Edith Evanson | Through the Shattered Lens

Rope, an odd little 1948 experiment from Alfred Hitchcock, opens with a murder.

Two wealthy young men, Brandon (John Dall) and Philip (Farley Granger), invite their friend, David Kentley (Dick Hogan), up to their apartment. When David arrives, they strangle him and hide his body in a wooden chest. As quickly becomes obvious, Brandon and Philip killed David largely to see if they could pull off the perfect murder. Brandon is sure that they did and, that by doing so, they proved the concept of Nietzsche’s Übermensch, The alcoholic Philip is less sure and starts drinking.

Brandon and Philip don’t just have murder planned for the day. They’re also planning on throwing a little dinner party and, among those on the guest list, are David’s parents, his girlfriend, and his girlfriend’s former boyfriend. Also attending will be Brandon and Philip’s former teacher and housemaster, Rupert Cadell (James Stewart). In fact, Brandon regularly claims that he got the idea to commit the perfect murder as a result of discussing philosophy with Rupert. Apparently, Rupert turned Brandon onto Nietzsche….

AGCK! JIMMY STEWART LEADING YOUNG MEN TO FASCISM!? SAY IT’S NOT SO!

Well, fortunately, the dinner party conversations reveals that Brandon and Philip misunderstood what Rupert was trying to tell them. They assumed, using the same type of logic that currently fuels most debate today, that just because Rupert mentioned something that meant that he approved of it. As it becomes clear that Rupert would not approve of what his students have done and as Rupert himself starts to suspect that something bad has happened at the apartment, Brandon and Philip start to plot against their former mentor….

Now, it can be argued that Rope is not a horror movie. And indeed, if your definition of horror is ghosts, vampires, werewolves, or any other type of paranormal creature than yes, Rope has none of those. Instead, the horror of Rope is the horror of human cruelty. It’s the horror of two privileged young men who have so twisted the words of their mentor that they’ve become monsters. The horror in Rope comes from the fact that, in 1948, Brandon and Philip have embraced the same philosophy that, only a few years earlier, had plunged the entire world into war. While families mourned their dead and Europe struggled to rebuild, Brandon and Philip showed that they had no understanding of or concern for the trauma that humanity had just suffered. And making it even more disturbing is that they found the justification for their crimes in the lessons taught by the epitome of American decency, Jimmy Stewart. The idea of that is more terrifying than any Hammer vampire flick.

Of course, Rope is best known for being a bit of an experiment. Hitchcock edited the film to make it appear as if it was all shot in one take and events, therefore, played out in real time. It’s an interesting idea and, as always, you have to admire Hitchcock’s ingenuity and, even in a film as grim as this one, his playfulness. At the same time, Hitchcock’s technique makes an already stagey story feel even stagier. Some of the actors — like James Stewart, John Dall, and Cedric Hardwicke in the role of David’s father — are able to give naturalistic and convincing performances despite the staginess of the material. Others, like poor Farley Granger, find themselves overshadowed by the film’s one-shot gimmick.

Rope is an experiment that doesn’t quite work but flawed Hitchcock is still a pleasure to watch. The final few minutes, with Stewart and Dall finally confronting each other, are among the best that Hitchcock ever put together. I appreciate Rope, even if it doesn’t quite succeed.

“Hey, Shane! Come back, Shane!”

There’s a few ways in which you can view the 1953 film, Shane.

The more popular view is that it’s a Western about a man named Shane (Alan Ladd) who rides into town and gets a job working for the Starretts, Joe (Van Heflin) and Marian (Jean Arthur). Joe is a farmer who is determined to hold onto his land, despite the efforts of cattle baron Rufus Ryker (Emile Meyer) to force him off of it. While we don’t learn much about Shane’s background, it becomes apparent that he’s a man who can fight. That comes in handy when Ryker brings in a sinister gunfighter named Wilson (Jack Palance).

Another view is that Shane is the story of a man who just wants to settle down but, instead, finds himself continually hounded by an annoying little kid, to the extent that he finally gets involved in a gun battle just so he’ll have an excuse to leave town and get away from the little brat. Little Joey Starrett (Brandon deWilde) idolizes Shane from the minute that he comes riding up. When he hears that Shane refused to get into a fight at the local saloon, Joey demands to know whether it was true. He tells his mom that he loves Shane almost as much as he loves his father. When Shane does get into a brawl with all of Ryker’s men, Joey stands in the corner and eats candy. And then, when Shane tries to leave town, Joey runs behind him shouting, “Come back, Shane! Come back!”

Myself, I think of it as being the story of Frank Torrey (Elisha Cook, Jr.). Frank is the farmer that’s been nicknamed “Stonewall,” due to his status as a former Confederate and his quick temper. Stonewall may be smaller than the other farmers but he’s usually the quickest to take offense. Still, it’s impossible not to like him, largely because he’s played by Elisha Cook, Jr. When Wilson feels the need to put the farmers in their place, he does so by picking a fight with Torrey. Standing on a porch in the rain, looking down on the smaller man, Wilson starts to insult both him and the South. When Torrey finally starts to reach for his gun, Wilson shoots him dead. While Torrey lies in the mud, Wilson smirks. It’s a shocking scene, all the more so for being shown in a long shot. (By forcing those of us in the audience to keep our distance from the shooting, the film makes us feel as powerless as the farmers.) If you didn’t already hate Wilson and Ryker, you certainly will after this scene.

Shane is a deceptively simple film, one in which many of the details are left open for interpretation. We never learn anything about Shane’s background. He’s a man who shows up, tries to make a life for himself, and then leaves. He’s a marksman and an obviously experienced brawler but, unlike Ryker’s men, he never specifically looks for violence. In fact, he often seems to avoid it. Why? The film doesn’t tell us but there are hints that Shane is haunted by his past. Shane seems to want a chance to have a life like the Starretts but, once he’s forced to again draw his gun, he knows that possibility no longer exists.

Is Shane in love with Marian Starrett? It certainly seems so but, again, the film never specifically tells us. Instead, it all depends on how one interprets the often terse dialogue and the occasional glances that Marian and Shane exchance. When Shane and Joe get into a fist fight to determine who will face Ryker and Wilson, is Shane really trying to protect Joe or is it that he knows Marian will be heart-broken if her husband is killed?

One thing’s for sure. Little Joey sure does love Shane. “Come back, Shane!” Little Joey follows Shane everywhere, with a wide-eyed look on his face. To be honest, it didn’t take too long for me to get sick of Little Joey. Whenever director George Stevens needed a reaction shot, he would cut to Joey looking dumb-founded. Brandon deWilde was 11 years when he appeared in Shane and he was nominated for an Oscar but he’s actually pretty annoying in the role. Elisha Cook, Jr. was far more impressive and deserving of a nomination.

I know that many people consider Shane to be a classic. I thought it was good, as long as the action was focused on the adults. Alan Ladd plays Shane like a man who is afraid to get too comfortable in any situation and the film works best when it compares his reticence to Wilson’s cocky confidence. Whenever Joey took center stage, I found myself wanting to cover my ears.

Shane was nominated for Best Picture but lost to From Here To Eternity.