

The Case of Mr. Pelham - Another Hitchcock-directed episode in which a man (Tom Ewell) discovers that a lookalike is taking over his life. Genuinely bizarre, but still fascinating until the ending which I found somewhat lacking.

Marissa Paven and John Cassavetes.

You Got to Have Luck - A killer (John Cassavetes) breaks out of prison and hides out in an isolated farmhouse occupied by a young wife (Marissa Paven). Well-acted and featuring one of the best twists of the season.

The Creeper - A serial killer is murdering blonde-haired women in New York City during a hot spell. Blonde-haired Ellen Grant (Constance Ford), whose husband works at night, suspects everyone. A taut tale that benefits mightily from Ford's excellent performance and an atmospheric setting that captures the discomfort and unease experienced by the characters.

Interested in more Alfred Hitchcock Presents? Check out our picks for the series' five best episodes!

Doris Day in Hitchcock and Hitchcock-Lite

In regard to his two versions of The Man Who Knew Too Much (1934 and 1956), Alfred Hitchcock famously quipped: "Let's just say that the first version was the work of a talented amateur and the second was made by a professional." These days, it's fashionable to prefer the earlier film, though I firmly believe the 1956 version is the stronger of the two.

Doris Day and James Stewart as the McKennas.

James Stewart and Doris Day star as Ben and Jo McKenna, American tourists spending three days in Marrakesh with their young son Hank. They encounter a mysterious man named Louis Bernard as well as Lucy and Edward Drayton, a friendly British couple. In the middle of a bazaar, an Arab--who has been stabbed--approaches Ben. As the dying man staggers to the ground, Ben realizes it's Bernard in disguise. He whispers to Ben that there will be an assassination in London and that Ben must tell the authorities about "Ambrose Chapel."

Later, at the police station, Ben receives a phone call that his son has been kidnapped and will remain safe as long as he says nothing to the authorities. When they return to their hotel, Ben and Jo realize that the Draytons kidnapped Hank. They follow them to London, determined to find their son.

Brenda De Banzie as Mrs. Drayton.

The opening scenes in Marrakesh set up the plot nicely (though Hitch's use of rear screen projection is distracting at times). However, once the action shifts to London, the tension unexpectedly lets up, punctuated by a goose chase in search of Ambrose Chapel that seems like filler material. Still, The Man Who Knew Too Much ends on a high note with a suspenseful extended climax at Albert Hall and a foreign embassy.

There are still sequences featuring Hitchcock at his best, such as when the face of the disguised Bernard slides through Ben's hands, leaving brown make-up on his fingers. The Albert Hall scene, in which an assassin's shot must be timed with the crash of cymbals, shows Hitchcock at the height of his craft. It also features composer and frequent Hitch collaborator Bernard Herrmann as the orchestra's conductor.

James Stewart and Doris Day are fine as the determined parents and Doris even gets to sing the Oscar-winning "Que Sera, Sera," which would become her signature song. Acting honors, though, go to the marvelous Brenda De Banzie as a reluctant kidnapper.

Doris walking in the fog.

Made four years later Midnight Lace (1960) is a Hitchcock wannabe starring Doris Day as heiress Kit Preston, an American newlywed in London. Even before the credits roll, she hears an eerie voice threatening her during a heavy night fog. Her husband, financier Tony (Rex Harrison), tries to convince her it was just a practical joke. However, when she starts to receive similar phone calls, Kit and Tony go to Scotland Yard.

Kit's problem is that no one else hears the disturbing phone calls. Is she delusional and imagining the voice? Or is someone really planning to kill her? There are certainly plenty of suspects: the housekeeper's creepy son (Roddy McDowell); the handsome construction chief (John Gavin) working on a nearby building; the strange man hanging around the neighborhood; or even her husband Tony.

Doris Day and Rex Harrison.

Unfortunately, the outcome becomes apparent early on in Midnight Lace. That doesn't keep it from being moderately entertaining. The supporting cast, which includes Myrna Loy as Kit's aunt and John Williams as (what else?) a police inspector, is first-rate. The London setting is both atmospheric and contributes to Kit's uneasiness (until the arrival of her aunt, she has no real friends in town).

Unlike The Man Who Knew Too Much, Midnight Lace is a "Doris Day vehicle" and she's in almost every scene. For the most part, she carries the picture, although her histrionics in the later scenes verge on overacting. Director David Miller compensates by keeping the narrative to a crisp 103 minutes.

Midnight Lace was remade for television in 1981 with Mary Crosby in the lead role. Carolyn Jones has a supporting role in that version, just as she did in The Man Who Knew Too Much!

One Fan's List of the Best Hitchcock Films

On September 5, 2009 at 4:56 p.m., I published my first post for the Classic Film & TV Cafe. Suffice to say, there was a lot I didn't know about blogging. But here I am, 968 posts and ten years later, and I must say that I've had a wonderful time writing and managing the Classic Film & TV Cafe. To commemorate  the last decade, I thought it'd be fun to update my first post about my picks for Alfred Hitchcock's ten best films. To my surprise, other than re-ranking two films, I made few changes. Please note that there are spoilers in my write-ups!

