NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.
A man, Stan, drags a body into a decrepit, disheveled looking house. He places the body into a small hole in the ground and sets the house to flames. Who is being burned and why are they being disposed of in this fashion? These are the questions the narrative circles around; as Stan makes decisions, the film cuts to the scene of the fire, highlighting how his choices shape his relationship to the aspects of his past that he wishes to burn and move past.
With only a suitcase, a watch, and a few knick-knacks, Stan makes his way away from the burning household towards a bus. He gets on board and passes out. Suddenly, he’s woken at the last stop, a carnival, and makes his way out. It becomes clear that outside of getting away from his past, Stan has no clear goals; he’s merely a wanderer trying to make the best of his situation.
Though he comes in to the location by random, it’s clear that Stan is more than competent at making do with his situation. He travels through the carnival and comes upon a “geek” show. The carnival’s owner, Clem (Willem DaFoe), exclaims that even though “geek” in question is so feral he’s still been classified as a man. But still, he insists on posing the question: “Is he man, or beast?”
The crowd becomes fully enthralled by the tagline and buys into the show, forking over change to partake in the festivities. A malnourished and broken-in man (Paul Anderson) crawls out of a damp, grimy enclosing and approaches a chicken which has just been placed in the enclosure. The audience watches with baited breath, but Stan seems more disturbed by the ordeal than anything else. When the “geek” bites down on the chicken’s neck and severs its head, Stan turns while the crowd cheers and jeers at the ordeal.
He leaves the area and is approached by members of the carnival looking for physical labor. Without saying a word, Stan agrees to their proposition and quickly begins to work. He gets acquainted with Clem (Willem DaFoe) and agrees to take on additional work for food and pay; all his negotiations are carried out without an utterance on his part, only gestures. He’s more than content to nod along and play his part, whatever it may be.
It’s only when Clem sends him to capture the carnival’s “geek” after the latter escapes his cage that Stan finds a reason to open his mouth. Upon finding the “geek”, Stan attempts to bargain with the escapee. Stan promises not to inform Clem of his location and instead questions the “geek” on the nature of their predicament; how did this fellow end up desperate enough to eat live chickens for an audience?
But instead of an answer, Stan gets a blow to the head from a rock the “geek” throws. Words can do nothing here and Stan resorts to physical action, proceeding to beat to beat the “geek” into submission. Clem manages to find the duo and stops Stan from killing the performer before then offering him a permanent position with the carnival. Sensing Stan’s mysterious past, Clem suggests that the environment is perfect for the wanderer because no one working at the locale would pry into his past; maybe the “geek” responded in such fashion because he, like Stan, wants to keep his past a mystery.
Regardless, like the “geek”, Stan agrees to work for Clem at the carnival and eagerly embraces the change of scenery. He goes from saying nothing to becoming very talkative. He’s a people pleaser and seems to know exactly what to say to people around him. He’s approached by Zeena (Toni Colette), a carny with a clairvoyant performance who takes a liking to him quickly.
Zeena’s husband, Pete (David Strathairn) is a mentalist and an alcoholic who acts as a surrogate father to Stan. He quickly takes the young man under his wing and teaches him cold reading techniques capable of fooling even the best. With the techniques in hand, Stan blossoms, captivating any soul willing to listen to his words. He goes from a silent wanderer to a charismatic charlatan capable of conning anyone who comes his way, saying exactly what he thinks people want to hear. With the world seemingly at his beck and call, Stan proceeds out from the carnival and into the world determined to to use his skillsets to get everything he wants. But as his marks get more dangerous, Stan is forced to confront the depths of his deepest desires.
The film’s focus on how his desire unfurls is motivated by psychoanalysis – references are made directly in the text. In particular, Stan finds that his journey intersects with three women, Zeena being one of them, all of whom act as both a surrogate partner and mother to him. The Oedipal nature of the relation is intentional and informs the way the film operates. As Stan makes critical decisions in relation to these women, his final trajectory becomes apparent. The weight of every choice he makes reverberates and can be measured as the film cuts to flames as a visual refrain, a visual-call back to his original act of immolation showcasing just how far or close he is to the past he’s trying to escape.
His psychic journey is manifested in the production design. Director Guillermo del Toro does great work to ensure that Stan’s psychic encounters and battles take place in backdrops which reinforce the the shifting tides of power between parties. del Toro uses the noir stylings of the genre and narrative to accentuate the sets, leaning into the use shadows, smoke, and slanted angles to emphasize the nightmarish alleys that Stan finds himself traversing. The rooms and locales that people own are part and parcel of each characters’ identity, so as Stan engages in his mental excursions with persons, the nature of what the characters are after and why they’re after can be felt in even the subtle ways the camera moves.
