This is certainly no Vertigo or Rear Window but it may very well be Hitch's best cat and mouse espionage thriller. It absolutely gets more dislike than it should, but then again, what makes it great doesn't necessarily appeal to the masses. What makes Torn Curtain stick out for me is the love story at its center, Hitch's evidence of something new in filmmaking, and the 4-5 scenes of absolute excellence that add the burdensome weight of suspense upon the chest. For all intents and purposes this is the best of Hitch at his most subdued.
The entire film is an allegory for ice and fire, cold and hot; the opening credits, the intro of our main couple under a cozy set of blankets in a place where the heat isn't working, the coldness of Michael's sudden change of heart towards Sarah, Sarah's obvious passion, Gromek's inconsistent lighter, the wood stove at the farmhouse, how the climax utilizes fire and how it gets metaphorically doused out with water... And of course, the pivotal expression of the film's main exercise between the Cold War science and the passionate strain of a particular couple... it's all right there but never really discussed by folks who see this film--including me who completely missed this on my initial watch.
Paul Newman and Julie Andrews play a newly engaged academic couple overseas for an important meeting of the minds, but not before long does Sarah (Andrews) realize something is up with Michael (Newman) and she suddenly doesn't know if she can trust him. The dilemma for her is if she should go home or stay with Michael to see what his true motives are. She follows him out of love. Michael wishes for her to leave for her own safety as he pursues something behind the Iron Curtain but the non-calculated detail of his future wife's love persisting ultimately saves his life (see interrogation scene). That particular scene has so much tension and Andrews' shining moment is rather anti-climactic, but it is Hitch's brilliant use of subtlety that showcases her wit. On rewatch, this is a huge moment that moves me especially since Andrews does not fully understand the "why" of it all until the scene after (what I'll call the scene on the hill). Hitch makes an interesting choice also, giving the film from Sarah's perspective for the near-first half and then effectively switches to Michael's for the second half.
The love story then takes a back seat to the espionage (Michael's perspective) after the scene on the hill and doesn't come back to the forefront until the masterful (and totally Hitchcockian) theater scene. It is no coincidence Hitch perfectly selects Francesca da Rimini Opus 32 by Tchaikovsky as the music (shout out to Daniel K. for helping me realize this kind of detail from Hitch), as it is about a woman who is married for political reasons to make peace between two warring families. She instead falls for her husband's brother and is cast into the second circle of hell; the couple in an eternal whirlwind doomed by their passions. And this is metaphorically the couple we are seeing in the theater stirred with fear. They are stuck in their own form of hell which is Cold War Era Berlin. It is also thanks to the play that Michael concocts a brilliant last second plan of chaos, adding more heat to the fire.
It is interesting that Hitch decided to return to espionage after coming off of Psycho, The Birds, and Marnie--three films removed from his last such spy thriller found in North By Northwest. In the wake that most find Torn Curtain boring, I think Hitch is actually trying to experiment further in giving us suspense with inactivity as opposed to the breathtaking action of NxNW. He had learned from The Birds that creating a silent atmosphere with minimal action can induce something startling and be hugely affective in its suspense (more specifically its 15 minute finale). I also think at this point, many were looking to Hitch for the next great innovative idea in the vain of Psycho. Something much more in your face. But because this film is subtle and he was still stuck in his ways (seen mostly through his use of projection screens and set pieces while filmmakers like Kubrick were giving us real places) the film has been known publicly as a failure. Looking more closely, I think Hitch had given us something innovative, which is the seemingly impossible creation of suspense via stagnant sequences. Posing this question, is this possible? Or more accurately, can suspense be possible without any sort of desired out come?
For Torn Curtain, take the scene with Lisa Kedrova and the scene at the Berlin Museum for prime examples of inactivity; the former has us waiting in a post office repeatedly asking for Albert (while we know the cops are coming, the threat is not at all in our face) and the latter has a chase scene that ultimately doesn't go anywhere. Both instances in which many would find as pure failures on their face, while I think Hitch is actually pushing the boundaries of filmmaking. Watching both of the aforementioned scenes had me internally writhing in my seat; impatient--even though they result in nothing. As another reviewer stated, he is indulging the audience in the lack of indulgences. In a more poetic way, getting us hot and then cold repeatedly; perfecting the allegory of the film. A totally unexpected Hitchcockian poem.
The entire cast is great, especially the german characters who add some awesome atmosphere to the film, especially Wolfgang Kieling and Gunter Strack (who I swear gives off a crazy vibe of Raymond Burr in Rear Window). Julie Andrews, in particular, gets a ton of flack while I think she does a great job (I am aware she has admitted she didn't do much of anything in this), but her scenes that highlight her love for Michael are all the better for having her in the film.
In other highlights, the always mentioned farmhouse scene is the showstopper--in the exact opposite sense of Psycho's famous scene--portrays how hard it is to truly kill someone. And so many more good scenes follow (Berlin Museum, the dinner party, bus chase, the interrogation, the hill). Newman and Andrews don't get enough credit here (just see their faces in the theater scene) as that one spot holds it down for what we weren't able to get from any other part of the film. They are purposefully restrained, and not to be impassioned once they are in the thick of it. The runtime which I found to be a major detractor on my first watch wasn't a problem at all this time. In fact the film zipped by. Most likely because this time I found plenty to admire and be engrossed by.
