Look closer… Vertigo’s sick little brother sees snoop reporter Jimmy Stewart stuck in a wheelchair with nothing to do but waggle his long lens at the neighbours. Has he discovered a murder? Should he get involved? Should we? Too late, already. With the camera locked inside Stewart’s room for the entire film, Hitchcock’s chilling essay on voyeurism (read: movie-going) stares right back at you. Meaning? Rear Window is the definitive guilty-pleasure movie. Watch it in a double-bill with Michael Powell’s Peeping Tom, then go for counseling. Read the rest of this entry »
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When asked to speak at a convention of cinema-owners in Las Vegas, the star of Big Daddy and Little Nicky addressed the crowd with the following words: “My name is Adam Sandler. I’m not particularly talented. I’m not particularly good-looking. And yet I’m a multi-millionaire.” Everyone laughed. 
Mummy! Masterful screen terror as bad-girl-on-the-lam Janet Leigh picks the wrong place to spend the night. Scalpel-sharp edits, leering camerawork and Bernard Herrmann’s killer score max out the fear-factor in Hitchcock’s seminal black-and-white shocker. Three-mile queues were reported at some drive-in theatres when it debuted in 1960. It’s still not safe to go back in the water.
Megamind critic David Thomson called Hitchcock “an inventor of thumbscrews”. In this twisted, diabolical love story, they’re firmly on Ingrid Bergman. She plays a booze-sozzled floozy forced to marry nice-Nazi Claude Rains to help the man she really loves - shadowy American agent Cary Grant. A creamy-smooth suspenser with an inky heart of darkness, it’s Hitchcock’s most stylish dose of poisonous eroticism and arch misogyny. Nazis, alcoholism, sexual favours, blackmail… What’s not to like? 
Yes, you saw the train go into that tunnel… Cheeky. Hitch sexes up the thriller genre with this knockout whisk of suspense, wit and style, sending Mad-man Cary Grant (the original Don Draper) pegging it cross-country with spies (who think he’s a double agent) and the police (who think he’s an assassin) hot on his arse. Classic scenes a-go-go – the crop-dusting plane and Mount Rushmore face-chase are rightly iconic – and brilliantly scripted by the late, great Ernest Lehman, who delivers a strolling commentary on this disc. 
Or: Everything You Ever Wanted To Know About Hitchcock, But Were Afraid To Ask. And you should be afraid. Hitchcock’s greatest film, his most autobiographical film, is his blackest. Talk about falling in love: retired copper Jimmy Stewart can’t let go of the woman (Kim Novak) he’s been hired to tail and ends up taking a slo-mo tumble through the cracks in his own mind – taking her with him. A mesmerising view of human obsession, desire, guilt and exploitation – in which, most terrifyingly, love is the true MacGuffin. Wordless for most of its length, it gets deeper and darker with every viewing. 
One setting. Eight people. Lots and lots of aggro. Hitchcock’s sloshy wartime thriller anticipates Big Brother’s Darwinian bear-pit by 50 years and ups the ante with eviction-by-drowning. Memo to Channel Four?
, made as an avant garde art-student are pupating nightmare-glimpses of what would emerge from his amazing surrealist feature debut 
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of his Brit period tracks a genius in genesis. 
as one of them. I’m going to also list Rear Window and Sunset Boulevard. Sunset Boulevard blew my mind as a kid. I was eight maybe. I mean, it was sort of a discovery. It was like uncovering a brilliant novel or a dirty book in a trunk. I didn’t know you could tell a story in that way. That swung the doors open for me. 