The narrative, based on William Lindsay Gresham’s 1946 novel, is clock full of detail, providing ample narrative strings for the viewer to parse and put together against these larger visual flourishes. Every thread in play is set-up for a particular reason, and del Toro knows just how to litter the call-backs and references to generate a feeling of catharsis. No beat overstays its welcome and by the time the film’s ending comes into view, any viewer who’s become entranced will already know what is going to unfold and why its going to play out as it does because the way the film’s threads congeal is sublime.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Nightmare Alley’s meticulous machinations makes it a wonder to marvel at; each story and character beat has a purpose and watching the threads come together in explosive fashion makes the slow-burn journey all the more satisfying.
Rating
10/10
Grade
A+
Go to Page 2 for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Teresa Wright as Charlie Newton Joseph Cotten as Uncle Charlie Henry Travers as Joseph Newton Patricia Collinge as Emma Newton Charles Bates as Roger Newton Edna May Wonacott as Ann Newton Hume Cronyn as Herb Macdonald Carey as Detective Jack Graham Wallace Ford as Detective Fred Saunders
The “Merry Widow Waltz” plays as the title sequence goes on.
The waltz refrain dissolves to a view of the Pulaski Skyway.
Two detectives, Graham (Macdonald Carey) and Saunders (Ford) look across for a missing subject.
The opening sets up the waltz that will serve as the movie’s key refrain, set to pop up at the key moments of the film. It’s from this scene that we dissolve into the view of two detectives looking for a subject.
The title card opens on a shot of couples waltzing to the “Merry Widow Waltz”. A waltz is characterized as being a triple time[1]A rhythym characterized by three beats to a bar,so it makes sense that this shot of the couples dancing will be be used 3 more times during the film’s run-time, each occasion marking one of 3 pivotal movements in the narrative: the start of the mystery, the mystery’s reveal, and the final conclusion. This shot dissolves to a view of two detectives eating underneath the Pulaski Skyway in New Jersey. The object of these men’s investigation is unknown.
Children play on the street.
A canted angle shot of a building.
A canted angle shot of a window.
Uncle Charlie (Joseph Cotten) lies in bed.
Uncle Charlie’s money lays on the floor.
A landlady (Constance Purdy) babies Uncle Charlie and looks after him.
The establishing shot of children playing on the street suggest innocence, but this idea gives way quickly as we cut to canted angles closer to our subject. He lies on a bed surrounded with money, suggesting both his wealth and lack of concern with it. In spite of not knowing him anymore than as a tenant, the landlady treats him like a child and takes care of him. Despite having a “canted” interior, Uncle Charlie has a childlike presentation that immediately makes him endearing.
We cut to children playing in a street – an image of innocence. This tranquility is broken by the next shots: canted images of a doorway followed by a window – a darkness hiding under the innocence. We go to a shot of a young man sleeping in a room. The camera pans to a stack of bills next to him and underneath; he has a lot of money but doesn’t care about it. The door to his room opens. A motherly figure enters and informs that him that two of his “friends” showed up and asked for him. It’s clear from the conversation that this woman has no previous relation to the young man but she dotes on him regardless, treating him like one of the children playing outside. He informs her that the two man who inquired after him have never met him before despite being “friends”. Our censors go off at the oddity but hers do not.
Uncle Charlie (Joseph Cotten) pretends to sleep as the blinds are closed.
Uncle Charlie (Joseph Cotten) looks out at the police men.
Uncle Charlie has the vantage position advantage on the detectives.
Uncle Charlie walks past the detectives with no concern.
The cops are unable to find Uncle Charlie.
Uncle Charlie (Joseph Cotten) stares down at the cops knowing that he can best them.
Uncle Charlie only reveals his true colors in the dark, coming to life only once the shades are fully shut. He stares down at the detectives from a vantage point which positions him above them; position means everything in this movie of influence. Certain in his status, Uncle Charlie walks past both detectives. He confirms they don’t know him and that he’s capable of outwitting them, gaining an advantageous vantage point all over again. He starts and ends on top.
Instead, she moves towards the blinds and closes them, insisting that the young strange man get some rest. The darkness envelops the mans face as he pretends to sleep before awaking – a denizen of the shadows react to move. He peers out the window and looks down on the two men who wait for him at the corner. This is a common motif Hitchcock employs to demonstrate power: the one who stands on the high ground comes out on top. The young man moves brazenly past the two detectives demonstrating to us that he is: 1. absolutely unafraid of his pursuers 2. the detectives looking for him don’t know what he looks like. They give chase to him but he gets away. The camera pans from the confused detectives who stumble on the ground up towards the young man who watches them from the upper floor of a nearby building; once again, he’s on top.
