In a certain way, the final years of Hitchcock's
career parallel those of George Cukor during approximately the same period.
Following the triumph of My Fair Lady (1964), Cukor went through an
extended fallow period in which he had difficulty finding viable projects. One
film he took over after the studio dismissed the original director (Justine;
1969); another suffered from various production problems including the last
minute replacement of the leading lady (Travels with My Aunt; 1972);
still another turned out to be a nightmarish shoot and a disaster financially
and critically (The Bluebird; 1976); his most important work during those
years was probably the exquisite Love Among the Ruins (1975), made for
television. Like Hitchcock's Family Plot, Rich and Famous (1981),
Cukor's last picture, is a respectable rather than exciting conclusion to a
distinguished career, a picture which received an undeservedly merciless
treatment by the critics--most notoriously Pauline Kael.
However, the fluctuations in Cukor's later work resulted mainly from the
breakup of traditional methods of film production in Hollywood. Not so in the
case of Hitchcock, whose decline was prompted in part by the collapse of his
health but much more so by the eruption of long-festering emotional problems
triggered off by his unhappy infatuation with Tippi Hedren, as Spoto recounts in
his biography. Not that the changes the industry was undergoing in the '60's
failed to have an impact on the director. While Hitchcock attempted in vain to
keep up with these changes, often resulting in painful encounters with Universal
executives, spy thrillers such as Torn Curtain (1966) and
Topaz
(1969) seemed quaintly anachronistic in the era of the James Bond films or
Arthur Penn's Bonny and Clyde (1967). Nevertheless, the demise of
traditional studio production should have counted for far less in Hitchcock's
case than in Cukor's. The latter director who had always flourished within a
studio environment, particularly at RKO and MGM in the '30's, admittedly
depended upon the work of gifted collaborators like Donald Ogden Stewart and
William Daniels at Metro for his best films. If Cukor made some less than
satisfying movies in his later years, he was often in the unenviable position of
a great chef asked to turn out masterpieces of haute cuisine using
the resources of a roadside diner.
Hitchcock, to the contrary, had been the prototypic auteur long before that
term was bandied about in English-speaking countries. Rightly or wrongly, he
claimed--and took--total responsibility for the success of his pictures. The
films of the period 1964-72 must therefore be compared not just with previous,
better works, but with Hitchcock's own expectations; it is necessary to compare Topaz
not just with The 39 Steps (1935) or North by Northwest (1959) but
with what might be called the "ideal type" of the Hitchcock spy
picture, an "ideal type" that could be constructed by a careful
analysis of earlier films. Judged by that standard, Hitchcock's decline after
1963 is a dramatic one indeed, as if the director, like Icarus, had been
punished for flying too close to the sun with the trio of films that conclude
the preceeding period: Vertigo (1958), Psycho (1960), and The
Birds (1963).
To be sure, Hitchcock had had his up's and down's before, often in an almost
cyclical pattern, as a cursory glance at his career suggests. Provisionally, it
would be possible to periodize his work in the following way: an initial period
of activity in England, marked by two real successes--The Lodger (1927)
and Blackmail (1929)--which then burns out in a string of failures,
serves to usher in Hitchcock's first period of true recognition as a director,
starting with The Man Who Knew Too Much (1935); his growing fame as a
director leads to a contract in the United States, inaugurating his first
American period which comes to an end in the late '40's, when he returns to
England to make Under Capricorn (1949) and Stage Fright (1950). In
1951, a new period--characterized by an increasingly deep exploration of
American life that goes back to Shadow of a Doubt (1943)--begins with Strangers
on a Train in 1951. This period, probably the most important artistically
and financially in Hitchcock's career, is followed by the final one of creative
uncertainty and commercial failure whose warning signs can already be detected
in The Birds. Schematically, this periodization could be depicted in a
table like the one below:
Country |
Period |
Films |
England |
First:
1925-33 |
The Pleasure Garden--Waltzes from Vienna |
|
Second:
1934-39 |
The Man Who Knew Too Much--Jamaica Inn |
United States |
First:
1939-50 |
Rebecca--Stage Fright |
|
Second:
1951-63 |
Strangers on a Train--The Birds |
|
Third:
1964-76 |
Marnie--Family
Plot |
Within these periods two high points stand out: the second English and
American periods, respectively. The first English period contains two important
films but comes to an end in what Hitchcock called the "lowest ebb" of
his career. Similarly, the first American period includes two real
masterpieces--Shadow of a Doubt and Notorious (1946)--but also
some rather slick pieces such as Saboteur (1942) and Spellbound
(1945) as well as one indubitable fiasco--The Paradine Case (1947)--and
closes with some interesting although erratic experiments: Rope (1948), Under
Capricorn, and Stage Fright. In both cases, a period that finished
weakly was followed by one that began with a spectacular recovery and continued
strongly until its end. Setting aside the director's physical and emotional
afflictions, could Family Plot have served as the prelude to another
revival in Hitchcock's career? Was it only the final cadence of his artistic
life or a sign of the commencement of what could have been a new period of
creativity? Certainly, no one will ever know the answer to this question but two
points should be taken into consideration. First, the film is the first since The
Birds to have the feel of a Hitchcock picture: the opening scene of a seance
in an elegantly designed setting, with its intercutting from the troubled,
elderly Julia Rainbird (Cathleen Nesbitt) to the obviously duplicitous medium,
Madame Blanche (Barbara Harris), establishes an atmosphere of mystery that
persists unabated into the next sequence in which a strikingly disguised young
woman receives a fabulous jewel from police officials as ransom for a kidnap
victim. In contrast to the leaden Marnie or Torn Curtain or Topaz,
the film is effectively paced and holds the viewer's interest until the end.