Torn Curtain drastically improves from a 5 to an 9.
The entire film is an allegory for ice and fire, cold and hot; the opening credits, the intro of our main couple under a cozy set of blankets in a place where the heat isn't working, the coldness of Michael's sudden change of heart towards Sarah, Sarah's obvious passion, Gromek's inconsistent lighter, the wood stove at the farmhouse, how the climax utilizes fire and how it gets metaphorically doused out with water... And of course, the pivotal expression of the film's main exercise between the Cold War science and the passionate strain of a particular couple... it's all right there but never really discussed by folks who see this film--including me who completely missed this on my initial watch.
Paul Newman and Julie Andrews play a newly engaged academic couple overseas for an important meeting of the minds, but not before long does Sarah (Andrews) realize something is up with Michael (Newman) and she suddenly doesn't know if she can trust him. The dilemma for her is if she should go home or stay with Michael to see what his true motives are. She follows him out of love. Michael wishes for her to leave for her own safety as he pursues something behind the Iron Curtain but the non-calculated detail of his future wife's love persisting ultimately saves his life (see interrogation scene). That particular scene has so much tension and Andrews' shining moment is rather anti-climactic, but it is Hitch's brilliant use of subtlety that showcases her wit. On rewatch, this is a huge moment that moves me especially since Andrews does not fully understand the "why" of it all until the scene after (what I'll call the scene on the hill). Hitch makes an interesting choice also, giving the film from Sarah's perspective for the near-first half and then effectively switches to Michael's for the second half.
The love story then takes a back seat to the espionage (Michael's perspective) after the scene on the hill and doesn't come back to the forefront until the masterful (and totally Hitchcockian) theater scene. It is no coincidence Hitch perfectly selects Francesca da Rimini Opus 32 by Tchaikovsky as the music (shout out to Daniel K. for helping me realize this kind of detail from Hitch), as it is about a woman who is married for political reasons to make peace between two warring families. She instead falls for her husband's brother and is cast into the second circle of hell; the couple in an eternal whirlwind doomed by their passions. And this is metaphorically the couple we are seeing in the theater stirred with fear. They are stuck in their own form of hell which is Cold War Era Berlin. It is also thanks to the play that Michael concocts a brilliant last second plan of chaos, adding more heat to the fire.
It is interesting that Hitch decided to return to espionage after coming off of Psycho, The Birds, and Marnie--three films removed from his last such spy thriller found in North By Northwest. In the wake that most find Torn Curtain boring, I think Hitch is actually trying to experiment further in giving us suspense with inactivity as opposed to the breathtaking action of NxNW. He had learned from The Birds that creating a silent atmosphere with minimal action can induce something startling and be hugely affective in its suspense (more specifically its 15 minute finale). I also think at this point, many were looking to Hitch for the next great innovative idea in the vain of Psycho. Something much more in your face. But because this film is subtle and he was still stuck in his ways (seen mostly through his use of projection screens and set pieces while filmmakers like Kubrick were giving us real places) the film has been known publicly as a failure. Looking more closely, I think Hitch had given us something innovative, which is the seemingly impossible creation of suspense via stagnant sequences. Posing this question, is this possible? Or more accurately, can suspense be possible without any sort of desired out come?
For Torn Curtain, take the scene with Lisa Kedrova and the scene at the Berlin Museum for prime examples of inactivity; the former has us waiting in a post office repeatedly asking for Albert (while we know the cops are coming, the threat is not at all in our face) and the latter has a chase scene that ultimately doesn't go anywhere. Both instances in which many would find as pure failures on their face, while I think Hitch is actually pushing the boundaries of filmmaking. Watching both of the aforementioned scenes had me internally writhing in my seat; impatient--even though they result in nothing. As another reviewer stated, he is indulging the audience in the lack of indulgences. In a more poetic way, getting us hot and then cold repeatedly; perfecting the allegory of the film. A totally unexpected Hitchcockian poem.
The entire cast is great, especially the german characters who add some awesome atmosphere to the film, especially Wolfgang Kieling and Gunter Strack (who I swear gives off a crazy vibe of Raymond Burr in Rear Window). Julie Andrews, in particular, gets a ton of flack while I think she does a great job (I am aware she has admitted she didn't do much of anything in this), but her scenes that highlight her love for Michael are all the better for having her in the film.
In other highlights, the always mentioned farmhouse scene is the showstopper--in the exact opposite sense of Psycho's famous scene--portrays how hard it is to truly kill someone. And so many more good scenes follow (Berlin Museum, the dinner party, bus chase, the interrogation, the hill). Newman and Andrews don't get enough credit here (just see their faces in the theater scene) as that one spot holds it down for what we weren't able to get from any other part of the film. They are purposefully restrained, and not to be impassioned once they are in the thick of it. The runtime which I found to be a major detractor on my first watch wasn't a problem at all this time. In fact the film zipped by. Most likely because this time I found plenty to admire and be engrossed by.
Torn Curtain drastically improves from a 5 to an 9.