He goes to make a telegram to extended family of his in Santa Rosa, California. We learn his name is Charlie (Joseph Cotten) [2]I will be referring to him as Uncle Charlie for the rest of the review to make disambiguation easier. We learn that he’s an uncle. But we don’t learn why the detectives are pursuing him.
The traffic cop (Earle S. Dewey) stands as a symbol of the idyllic American life.
The cop (Early S. Dewey) dissolves into the Newton house. They are the “All-American” family.
A canted angle shot of the back entrance of a house.
Charlie (Theresa Wright) lies in the same position as her Uncle Charlie.
The introduction to Santa Rosa positions it and the Newton household as representative of the mythic peaceful suburban Americana. However, the parallel use of canted angles along with Charlie emulating her uncle’s position makes it certain that their stories are going to collide. The city and suburbia will clash it out to reveal the truth.
We cut from the wanted man on the run to the city of Santa Rosa. A cop monitors the traffic. This is a lawful place; an idyllic American city. The cop dissolves into a shot of a house. Like the transition from the children to the canted entrance to Uncle Charlie the transition from the cop to the house also shows a building in disarray. We cut from a canted back entrance of a house to a young woman, Charlie (Teresa Wright), in the same position we found Uncle Charlie in. Charlie explains to her dad, Joseph (Henry Travers), that she’s tired of her family who seems to be in a rut, especially her mother, Emma ( Patricia Collinge),who she feels is overworked and underappreciated. Desperate for a “miracle” she goes off to send a telegram to the family’s favorite uncle and her namesake, Uncle Charlie, hoping that he can shake things up at the Newton household.
Emma (Patricia Collinge) is trapped by Roger (Charles Bates) and Ann (Edna May Wonacott) who accost her from both sides.
After getting a call from her brother, Uncle Charlie, Emma (Patricia Collinge) is framed in a new light. She her own space from Roger (Charles Bates) and Ann (Edna May Wonacott)
Emma, like Charlie mentions, is overworked and underappreciated. As she takes a phone call regarding Uncle Charlie’s message, she’s harassed from both sides by her younger children. They incessantly talk and intrude into their mothers sense of space. It’s only when she realizes that her younger brother is coming into town that her sense of self returns. The camera arcs around the walls columns to frame her in a new independent light; her identity is being restored.
At the same time Charlie, a telephone comes in for the Newtons. The call is picked up by Emma who tries to take the call while being accosted by her younger children, Ann (Edna May Wonacott) and Roger(Charles Bates ). The two children “surround” Emma on both sides. However, as soon as the caller mentions to Emma that her brother, Uncle Charlie has sent a telegram informing the Newton’s that he’s going to be visiting them , the camera pans to a new view of Emma; this time she’s “free” and is framed in a new light. It’s clear that Uncle Charlie means the world to his sister.
Charlie (Teresa Wright) walks home excited that her uncle is coming.
Charlie (Teresa Wright) dissolves into the ominous train which carries her uncle.
The train shoots out soot and makes loud noises. It’s a disruptive force.
Charlie excitedly believes that her uncle will bring fulfill her dreams. Little does she know that all he brings is nightmares. As she goes off excitedly, she dissolves into the ominous feeling train which is going off in the same direction. The images “collide” into each other, just like the worlds of Uncle Charlie and Charlie are about to.
Meanwhile, Charlie makes her way to the telegram store where she learns the same information her mother had. She happily exclaims that her Uncle and her have a psychic connection with one another. As she makes her way home, the shot dissolves to a train going off in the same direction. The noise and smoke plume from the train serve as harbingers of the darkness to come. On the train, we learn that Uncle Charlie is “sick”, apparently so much so that no one on the machine has seen him. Uncle Charlie limps out of the train with the assistance of others but straightens up (un)surprisingly quickly upon seeing his family, namely Charlie, running towards him.
Immediately it’s understandable why the family loves him so. He regales Emma upon seeing her causing her to burst with joy. At dinner he presents every member of the family with gifts. Charlie initially refuses but acquiesces after her uncle places the ring on her right right finger. This placement is not a coincidence; if the left hand’s ringer finger marks a legal marriage, the right hand’s ring finger marks an alliance to prohibited.
