Hitchcock's Rope: Morality, Guilt and the Tension of Secrets

Photo by Mockup Graphics on Unsplash

Monday evening the film Rope was on one of the cable networks, and even though I've seen this Jimmy Stewart classic several times I couldn't help but watch it yet again. What makes it a great film isn't just the acting and the dialogue, but also the psychological probing and collision of philosophical ideas that director Hitchcock explores.

Based on Patrick Hamilton's book by the same name, it later became a play before being adapted to film in 1948. It's a story of two young men, Brandon Shaw and Phillip Morgan, who strangle their friend David Kentley and then invite his friends and family over for dinner. The body is hidden in a chest in the middle of the room, and the two men pretend that David is still alive while offering various suggestions for his absence.

One of the guests is Rupert Cadell, a philosophy professor whom Shaw and Morgan admired when they were his students at University. Brandon is proud of what they have done, Phillip is rattled by the terror of being found out. It's one thing to imagine doing something audacious, quite another thing to actually do it. 

When David Kentley fails to show up for the party, Rupert begins to suspect something is amiss. Little by little the pressure is on, and Phillip begins to sweat. As the evening unfolds, Rupert's suspicions feel a little like thumbscrews being applied by a master tormentor. 

Brandon is so proud of his "achievement" that he's not concerned about Rupert's inquisitiveness. Phillip, however, begins drinking heavily to calm his nerves. Like a bloodhound, once Rupert is on the trail he's determined to follow it wherever it leads. When he finally discovers Kentley's body, the story is not yet over. Brandon points out how Professor Cadell's own words were what inspired him. 

And what were these words? Rupert had presented Nietzsche's concept of the Ubermensch, the "Superman." The Superman is not constrained by the conventional morality of the common man. Brandon justified their murdering someone as a philosophical decision, their way of demonstrating their superiority, that they belonged to the class of "exceptional people."

For Brandon, committing the perfect murder was something akin to an art project. The flawless execution of his idea was his way of proving his eminence. Living inside the bubble of his imagination, he assumed Rupert would actually appreciate his achievement.

Both perpetrators fell victim to the self-deception that they could detach themselves from the consequences of their actions. Guilt has a corrosive effect on one's conscience, and as the party proceeded it became increasingly difficult to hold normal conversations. As Neil Young once sang. "How slow and slow and slow it goes to mend the tear that always shows."

In past viewings, I focused on the masterful manner in which Hitchcock built suspense. Also, the way he creates situations in which everything occurs within a tight space. Lifeboat is an example of this, as is Rear Window. In the latter, as in Rope, there is a sense in which the audience is present in the room, watching voyeuristically.

The story explores power and manipulation as well. Paul Tournier's The Strong and the Weak examines how people react differently to external circumstances. Brandon's dominance is clear, and Phillip goes along with Brandon's smooth-talking persuasive arguments. How many people have "gone along" with things they felt uncomfortable with, that violated their foundational beliefs because they failed to be strong, failed to take a stand? Whether it be a gang or a simply a relationship, things get messy when values are at odds. In the end, both characters will suffer the same consequences and be held accountable for their crime. 

We can pity Phillip but in a court of law he was an accessory to murder and likely will not get a break in the courts.

* * *

Postscript
In 1979-80 I met a man who had been an accessory to murder. I was in Puerto Rico at the time. His uncle had planned to murder a man in Chicago and the nephew was used to lure the victim into an alley where the uncle took the man's life. Both the uncle and his nephew, whom I will call Antonio here, went to prison. Antonio's wife, a strong Christian, visited him every day no matter the weather. (She had to take a bus and walk miles to get there and home.) Her sacrificial love broke his heart and he gave his life to the Lord. When I met him he had a beautiful spirit and was dedicated to helping others to make a different choice from the one he made years earlier with his uncle. The hardships he'd endure, his wife's love and the mercy of God changed him on the inside. He approached life with humility because of what he had been through.

There's a Middle Eastern proverb that goes like this: The same sun that hardens clay melts wax. We all make mistakes and sometimes especially bad choices. How we respond determines the "what next" of our own lives.

It would be interesting to see how the story of Rupert, Brandon and Phillip plays out. One of these young men may become hardened bitterness whereas the other's eyes are opened and sees things in a new way. Perhaps Rupert will write a book that addresses these issues, that counters the creeping cynicism and amorality fostered by Nietzsche, Existentialism and (later) post-modernism.