1. Vertigo - This richly-layered masterpiece reveals its big twist when least expected--turning the film on its proverbial head. It causes love to blur with obsession and greed to give way to guilt and perhaps love. What we see at the bell tower is initially false, but ultimately true. I could go on and on…but, hey, whole books have been devoted to this film. I think it’s Hitch’s best job of writing (as usual uncredited) and directing…plus we get superb performances (especially from James Stewart), a marvelous San Francisco setting, an unforgettably disturbing score from Bernard Hermann, and a nifty Saul Bass title sequence.

2. Rear Window – My wife would rate this as No. 1, but she’s not writing this post! As with Vertigo, there are multiple layers to Rear Window. Taken alone, there’s nothing interesting about the mystery of the missing salesman’s wife. The movie is really about the relationship between Jeff and Lisa. Though she is rich, beautiful, and loves him (Stella describes her as “perfect”), Jeff refuses to commit to Lisa. He fears that doing so will cause him to sacrifice his exciting, globetrotting life as a magazine photographer. It is only when Lisa becomes his “legs” and joins in the investigation of the missing wife that Jeff realizes how bright and exciting she truly is. It’s part of the film’s offbeat humor, because, to the viewer, Grace Kelly's Lisa looks stunning and exciting from the moment she walks into Jeff’s apartment. To provide contrast to Jeff and Lisa’s evolving relationship, Hitchcock lets us spy—with Jeff—on his neighbors in the apartment complex. Their stories are effective mini-dramas that are funny, sad, and murderous: Miss Lonelyhearts (that’s what Jeff calls her) dresses up and sets a table nightly for an imaginary date; Miss Torso practices dancing routines in her underwear, but rejects all suitors when she throws a party (later we learn why); the composer struggles to finish his compositions at the piano in his studio apartment; and an older couple, with their little dog, sleep on the balcony because the nights are so warm. Technically, the film is one of Hitch’s finest achievements. Almost every shot is from the viewpoint of Jeff’s apartment, an amazing feat but also one that’s not distracting (unlike the ten-minute takes in Hitchcock’s Rope). Even the stagy sets work to the film’s advantage, for the apartment complex seems like its own artificial world.

3. Marnie – When I first saw Marnie as a teenager, it made no impression at all. I thought Tippi Hedren was miscast and Sean Connery dull. The plot--what there was of one--seemed thin and the characters lacked interest. Decades later, I watched it again and, to my complete surprise, I loved it! Tippi Hedren's subtle detached performance made Marnie a vulnerable, intriguing character. The progressively complex relationship between Marnie and Sean Connery’s character generated suspense--in its own quiet way--worthy of Hitch’s best man-on-the-run films. I was captivated by Hitch's finest use of color (especially during the opening scenes). And finally, there was Bernard Herrmann's incredible score (which, for me, ranks second only to Vertigo among his Hitchcock soundtracks). I've often wondered how I missed all of this the first time around?

4. The Birds – This one functions on two levels for me. It is, of course, a masterfully directed thriller about unexplained bird attacks in a small California seaside community (I love the playground and gas station sequences). But it’s also a well-acted 1960s relationship drama about three women and their interactions with the bland, but likable, Mitch Brenner (Rod Taylor). Mitch’s mother (wonderfully played by Jessica Tandy) fears losing her son to another woman—not because of jealousy, but because she can’t stand the thought of being abandoned. Young socialite Melanie Daniels (Tippi Hedren) views Mitch as a stable love interest, something she needs as she strives to live a more meaningful life. And Annie Hayworth (Suzanne Pleshette) is the spinster schoolteacher, willing to waste her life to be near Mitch after failing to pry him from his mother. These relationships are what the film is about—the birds are merely catalysts. That’s why the ending works for me; when the relationships are resolved, the bird attacks end.

5. Strangers on a Train – One of the cleverest (and most disturbing) premises of all Hitchcock films. The carousel climax is justly famous, but I favor the cigarette lighter in the drain. It’s a perfect example of how Hitch could generate suspense from a simple situation—with potentially disastrous consequences. I think Farley Granger and Robert Walker are pretty good in the leads, but not as strong as other Hitchcock stars.

6. Shadow of a Doubt – It took this one awhile to grow on me, but that makes sense in hindsight. Shadow of a Doubt is all about gradual realization. Charlie (Teresa Wright) slowly evolves from disbeliever (those accusations toward her beloved uncle could not be true!) to one who suspects the truth to believer to would-be victim. It’s a chilling tale, all the more so because it’s set against the backdrop of a friendly Thorton Wilder town.

7. North by Northwest – I think of this as something of a lark for all involved, but that’s partially why it’s so much fun. It’s my favorite of Hitch’s man-on-the-run films and James Mason, who plays the villain straight, is the perfect foil for Cary Grant. I only wish the Mount Rushmore scenes looked a little more realistic and Roger’s mother had more scenes.