Charlie notes that the ring is engraved with a couples initials but enjoys the mystery. Her uncle does not share the sentiment and comments he didn’t know it was marked; his face breaks into horror and the the shot dissolves to our first of the three “waltz” refrains; the “Merry Widow Waltz” mystery is finally afoot. This is made explicit as the camera cuts to Joseph talking to his friend Herb (Hume Cronyn) about their shared interest: murder mysteries their machinations. With all the key players finally introduced – the detectives, Uncle Charlie, Charlie, the rest of the Newton family, and Herb – Hitchcock’s thriller can begin with gusto.
Shadow of a Doubt is a story which examines the idyllic American fantasy and it’s nightmarish underside. In many ways the movie is a precursor to David Lynch’s Blue Velvet, seeking to explore the way two seemingly opposite worlds interact with and feed into the others construction. This is why our introduction to both worlds is so stylized. While Uncle Charlie’s world is one of darkness, Charlie’s is one where there is belief in the rule of law. The ring given to Charlie[3] Speaking of Blue Velvet, Charlie finding the ring is analogous to Jeffrey finding the detached ear. It’s the start of the journey into the mystery world. What do the initials mean? represents the choice, both metaphorically and literally, she has to make, one where she chooses to marry the fantasy of order and legality or the fantasy of chaos and disregard for law.
This battle for dominant fantasy is reflected in the architecture of the Newton residence, which has both a front and back entrance and which serves as the primary environment the movie takes place in. The front entrance is the domain of the idyllic fantasy, while the back entrance is the domain of the nightmare. Connecting these entrances is the stairway which automatically positions people higher or lower than another. Thus, the “everyday” American house becomes the battlefield for the direction of its soul. As Charlie and her uncle learn more about one another, they swap positions; the cat and mouse game flipping on its head as each party vies for the “top” of the stairs. Eventually the intensity of the battle bleeds out to the city proper, as the characters venture to new locale which reinforce the dichotomy between the two worlds.
This movie, for me, is the first of Hitchcock’s masterpieces combining both his sensibilities as the “master of suspense” with an immaculate use of technique to get his themes across in as many ways as possible. From the opening to the final shot, there is not a single wasted camera movement or out-of-place shot. Multiple scenes demonstrate changes in character disposition purely through changes in lighting long before making those changes noted through dialogue. If my long-winded analysis of the opening 20 minutes above wasn’t proof enough, one only has to look at any scene’s ending image to figure out what the point of that scene was; that’s how methodical the direction is. Every minute detail has at least one counterpoint that is meant to draw contrast in order to constantly draw our attention to story’s thematic question. However, none of these moments are ever done for their own sake; every detail supports multiple narrative threads. What seems to be the point of one scene transforms into the set-up for an even more elaborate plot in the next, giving the movie a fully immersive and connected feeling in spite of plot details that would otherwise immediately draw ire. Instead of questioning the story, one is completely captured by it, desperate to figure out where its end will lead. In fact, Hitchcock intentionally uses ellipses in the story by not fully explaining certain plot threads to force us to imagine scenes in the movie without seeing them; that’s cinematic mastery.
Even if one isn’t captured by the way Hitchcock deconstructs the American fantasy, one certainly can’t help but be caught up by the propulsive energy of the narrative which is in large part helped by commanding performances by both Teresa Wright and Joseph Cotton. Both of their characters have to do a juggling act between personas, light and dark, while showing cracks in their personas depending on what the story calls for. There are multiple scenes involving the two of them as they go from scared to received to enthralled and so on without ever skipping a beat. They play off one another believably like partners in a waltz as their worlds bleed into each others.
The end result is a film that effectively demonstrates the fragility of our notions of peace and the dirty processes that result in the successful deployment of such ideas (think Nolan’s The Dark Knight ) without ever treating itself like an epic. By subtly incorporating the themes and driving ideas behind them in and around every small detail, Hitchcock manages to give the questions he’s asking a more universal feeling; their presence can literally be felt in every movement of the movie. In spite of this, the movie never feels overly “showy”, choosing instead to lull the audience into its rhythm until they’re glued to the screen to the very end.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Shadow of a Doubt is a a thrill ride from start to finish, showcasing some of the finest craft and most impeccable storytelling. Even the smallest moment has meaning in this film-noir qua deconstruction of the American dream. Over 40 years before Lynch’s own masterpiece, Blue Velvet, Hitchcock’s work does much of the traversing between the two fantasies of American life: the beautiful dream and the terrible nightmare. And even now it’s just as powerful a watch.
Rating
10/10
Grade
S+
Go to Page 2for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Speaking of Blue Velvet, Charlie finding the ring is analogous to Jeffrey finding the detached ear. It’s the start of the journey into the mystery world. What do the initials mean?
