Just Enough 'Rope' ...

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There is an art to fine film making. Sadly, it seems to me, it is a rapidly disappearing art.

I teach in the local community college system. I teach writing in general, journalism in particular, not film appreciation or anything like that. But I speak with my students about things — and I overhear more of their conversations with each other than they think I do — and I have seen more interest in flash than substance among young people.

That may well change as they grow older — and I'm certainly not speaking about all young people, only of a tendency I have seen in a majority of them.

Perhaps it is always this way, to whatever extent technology has advanced. But it seems to have gone to a new extreme of late. There has been much angst in recent months about what connection, if any, there may be between violent video games and violent acts committed in public places.

If there is such a link, it may have existed all along. The only difference would be that the catalyst was not as high tech as it is today.

I have often heard it asked: Doesn't modern technology make it easier to encourage violent acts — by dehumanizing victims and virtually eliminating individual responsibility? And doesn't technology raise the bar when it comes to impressing and motivating the young?

If all that is true, how can one explain the thrill killing of a teenager by college students Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb in the 1920s? Movies were decidedly less flashy then than they are today. In fact, movies at the time of the Leopold and Loeb murder case didn't even have sound, and they weren't in color. It's hard to imagine young people being inspired by that level of technology — and, in fact, I have seen no evidence that they were.

But, clearly, some young people were doing that sort of thing nearly a century ago, and I would argue that it has been going on longer than that. Indeed, if you speak to someone who believes in the Bible, especially the Old Testament, that person will tell you that young people murdering others goes back to the dawn of recorded time.

I have mixed feelings about portions of the Bible, but I can't help but think such a trait has been with us all along. Until recently, though, it may have been harder to make a convincing case that technology was the prime culprit in violent crimes.

I'm sure it must have been even more difficult 65 years ago today, when Alfred Hitchcock's "Rope" premiered. It was inspired by a play that had been inspired, in due course, by the Leopold and Loeb case, which was quite sensational in its day but was more than 20 years old when Hitchcock made his movie.

As a how–to for committing murder, "Rope" was practically worthless. The victim was seen for only a few seconds, and I do not recall hearing him speak any lines. In fact, I think the only time his voice was heard was in the trailer that you can see attached to this post.

The rest of "Rope" really was psychological. There was none of the blood and gore to which modern moviegoers are accustomed — although, to be honest, there rarely was anything of a graphic nature in Hitchcock's movies (not even in the infamous shower scene in "Psycho" — there were no lingering shots, and even if one freezes frames on a DVD, it still is not possible to see anything that is truly graphic).

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Audiences heard more — much more — about the murder than saw it.

"Rope," as I say, was psychological. I saw "Rope" for the first time when I was a teenager. Maybe I was a weird kid, but I always liked it because it was such a psychological exercise. The partners in the crime, played by John Dall and Farley Granger (who is probably better remembered for his role in Hitchcock's "Strangers on a Train" a few years later), were inspired to commit the "perfect murder" by the words of a mentor (Jimmy Stewart, who was already familiar to film audiences, in the first of four movies he made with Hitchcock).

One of the two was decidedly more enthusiastic about the murder and went to great pains to make it a "masterpiece" by hosting a dinner party to which the mentor and the victim's father, aunt and fiancee had been invited. The party was held in the murderers' apartment, and the victim's body was hidden in the same room where the guests would be eating.

With the exception of some initial excitement and, perhaps, nervousness, Dall's character was sailing along at the party, but Granger's character made no real attempt to hide the fact that he was upset (only Dall's character knew why). He drank too much and appeared to be experiencing remorse, but the guests, having no knowledge of what had happened, could not figure out why.

Stewart's character did put two and two together, but the rest of the guests were increasingly alarmed by the fact that the victim had not arrived and had not called. If this movie were to be remade today, that is something that would have to be addressed. The guests in the 1948 movie fretted that they did not know where to reach the victim because he had not called. In the 21st century, they all would have cell phones, and each probably would have made at least one attempt to call and/or text him.

But time probably would not alter the greater theme — that young people are easily influenced by their elders. Role models do wield considerable clout.

And that is something else that, as an adjunct professor, I try to keep in mind. I try not to be careless with my word choices. I try to be aware that whether I think that something I say or do is of significance isn't nearly as important as whether my students think it is.

I don't want to say anything that could be misinterpreted — especially if it could lead to someone's death.

Jimmy Stewart's character in "Rope" probably felt the same way — if somewhat belatedly.

(By the way, you can see "Rope" on Turner Classic Movies this Sunday at 11 a.m. [Central]).

Never Talk to Strangers

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I really wish Farley Granger had managed to live another three months.

The 85–year–old Granger died in March. If he had lived until tomorrow, it would have been interesting to hear his observations on the 60th anniversary of the theatrical release of Alfred Hitchcock's "Strangers on a Train."

I'm sure he would have said something about how that movie inspired Billy Crystal's "Throw Momma From the Train" — and, frankly, I would have been interested in hearing his insights.

But I've probably heard much of that from others already. And besides, I would really like to know what it was like to work with Hitchcock 60 years ago.

You see, I've always thought that "Strangers on a Train" was symbolic of Hitchcock's filmmaking M.O. It was really an innocent, rather simple story that became, well, complicated.

"Fibres of fate," the movie trailer said.

Just beneath the surface was a larger theme of doubles. Initially, of course, there is Granger's character, who is a professional tennis player (and, presumably, would have played doubles in tournaments, although, as I recall, that part is never stated).

