Category: 2024 Blog Posts

Alfred Hitchcock was an unusual filmmaker in that he storyboarded the vision of his musical narrative just as he mapped out the plot and cinematography for all his films. Though not trained with any musical education, Hitchcock gradually became more interested in the narrative effects of the musical material in his films, and continued throughout his career to modernize his approach in incorporating it into the larger context of the mise-en-scene (Sullivan Maestros). The use of popular song in Rear Window was one of the most effective and influential filmic designs of musical diegesis Hitchcock implemented into the larger spectrum of the Hollywood canon. Though Rear Window had an official composer in Franz Waxman who contributed the opening credits score and main musical ideas and motifs, he was additionally accompanied by a range of other songwriters and pieces across genres including orchestral, ballet, jazz improvisation, and names such as Leonard Bernstein, Richard Rodgers, and Felix Mendelssohn (Sullivan 170). Hitchcock pioneered popular song as incidental music in the Hollywood thriller, most notably in the film Dial M for Murder, where an excerpt from Richard Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde underscores the realization of the crime the murderer has committed  in the bathroom mirror (Sullivan Maestros). The use of the Tristan chord specifically is crucial in understanding the murderer’s internal dialogue in the scene, as musically the Tristan chord is known for being ambiguous across key designations and tonal contexts. Its use portrays the ambiguity of not only the murderer’s internal feelings concerning the action, but the implications of the action itself. Subsequently in Rear Window, Hitchcock garners the same effect using a blend of pre-composed and score material to impose upon the film a complicated portrayal of authenticity and beauty. 

Though other songs are integrated into the largely diegetic score, Waxman’s thematic musical motives are what ground the intertwined narratological elements. Often, the diegetic pre-composed songs or pieces will have elements of Waxman’s motives woven into them to create a singular musical idea that blurs the intended undertone Hitchcock designs for each character. The concepts of beauty and authenticity then come through in how these popular songs engage with Waxman’s musical material, and what plays at the center of it all.

Lisa’s theme is the most important out of all of Waxman’s imposed material, as it exists inside of Hitchcock’s grander musical narrative as well as eventually becoming the end result of the piece the composer writes throughout the film. When the musical theme “Lisa” is first introduced, Leonard Bernstein’s “Fancy Free” plays from the composers radio as he begins to write what will become the “Lisa” theme, which is the music Lisa herself is continually enchanted by, and later is what saves Ms. Lonelyheart’s life. This is the first instance of “simultaneous musical layers” (Sullivan 172), where the musical theme “Lisa” acts as nucleus to the surrounding musical drama. The idea of the authentic nucleus goes back to Walter Benjamin, and the art object as an authentic center with its contexts and outside aesthetic ideas surrounding it. The authentic is then measured through an object’s aura, or the distance between audience and art object (Benjamin 714), with consideration of the internal authentic center and its surrounding contexts performed by audience perception. This is not unlike Lisa’s role in the film, where she is the authentic center to Jeff’s constant aesthetic presumptions. Through the dichotomous musical process of layering pre-composed and thematic musical material, and the composition of Lisa’s theme itself within the film itself, the mise-en-scene then incorporates a sonic representation of the character transformations of aesthetic ideas imposed by Jeff into solid realities. Lisa herself is one of these ideas, and the process of her theme’s composition by the composer reflects her transformation into a real person through Jeff’s eyes.  

Benjamin, Walter. “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction.” 1936.

Sullivan, Jack. “Maestros of Suspense: Music in the Films of Alfred Hitchcock.” YouTube, uploaded by Simply Charly, 20 November 2020, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TGv4SqV5BSQ. 

Sullivan, Jack. “rear window: the redemptive power of popular music.” Hitchcock’s Music. 1st ed., Yale University Press, 2006, pg. 169-182.  https://doi.org/10.12987/9780300134667.