More importantly, Family Plot never descends to the mechanical imitation of
Hitchcock by himself that disfigures even the best episodes of Frenzy
(1972); although the film's success reestablished Hitchcock's standing in the
industry, only someone who had a grudge against Hitchcock or lacked a knowledge
of his previous work could think Frenzy a good movie.
Second, there is little evidence, external or internal, to suggest that
Hitchcock intended Family Plot to be his last picture, any more than
Cukor intended Rich and Famous to his last. Certainly, Family Plot
has nothing of the intentional gesture of Limelight; nevertheless, both Family
Plot and Rich and Famous have autobiographical elements that give
them the allure of a last will and testament. Cukor's film begins with a party
scene in which a number of his old friends and acquaintances appear. More
tellingly, the film's ironic title could have well served as his own epitaph:
like the character played by Candice Bergen in the movie, he was conspicuously
rich and famous, yet as does the other character, portrayed by Jacqueline Bisset,
he had had to resort to casual or paid sexual encounters to fill an emotional
void in his life. The scene in which Bisset picks up a hustler on the streets of
Manhattan was the closest Cukor ever came to opening up the details of his
private life on the screen; although it attracted the homophobic wrath of
Pauline Kael, the scene alludes more strongly to prostitution in general than it
does to homosexuality in particular.
Needless to say, Family Plot does not contain any such personal
revelations; Hitchcock was even less given to the confessional mode than Cukor.
Although Spoto finds tell-tale traces of Hitchcock's off-screen conflicts in his
movies, especially in The Birds and Marnie, Hitchcock ordinarily
covered these traces very well by transforming them into the fabric of his work;
if his last movie contains relevant personal details, they are well
camouflaged. Nevertheless, Family
Plot holds a wealth of allusions to the
director's artistic autobiography. The first scene, just as it establishes the
tone that will prevail throughout the movie, also signals this aspect of Family
Plot. On the one hand, the scene hints at an underlying pun referring to the
film medium--as Hitchcock would have known, séance in French
means the showing of a motion picture, among other things. On the other, the
situation itself makes implicit allusions to Vertigo: both through the title of
the French novel on which the screenplay is based--D'Entre les morts--and
through the supposed return of Carlotta Valdez and Madeleine Elster from the
dead.
Interestingly, the film also shares the San Francisco setting with the
earlier picture, a detail that emerges only slowly and rather tacitly as the
story unfolds--by contrast, Vertigo opens with a panoramic vista of the
city skyline as Scotty (James Stewart) pursues a criminal over the rooftops. In
fact, Family Plot lacks any of the expansive lyricism that graces Vertigo,
whether in exterior scenes of San Francisco or of the Monterey coast; Family
Plot's use of tight compositions and the absence of digressions either in
the images or the plot point up the difference in mood--the later film
concentrates on closely following the progression of the action, like one of the
English thrillers--as well as evident budgetary limitations. As in Andrew
Marvell's "To His Coy Mistress," a strong sense of "Time's winged
chariot" rather than "world enough and time," hovers at the back
of Hitchcock's farewell to the cinema.
Other reminiscences of the director's older films also haunt Family Plot.
The villain, a jeweller and thief who kidnaps wealthy victims and demands
valuable jewels as their ransom, recalls the cat burglar in To Catch a Thief
(1955) while the emphasis on the fetishistic attraction of jewels indicates
another link to it. In addition, unbeknownst to himself this man, Arthur Adamson
(William Devane), is a foundling who as a child had conspired with a friend, J.J.
Maloney (Ed Lauter), to burn the couple he believes to be his real parents, a
collaboration that continues into their adult years. But in this way the
partnership in crime between the two men resembles that between Bruno Anthony
(Robert Walker) and Guy Haines (Farley Grainger) in Strangers on a Train.
Although the criminal relationship between Adamson and Maloney in Family Plot
lacks the homosexual overtones of the one between Bruno and Guy, it just as
effectually bonds the two men together.
