Weighing In: Shadow of a Doubt

Old or new, a great film always remains a great film. They transcend years and their messages hold true despite societal changes in norms and attitudes. Alfred Hitchcock's Shadow of a Doubt (1943) is one of those films. The first time I saw Shadow of a Doubt was during my senior year of college, appropriately enough, while enrolled in a course about Hitchcock's films. I remember taking the class because one, some of my fondest movie memories from childhood involved Hitch's films (North by Northwest, Psycho, Strangers on a Train) and two, because typical lazy college student I was, I naturally envisioned an "easy A." Some ten years later, this is probably the only course that still sticks in my brain. Since then, I have watched and re-watched Shadow of a Doubt many times, and on each occasion, the film leaves a greater imprint on me. This morning, I viewed it again, and it only solidified the film's rank amongst my favorites in Hitchcock's vast catalog.

Shadow of a Doubt is a great film for a number of reasons. First and foremost, Hitch's direction is masterful. His use of noir-type blacks and whites, tracking shots, and close-ups is superb. One of his earlier American films, there is no question that Shadow of a Doubt set a benchmark from which Hitchcock would elaborate in his later films like Notorious, Strangers on a Train and Rear Window. Second, the casting is exceptional. Joseph Cotten, who plays the misanthropic Uncle Charlie, and Teresa Wright, as his sexy but naive niece, Charlotte "Charlie" Newton, make as twisted a pair as Grant and Bergman or Stewart and Novack. Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, the screenplay is quite good -- maybe even ahead of its time. Notably, the script was written in large part by Thornton Wilder of Our Town fame.

The story takes place in the real-life town of Santa Rosa, California, presumably before the outbreak of WWII. Santa Rosa is the kind of place we see or read about in American fairy-tales -- that is, the sort of town that only exists on Hollywood sound stages (a good modern cinematic example is portrayed in the underrated film Pleasantville). In Santa Rosa, 9-year-old girls read Ivanhoe while their kid brothers count the number of steps it takes to get home from the candy shop. There is a crossing-guard at every intersection and like the familiar tune, everybody knows your name. You get the point. Young Charlie is an 18 or 19-year-old, uncharacteristically sexy girl for the period, who is bored out her mind; she is "trapped" in this storybook small-town and craving some form of excitement. I imagine that this was the typical sort of teen-angst common amongst girls of Charlie's generation. So, like a child throwing a tantrum, she ominously wishes that something "happen" to spice up the family's routine and mundane lifestyle. It is at this moment that Hitchcock foreshadows where the film is heading.

At the other end of the country -- New York City (although the opening sequences are clearly not New York, but Newark, New Jersey) -- we learn that Charlie's uncle and namesake, Charlie Oakley, is the primary suspect in a series of recent murders. As all of the victims are wealthy widows (made rich by their deceased husbands), the killer is appropriately dubbed, "The Merry Widow Murderer." In order to elude the police, Uncle Charlie seeks shelter with the Newtons (his sister is Charlie's mother) in tranquil Santa Rosa until things cool off.

Early on, we learn that there is some sort of "telepathy" (not in the science-fiction sense) between Charlie and her uncle. So much so that, during the course of sending him a telegram inviting him to visit the family, he has unbeknownst to her, already planned a trip to "drop in;" of course, we already know that he has ill intentions. When Uncle Charlie's cross-country train arrives in Santa Rosa, Hitch immediately alerts us to his sinister objectives. Symbolically, the train's smokestack pollutes the air with a thick cloud of black smoke, no doubt suggesting that something evil has just arrived at the doorsteps of this innocent little town. I can't help but wonder if this was a metaphor for the ongoing war already rampant at the time of the film's release. Recall, just two year earlier, the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor and xenophobia was at this country's peak. Perhaps there is a propagandist message embedded in the film: Beware of foreign invaders. Indeed, war was not a foreign subject for Hitchcock; in fact, his next film Lifeboat, was entirely about the subject.

In any event, from the very moment we see Uncle Charlie and his niece embrace in hello, we get the sense that there is some deep-rooted incestuous relationship between them -- if not physical, then an emotional one. The very manner in which they interact -- the touching and the caressing -- immediately causes one to raise an eyebrow. Even the way she prances around town showing him off to her girlfriends is innocent at best. You wonder if young Charlie's girlfriends secretly talk behind her back; or maybe, they are jealous that they don't have an uncle like that. Hitchcock artfully fuels the sexual repression/tension between the characters through careful framing of shots with Charlie and her uncle. There are even several moments in the film where you truly anticipate that the two characters will passionately embrace, only to have Hitch kill the moment in the nick of time. In his typical perverted, but artful manner, Hitchcock almost makes it feel natural. Scenes like this not only demonstrated Hitchcock's finesse as a director, but in reality, were quite daring leaps for the period (keep in mind the Hays Code was still in effect). Filmmakers were barely allowed to portray an on-screen kiss let alone insinuate an illicit, incestuous relationship. However, this is just another example of how Hitch masterfully eluded the authorities -- just like so many of his protagonists.

As the film progresses, Uncle Charlie gets a bit cocky, and clumsily, he begins to drop hints about his past criminal endeavors. There is a very Dostoevsky-element in Uncle Charlie's behavior. For example, he goes on a diatribe at the dinner table about how all widows are "fat, wheezing animals" and complains that the "whole world is a joke." He also gifts an expensive ring to his niece, not realizing that the ring is engraved with one of his victim's initials. However, the only person who picks up on this is young Charlie; the rest of the family is too clueless to suspect anything.