One of the keywords I continue to gravitate towards is context. Chapter four of Culler: Language, Meaning, and Interpretation, had a lot to say about context and meaning in literature. There were several key concepts that I found thought-provoking throughout the chapter. First, that meaning (and therefore language) is a system of differences. As Culler puts it, “What gives the train its identity is its place in the system of trains: it is this train, as opposed to the others”. This is particularly compelling in the greater context (ha) of literature – what gives literature meaning is “‘to be what others are not’”. This key concept of meaning beginning through difference is expanded on as Culler takes a closer look at language, which brings me to the second concept that I found fascinating in this chapter: that “language is both the concrete manifestation of ideology… and the site of its questioning and undoing”.

Culler consolidates this point by differentiating each practice into poetics and hermeneutics. In short, each practice does what the other does not: poetics “starts with attested meanings or effects and asks how they are achieved”; hermeneutics “starts with texts and asks what they mean, seeking to discover new and better interpretations”. As I was reading this, it occurred to me that many methods of literary criticism seem to combine these practices; beginning with the attested meanings of a text and asking how it has come to mean that, as well as questioning how that meaning can be applied to humanity. Culler goes on to attest to this exact practice.

What Culler concludes, by the end of his chapter, is the third concept that has stuck with me: that “meaning is context-bound, but context is boundless”. Two practices he outlines that deal with this are hermeneutics of recovery and hermeneutics of suspicion. Both practices deal with interpreting the wider context of a text in varied ways. Both practices were compelling to me, giving language to what I have found fascinating about reading any form of literature for a long time. What is context? According to Culler, it’s boundless, the idea of which is both deeply intimidating and liberating as I turn towards contemplating what I want to devote my thesis to. Although this chapter of Culler did not offer me any answers, he did improve both my vocabulary about context and educate me about the specific ways in which I can begin to analyze context in a deeper way. All this to say — oh boy am I thinking a Lot about context (because it’s super interesting) and now I have to think more about what specific form of context I would like to think more about. Thanks, Culler.

In my Classical Studies seminar, we listened to President John F. Kennedy’s Inaugural Speech to analyze the argumentative and rhetorical strategies he used. I thought it would be interesting to analyze his speech with the focus of blog post #2 in mind: repetition and word choice.

What stood out to me the most when listening to the speech and reading the transcript was the repetition of the word “pledge.” President Kennedy uses it 7 times, more often than any other specific word. One of our critical readings, “President Kennedy’s Inaugural Address” by Burnham Carter Jr., notes that “pledge” is associated with happy contexts, such as “swearing allegiance to the flag, making a gift to the church or other charity, drinking to a friends health, and even in the marriage ceremony” (Carter 36). 

I want to suggest that the word “pledge” is also distinctly American and reciprocal, in comparison to synonyms like “oath” or “promise.” We’re all taught that we pledge allegiance to the American flag. Pledge carries connotations of loyalty, faith, and duty. On the other hand, swearing an oath usually exists within legal contexts, connected with swearing an oath in court or during an inauguration. Additionally, as Carter notes, “promise” evokes the cliché of empty promises and is a bit less rigid in its connotations. The word choice here was deliberate – a pledge seems unbreakable and everlasting, something we make to our country and, in turn, our country should make to us. We pledge allegiance to the flag, and therefore the presidency, and here President Kennedy is pledging allegiance to us. 

But let’s dive beyond the word itself into the context in which it is used in the speech. Kennedy begins his speech by utilizing the word towards American allies and other countries. He extends a pledge of support and allegiance to all those who are fighting for liberty, fighting against the powers of colonial control, and fighting against communism. In other words, he pledges to those who share American values, even if they may not live within our borders. In this way, he expands the pledge of loyalty and service the country makes to Americans to a wider “us,” an us that includes South American countries, those in poverty, and those fighting the U.S.S.R. He furthermore emphasizes the solemnity of a pledge when he says “to those nations who would make themselves our adversary, we offer not a pledge but a request.” Those not a part of “us” are not awarded the same word choice, the same loyal bond; instead they are relegated to a request, a one-sided question rather than a reciprocal promise.