Upon repeated viewings, I have become aware of other duplicates in the film — taxis, railroad tracks (that cross each other twice), female characters who wore glasses and were choked.

The doubles theme wasn't always visual. Sometimes it was implied or spoken. Hitchcock was fond of puns, metaphors. I believe he intended the film to be an ongoing source of revelation, and he inserted all sorts of things that went undiscovered, perhaps, for years, for decades.

No detail was too small.

"Isn't it a fascinating design?" he once said. "One could study it forever."

Indeed.

Sometimes it involved a mixture of elements.

Hitchcock, of course, became known for many things, but one thing that his audiences always looked for was his signature cameo appearance. In "Strangers on a Train," Hitchcock's onscreen moment played heavily on the doubles theme, but viewers probably didn't get it unless they had a certain amount of musical knowledge.

The cameo shows Hitchcock carrying a double bass as he boards a train.

The movie's much broader doubles theme didn't emphasize duplicates, though, as much as it did opposites.

In "Strangers on a Train," two characters who do not know each other feel trapped by their personal relationships. Granger's unhappy marriage apparently is public knowledge. The other character, played by Robert Walker, has a dysfunctional relationship with his father.

Walker arranges to meet Granger on a train, where he manipulates the conversation into a proposal that they "swap murders." He will kill Granger's wife if Granger will kill Walker's father. "Criss cross," he says. With no known links to their victims, the police will have no reason to suspect either.

Granger's character refuses to believe the conversation is for real, and he goes along with the perceived gag. But Walker's character is deadly serious, and he keeps his word, killing Granger's wife in an amusement park. Granger also doesn't realize that Walker has a personal item that belongs to Granger (a cigarette lighter) — with which he intends to blackmail Granger into holding up his end of the "deal."

Granger is reluctant to comply but begins to feel pressured when Walker starts showing up frequently to remind him that he is obliged now. Granger eventually agrees to go through with it, although he has no intention of actually doing so. He sneaks into Walker's house late one night and makes his way to the father's room, planning to tell him of Walker's plot, but it turns out to be Walker who is waiting for him in the dark room.

Walker tells Granger that, because he will not go through with his part of the arrangement, he should face the consequences for his wife's death. That murder, Walker says, "belongs" to Granger.

(I can still remember the chill I felt when I heard Walker say it for the first time.)

Granger's love interest (played by Ruth Roman) visits Walker's mother to tell her what her son has been up to, but she doesn't believe it — worse, Walker overhears the conversation and tells Granger's girlfriend that he has that personal item I mentioned earlier and intends to plant it at the murder scene.

That sets in motion the climactic scenes. If you've seen a Hitchcock movie before, you're surely familiar with how loose ends come together by the ends of his movies — but it was a rather new M.O. for Hitchcock in 1951. His style was evolving into what kept viewers of the 1950s and 1960s on the edges of their seats so it might catch you by surprise the first time you see it.

Trust me, though, it is worth it.

One of the Last Matinee Idols

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I was truly sorry to learn, somewhat belatedly, that Farley Granger died Sunday at the age of 85.

These days, most people probably don't know who Granger was — and the truth is that he really was before my time as well. He was a "matinee idol," as the New York Times wrote. One of the last of the breed.

He began his career in the movies, but he did a lot of TV and stage work in his later years, and he had mostly made that transition before I was born.

But that didn't prevent me from enjoying his film work — and, since his most noteworthy films were directed by Alfred Hitchcock, it was only natural that I would see them.

My parents, as I have mentioned here before, were Hitchcock fans, and they passed along their fondness for his work to me. I watched several Hitchcock movies with them over the years, but we never watched his collaborations with Granger. Those I saw by myself.

When people speak of the work Granger and Hitchcock did together, the conversation inevitably seems to turn to "Strangers on a Train," their 1951 classic (which will observe its 60th anniversary on June 30). And there is no doubt, as far as I am concerned, that "Strangers on a Train" was a great movie.

• The American Film Institute named it #32 on its list of the top 100 thrillers in movie history — a list that included eight other Hitchcock movies, three of which were in the Top 10.
• It was the inspiration for Billy Crystal's 1987 black comedy, "Throw Momma From the Train." It was a hit with the moviegoing audience even though it got mixed reviews from critics.

But I also feel that "Rope," the first film Hitchcock and Granger made together in 1948, was great. In fact, in some ways, I prefer it to "Strangers on a Train." It was inspired by a real crime, the murder of a 14–year–old boy by two University of Chicago students, the infamous Leopold and Loeb, in 1924. In the movie, two young men murder a colleague, then have a select group of guests over to dinner with the body concealed in their apartment. In this way, they can prove, if only to themselves, their superiority over the others, but one of the murderers seems to want one of the guests, a former teacher who once spoke to them of committing the perfect murder, to know what they have done. Granger played the other murderer, the one who suffers the most from his feelings of guilt and doesn't do a very good job of concealing it, although most of the guests are as unaware of his behavior as of the fact that the body is hidden in a chest in the room where they have gathered. One guest, played by Jimmy Stewart, does pick up the scent, though, and returns after the others have gone to confront the killers. It's a very cerebral tale, with all of the action taking place in real time and appearing to be made in one long, continuous shot. It was as groundbreaking in its way as "Citizen Kane" had been about seven years earlier. As film critic Roger Ebert observed more than 25 years ago, "Alfred Hitchcock called 'Rope' an 'experiment that didn't work out.' ... He was correct that it didn't work out, but 'Rope' remains one of the most interesting experiments ever attempted by a major director."
True.