All this is only the tip of the iceberg. “Spellbound” contains all of Hitchcock’s mischievous themes and subtexts—repression, obsession, guilt complexes, vicarious voyeurism—working at their best. But the craft of “Spellbound” is at times dated and campy; while still entertaining and compulsively watchable it is not as timeless as “Vertigo” (1958), “Psycho” (1960), or “Rear Window” (1954). The overly-melodramatic affectations of some of the actors may play more for laughs today than originally intended, and the nonstop musical score detracts more than it contributes. While certainly a groundbreaking use of psychology in the movies, “Spellbound’s” understanding of psychoanalysis is simplified and elementary. The film treats psychiatry more as an exact science than we understand it to be today, and even has Bergman in what looks like a white lab coat. As an on-set scientific advisor “Spellbound” had the therapist of legendary producer David O. Selznick. When she complained of the film’s inaccuracies, Hitchcock is said to have drolly responded “my dear, it’s only a movie.”
“Spellbound” contains four scenes of pure Hitchcock working at his best. There’s Peck’s final revelation, whose cinematic perfection I will not spoil by revealing. I will say it includes a tracking shot Kubrick would be proud of, and a flash of such intense, gut-wrenching violence that we can almost hear Hitchcock chuckling. Then there’s the murderer’s POV, in which we’re looking down both the friendly and unfriendly ends of a revolver. Then there’s the scene in which Peck and Bergman, on the run, sit down on a sofa opposite two police officers that are looking for them but don’t know what they look like, and carry on their gossip as if Peck and Bergman aren’t even there. Lastly is the “Mulholland Drive”-type dream sequence that explains everything. The sequence is designed by no less than Salvador Dali, and combines Dali’s shadowy, grotesque images with Hitchcock’s extreme angles. The dream plays for maybe five minutes at the absolute most. The sequence is rumored to have originally been twenty minutes long, containing not just Peck’s memories of a possible murder and the guilt this has caused, but also his longings for Bergman mixed with his dread of her. Rumor has it she was filmed bursting forth from a statue in her own likeness only to be covered by ants. Infuriatingly, this footage was cut by Selznick from the theatrical release, and I have no idea if it still exists today.
My wife and I saw “Spellbound” recently at a museum film series highlighting psychoanalysis in film. The series also included Woody Allen’s “The Purple Rose of Cairo” and Christopher Nolan’s “Following.” There were headshrinkers and therapists aplenty in the audience to laugh at “Spellbound’s” various inaccuracies. When the film ended, a guest speaker gave a cursory but very interesting lecture on the film’s production and psychology, including the Oedipal complex between Peck’s character and his various analysts. Discussion from the audience included Hitchcock’s fascination with weak men wrongly accused, and the film’s treatment of Bergman’s voyeurism and sexual transference. Museums and universities everywhere hold film series like this, open to the public and featuring guest speakers and audience discussion. Find one. “Spellbound” is a three-star movie but seeing it at the museum we had a four-star evening.
Finished June 30, 2002
Copyright 2002 Friday & Saturday Night