At the end of the speech, Kennedy really reinforces that a pledge, which he has deliberately and consciously repeated throughout his address, is a two way street – both parties must uphold their end of the bargain. With our allies, that means we pledge support while you pledge a commitment to liberty. For the people, it means pledging allegiance to your country while it pledges allegiance to you. It carries connotations of fighting for one another, of sharing the same values, of working towards whatever you pledge to do. I think Kennedy plays into this idea of a reciprocal pledge when he utters the now-famous phrase “ask not what your country can do for you–ask what you can do for your country.”

Works Cited:

Carter, Burnham. “Kennedy’s Inaugural Address,” College Composition and Communication, vol. 14, no. 1, Feb 1963, pp. 36-40). https://www.jstor.org/stable/355297.

Speech transcript: https://www.jfklibrary.org/learn/about-jfk/historic-speeches/inaugural-address

          In Rear Window, Lisa Freemont wears a lot of nice clothes. Jeffries, comparatively, spends most of the movie in some color variation of the same pajamas; his housebound situation contextually creates no need for anything else. Stella undergoes a few dress changes, but they are always the same shape: nice but never fancy house dresses that fit with the style of the times while allowing movement to take on physical domestic duties. Due to her work’s needs, she never wears jewelry, and aways appears with unchanging short hair. In other words, perfect for a home nurse taking on housework. Lisa, not yet with that domestic burden, comparatively wears six significantly different outfits in style and accessories. As I will argue, these style changes coincide with her character’s evolving motivation, reflecting character dynamism that Stella does not. Though her character retains a keen sense for glamorous fashion throughout, her outfits become increasingly “practical” for solving a case, reflecting her growing involvement through visuals alone. For length purposes, this post will focus on her initial outfit, her third green-and-white outfit, and her floral dress which at first seems to break the pattern of steady progression, but instead reflects a choice to increase tension rather than signal character reversion. Her outfits always mean something, and this mostly tracks her development. 

          In Lisa’s introduction, we see her in close-up, only zooming out to reveal her full outfit once Jeffries asks jokingly: “Who are you?” (Rear Window, 00:16:40). Who she is, we see, is a woman with elaborate black sandal heels, a flattering but not “vulgar” V-neck black top, complete with a voluminous white skirt- the biggest her skirt size will ever get. She also enters in a white shawl, the thinness of which makes it impractical for anything other than decoration, showing us that this is not a woman who works with her hands even tangentially like Stella. Her traditional 1950s glamourous wave hairstyle and her pearl matching jewelry conveys both elegance and money-someone dressing to be looked at, not to do.  

          In contrast, her first outfit after fully committing to the case signals the change in its increasingly practicality, albeit remaining glamourous than Stella’s. Her waves have now been pinned into an elegant but practical bun; Jeffries even calls attention to the change by asking about the change (01:06:21). She still wears all her pearl jewelry- with even her bracelets now having some sort of locks attached that perhaps signals her dedication to the case- but her blouse and pencil skirt are now more like Stella’s form fitting but loose enough style. Her shoes are also still high heels, but without the elaborate intricacies of her first pair.  In this scene, the simplicity makes her look like a very glamorous office worker, which makes sense, as this is her first outfit when dressing to work on the case. Aside from her last outfit with pants, this would probably be the most practical outfit for the infiltrating work she does in the following scene- less to grab onto or catch in something.  

            And so, Lisa’s next floral, flowing dress with hair down and stylized once more when infiltrating the apartment seems to contradict her previous growth. Practically, her outfit has more to grab onto if caught running away- which happens exactly. But when Thorwald discovers and attacks Lisa, her loosened blonde hair flashing across the screen even in the dark emphasizes the threat more than a tight bun would allowing (1:41:00). Similarly, Lisa’s digging up of the flower bed in her floral-patterned dress- her only pattern ever worn- to find body sublimely creates linkage and emphasizes the danger she faces that explodes when caught by the murderer. After all, Lisa’s solo infiltration of the murderer’s apartment is the bravest action in the film; her character has not regressed for that reason. This outfit, however, misdirects the viewer in thinking she might, and the impracticalness and subtle cues ratchet more tension in her bravery than otherwise than her pre- or proceeding outfit would. 