What are your thoughts on this?

Mr. Smith Goes To Washington Continues To Reward Viewers While Remaining Relevant

THIS REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS

82 years ago this week, the Frank Capra classic Mr. Smith Goes to Washington had its world premiere. For those unfamiliar, Jimmy Stewart plays Jefferson Smith, a naive, idealistic youth leader who is hand-picked to fill a vacancy in the U.S. Senate. It's not long before his idealism collides with the political corruption at home and inside the Beltway. Despite attacks on his character he strives to keep moving forward. In short, it's story of disillusionment and dirty politics. In the end, the good guys win--after all, it's a Frank Capra film--and viewers can feel all warm inside. 

When the movie was released it created quite an uproar inside the Beltway. Politicians were angry at the way they were portrayed as corrupt power brokers devoid of ethics. The public loved it, though, as good triumphs over evil in this tale. Ironically, it was banned by fascist nations in Europe because it showed that Democracy actually works. (Honest, good people can win.)

The film begins with the death of a seated senator from Montana. The party bosses can't agree on a choice to replace him, then settle on a true greenhorn, Jefferson Smith. When Smith arrives in Washington DC he's overwhelmed with awe by its monuments and historical buildings. 

When Senator Smith discovers he's being manipulated, and that a project that would really inspire youth is going to be bulldozed, he's helped by Clarissa Saunders, his Washington insider assistant, to fight back. 

Jean Arthur's role as Saunders adds a nice dimension to the film. Early on she's a cynical Washington insider who recognizes that Smith is out of his depth. At one point she says to a colleague, "I wonder if it isn't a curse to go through life wised up like you and me."  When Smith begins his earnest effort to fight the machinery, she steps up initially because that is her responsibility. His idealism, however, begins to rub off on her.  

The reality is that many in Washington began as idealists who compromised their ideals. One of these is Joe Paine, the sitting senator who selected Smith, but who knuckles under to the "boss" who runs Montana, controls the media and the rest of the machinery that has been assembled for the power brokers. When they set out to destroy Smith personally, Senator Paine hardens himself to stay in line, but it's painful to watch. 

Character Assassination

My copy of this book had a red cover.

In the film we see that when it comes to holding on to power there is no limit to the depths people will go to destroy another person's reputation. It brought to mind a novel that our high school Civics teacher had us read--The Man, by Irving Wallace. The 1964 bestseller was about about Douglass Dilman, a black man who becomes president through a series of coincidental events. The Vice Presidency is vacant because the VP died in office. The President and Speaker of the House are in Germany when a building collapses. Dilman, President Pro Tempore of the Senate, is suddenly in the White House.

What I recall most is the great lengths his enemies go to to assassinate his character. They stage a rape in the White House, and the media runs with it. All the visceral prejudice toward the black male comes to the surface and an attempt at impeachment takes place. 

The book made an impact on me that is with me to this day. It makes me distrustful of the media lackeys and lapdogs who serve as public executioners. It also provided a realistic, albeit jaundiced, portrayal of the corridors of power. You can read more about the novel here.

Highlights

There were several moments in Mr. Smith that struck me. One of these was in the latter part of the film in which political boss Jim Taylor (Edward Arnold) orchestrates a media blackout in Montana so the public hears only their interpretation of events. Smith is an enemy of progress, is unworthy of representing Montana.

We see scenes of protesters with signs and rough men stealing the newspapers from the pro-Smith newsboys. I couldn't help but think of how busloads of people just happened to show up at Trump Tower the day after the election in 2016. The whole thing is presented by the media as impromptu outrage, but clearly the signs were produced well in advance or the paint would not have been dry. It was comical.

(EdNote: This kind of thing goes on from both sides, but it was especially evident that day.)

Another highlight was hearing Senator Paine explaining to Jeff why it is important to play ball with these powerful people, even if they are corrupt. This is clearly the distilled foundation of his self-talk to justify his behavior.

