The Guardian Film Blog
A yellow handbag fills the frame. Its owner walks away from the camera, poised on high heels, suit clipping her waist, hairdo a geometrical helmet. She is abstract art, a construct of colour and couture. We don't even see her face until she washes the dye from her hair and becomes a blonde. The opening shots of Marnie are Hitchcock's ideal of visual storytelling at its purest, and the rest of the film is an underrated gem.
Marnie had a lukewarm reception. Audiences expected killer birds or mother-fixated murderers, not "instant psychiatry". Even Hitchcock warned fans they might not get what they expected.
Marnie (Tippi Hedren) is a serial thief: she stays in a job long enough to learn the safe combination before stuffing her handbag with cash and moving on. But there's something wrong: she can't bear to be touched, and a flash of red gladioli or a splash of red ink on her sleeve sends her into a paroxysm of terror. Marnie is caught out by new boss Mark Rutland (a dashing Sean Connery), who blackmails her into marrying him and sets about trying to analyse her.
No comments:
Post a Comment