8. Psycho – It’s hard to gauge the impact of Psycho now, but I can remember how shocked I was when I first saw it. I knew Janet Leigh was a major actress and so I was more than a little shocked to see what happened to her character of Marion Crane. (By the way, I was equally shocked when Arbogast was killed…filmed from that disorienting overhead camera angle). It’s really a fine film--more than a shocker--and also offers good performances, great Hermann music, and (once again) memorable Saul Bass titles. And I guess that shower scene turned out to be a little influential.

9. Rebecca - It’s too bad that David Selznick and Hitchcock didn’t get along better, because this collaboration is an excellent, atmospheric adaptation of Daphne Du Maurier’s novel. I love how the cheeriness of the opening scenes between the future Mrs. De Winter and Maxim contrast with the later scenes at Manderley. The cast is pitch perfect with Judith Anderson and George Sanders standing out in supporting roles. Like many people, my favorite scene is when Mrs. Danvers suggests that maybe the second Mrs. De Winters should just end it all.

10. Young and Innocent and Stage Fright (tie) – I am now officially in trouble with fans of Notorious, The 39 Steps, The Lady Vanishes, and Frenzy. Those are all fine films and I would list them in my top 20. But I must confess that I enjoy the two listed in my #10 spot more than those movies. The seldom-shown Young and Innocent is a fine early man-on-the-run film with sweet performances and its share of great scenes (e.g., carving meat at the dinner table, the great tracking shot leading to the killer’s twitching eye). As for Stage Fright, I’ll say upfront that the controversial flashback doesn’t bother me at all; I don’t understand the big fuss. Stage Fright makes this list on the basis of sheer fun and a delightful cast (Jane Wyman, Marlene Dietrich, Richard Todd, Alastair Sim, Sybil Thorndike, and Michael Wilding at his most charming). I saw it late among Hitch’s films and I never fail to be entertained when I watch it again.

Honorable Mentions: Those mentioned in No. 10 that will get me in trouble for omitting…plus To Catch a Thief, Secret Agent, Blackmail, the underappreciated I Confess, and Sabotage (with the controversial bomb scene).

Truffaut's Homage to Hitchcock: The Bride Wore Black

Jeanne Moreau as Julie.

French director and critic Francois Truffaut originally published his extensive Alfred Hitchcock interviews in 1966. The book, which has come to be known as Hitchcock/Truffaut, is a brilliant look into the mind of a master filmmaker. So, it comes as no surprise that Truffaut would eventually make a film that pays tribute to Hitchcock's themes and style.

The Bride Wore Black (1968) looks and sounds like a Hitch picture. It was based on a 1940 novel by Cornell Woolrich, who also penned the short story that inspired Rear Window. The film's tense score was composed by Hitchcock's longtime collaborator Bernard Herrmann.

Julie and her victim on the balcony.

It opens with Julie Kohler (Jeanne Moreau) bidding farewell to her young niece at a train station...only to pass through the train and depart in another direction. She then tries to see a man named Bliss, but his building attendant will not allow her into the man's apartment. Later, when Bliss is hosting a party with his fiancee, Julie appears in a white evening gown. She lures Bliss onto a balcony to flirt mysteriously with him. When she apparently loses her scarf in the breeze, it catches on a tree branch near the railing. She asks Bliss to retrieve it for her and, as he precariously straddles the railing, Julie pushes him off the balcony to his death. She then quickly and silently exits the party.

Julie and a glass of poison.

On a train to her next destination, Julie opens a small black book and crosses off one of five mens' names. Her goal, it appears, is to murder each of them.

The motive behind Julie Kolher's vendetta isn't revealed until less an hour remains in the film's 107-minutes running time. The big reveal isn't particularly surprising, but that's not a detriment to The Bride Wore Black. In Hitchcock lingo, the reason why Julie commits the murders is the film's "McGuffin." In other words, her motive propels the plot, but really serves no other purpose. The Bride Wore Black is an exercise in style, with each murder comprising a mini-narrative.

Michael Lonsdale as the father.

The best scene has Julie infiltrating a household by posing as the five-year-old son's kindergarten teacher. By quizzing the child earlier in the day, she knows just enough to pull off the ruse. The child, of course, states that Julie is not his teacher multiple times. But she laughs it off and the father doesn't take his son seriously. It makes sense, of course, to believe an adult over a child. The father, whose wife has been called out of town on an emergency (thanks to Julie), also becomes interested in the attractive woman who is suddenly alone with him once his son goes to bed.

Indeed, Julie's most powerful weapon in her revenge scheme is her allure. Four of her five targets are drawn to her out of lust, loneliness, or perhaps even love. In The Bride Wore Black, the males are most certainly the weaker sex.

