Hitchcock was in his own curious way a genius. No one has made better films -- of their type -- than he has. He had a singular sense of humor too. His thrillers were often as funny as they were entertaining. I'm thinking of the remake of "The Man Who Knew Too Much", Jimmy Stewart's struggling with the staff of Ambrose Chapel's taxidermy shop, before finally squirming out the door and slamming it behind him, and the director's quick cut to the head of a stuffed lion wearing an expression of amazement.
He even managed to insert the odd good laugh into some of his otherwise unqualified dramas. In "Shadow of a Doubt," in Hitchcock's cameo, we don't see his face, just a shot over his shoulder at his bridge partner. We can see Hitchcock's cards. It's a Grand Slam in spades. The partner stares at him and remarks, "You don't look so good yourself." But he had nothing but trouble building an entire film around comedy. He'd tried it in 1941 with "Mr. and Mrs. Smith" and despite the piping score it didn't work. It doesn't work well here either. In some ways, the best thing about it is the location photography: New England in the Fall, with all that florid foliage.
John Forsythe as the artist is reassuring but bland. Shirley MacLaine is an awfully cute red-headed widow with hints of horniness but this was her debut film and often she seems self conscious. When she's supposed to be relaxed and thoughtful she assumes a slightly unnatural position with her shoulders hunched and her face down. Edmund Gwenn and Mildred Natwick both get their jobs done but aren't as endearing as the director seems to believe.
Mostly, though, the problem is that there is nothing intrinsically amusing about a dead body that no one seems to know what to do with. I lost count of the number of times Harry was buried and dug up again. It reminded me of one of those Laurel and Hardy two reelers in which the duo spend all their time trying to get something done -- a house built, a piano lugged up a long staircase, a boat painted -- and the audience waits and waits for the job to be done, and it never is.
I can imagine, though, that some people might find this ludic understatement very funny. I can imagine myself enjoying it more but I'd have to be in the right mood -- stoned.
He even managed to insert the odd good laugh into some of his otherwise unqualified dramas. In "Shadow of a Doubt," in Hitchcock's cameo, we don't see his face, just a shot over his shoulder at his bridge partner. We can see Hitchcock's cards. It's a Grand Slam in spades. The partner stares at him and remarks, "You don't look so good yourself." But he had nothing but trouble building an entire film around comedy. He'd tried it in 1941 with "Mr. and Mrs. Smith" and despite the piping score it didn't work. It doesn't work well here either. In some ways, the best thing about it is the location photography: New England in the Fall, with all that florid foliage.
John Forsythe as the artist is reassuring but bland. Shirley MacLaine is an awfully cute red-headed widow with hints of horniness but this was her debut film and often she seems self conscious. When she's supposed to be relaxed and thoughtful she assumes a slightly unnatural position with her shoulders hunched and her face down. Edmund Gwenn and Mildred Natwick both get their jobs done but aren't as endearing as the director seems to believe.
Mostly, though, the problem is that there is nothing intrinsically amusing about a dead body that no one seems to know what to do with. I lost count of the number of times Harry was buried and dug up again. It reminded me of one of those Laurel and Hardy two reelers in which the duo spend all their time trying to get something done -- a house built, a piano lugged up a long staircase, a boat painted -- and the audience waits and waits for the job to be done, and it never is.
I can imagine, though, that some people might find this ludic understatement very funny. I can imagine myself enjoying it more but I'd have to be in the right mood -- stoned.