****/**** Image B Sound B- Extras C+
starring Cary Grant, Ingrid Bergman, Claude Rains, Louis Calhern
screenplay by Ben Hecht
directed by Alfred Hitchcock
click any image to enlarge
by Walter Chaw Other than Psycho, the most
examined, most carefully raked-through picture in Hitchcock's
filmography might be the cold, meticulous, perfect Notorious.
It serves as a model for technique, offered as the pinnacle of
Hitchcock's early American period and used as proof by some that Hitch
was a misogynist. The Dark Side of Genius author
Donald Spoto wrote a fitfully interesting (if ultimately useless)
article about how the first half of the film is a mirror image of the
second--rising to a midpoint before diminishing at the end to the same
composition as the first shot. (I'd argue that you could say the same
for Shadow of a Doubt--particularly during the
movie's character-/setting- establishing sequences.) Stories of how the
FBI began a file on Hitch because of his prescient use of uranium as
his MacGuffin in Notorious are among the most
beloved Hitch arcana, and critics who favour Lacan as the prism through
which to analyze the Master of Suspense have found in the picture
compelling demonstrations of
spectatorship and gender construction. For Freudians, it has its
Oedipal elements, its Madonna/Whore complexities--it's a very fine
historical relic, one of maybe only two of the director's films (the
other being Shadow of a Doubt) that's ever entered
into a noir conversation. And at the end--among
those in the know, at least--it's the better version, in every way that
matters, of Casablanca. Robin Wood writes a
brilliant piece on it in his second Hitchcock book, taking on previous
brilliant takes by Laura Mulvey, Raymond Bellour, and Michael Renov. I
probably like Raymond Durgnat's quick-hit the best, however, for his
pegging of the picture's iciness and of Hitch at this moment as midway
between idealistic and cynical (though I'd go farther and say he's
pretty much all the way cynical by now). Notorious
is possibly, neck-and-neck with Vertigo, the best
film Hitchcock ever made, though it's seldom identified--unless you're
Francois Truffaut--as anyone's favourite (leave that for the bitterest (North
by Northwest), the most nihilistic (Psycho),
the least sick (Rear Window)), and when the dust
settles, the prospect of writing about it is almost as intimidating as
pretending that there's anything new to say about it. But here goes.
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