Senator Joseph Paine: I know how you feel, Jeff. Thirty years ago - I had those ideals, too. I was 'you'. I had to make the decision you were asked to make today. And I compromised - yes! So that all these years I could stay in that Senate - and serve the people in a thousand honest ways! You've got to face facts, Jeff. I've served our state well, haven't I? We have the lowest unemployment and the highest federal grants. But, well, I've had to compromise, had to play ball. You can't count on people voting, half the time they don't vote, anyway. That's how states and empires have been built since time began. Don't you understand? Well, Jeff, you can take my word for it, that's how things are. Now I've told you all this because - well, I've grown very fond of you - about like a son - in fact, and I don't want to see you get hurt. Now, when that deficiency bill comes up in the Senate tomorrow, you stay away from it. Don't say a word. Great powers are behind it, and they'll destroy you before you can even get started. For your own sake, Jeff, and for the sake of my friendship with your father, please, don't say a word.

* * * 

It's easy to see why politicians didn't like the film when it came out. It's a little like Todo pulling aside the curtain to show the real "wizard" of Oz. Nevertheless the public loved it, and it is still highly rated to this day by viewers. 

Purportedly the film is based on a novel about a real person who went to Washington from Montana, a Senator Burton Wheeler, who was dragged through the mud for investigating the Warren Harding administration. If you recall your history, the Teapot Dome Scandal took place under his watch.

* * * 

TRIVIA: 1939 was a great year for films. Classics that year included Gone with the Wind, Wizard of Oz, Son of Frankenstein, Goodbye Mr Chips, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and Hound of the Baskervilles, among others. 

Hitchcock's Rope a Prescient Foreshadowing of Our Current Crisis

"We agreed that there was was only one crime either of us could commit, the crime of making a mistake. Being weak is a mistake."--Brandon

It's a relatively short film by Hollywood standards, but Hitchcock's Rope has all the elements you want in a good suspense story.

In the very first minute of the film two friends--Brandon and Philip--strangle a third friend David Kentley with a rope and hide his body in a chest. This takes place just minutes before the first guests are slated to arrive for a party that will take place in this very room, with David's body right there in their New York City apartment. The guests include David's father, his fiancee Janet and, most significantly, their former college housemaster Rupert Cadell, played by Jimmy Stewart.

I'd seen the film several times over the course of my life, but current events stirred me to want to see it again.

The set itself had moving walls that could be adjusted as the camera rolled.
The body of David was placed inside the chest where the feast was spread
there in the foreground.

One of the interesting features of several Hitchcock films in this period of his career was the attempt to create a confined space where all the action takes place. Lifeboat was such an endeavor as was Rear Window, with Jimmy Stewart and Grace Kelly, his most successful. The former takes place in a lifeboat, the latter in an apartment overlooking the open courtyard of an apartment complex. The characters in the lifeboat are stuck in the ocean, the main character in Rear Window is bedridden after badly breaking his femur.

What I find interesting in the Wikipedia account regarding Rope is how much of the discussion has to do with the manner in which it was produced and the critical reception (lukewarm) with little real investigation into what I consider the most significant aspect of this film: the philosophical issue that generated this situation.

When the young men were in college there had been philosophical discussions about Nietzsche's Übermensch and De Quincey's Art of Murder, which they interpreted like this. In Nietzsche's argument, the rules that apply to the "common herd" do not apply to the superior men. Combine that with De Quincey's notion that murder can be a work of art and you've got the setup for the murder of David Kentley.

For Brandon, the killing was exhilarating, and indeed an artistically executed masterpiece of design. Philip, on the hand, immediately begins inwardly crumbling, cognizant that this idea in theory was absurd to carry out.

Brandon has the time of his life bringing candles, plates, food and silverware to the living room and placing them directly on the chest with the body in it. The irony here is that the conversation keeps returning to the corpse, or rather, to why David is late to his own party. (Inside joke: he is not absent.)

Though the other guests seem to be oblivious to the clues, Rupert can see that Brandon and Philip are behaving oddly, each in their own way. Philip is drinking heavily and stressing out, Brandon is exhibiting a certain bravado as if he just conquered San Juan Hill.

Brandon even dares to start a discussion on this topic. "I've always wished for more artistic talent. Well, murder can be an art, too. The power to kill can be just as satisfying as the power to create."

David's mother laughs it off, and a little verbal tussle passes between a few of the guests but it's just another passing moment.

As the guests depart, Rupert Cadell takes a fedora out of the closet thinking it his, but then sees the initials D.K. inside the hat. His suspicions are confirmed that something fishy had been going on, but he leaves without saying anything so that he can return to confront the young men with no one else around.

