Strangers on a Train

[Spoilers galore!]

Last month I posted some thoughts on Alfred Hitchcock and his films, here. I concluded with the observation that Hitchcock himself noted: a viewer has to see any one of his films three times before he “gets” the movie. Not only is that a sharp comment business-wise, I think it’s true.

I bought Strangers on a Train and watched it three times over a three week period. With each viewing I discovered something new about the film.

Strangers on a Train (1951)

Guy Haines … Farley Granger (Hitchcock wanted William Holden, who declined)
Bruno Anthony … Robert Walker
Ann Morton … Ruth Roman
Miriam … Laura Elliot
Barbara Morton … Patricia Hitchcock
Senator Morton … Leo G. Carroll

The movie is about two men with no connections performing “each other’s murder.” At least, that’s what dandy psychopath Bruno Anthony proposes. He meets tennis player Guy Haines on a train by accident, and the two strike up conversation. Bruno knows Guy from the sports pages and, also, the society page. It seems Guy is trying to get a divorce from his two-timing faithless wife Miriam so he can marry Senator’s Morton’s beautiful daughter, Ann. Problem is, Miriam, pregnant with another man’s child, has just decided she doesn’t want that divorce, now that Guy is moving up in the tennis world. Over drinks Bruno suggests that he get rid of Guy’s problem, and Guy will get rid of Bruno’s – in the person of his distant but domineering father. No motives, and no connections. Guy sees that Bruno isn’t all there up there, and humors him: “Sure, okay, Bruno. Riiiiight.” Then, a few days later, Bruno appears outside Guy’s apartment with Miriam’s shattered eyeglasses …

Hitchcock’s main motif here is “intersecting doubles or pairs.” From the opening minutes, the criss-crossing train tracks, the pairs of feet (Guy’s and Bruno’s) walking through the train station. The two women, Miriam and Ann’s scene-stealing sister Babs, with key ostentatious eyeglasses. Then, also, the blind man in glasses Bruno helps cross the street moments after pocketing the murdered Miriam’s glasses. The pair of young men who accompany the flirty Miriam to the carnival on the night of her death. The pair of distant, authority-figure fathers, Senator Morton and the all-business industrialist Mr. Anthony. Bruno even makes a point, emphasizes the fact, that he’s ordering “doubles” – drinks – for he and Guy during their initial meeting on the train. And though Guy declines at first, he’s soon downing his drink with his new acquaintance. Even Hitchcock’s cameo (there’s one in almost every one of his films), the portly director is struggling to haul a double bass – his physical twin – up the stairs into a train car.

There’s also plenty of contrasts in the film, too, an old, old directorial device that was probably well-used by 1951. Primarily and obviously we have the contrasting characters of Guy and Bruno. Bruno is Guy’s id; Bruno is the uncensored (and unhinged) underside of the civilized Guy. He acts on Guy’s innermost desires (i.e., to “get rid” of Miriam). Early in the movie we see Guy at the train station talking to Ann, telling his girlfriend how his wife now won’t grant him the divorce – “I could just strangle her!” he shouts, just as a train storms by howling its siren (and linking Guy to Bruno and Bruno’s immoral plans in our minds).

But there’s even more straightforward contrasts. Foremost is Bruno watching Guy and a policeman from the distance of the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. Bruno, standing tall in a black suit, contrasted against the large white pillars of the monument. And there’s a long, tense segment of the film where Hitchcock flips back and forth between Guy’s brightly lit tennis match and Bruno struggling to reach down into a dark, dirty sewer to retrieve the lighter in which he aims to frame Guy. (Guy’s lighter, by the way, features criss-crossed tennis rackets and the inscription, “from A to G”; though we’re told it stands from “Ann to Guy”, might it not also refer to “Anthony to Guy”?)

I also noticed Hitchcock’s fascination with shadow. Guy’s apartment is always filmed semi-dark, with the camera slightly lower than Guy filming up. We see the rectangular shadows against the walls behind him, forming something like prison bars. It reminded me of the famous scene in Suspicion, where the light coming in from an upper window forms a spider-web lattice in shadow for Cary Grant to move about. And speaking of prison, when Bruno first calls out from across the street at Guy’s apartment, he’s behind a sliding gate that very obviously calls up the image of a prison cell. Interestingly, Guy, talking to Bruno from the other side of the gate, sees a police car arrive and jumps behind the gate (and into Bruno’s cell) in panic.

There are other miscellaneous bits of technique I noted in my three viewings: Bruno’s clawed lobster tie prefiguring his penchant for strangling; silly Mrs. Cunningham, who Bruno play-strangles at a party as a surrogate for his ditzy mother; the weird stop-motion photography when Bruno goes into a trance during the encounter with Mrs. Cunningham; the name of Bruno’s boat, Pluto, the god of death, as he sets off to follow Miriam to the Tunnel of Love; the dog at the top of the stairs at Bruno’s house, suggestive of Cerberus, the canine monster-thing that guards the underworld.

As far as watching a Hitchcock movie three times, I would say that I caught 50% of the above with the first watching (my wife watched with me, so she called out interesting things as she saw them, too). The second watching, alone, brought maybe 40% to my attention. The third and final time was really just a reinforcement of what I’d spotted before. The only new things I saw were, I think, a magazine called “Suspense” in Bruno’s train compartment, and a book titled “Murder!” at Guy’s shoulder in the Morton’s apartment. Oh, and Bruno seemed to get more and more effeminate with each viewing.

So, I’d suggest that if you really, really are a Hitchcock fan, buy his films and watch them as often as you like. I think once or twice a year is fine. The creepy, dark ones in the fall and winter, the more light-hearted and adventurous ones, such as the later films with Cary Grant, in the spring and summer. If you just want a good experience in teaching yourself how to spot good film techniques, watch one of his films twice within the span of the week. Really do it; it’s fun and find yourself really getting into the film.

The creepiest scene in Strangers on a Train? That’s easy. There’s a scene midway, as Guy is trying to avoid Bruno while simultaneously being hounded by the police, when he’s coming out to the tennis court for a match. You know how spectators in the crowd slowly turn their heads left, then right, then left, then right, during a tennis match, following the volley? Well, that’s what Guy sees as he sits down. Then, something catches his attention. Slowly, the camera starts panning towards the crowd … then it gains speed .. zooming in to the center of the crowd. Guy’s face shows startled shock as he realizes there’s one head not turning, not following the action. One head, one face that’s unmoving, focused only on Guy. It’s Bruno.

Grade: A+, of course