            As such, it seems by the end that those clothing choices will not be made again. We last see a de-accessorized Lisa in sensible loafers and pants, presumably ready for adventure. But her hair is still down and glamorous- thus signaling evolution rather than rebirth. Even so, her changing outfits reflect a dynamism in her character’s focus, and the one time that pattern breaks occurs when the film wants to heighten tension rather than signal regression.

Work Cited:

Rear Window. Directed by Alfred Hitchcock, performances by Jimmy Stewart, Grace Kelly. Thelma Ritter, and Wendell Corey, Paramount Pictures, 1954. 

 

Light in the movie Rear Window is used in a very interesting way. The film starts and ends when it is light outside, but a majority of the action takes place at night. Mrs. Thorwald’s murder, the discovery of the death of the dog, Lisa breaking into Mr. Thorwald’s apartment, and the fight between Jefferies and Thorwald leading to Thorwald’s arrest all happen while it is dark outside. There are also instances where unnatural lighting is used to either punctuate scenes, or to even save the protagonist’s life.

When Lisa is first introduced in the movie, she states her full name and punctuates each separate name by turning on one of Jefferies’ lights (16:58). In general, Jefferies keeps his lights off so that he cannot be seen through the window but it also means he cannot see as much within his own apartment. The light acts as a way for Lisa to either be seen or be ignored. Her turning on the lights in the beginning of the movie forces Jefferies to see her. If the lights are on, she is much harder to ignore. When he tells her to turn the lights off, she becomes essentially invisible to him because the people on the other side of his window are more important to him than the woman who feeds him and takes care of him. In Jefferies’ point of view, Lisa’s light is a distraction from the more interesting goings ons of the people outside.

Jefferies also uses light as a way to distract and temporarily blind Thorwald. He uses the light bulb flashes from his camera as a sort of flash bang to try to buy him time before Thorwald can attack him (01:48:20). In this moment, Jefferies recognizes the importance of light and uses it to save his own life.

Walter Benjamin’s piece, “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction” stood out to me in a number of ways, neither his comments about the interactions between art and Marxism or attaching theory to “revolutionary demands in the politics of art” caught my attention the same way that his comments about Art and originality did.

In the second section of his piece, Benjamin discusses the reproduction of art throughout history, and how humans have valued reproduced or redistributed art in different ways. He begins the section with a bold assertion: “Even the most perfect reproduction of a work of art is lacking in one element: its presence in time and space, its unique existence at the place where it happens to be” (714). At the surface this makes sense, and even in 2024, has some truth to it. If you find the Mona Lisa on Google Images, it is a much different experience than seeing the real thing with your own eyes. Rather, where I assess this claim as bold requires us to pay attention to the Benjamin’s word choice in his assertion.

Firstly, Benjamin’s vague generalization of ‘art’ is immediately problematic- particularly when adding judgement statements such as “perfect” or “lacking”. While “perfect” is technically attributed to the reproduction of art, it implies that one piece of reproduced art can be more “perfect” or simply better than another. Benjamin could have chosen to say, “more accurate” or “more precise” rather than “perfect”, but the author chose to attach a judgement to these claims. I find this decision not only significant, but revealing of the author’s biases towards what defines appropriately reproduced art.

To this, Benjamin also uses the word “unique” upon describing the “existence” of an original art piece. Ultimately, he asserts that these “perfect” representations lack one thing: uniqueness. I find this claim to be somewhat contradictory.

While a work of reproduced art is ultimately the same has the original, Benjamin argues that it is not- all the while claiming that this reproduced, different work of art is not unique. If an original piece of art is “unique” in its existence, so too must a reproduction be unique in its difference from the original.