Many of these allusions were no doubt worked into the film by Ernest Lehman,
who gave Hitchcock a brilliant script for his last film. (Weak
screenplays--partly the result of interference by the director--account in no
small part for the inferiority of the pictures in Hitchcock's final period.) But
perhaps the most fascinating aspect of the film originated neither with Lehman
nor Hitchcock but with a studio employee. As Donald Spoto relates: "In mid-July there was still no final resolution to the problem of the film's
title....Finally, on July 25 (just days before the final shot), someone from
Universal's publicity department came up with a title that seemed to have the
right ambiguity. The film, after all, was about a family scheme, a lost heir,
kidnappers, jewel theft--and an empty grave. Not entirely pleased but unable to
devise an alternative, Hitchcock agreed to call the film Family Plot."
If the title of Rich and Famous could have served as Cukor's epitaph,
how much more so the title Family Plot as Hitchcock's. Had the director
himself scripted and directed his life story, how more appropriate a title could
he have found to summarize his work ? Not only are the plots of numerous
Hitchcock pictures--especially starting with the first American
period--literally "family" plots, but the multiple meanings of
"plot" perfectly condense within a single word the effect of a
Hitchcock film, whose action, like that of Edgar Allan Poe's "Cask of
Amontillado," conspires to bury the spectator within its labyrinth.
As the above quoted passage indicates, the title's primary reference is to a
grave. This is the burial plot of the Shoebridge family, burned alive by Maloney
with the aid of their adoptive step-son, Eddie; later Eddie, having become the
prosperous jeweller Adamson, will have Maloney erect a headstone bearing his
name alongside the Shoebridge's markers to create the impression that Eddie
Shoebridge has died. However, the literal sense of the title is complemented by
a no less significant figurative one. In reality, Eddie is the illegitimate son
of the dead sister of the wealthy Julia Rainbird, who wants to make him her heir
in order to atone for having forced her sister to give up the child. The literal
family plot, the fake grave, thus serves as a nodal point through which the
symbolic "family plot," the skeleton in the Rainbird family closet,
communicates with the criminal plots of Adamson--which include, of course, the
planting of the fake headstone. In this way, the empty grave plays the role of
the fabled MacGuffin, the device employed by Hitchcock to facilitate the
development of the action. In the words of Donald Spoto, "The point is that
a MacGuffin is neither relevant, important, nor, finally, any of one's business.
It simply gets the story going."
To put it somewhat differently, the title operates on three basic levels of
meaning. First, there is the literal meaning, the empty grave which serves to
tie together the various strands of the story and whose emptiness signals the
presence of an unsolved mystery. Second, the title has a purely narrative
meaning referring to the two "family" plots which make up the story:
the hidden scandal in the Rainbird family and the kidnap schemes of the
illegitimate son. Last but not least, the title has a thematic meaning implied
by the stock phrase I used in the preceeding paragraph: the skeleton in the
closet. In fact, Family Plot has at least three such skeletons: the illegitimate
heir; the false grave; and Adamson's victims--whom he keeps in a small room
built into the wall of his garage. While these various plot elements principally
function as surrogates for the theme itself, that of a secret crime, they also
modulate it in significant ways. On the one hand, the presence of the
illegitimate offspring connects the theme of secret crime with that of sexual
transgression--and more generally, with that of desire. On the other, the grave
links the same theme with that of the past and with that of death. It takes only
a moment's reflection, however, to realize that desire, the past, and death are
major themes throughout Hitchcock's career.
Clearly, the thematic level of meaning would be the most profitable for a
study of the director's work. Digging into Family Plot has opened up a
host of useful possibilities for the interpretation of Hitchcock's previous
films; it would only seem necessary to dig deeper in order to make use of these
possibilities. Nevertheless, bearing in mind the fate of Lumley (Bruce Dern) in
the film, who seeks Eddie only to discover that Eddie's grave is no grave and
that Eddie is no Eddie, it might make more sense to excavate diligently than
precipitately and to commence by returning to the literal level. Although
Family
Plot is the only Hitchcock film known to me in which a fake grave figures,
several films employ the device of a missing or misplaced body. Yet the two
devices stand in an evidently symmetrical relation to one another, since both
implicitly refer to the same mediating element: the grave which contains a
properly buried body. A body which lies in no grave is in the inverse position
of a grave which holds no body.
The first example which comes to mind of a Hitchcock film whose plot revolves
around a misplaced body is The Trouble with Harry (1955). Made in 1954
and released in the same year Hitchcock began his stint as host of his
enormously popular television series, Alfred Hitchcock Presents, the
whimsically macabre film resembles one of the director's opening routines for
the half-hour show expanded to a length of over ninety minutes. At the beginning
of the film a variety of townspeople in rural Vermont stumble over a man's body
lying in a field, one of whom, Captain Wiles (Edmund Gwenn) believes he
accidentally shot the victim while hunting. During the course of the film,
various other candidates appear who also believe themselves to be the killer; at
the end, the man, who is the ex-husband of one of the local residents, Jennifer
Rogers (Shirley MacLaine in her screen debut) turns out to have died from a
heart attack. The film's humor, which only partially offsets the rather thin
plot, lies in the repeated attempts of the characters to lay to rest the
mysteriously deceased Harry, whose body keeps popping above and below ground
like some figure in a French bedroom farce flying in and out of a closet or from
under a bed.