Yours portly has been working on several higher-level, real-life projects lately (besides planning a wedding in about six weeks), so today’s post is going to be a very quick reflection on the films of Alfred Hitchcock.

Shudder has featured several of the director’s films lately, and it’s been a pleasure to revisit them.  In particular, I’ve watched Psycho (1960), Vertigo (1958) and Rear Window (1954).  The Birds (1963), which I saw in the theater two years ago, is also on the streaming platform, but I’ve yet to re-watch it.

Of the four films, I think Rear Window is my favorite.  The conceit of a photographer voyeuristically watching his neighbors out of sheer boredom—and catching a murderer in the process—is executed so masterfully, it makes me want to live in Greenwich Village in the 1950s.  Obviously, all of the films are great, but Rear Window really stands out for me.

Psycho is certainly iconic, and a prime example of a film that takes a sharp departure well into its runtime.  Vertigo felt like the plot of a Hammer Film, which is not necessarily a bad thing, but it seems the least “Hitchcock” to me.  Sure, there are plenty of twists and turns, but it was the least interesting of the set.

Growing up, we always had Alfred Hitchcock stuff around the house.  My mom once subscribed to the Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, which was basically a short book full of detective stories.  We would watch old episodes of Alfred Hitchcock Presents, and Hitchcock’s pudgy British presence was a mainstay.  It was only when I got older that I started to watch his films (recall, it was a bit harder to one’s hands on movies in the 1990s, and I don’t think we ever rented any Hitchcock flicks on VHS).  His brilliance as a director—the clever cinematography, the unusual closeups, the careful staging—give his films an instant recognizability.

I’ll have to give Psycho and Rear Window a more thorough treatment soon, but all of the films are great fun and a feast for the eyes.  There’s something really beautiful about the bright Technicolor of the late 1950s and early 1960s, too—and intriguing contrast to the often dark and suspenseful stories Hitchcock weaves on celluloid.