 

The French expression “mise-en-scene” involves carefully choreographed visual elements both on a theater stage and on camera. This can be seen in Alfred Hitchcock’s Rear Window, who is known for his skillful use of manipulating the scene with character staging, lighting, camera angles, and positioning of props. All of these elements are what makes Hitchcock the “master of suspense”. By intentionally positioning the camera so L.B. Jefferies is shown to be on the far left side of the screen, this allows the audience to get a beautiful view of the sunset and distant skyline of the city (1:34:43). Not only do the vibrant orange hues of sunset stand out, the neighbors across the way is given the biggest focal point. In a way, Jeff seems to be overpowered by the apartments taking over the screen. With Jeff’s apartment being the primary setting throughout the entirety of the film though, it would seem like this is a new angle and focal point to add variety to the film. Either that, or Hitchcock’s mastery genius in the art of mise-en-scene is in play.

The scene where Jeff is sitting in the bottom left corner while the sunset and skyline dominate the frame is full of symbolism. Hitchcock’s composition visually reinforces Jeff’s isolation, powerlessness, and role as an observer. It also speaks to the larger themes of the film-voyeurism, the unseen tensions within everyday lives, and the passing of time. The background contrasts the sinister events Jeff is beginning to uncover, making the scene not only visually striking but also filled with narrative depth. Much like Jeff is physically trapped in his apartment, his placement within a smaller portion of the screen may symbolically trap him within the confines of the frame. As a photographer, Jeff is used to framing the world through his lens, and now the world is framing him, stuck in a moment he can only observe. Even the skewed perspective of Jeff in the corner versus the large background reinforces the idea that he is a passive spectator. The world around him is larger and more complex than what he can control or influence. His reduced size and position in the frame can also represent how powerless he feels in comparison to the world he’s watching. While he’s the protagonist, his position and situation suggests he is far from in control.

In relation to the reading “It’s Just a Movie”: A Teaching Essay for Introductory Media Classes by Greg M. Smith, the important argument that every single thing in the film has a purpose can be used here. Smith points out the argument that, “Even if something occurred on film without their planning for it, they make a conscious choice whether to include that chance occurrence. What was chance in the filming becomes choice in editing” (Smith, 128). Alfred Hitchcock is one of the most influential directors in the entirety of cinema, especially in suspense. He is human which means he made mistakes, but it is clear the visual appeal in each of his films are precise and meticulate enough to have to analyze and view in multiple viewings.

Works Cited

Hitchcock, Alfred. Rear Window. Paramount Pictures, 1954.

Smith, Greg M. “‘It’s Just a Movie’: A Teaching Essay for Introductory Media Classes.” Cinema Journal, vol. 41, no. 1, 2001, pp. 127–34.

This film brings to light the line between privacy and awareness, and how these two things work in partnership with one another while also being opposites. These two things are represented through the technique of lighting. For one, the film often shows characters that are suddenly “enlightened” – whether it be to ideas or information– by depicting them in key light. Oftentimes, their surrounding environment is dark to emphasize this enlightenment. On the other hand, it shows characters who are “In the dark”– or in a state of unknown and mystery– depicted in darkness. An example of this is in 48:56-50:00. In the beginning of this scene, Lisa doesn’t believe Jeff’s theories about Thorwald committing a crime. She’s depicted in low lighting while Jeff has overhead lighting directly on him. Then, as she sees Thorwald putting something in a suspicious box, she stands up and becomes enlightened to Jeff’s theories. While she is standing up, she is stepping into the overhead light that is above Jeff. There is visual evidence that she goes from being “In the dark” to becoming “enlightened”.  This encourages readers to question what is means to be “enlightened”. At this point in the film, the viewer is still unaware of whether Thorwald committed the murder or not, but the change in visual lighting represents Lisa’s perspective opening up for more possibilities. This shows that for Lisa’s character, light represents awareness, and in turn can be translated to light representing safety and comfort. On the other hand, darkness – for Lisa’s character– represented the unknown. 