As Hitchcock did in Marnie (1964), Truffaut uses color and lighting to create contrasts. Moreau, whose character is a victim as well as a killer, wears only black or white outfits during the entire film. Her first murder takes place on a bright, sunny day whereas her third murder occurs during a dark thunderstorm. The Bride Wore Black was only Truffaut's second color film and he had numerous on-set altercations with cinematographer Raoul Coutard on how to light the film. Their disagreements became so numerous that Moreau has stated that she was forced to direct some of the scenes.

An arrow protrudes from the back of Julie's fourth victim.

It's still uniquely a Truffaut film, even if it lacks the warmth associated with his most celebrated works. I am sure I'm in the minority, but having viewed it twice now, it may be my favorite Truffaut film despite its flaws (I wish Julie's motive was revealed later in the film). Incidentally, if the plot reminds you of Quentin Tarantino's Kill Bill movies, you are not alone--though Tarantino claims to have never seen The Bride Wore Black.

The plot closely follows Cornell Wooldrich's novel, though Truffaut changes the ending. In fact, it's one of my all-time favorite film endings and cleverly explains what seems like two horrible mistakes on Julie's part. There are many Hitchcockian films, but none quite like The Bride Wore Black. It pays tribute to the Master of Suspense, but never stoops to imitation as the bride efficiently eliminates the men who shattered her dreams of happiness.


This review is part of the Vive La France Blogathon hosted by The Lady Eve's Reel Life and Silver Screen Modes. Click here to check out all the marvelous posts in this blogathon. Below is a scene from The Bride Wore Black, courtesy of our YouTube channel:

Frenzy--Hitchcock's Penultimate Film

Hitchcock's cameo at the begining.

In 1972, Hitchcock was coming off one of the least successful periods of his long career. His last three films--Marnie, Torn Curtain, and Topaz--had fizzled with moviegoers and critics. Still, there was much anticipation surrounding the release of Frenzy. It was a return to a familiar Hitchcockian premise, with an innocent man being pursued by the police while a murderer roams free. It was the famed director's first movie to be made in his native Britain in two decades. And it also marked Hitch's first, and only, film rated "R" for nudity and violence.

Jon Finch as Blaney.

Jon Finch stars as Richard Blaney, a self-pitying former RAF pilot who drinks too much and can't hold a job. After being fired from a London pub, he visits his successful ex-wife and berates her twice in front of other people. When he goes to see her the following day, her office door is locked. What Blamey doesn't know is that the notorious "necktie killer" has strangled his ex-wife. When he is seen leaving the office building, he becomes Scotland Yard's quarry in the manhunt to find the serial murderer.

Hitchcock reveals the identity of the necktie killer early in Frenzy. Thus, he merges two of his favorite plots: the one in which an innocent man has to elude the police (e.g., Young and Innocent, North By Northwest) and the one in which the killer takes center stage in the film (e.g., Shadow of a Doubt, Strangers on a Train). It's a clever structure and Hitchcock and screenwriter Anthony Shaffer (Sleuth) merge the two storylines seamlessly.

Barry Foster as a Blaney friend.

Hitch is less successful at balancing the tone of Frenzy, which shifts awkwardly from extreme violence to black comedy. Hitchcock is not one to shy away from violence...the shower scene in Psycho proved that. However, the rape and strangulation of Blaney's ex-wife is shown in explicit--and needless--detail. In a DVD interview, Anthony Shaffer called the scene "disgusting" and recommended that Hitchcock delete it--to which the director allegedly replied: "Nonsense, my boy." Fortunately, Hitchcock refrains from showing a second murder in the same fashion, opting instead to use the more potent power of suggestion.

The best scenes in Frenzy are the comedic ones, which range from darkly humorous to intentionally amusing. The latter scenes focus on the Scotland Yard inspector (a first-rate Alec McCowen) and his wife (a delightful Vivien Merchant). As they discuss the case, she serves him visually revolting meals, which are the result of her cooking classes. The best example of black comedy occurs when the killer dumps a victim's corpse into a potato truck, only to realize later that the victim grabbed a lapel pin from his jacket. As the truck careens down the highway, the killer desperately struggles to find the right potato bag, pull out the corpse, and retrieve the lapel pin from the clutches of a clinched rigor mortis-laden hand. It's physical comedy at its best, in a disgusting sort of way!

Vivien Merchant as the
inspector's wife.

Although the two main characters are male, the best performances come from the actresses in the cast. In addition to the aforementioned Vivien Merchant, Barbara Leigh-Hunt (as the ex-wife) and Anna Massey (as Blaney's girlfriend) stand out. French filmmaker and critic Francoise Truffaut noted this was one of the few later Hitchcock films to "turn away from glamorous and sophisticated heroines (of whom Grace Kelly remains the best example) toward everyday women...and they bring a new realism to Hitchcock's work."

Frenzy doesn't rank with Alfred Hitchcock's best films, but it stands out as the best among his post-Marnie works. It would have been a fitting end to his career, but, alas, he went on to make Family Plot. Like many great artists (and athletes), the Master of Suspense didn't know when to quit.

Interview with Jerry Mathers: Working with Hitch, Playing the Beaver, and How Bob Hope Saved His Life

Tony Dow and Jerry Mathers as "The Beaver."