With respect to the casting, Joseph Cotten shines as the quintessential Hitchcockian villain: he is sinister but charming; sociopathic but sympathetic; and maybe, both wrong and right. I think that this is the very essence of Hitchcock: his keen ability to manipulate. Any director can "make a film," but few filmmakers can play the dual role of psychologist. Hitchcock was remarkable at enticing his audiences to sympathize with the "bad guy" or even craftier, at implicating the audience themselves in committing the very "immoral" acts perpetrated by his characters (e.g. our voyeuristic gazing into the window of a bra-clad Janet Leigh in Psycho or our spying inside of Raymond Burr's apartment in Rear Window -- only to get caught). Indeed, there is a poignant monologue spoken by Uncle Charlie to his niece when he realizes that she's aware of his true identity; or worse, that she might judge him for what he's done:

"You think you know something, don't you? You think you're the clever little girl who knows something. There's so much you don't know. So much. What do you know really? You're just an ordinary little girl, living in an ordinary little town. You wake up every morning of your life and you know perfectly well that there's nothing in the world to trouble you. You go through your ordinary little day; and at night, you sleep your untroubled ordinary little sleep filled with peaceful, stupid dreams...And I brought you nightmares...You live in a dream; you're a sleepwalker -- blind. How do you know what the world is like? Do you know that the world is a foul sty? Do you know if you ripped the fronts off houses you'd find swine? The world's a hell. What does it matter what happens in it? Wake up Charlie; use your wits, learn something."

This was undoubtedly profound for 1943. Even by today's standards, it remains remarkably convincing. But I think Hitchcock (via Uncle Charlie) lectures not only young Charlie, but the audience as well: Who are we to sit in judgment over another's supposed "immoral" conduct? Doesn't each of us have a dark side -- a little kept secret that we hope nobody finds out? During his famous interview with director Francois Truffaut, Hitch aptly observed, "[v]illains are not all black and heroes are not all white; there are grays everywhere." It is this sort of philosophy that makes his films timeless. They are more than just moving pictures; each is an abstract commentary on the elements of human behavior, morality, societal norms, relationships and the perception of justice.

Of course, we get our fair share of Hitchcock "staples" such as the ever-present perilous staircase, steam locomotives, the beautiful high-angle crane shots, and some spectacular cross-tracking shots -- only Kubrick and Scorsese are in the same league. There is one particular cross-tracking shot where young Charlie, already suspicious of her uncle's "secret," is walking towards the house while Uncle Charlie ominously waits on the porch for her arrival. It is chilling. Hitch also does a wonderful job through the use of shadows (appropriately enough considering the name of the film). Take for example a shot where we see Uncle Charlie sitting in his room (we are looking from outside-in) and the shadows cast by the railing balusters create a"jail-like" effect -- in essence, imprisoning Uncle Charlie in his "cell." With few exceptions, hardly any modern filmmakers come close to emulating such beautiful and skillful use of lighting -- and this was before the time of special effects. There are other signature touches like ruthless police tricks and interrogation methods common for the time. Remember, this was a period before many of the notable search and seizure cases were decided by the courts. The authorities had practically unfettered ability to coerce confessions and undertake in all sorts of dilatory tactics to "get their man." Here, the detectives in pursuit of Uncle Charlie go as far as posing as census-takers who must "conduct interviews" and "take photographs" inside the Newtons' home -- sans warrant -- to dig up dirt on Uncle Charlie. Talk about sinister! It's no secret that Hitch himself claimed to have a lifelong fear of the police as evidenced by this recurring theme in many of his films (a popular anecdote tells that Hitchcock's fear began after his father had him locked up for several minutes at a local police station for no apparent reason in order to "teach him a lesson").

Another notable character in the film is Herbie Hawkins (played marvelously by Hume Cronyn in his first Hollywood role), the nebbishy, next-door neighbor who lives with his mother (domineering mother alert) and whose only source of leisure is concocting the "perfect murder" (make believe of course) of Charlie's father Joseph (Henry Travers). The two of them play this absurd and childish game nightly, entirely oblivious that a real "criminal" -- Uncle Charlie -- is right under their noses. Cronyn would go on to co-star in Hitch's next film, Lifeboat and contribute to the scripts of both Rope and Under Capricorn. The picture also puts into perspective certain historical context, which while incidental, is nonetheless informative. One particular item that stands out is a sign on the door of a seedy restaurant that reads, "Tables for Ladies." Apparently, signs like this emerged in the 30's and 40's signaling that woman could "freely" or "safely" dine alone without the stigma of being marked a prostitute or the town floozy.

It comes as no surprise that so many of Hitchcock's films have been made and re-made countless times. In fact, many critics theorize that David Lynch's Blue Velvet was directly influenced by Shadow of a Doubt itself. This seems very likely. Indeed, Shadow of a Doubt remains a timeless suspense-thriller, not only because it embodies a great story, but because it still strikes a chord -- on an emotional and psychological level -- some 65 years after its initial release. Its themes aren't dated, its lessons never pedantic, and its characters are as identifiable today as they were during a time when men wore hats and the milkman was your best friend.

Verdict: Heavyweight