“These people get to say things that we only think in the deepest, darkest recesses of our brains. They say horrible things and scream horrible things and get to be completely socially unacceptable. As an actor, that’s sometimes a gift, sometimes a bit of therapy. These characters tend to be well-written. When you see a really interesting bad guy, you’re going to think about the actor, but think about the writer. It’s the writer who’s dark. You’ve got to give him or her a hug.”— British actor-director Idris Elba, on playing villains, quoted by Lane Florsheim, “My Monday Morning: Idris Elba on 4 A.M. Workouts and the Best Part of Playing a Bad Guy,” The Wall Street Journal, June 8-9, 2024 The image accompanying this post, of Idris Elba at the Berlinale 2018, was taken on Feb. 22, 2018, by Harald Krichel.
Tuesday, May 5, 2026
Tuesday, May 9, 2023
Movie Quote of the Day (‘Vertigo,’ With a Mysterious Figure From the Past)
Marjorie “Midge” Wood
[played by Barbara Bel Geddes]: “That's Skid Row... isn't it?”
Scottie: “Could be.”
Midge: “He's probably
on the bum and wants to set you for the price of a drink.”
Scottie: “Well, I'm on
the bum; I'll buy him a couple of drinks and tell him my troubles.”—Vertigo,
screenplay by Alec Coppel and Samuel Taylor, based on the French novel D'Entre
Les Morts (“From Among the Dead”) by Pierre Boileau and Thomas Narcejac, directed by Alfred Hitchcock
(1958)
Sixty-five years ago today, Alfred Hitchcock’s thriller
Vertigo premiered in San Francisco. The director blamed its failure at
the time on the aging appearance of star James Stewart—and, indeed, it did mark
the transition of this leading man from romantic figure to more of a character
actor.
But even before Hitchcock died in 1980—even when, its
rights having reverted to him, he had withdrawn it from circulation—Vertigo
was increasingly recognized as among the director’s best. By 1999, it had been
recognized by the Library of Congress as being worthy of preservation. In more
recent years, it has been listed at or near the top of the greatest films ever
made.
In retrospect, it’s easy to see that the movie’s
disappointing reception by contemporary audiences and critics related less to Stewart’s
supposed lack of credibility in the role than with its mysterious, unnerving,
even perverse nature.
After all, how many moviegoers, even now, feel
comfortable with a plot that hints unmistakably at necrophilia?
Scottie, as the plot proceeds, is fooled by
appearances—most famously, by that of “Madeleine,” the chic, elegant beauty impersonated
by the working-class Judy (played, in both cases, by Kim Novak).
But fundamentally, and fatally, he is fooled by the
old college acquaintance whose reappearance in his life is indicated in the
dialogue above, Gavin Elster.
Elster, when Scottie meets him at his office, appears
to be a cultured shipping magnate, deeply concerned that his wife may harm
herself because of her belief that she’s possessed by the spirit of her
great-grandmother. In reality, Elster has concocted a plot in which his
mistress will act as his wife, running to a tower that he knows that Scottie
cannot ascend because of the trauma-induced acrophobia that forced him off the
police force.
There are really only two true statements that Elster
makes to Scottie at their initial meeting. First, the real Madeleine did have
an ancestor Carlotta of some local lore.
Second, Elster says he is bored by his routine and he envies
the power and freedom enjoyed by original settlers of San Francisco. It is for
that power and freedom that Elster wants to murder his well-to-do wife and
abscond with her money.
Since Notorious a dozen years ago, Hitchcock
had sought to push against and test Hollywood’s censorship office, the
Production Code Administration, notably in his treatment of sexuality. But in
its way, Vertigo may have represented his most direct challenge to one
of its ironclad rules: that villains be punished.
In contrast—and uniquely among all the villains in Hitchcock’s
many film thrillers—Elster escapes unscathed and even unrepentant.
The evil he represents is signified by the collateral
damage surrounding the murder of his wife:
*Judy, his accomplice in the crime, is dumped as his
girlfriend, left with minimal money—and ends up ironically reenacting the fate
of Madeleine in the tower, where an enraged Scottie has dragged her when he
ferrets out the truth.
*Scottie, who still has a chance to establish a life after
his disability-induced retirement from the police force, is driven to
obsession, madness, and destruction of the woman he has come to love; and
*Midge, the bantering friend—and once-and-possibly-future
fiancĂ©e of Scottie—loses him to illusion—and is herself driven to trailing
Scottie himself as he trails Madeleine.
Present in less than a half-dozen scenes, Elster
decisively tilts Scottie towards permanent loss of mental balance. His role is
one of the less-remarked upon, but still fascinating, aspects of this masterpiece
that offers something new with each new viewing.