Born on June 2, 1948 in Sioux City, Iowa, Jerry Mathers' acting career began at the age of two when he appeared in a Pet Condensed Milk commercial with Ed Wynn on The Colgate Comedy Hour. He graduated to film roles later in the 1950s, acting alongside Bob Hope, Shirley MacLaine, and Alan Ladd. He achieved lasting fame in 1957 when he was cast as young Theodore "Beaver" Cleaver on Leave It to Beaver. The classic sitcom's original run was for six years and 234 episodes. Today, it's still shown twice daily on MeTV and throughout the world. In 1982, Jerry Mathers reunited with most of the original cast for a highly-rated reunion movie called Still the Beaver. Its success led to a popular revival TV series known as Still the Beaver and later The New Leave It to Beaver. Jerry Mathers has also appeared as a guest star on numerous TV series, such as My Three Sons, The Love Boat, and Diagnosis: Murder. He made his Broadway debut in 2007 as Wilbur Turnblad in the Tony-winning musical Hairspray at the Neil Simon Theater. Diagnosed with Type II diabetes in the mid-1990s, Jerry Mathers has appeared before the Congressional Caucus on Diabetes and has spoken at numerous events about the importance of early diagnosis, diet and exercise, and the proper treatment for diabetes.

Café:  You were six-years-old when you appeared in Alfred Hitchcock’s The Trouble With Harry (1955). What are some of your memories of working with Hitchcock?

Jerry Mathers with Shirley MacLaine.

Jerry Mathers:  I had worked as an actor since I was two years old, so this wasn't like it was my first part. I just found Alfred Hitchcock to be a very, very nice person. As I grew older as an actor, I found out that a lot of people found him to be very intimidating. I had a great time with him. I used to sit on his lap and run over lines with him. We went to Stowe, Vermont, to film The Trouble With Harry, so it's a little bit different when you're on location with the film crew. The local people in the area would make lunch for the whole crew and I remember the ladies used to make us blueberry muffins. Each woman would have three or four dozen muffins and Mr. Hitchcock, who was a gourmet, would go up and down the aisle and make his picks. And those were always the best ones because he really knew how to choose them. I got to know him a little better, though I was still a child, when he was doing Alfred Hitchcock Presents because that was filmed on some of the sets from Leave It to Beaver. Some people have said that a particular set looks just like the Beaver entry hall or library. I'd see him on the lots because he'd come in and do some of the intros and outros for his TV series

Café:  What do you remember about working with Bob Hope as the young Bryan Lincoln Foy in The Seven Little Foys (1955)?

Jerry Mathers:  I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Bob Hope. In The Seven Little Foys, there was a true-life scene in which there was a fire in a vaudevillian theater and Eddie Foy saved a lot of people's lives. In those days, they didn't have fire prevention systems and sprinklers. The vaudevillians used candles to light the stage. When they caught on fire, which wasn't often, people would get trampled on trying to get out. When we went to do that scene, I was at the side of a stage sitting in this catwalk and Bob Hope knew that I was up there. When he saw that they put too much gasoline on the curtain, he knew that I was in danger. Everyone else panicked and ran out like they were supposed to, but Bob Hope noticed that I could't get out. He threw a blanket over himself and ran through the flames and got me out. So, he actually saved my life.

Café:  You and Barbara Billingsley were the only cast members retained from the original Leave It to Beaver pilot. What led to the roles of Ward Cleaver (played by Max Showalter) and Wally (Paul Sullivan) being recast?

Beaver and the original Wally.

Jerry Mathers:  I know that the boy that was to play Wally had a growth spurt. When they brought him back several months later, he had gotten really big--and really looked like a big brother. He was almost as tall as Hugh Beaumont, who was 6' 1". Tony Dow hadn't really worked as an actor. He was an AAU diver training for the Olympics. He had been in a pilot for another series called Johnny Wild Life because of his swimming and diving abilities. It was kind of a take-off on Tarzan. His mother took him on the second interview for Leave It to Beaver and he got the part of Wally. The producers were looking for someone very athletic and that was definitely Tony Dow. As for the part of Ward, the producers did several screenings. They'd bring in people from the outside as well as people working in other shows on the lot. They'd administer a questionnaire asking how you liked each character. For some reason, they decided to replace both of the actors who played Wally and Ward in the pilot.

Café: Didn’t your mother play a part in Hugh Beaumont getting the role of your TV father?

Jerry Mathers and his mother Marilyn.

