Alfred Hitchcock is such a fucking troll.
Like, I know this isn't news. Shadow of a Doubt is almost 80 years old. But man there are some shots in here that just revel in portending evil or the promise of violence. This isn't even the most memorable movie in which Hitchcock weaponizes the tokens of suburban living and turns everyday details into mini-thrillers. But a not-insignificant sequence gets you tense about crossing a crosswalk for goodness sake. It's also such…
This is the kind of movie that nowadays gets turned into a 10-part HBO limited series, and I can't honestly say that Some Came Running is better served by its 135 minute runtime. There's a lot that's unwieldy, holdovers from the novel, perhaps, or trapped under layers of 50s innuendo. Except it is better as a film, because if this were a Netflix drop it would have like four filler hours all slathered in Fincher blues and seasick greens instead…
First the lighting on Robert Mitchem's all like, whoa. Then Jane Russell slinks into a crime ring like whoa! Then Vincent Price stuffs Jane Russell in a closet, grabs a rifle, throws on a cape, and you're like...whoa.
If you'll indulge me, friends, I'd like to tell you about my proudest moment as an undergraduate. You see, having been given the infuriatingly delightful and dauntingly iconic North By Northwest as a group assignment, I picked up on the detail that basically the first thing we see Cary Grant do is steal a cab. He does it in an incredibly charming fashion, mind you, but he steals a cab. He's resourceful but self-interested, able to move fluidly through the…