When he returns, Brandon doesn't want to take any chances and pockets a pistol, just in case. As Chekhov famously instructed, you don't put a pistol into the story unless you're going to use it.

The dialogue here is instructive, I believe.

Brandon: Ideas of right and wrong are for the intellectually inferior and don't apply to the intellectually superior.

Rupert: You've given my words a meaning I never dreamed of. Tonight you've made me ashamed of every concept I've ever had of superior or inferior beings. By what right did you feel you deserve to be superior. You've murdered, you've strangled the life out of someone who loved.

Rupert is stunned, horrified and deeply ashamed, realizing that Brandon and Phillip used his own rhetoric to rationalize this senseless act.

* * * *

The gig is up. (L to R) John Dall, Jimmy Stewart, Farley Granger

Rupert disavows all his previous talk of superiority and inferiority, and after a struggle he acquires the gun and shoots the two young men. No, just kidding. He does manage to secure the gun though and uses it to fire three shots out the window to attract attention. As the police arrive--we hear sirens approaching outside--Rupert sits on a chair next to the chest, Phillip begins to play the piano and Brandon continues to drink.

APPLICATION
I have been thinking a lot about the riots and violence taking place these past two months. I've tried to understand what's going on, why so many people are calling for revolution. I'm fully cognizant that so many of our systems are broken, and understand the criticisms. It is the notion of total revolution that concerns me. I don't believe it is rhetoric. When I read what many of the protesters are writing on Twitter and Reddit, they seem quite serious that their intent is nothing less than overthrowing the whole kit and caboodle. And I believe I understand why (to some extent).

When I was in high school, the team teachers in our U.S. History class did something quite intriguing. They taught U.S. history from the point of view of those who were disenfranchised (the indigenous peoples), and how we acquired lands from Mexico, France, Spain through various wars and ventures. We learned about manipulations and machinations, how Southern wealth was created by the utilization of slave labor, all justified with platitudes.

Turning everything around may have been useful and important, but the 50 years reiteration of this pattern of talk, when overindulged, leaves citizens more ashamed of their country than proud and fails to produce any vestige of patriotic feeling if taken too much to heart.

The net result is a generation that can feel like this: "There's nothing worth defending here. Let the Revolution begin. Let them overthrow this heap of dung."

But is that really what our teachers and academics wanted? Many may well have had quite patriotic feelings, but were seeking to put a perspective on things so we are more humble about our history. Like Rupert, they were discussing ideas, but not really anticipating the consequences. "You're giving my words meanings I never dreamed of," Rupert says to Brandon at one point.

America has helped more people and nations than any nation in history. The whole notion of re-building the economies of countries who fought against you in wars is historically unheard of. How many countries have started a Peace Corps to help impoverished nations in other corners of the world?

Of all the critics, I won't say I have been foremost, but I admit I've been one who's been vocal. I do not believe in "My country right or wrong." The Old Testament prophets were compelled to speak when their leaders were out of alignment with justice and doing what was right. I've never believed in the notion that a revolution would be nothing less than a disaster. I'm old fashioned but "if you go carrying pictures of Chairman Mao, you ain't gonna make it with anyone anyhow."

I share all this because I believe America, specifically the ideals upon which it was imperfectly founded, is worth defending. Destruction is always easier than building something new. There will never be a perfect world, but we can all try to contribute to make this one better.

EPILOGUE
Whereas this film is just a story, it reflects events that have happened in real life. Progressive intellectuals in the 20s and 30s felt that something needed to be done to purify the human race, to clean up the gene pool. Through aggressive lobbying they managed to get eugenics laws passed in 33 states. This bit of our history was all documented. 66,000 people were sterilized, some for as senseless a thing as being a runaway.

How much of what is going on in the global lockdown is the result of a larger chess game being played by power players? What are the belief systems currently at war in all this multi-layered hotbed of conflicting interpretations of events on all sides? What's really going on?