Jerry Mathers:  My mother Marilyn is 91 and she is amazing. She has always been and continues to be so supportive of my career. Yes, she did play a big part in Hugh Beaumont getting the role of Ward. I worked with Hugh before Leave it to Beaver when we filmed a promotional commercial for Rose Hills Memorial Park. My mom liked Hugh very much and told him at that time the producers of a television series that I had just been hired for, Leave it to Beaver, were looking to cast the father. She thought Hugh would be perfect for the part and encouraged him to audition. And as they say, the rest is history! What many people don't know is that Hugh Beaumont wasn't really an actor, he was a Methodist minister. Before Leave It to Beaver, his most famous role was as private detective Michael Shayne in a series of "B" movies that played before feature-length films. Michael Shayne was a very mean character. To get people to talk, he would pound them against a wall. He was a very aggressive private detective. That wasn't really what Hugh Beaumont's personality was. So when he got to Leave It to Beaver and would take Beaver into the library or den and tell Beaver that he shouldn't have done something--that was much more Hugh Beaumont reverting to the preacher that he really was.

Café: How would you describe a typical day on the set of Leave It to Beaver?

Jerry Mathers:  It was 39 weeks a year and we'd go out after that for a few weeks of promoting and meeting with advertisers in New York and Chicago. We'd come back for a short vacation and then start filming the new season. We did that for six years and 234 shows. A typical week started on Monday. We'd go in and read the script. For the first few years when I wasn't that good a reader, they would have someone read my lines and I'd listen to them. It was a very good time and everyone was very nice.

Café: I know this is a difficult question since there were over 200 episodes of Leave It to Beaver, but what are your two or three favorite episodes?

Beaver in the giant soup bowl.

Jerry Mathers:  I like the one where I climb up into the soup bowl. That was fun. They actually built a billboard on the backlot of Universal. So for the outdoor shots, I was up there for about half a day. I got to miss a lot of school for that one. Of course, I had to make it up the next week by doing more hours. The show was just a grand adventure with a lot of adults around and we just had a really good time. After I'd do my schoolwork, I'd work on models that kids were building at the time. We'd play catch during lunch. It was just always a fun place to be every day.

Café: My wife and I loved Beaver’s friendship with Gus, the fireman. Burt Mustin, who played Gus, appeared in 14 episodes. Why do you think his friendship with Beaver resonates so strongly?

Jerry Mathers:  What many people don't know is that Burt Mustin's acting career actually started at the age of 67 after film director William Wyler cast him in the 1951 film Detective Story. Burt spent most of his early working years as an insurance salesman and he also had a degree in Engineering. As for Gus, I think he's kind of like a grandfather figure or the wise old man. He may be right or may be wrong--the kind of a sage that a lot of people wish they had. I had several of them on the set. Hugh Beaumont was a Methodist minister. A lot of people say he was such a good father figure. He was used to doing things like that.

Café: After Leave It to Beaver (1957-63) ended, did you stay in contact with any of the actors who played Beaver’s friends?

Richard Correll and Jerry Mathers.

Jerry Mathers:  Richard Correll, who played Beaver's school friend Richard Rickover, and I are lifelong friends and often see each other at family gatherings. Rich is a very accomplished television director and producer and has directed over 700 shows. I would see some of the others sometimes, but not as often as when we were doing the show. A lot of people don't realize that Los Angeles is very, very spread out. I couldn't drive at the time, so when Leave It to Beaver ended, we all went back to our homes. When we were teenagers, we all became close friends. Richard was friends with Harold Lloyd, the great silent film star. He had a daughter and we'd go over there and he would show us movies. It was a really good time for me. I had a wonderful childhood.

Café: The New Leave It to Beaver (1983-89) had a very successful run with 102 episodes. How would you compare it to the original Leave It to Beaver?

Jerry Mathers.

Jerry Mathers: It was really fun to be able to go back and see people like Barbara Billingsley. Sadly, Hugh Beaumont had passed. We hired several people who were in the original show and even the crew, who were still in the business. It was interesting to accept the role of the father in the show in place of Hugh Beaumont. Those were very big shoes to fill and try to play the same part. But it was interesting to move from the part of the boy to the part of the father.

Café: Since you were diagnosed with type 2 diabetes in the mid-1990s, you have been actively involved in diabetes awareness and education. What kind of information do you share with people living with diabetes?

Jerry Mathers:  I try to share with them that it's something a lot of people have. There's Type 1, which you're born with. Type 2 is the kind I had and I had it because I was overweight. At the time, I had invested in several businesses, one of which did catering so that I put on a lot of weight. That contributed to my diabetes. I was lucky enough to catch it early and when I took off the weight, I was prediabetic. I never had to take insulin. But I'm prediabetic for life so I always have to watch my weight.

Café:  You stay pretty busy! Do you have any other upcoming events you’d like to share with our readers?

Jerry Mathers:   I do a lot of personal appearances all over the country. You can go to my web page, which is JerryMathers.com and that's the best way to see what I'll be doing. And you can also check my Facebook page: The Jerry Mathers. That's the best way to find out if I'm going to be in your area.


In addition to his web site and Facebook page, you can also follow Jerry Mathers on Twitter and Instagram.

Love It or Shove It: Classic Movie Edition

In this new occasional feature, we'll make a statement about classic cinema and then ask our panel of movie experts to "love it" (they agree) or "shove it" (they disagree). It should be a fun way to get some different perspectives. This month, our expert panel is comprised of: Connie Metzinger from Silver Scenes, John Greco from Twenty Four Frames, and Cafe staff member Toto.

