Book Review: Vertigo (1954) by Boileau-Narcejac

Yes, this is the novel that Hitchcock's Vertigo was based on, although the original French title was D'entre les Morts. It's been republished with same title as the film, and the good news is that in some ways it's even better than the film. The major difference between the novel and the film is that the novel is set in France, but other than that the film follows the book relatively faithfully. For those of you who've been living in a cave, the story is about a retired police detective (Flavieres) who quit the force after a traumatic incident on a rooftop. Some years later, an old friend he hasn't seen in years looks him up and asks to follow his wife, Madeleine. She is, according to the husband, acting strangely and might be suicidal. Flavieres follows her and saves her from a suicide attempt. Flavieres falls in love with Madeleine, but a few weeks later she throws herself from a church tower, a fatal event witnessed by Flavieres. Four years pass and Flavieres sees a woman he swears is Madeleine. He follows her, woos her, and tries to get her to admit that she is Madeleine. She finally reveals that she played the role of Madeleine as part of a murder plot. Flavieres strangles her and is hauled off to jail. Roll credits.

Hitchcock sensibly made his ending more visual and more dramatic, but what gives the novel extra interest is its Second World War setting. The first part of the novel takes place during the so-called "Phony War" period of 1940, when the French (and British) populations were confident that the war was going to end with a whimper, if it ever managed to get going. The final section of the story is set in late 1944, with France mostly liberated but still demoralized and licking its wounds. Madeleine's deception is meant to find its echo in the Phony War, and the revelation of her role in the plot is, I think, a symbolic reference to those French who collaborated with the Nazis.

Boileau and Narcejac (they were a writing team) had a reason for setting their story during the war, and this added political component gives the novel more depth, more resonance than the film version. Usually writing teams are a recipe for bland prose, but this duo's writing is lively and clever, even stylish. If Vertigo the film is about obsessive love, Vertigo the novel more about betrayal of both the romantic and political variety.

Film Review: The Uninvited Guest (2004)

Tightrope artists are fundamentally ridiculous. One can admire their bravery and physical abilities, but their very particular skill set is pretty much divorced from any real world needs; I mean, if one really needed to traverse a chasm via a thin rope your last choice would be to walk across it. And why do they try to dignify their profession by calling themselves "artists?" That's like lion tamers calling themselves apex predator behavior modification consultants. Writer/directors of thrillers are the tightrope artists of the film world. They're required to throw their protagonists into unlikely and bizarre predicaments, and then devise equally unlikely ways for them to get out of trouble. Look at The Fugitive, for example. Richard Kimble's wife is murdered by a one-armed man and somehow Kimble ends up accused of the crime. To begin with, what idiot would hire a one-armed assassin outside of a kung fu film? And then Kimble makes his escape from prison thanks to a spectacular train wreck and a leap from a dam that a seasoned base jumper would blanch at. And all this in the first twenty minutes! Alfred Hitchcock, the master of the unlikely thriller, camouflaged the eccentricities of his plots with humor, visual style and glamorous casting. He seemed to realize and appreciate that the more unlikely the story, the more he was allowed to indulge in his auteur side. The plot of, say, North by Northwest, almost becomes secondary to all the cinematic razzle-dazzle on view.

Guillem Morales is the writer and director of The Uninvited Guest, and he's also a hell of a tightrope artist. His protagonist is Felix, a youngish architect living in a large, rambling house somewhere in Spain. Felix's long-term girlfriend has just left him and is now in an apartment of her own, although some of her stuff is still in the house. One night a stranger comes to Felix's door and asks if he can use the phone. Felix allows him in and leaves the room while the man makes his call. He comes back a few minutes later and finds that the man has gone, but he hasn't heard the front door close. From that point on Felix becomes convinced that the man is somehow hiding in his house; he hears noises, things are left out of place, and he's generally completely spooked. The audience is left with many questions: is Felix going mad? Is he the victim of a plot? Is it a ghost? Is his ex-girlfriend involved? As Felix becomes more paranoid the story takes some twists and turns that are, well, completely bonkers.

For the most part, Morales stays on the tightrope. At a few points he slips and is left dangling by his fingers, even his teeth, but he manages to get to the other side without falling into the canyon of "Oh, for Chrissake, this is effing ridiculous! Let's watch House Hunters." A big part of the film's entertainment value comes from watching Morales devise ever more byzantine plot twists, but, like many thrillers with outrageous concepts, the finish doesn't quite equal what's come before. That said, The Uninvited Guest is a worthwhile film based solely on its audacity and the director's enthusiasm for making his character jump through some pretty strange hoops. Not a first-class thriller, but certainly a strong performer in the minor leagues of the genre.

Film Review: L'appartement (1996)

The problem with watching Alfred Hitchcock's films is that they leave you wanting to see another and another, to savour his unique and playful blend of romance, tension and intrigue. Unfortunately Hitch has gone to the Bates Motel in the sky, and no one has really proven to be his equal.

L'appartement is the closest to being a "new" Hitchcock film that I've ever come across. The director, Gilles Mimouni, makes the connection to Hitchcock clear from the beginning with a lush, romantic soundtrack (courtesy of Peter Chase) that immediately recalls Vertigo. Also like Hitch, Mimouni uses sweeping camerawork and a rich colour palette to heighten the eccentric nature of his story.

Ah, the plot. Well, in the interest of not revealing too much I'll just say that Max, played by Vincent Cassel, thinks he catches a glimpse of Lisa (Monica Bellucci), the love of his life who seemingly vanished two years previously. Max has just become engaged and is due to fly to Tokyo for an important business trip, but he decides to put everything on hold to track down Lisa. Naturally, not everything is as it appears and the story, filled with flashbacks and unexpected plot twists, becomes a romantic mystery and a thriller.

Looked at as a whole the plot verges on the nonsensical, but then so do many of Hitchcock's films. Half the fun and purpose of Hitchcock's films is to see what happens to ordinary people when they're caught in an extraordinary series of events. And where Hitchcock liked to play with the language of film, Mimouni focuses on creating a series of overripe, romantic interiors that are stars on their own right. In fact, you could almost call this a film about apartments, as each of the several featured in the story are given a distinct and arresting look. And even Paris, which doesn't need much help to look mysterious and romantic, is made to look lusher and more delectable than the real thing.

During the final section of the film, as the loose ends are being tied up and various mysteries are revealed and solved, you'll be amazed at the cunning of the plot. You'll also want to immediately re-watch it to understand how it all fits together. The only real flaw in the film is that Max is forced to make some unlikely life choices in order to keep the plot moving along, but that's a minor quibble. Call this one Hitchcock's last great film.

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