Related Links
Bad Ideas: The Eugenics Movement In America
Eugenics, Revisited
He Who Controls the Narrative Controls the People

Dylan's Voice

It seems redundant to apply more adjectives to Bob Dylan's singing voice-- easily the most infamous rasp in American music, a cultivated tangle of disdain and nicotine and bad love-- but it remains the defining characteristic of his work, as essential to his legacy as vowels or the acoustic guitar.
~Pitchfork reviewer

It’s Dylan himself, whose voice today shares certain tonal qualities with Tom Waits’s, and certain others with sputtering lawn-mower engines.
~Jody Rosen, The New Yorker

If you're a Dylan fan, you know how it goes because you read the reviews. One of the most recurring themes in music literature must be the ongoing effort by reviewers to comment on Bob Dylan's voice in a new and creative way. Even when he was young he had some critics in that area, but it's been especially so in his more recent albums, especially Tempest and Christmas in the Heart. I vaguely recall one reviewer saying "he must gargle each morning with broken glass" to get a voice like that. Or something to that effect. Chris Richards of the Washington Post described his voice as "gutteral braying."

Here's one from Vulture.com:
Bob Dylan has never had to rely on the purity of his croon to get his vocal point across. But as the years have gone by, the grit in the great man’s voice has gone from fine to extra-coarse, to put things in sandpaper terms.
~Dan Reilly

* * * *
Yesterday I was listening to the Travelling Wilbury's, noticing how distinctive Bob's voice was, but that all the voices were distinctive there and when harmonizing it was a pretty fetching blend. In the evening, while mowing the yard, that observation began to congeal into this thought: A distinctive voice sets you apart from the herd. Dylan achieved it early and it's been a trademark of his.

Jimmy Stewart had a pretty distinctive voice. So does James Earl Jones. Likewise Clint Eastwood.

When Jimmy Stewart is in a movie you just enjoy being in his presence. I wouldn't call it a beautiful voice, and in some ways if you wanted to be critical, you might say it's even a bit odd.

And who isn't moved by the gravity of James Earl Jones's vocal resonance.

This led me to think about singers with distinctive voices. Neil Young was first to come to mind. Not sure how to describe that tenor-high whine on songs like Helpless, but for sure his vocal sound was lie no one else's. Roy Orbison, Johnny Cash, the list is long. Johnny Cash's sonorous bass produces such pleasures that if he were to sing, or even read, the phone book aloud one could enjoy the experience. (That's a bit of hyperbole.)

So, returning to Dylan, I think many of those who have been lifelong fans are unaware that Dylan's voice might be a bit odd. Rather, we notice how evocative it can be at conveying various emotions from tenderness to despair. It's only when we bring a friend to a concert who is unfamiliar with the current material, whose only exposure to Dylan might be some of his Sixties albums, that we glimpse in their shocked expressions the first clue that we don't hear him in the same way.

So when he sings, "I went to the Big Apple // took a bite" I laugh. I like it. Bring it on.  

Rear Window, My Old Camera and Kodachrome

This weekend I saw Alfred Hitchcock's Rear Window again, a near perfect screenplay flawlessly executed. So many fine touches, especially the manner in which the story patiently ratchets up the tension. Jimmy Stewart is an award winning photographer whose work has been showcased on the covers of Life magazine, among other places. His willingness to put himself in harm's way in order to get the perfect shot has resulted in his being bedridden for a spell, leg encased in plaster.

Much more could be said about Grace Kelly, Raymond Burr and the rest of the story, but I'm really only using this as a springboard to the real topics on my mind. First, I got my old camera working again. Or rather, a friend resurrected it. I've been digital since the months preceding Katrina. Before that I used a Konica SLR with a variety of lenses including a Tokina 80-200 zoom that I used to be in love with.

Mine is nothing like the zoom on Jimmy Stewart's camera, though. That would be a setup to die for. But I used to really like this camera. (Till 1974 I had a Minolta, which to my dismay was stolen when I was in college.)

Second, I discovered that Kodachrome is no more. That is, Kodachrome film has been discontinued. A friend of mine noted this and shared with me the March/April issue of American Photo which features the photos taken by Steve McCurry using the very last roll of Kodachrome ever minted. McCurry, like Jimmy Stewart in Rear Window, produces iconic images with which everyone is familiar, his works appearing in National Geographic, the most famous being the haunted Afghan girl we've all seen.

Here's a tribute to Kodchrome which appeared in 2009. Check out the mag, though, if you get a chance.

Getting my old camera back has really been a thrill. Even if it's not Kodachrome, it's going to be good.