So, let's get started!

Is Nicholson's film a classic?

1.  The best films of the 1970s--such as One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and The Godfather Part II--are classic films in every sense of the term.

Connie:  Shove it. I appreciate 1970s films as much as 1940s films, but no matter how stellar the picture may be, it's not a classic in my book.

Toto:  Love it. An important element of classic films is that they hold up over time as evidenced by the powerful performances of Jack Nicholson and Louise Fletcher in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Classic films also impact us socially. Though personally not a fan of The Godfather saga, it continues to influence culture as evidenced by The Sopranos and parodies on MADtv.

John:  Love it. For me, the classic film did not end with the demise of the studio system.  It continued with many of the 1970s filmmakers, who grew up during the studio heydays and fell in love with Hollywood. Francis Ford Coppola's Godfather films are brilliant cinema. They embody the visual technique of old Hollywood with a modern touch. Coppola and his films are just one example. Others include Brian DePalma, who mixed Hitchcock suspense with modern day visual cinematic techniques (Sisters, Carrie). Martin Scorsese's love of classic Hollywood is well known, and it comes through in Mean Streets, Taxi Driver, and New York, New York. Woody Allen's comedies of the 70s are revisionist takes of Hollywood’s classic romantic and slapstick comedies. Finally, Peter Bogdanovich's The Last Picture Show, Nickelodeon and What’s Up Doc? all pay tribute to Hollywood’s golden years. The filmmakers of the 70s embraced the old Hollywood as much as they rebelled and changed it.

2.  Alfred Hitchcock's best decade was the 1950s, which included Rear Window, Vertigo, and North By Northwest.

Connie:  Love it. It took the master of suspense twenty years to perfect his craft and he reached his directorial prime in the 1950s.

Toto:  Love it. I like every Hitchcock film from the 1950s and that isn't a statement I can say for all directors.

John:  Love it. Alfred Hitchcock made brilliant films in every decade, but few filmmakers, if any, had a run of four masterpieces in a ten year period with Strangers on a Train, Rear Window, Vertigo and North by Northwest. Any other filmmaker would find this hard to beat.  In addition, during that same decade of the 1950s, Hitch made lesser, but still fascinating, films like Stage Fright, Dial M for Murder, To Catch a Thief, The Man Who Knew Too Much and two underrated gems The Trouble with Harry and I Confess. Even Hitchcock’s own 1930s period which is filled with some brilliant work does not match his 1950s output.

Cary Grant at age 62.

3.  Cary Grant retired too soon. He was 62 when he made his last film, Walk Don't Run, in 1966.

Connie:  Shove it. Cary Grant didn't have outstanding acting abilities and if he were to have continued to perform into his 70s and 80s he would have had to rely solely on his talent and not his debonair charm or good looks. Besides, it would have been too sad to see him end his career in a cheap horror film as so many actors did.

Toto:  Shove it. I love Cary Grant! He entertained people all of his life. Retirement at 62, when he became a father for the first time, was well deserved.

John:  Hate it. Retirement was a personal choice on Cary Grant’s part, so it’s hard to argue. He didn't like the limelight. After retirement, he kept himself busy with family and various business dealings (he was on a couple of corporate boards.) As a fan, I don't like it that Grant left the screen so early; that's where the "hate it'" comes from. I felt we were cheated. However, I can understand it on a personal level that he wanted out. He was still a big star, and he left it all behind. That in itself takes some guts.

Sisters Olivia and Joan.

4. Based on the body of her work, Olivia de Havilland was a better actress than her sister Joan Fontaine.

Connie:  Love it. Joan Fontaine was an extremely talented actress, but unlike her sister she didn't have the skill in selecting noteworthy parts that showcased her talent, and that's an important part of being an actress. Joan would often follow a marvelous performance in a great movie by a mediocre role in a mediocre comedy.

Toto:  Love it. From Captain Blood through They Died With Their Boots On, I really enjoyed the eight pairings of Olivia de Havilland and Errol Flynn. She was enchanting in Gone With the Wind and left us guessing in My Cousin Rachel.

John:  Love it. At first, I was jumping back and forth on who I thought was better. However, while Joan Fontaine was excellent in both Suspicion and Rebecca, I am not sure she ever did anything as challenging as sister Olivia's work in The Snake Pit and The Heiress. During her career, Olivia de Havilland either went after more difficult roles than Fontaine or was fortunate enough have them handed to her by the studio. Either way, I ended up leaning toward the older sister.

The Birds--A Matter of Misdirection

Alfred Hitchcock’s most divisive thriller finds the Master of Suspense in magician mode. On the surface, The Birds is a traditionally-structured horror film, in which the bird attacks build progressively to three of Hitchcock’s most intense sequences. However, this is just Hitchcock performing a little playful sleight of hand with the audience. Our feathered friends play a strictly peripheral part in moving the plot along. In actuality, The Birds is a relationship movie about another memorable Hitchcock mother, her adult son, and the women who threaten to come between the two—a theme explored by Hitchcock earlier in Notorious and Psycho.