This contrasts with how light represents different things for Jeff’s character. After being conditioned to being a watcher, Jeff feels safer in the dark. In 39:28-40:00, Jeff steps out of the light to prevent himself from being seen by suspecting neighbors. At this point, darkness does not represent the unknown for his character but rather represents feeling secure. He hides in the dark because darkness provides privacy. This idea contrasts with the characters of the neighborhood residents. When the other characters are in their homes at night, their windows are dark. This leaves them unaware of anything happening right outside of their homes. They don’t know anything about their neighbors and therefore are always “in the dark” about them. This idea is even emphasized when the neighborhood dog dies, and the owner blames it on the neighborhood’s lack of care for one another. 

As a result, the viewer is made to question what it means to be aware. If darkness for one character is the unknown, but to another character is privacy, then what factors contribute to these differences in perspective? Through lighting, Hitchcock allows the viewer to feel either unsafe or safe depending on which characters are in certain lighting. He proves that the line between privacy and awareness is subjective. He shows the viewer the flaws of the two extremes: being unethically over aware and being completely unaware. He shows the extremes of this spectrum within Jeff’s character and the neighbors’ characters. Both sets of characters face their own internal issues that are only heightened by their opposing perspective of being aware. 

            Perhaps the most interesting scene in Rear Window is the one in which the Jefferies tells Lisa that he is no longer interested in marrying her because he is uncapable of providing the standard of living which she is used to. In watching this scene, it became apparent that in this moment, and in the film more broadly, Lisa and Jefferies have switched gender roles in the traditional sense. While they are sharing a dinner that she arranged and paid for he listens to her adventures, and day of business dealings while he was stuck at home. This is an example of the true central conflict of the movie, Jefferies is physically unable of caring for himself, and thus loses a significant aspect of what it means to be a man in the traditional sense. He is unable to work or move about freely, and thus struggles greatly with this loss of independence. It is the reason that he wants to break up with Lisa even though she is perfect. His subservience to her, or rather, the nature of this dynamic between them shifts in the climax of the film, when he is stuck watching Lisa fight and perform the physical acts required to bring the killer to justice. He is unable to assist her physically, and is instead stuck watching, in the position that would typically be reserved for the female love interest. In the end, though, Hitchcock allows Jefferies the small victory of saving her by calling the police, and further, surviving a physical confrontation with Lars Thorwald. Thus, in the end of the story, while Jefferies is still physically unable to move, he has reasserted his masculinity by saving his fiancé and defeating the villain in a David versus Goliath style victory. One which necessitates his outsmarting a physically more capable opponent.

At the movie’s outset, extreme boredom has driven its protagonist L.B. Jeffries into observing his neighbors’ lives through their apartment windows. Because Jeffries has a broken leg and is confined to a wheelchair, his perspective is limited and changes very little. Jeffries’ perception of his neighbors’ lives is conveyed through static shots of the outside of their windows. The decision to frame these scenes through windows, rather than through close-up shots of the apartments’ interiors, creates a sense of distance between Jeffries and the people he watches. Since the window frame is always present, the viewer is always aware of the act of watching they are participating in. As Jeffries’ neighbors move in and out of frame, it is as though they are moving about a movie screen, or a theater set. The effect of these shots is the impression of a frame within a frame, which highlights how boxed in Jeffries feels by his limited perspective.  

As the film’s murder plot progresses, what occurs unseen beyond the bounds of the window frames becomes just as important as what is visible through them. The limitations of this framing work as a visual device to increase the suspense of the film while also providing insight into character dynamics. The relationship of the Thorwald couple, around which the murder mystery turns, is emphasized by the framing of their apartment. Mr. and Mrs. Thorwald have separate rooms, which are painted distinctly different colors. Their rooms’ windows are separated not only by a brick wall, but also by a drainpipe that runs down it, creating a clear visual indication of separation and contrast that reflects their strained relationship.  

As the murder mystery’s stakes become higher, the limitations of these frames decrease to highlight Jeffries’ increasing personal involvement. During the climax of the film, Mr. Thorwald breaks into Jeffries’ apartment to confront him. When Thorwald attacks him, Jeffries falls out of his apartment window, breaking the restrictive framing of the film and his limited perspective. In this moment, Jeffries becomes an active participant in the world he had only previously been observing.