In The Birds, the son is the bland, but likable, Mitch Brenner (Rod Taylor). Mitch’s mother (wonderfully played by Jessica Tandy) fears losing her son to another woman—not because of jealousy, but because she can’t stand the thought of being abandoned. Young socialite Melanie Daniels (Tippi Hedren) views Mitch as a stable love interest, something she needs as she strives to live a more meaningful life. And Annie Hayworth (Suzanne Pleshette) is the spinster schoolteacher, willing to waste her life to be near Mitch after failing to pry him from his mother.

Mitch's mother places herself between the lovebirds,
turning her back to ignore Melanie.

These characters come together when Melanie follows Mitch to his home in Bodega Bay after a flirtatious exchange in a pet store. Melanie’s arrival coincides with the beginning of the bird attacks. It’s almost as if the birds arrive to prevent any potential love between Mitch and Melanie, perhaps an extension of Mitch’s mother’s anger at having to defeat another rival for her son’s love. (Taken to the extreme, there could a parallel between the birds and the creature created by Morbius in Forbidden Planet).

However, although the birds initially come between Mitch and Melanie, they eventually have a very different impact. They allow Melanie, who first appears spoiled and shallow, to show her courage and vulnerability. In the end, Mitch’s mother no longer sees Melanie as a threat, but as a woman worthy of her son. Once the friction between those two characters is resolved, the bird attacks stop and the movie ends. Hitchcock’s conclusion—often criticized as ambiguous—is perfectly logical.

Hitchcock goes to great lengths to misdirect his audience by disguising The Birds as a conventional thriller. Always concerned with audience expectations, the Master of Suspense told French director/film critic Francois Truffaut in Hitchcock, a brilliant collection of interviews: “I didn’t want the public to become too impatient about the birds, because that would distract them from the personal story….” For that reason, the first bird attack comes at twenty-five minutes into the film and occurs toward the end of a playful scene in which Melanie races her boat while Mitch drives along the lake road trying to beat her to the dock.


Mitch, with all the women in his life, looks
concerned after the birthday party bird attack.

From that point on, the birds become progres-sively more menacing and their appear-ances more frequent: Mitch sees them on the power lines after Melanie visits for dinner; a bird crashes into Annie’s front door and dies; birds swoop down to break up a children’s birthday party; they fly through the open flue into Mitch’s house; and Mitch’s mother finds the first human victim in a farmhouse. (I love how Hitchcock uses broken teacups in this scene to foreshadow the impending horror. Earlier, he shows Mitch’s mom picking up broken teacups after the birds-in-the-flue incident. Then, when she visits the apparently empty farmhouse, she sees broken teacups hanging on their hooks—just before discovering the bloody, eyeless body.)

Melanie trapped in the phone booth, a metaphor for
her previously sheltered, empty life.

The remainder of the film consists of the three major set pieces: the bird attack outside the school-house; the attack after the gas station blows up; and Melanie’s struggle with the birds in the attic. Again, following the classic horror film structure, Hitchcock separates each sequence with a transition scene that allows the audience to relax and catch its breath. The scene in the restaurant with the ornithologist is one of Hitch’s rare missteps in The Birds; as Truffaut points out, it goes on too long without contributing to the narrative structure. I won’t dissect the birds’ attack on the school children—it’s an iconic sequence—but I strongly recommend that Hitchcock fans seek out Dan Auiler’s Hitchcock’s Notebooks, which includes the director’s hand-drawn storyboard and notes.

Though less famous, the burning gas station sequence is no less impressive. In the midst of the terrifying chaos, Hitchcock shows Melanie protected—and trapped—inside a phone booth. This “glass cage” is a marvelous metaphor for her previously sheltered life (also symbolized by the lovebirds in the birdcage) from which she is rescued by Mitch (literally…when he pulls her from the phone booth).

The three years between Psycho and The Birds (1963) comprised the longest gap between Hitchcock films up to that point. Much of that time was spent dealing with the technical difficulties in bringing Daphne du Maurier’s short story to the screen. In Truffaut’s book, Hitchcock admits that he discovered narrative weakness in The Birds as he was shooting it. A compulsive pre-planner, who storyboarded every shot in every film, Hitchcock began to improvise during the shooting of The Birds: “The emotional siege I went through served to bring out an additional creative sense in me.”

That creative genius is captured for all to see in The Birds. From its use of bird sounds in lieu of music to its disturbing closing shot, The Birds is an atypical Hitchcock film which finds the director in a mischievous mood. He gives us a classic chiller, but then reveals that it’s all wrapping paper and that’s what inside is a relationship drama. It’s an unexpected gift and, hey, Hitchcock even includes a birthday party for us—although it’s disrupted by those darn birds!

There's nothing ambigious about the ending--the real
conflict has been resolved.