Rear Window (1954)

This tale of the wheelchair-bound voyeur L.B. Jeffries (James Stewart) is a reflecting image of the film viewer. This is because the viewer passively peers into an intimate world of film that that they don’t physically interact with. However, as the story progresses, if it’s interesting, the viewer should be invested emotionally as if the screen has become reality. In Rear Window, Hitchcock wants you to share the ennui and boredom of Jeffries; however, he wants you to also share the possible guilty feeling of being a peeping tom or an overly interested observer in other’s affairs. Yet, he rewards Jeffries, and thus you, in taking this step when the appropriate object comes into view, but not without cost.

Hitchcock did something unexpected in turning the often genial and unassuming Stewart into a complaining, stubborn protagonist. As a professional photographer, Jeffries seems to have both an eye and an “I” problem. Used to a more active role, he has slipped into a passive existence after an accident that broke his leg during an assignment. His time has been spent gazing at the activities of his neighbors through the lens of his binoculars; these activities are often amorous in nature, both frustrated and fulfilled. This brings us to his “I” problem. Despite having Lisa (Grace Kelly) as a loving girlfriend, he can’t commit to settling down. His excuse his her more refined fashion-oriented background that he believes wouldn’t meld long-term with his adventurous nature. However, his curious nature will bring the adventure and danger to him and Lisa whether he’s ready or not in his lame state.

In the film, background tells the story just as much as the action of the main characters in the foreground. We see the emotional journeys of a frisky newlywed couple, a lonely older single woman, a shapely bombshell who seemingly has attracted a company of suitors, a hopeful, romantic musician, and a woman devoted to her roaming dog, among others. Then there’s the seemingly normal middle-aged man (Raymond Burr) with his housebound wife. Jeffries sees nagging and a verbal argument or two, but that’s just normal behavior with couples. He and Lisa have had tense moments and disagreements. But one night, Jeffries sees the man, Mr. Thorwald, engaging in late night errands with a stuffed suitcase, and the bickering across the apartment complex is no more afterwards. Has something nefarious gone down, or has Jeffries’s imagination run a bit too wild?

Although the physical suspense is present in the film, especially in the third act, Hitchcock wants you to focus on the emotional tension, particularly between Jeffries and Lisa. In order to come together truly as a couple and overcome the danger that enters their lives due to the snooping, they have to learn to tweak their nature just a bit. Lisa becomes the more active participant in the investigation of the mystery of Mrs. Thorwald, while Jeffries must support as the more passive player, though his skills do help him survive when the threat becomes physically present. As in all successful relationships, they must learn to yield at times, both to each other and to their tendencies to always stick to their inner natures.

What the film tells us is that what we see with our eyes isn’t always the underlying truth, though at times our gut feeling is right. To Jeffries’s eyes, because of her elegant nature, Lisa isn’t compatible with him for the long haul. However, his nurse Stella realizes and tells him that their interaction and little gestures show that they are complements. By the end of the film nearly all the neighbors are in different circumstances than from the start. Some are legitimate changes, while others show that the initial impressions of the characters were incorrect. The saying “you don’t really know what goes on behind closed doors” is actualized even when Jeffries seemingly has the means to peer into his neighbors’ lives. However, his suspicion is justified in the one important peeping, though it costs him physically.

The bright technicolor and jaunty opening music of the presentation reflects the optimism of the post-Korean War fifties. Yet, there’s still a sadness and loneliness that permeates the atmosphere, often brought out by the jazzier selections of Franz Waxman’s score. Despite the close proximity with others that living in Manhattan entails, there’s clearly a separation of lives among the neighbors. This is why Jeffries has to interact with them through a lens, and possibly why someone could go missing without much interest, except from the voyeur who normally would be condemned. I don’t think that the film is saying becoming a busybody in the affairs of your neighbors is a solution to lack of community. However, it’s pointing out that relationships, whether friendships, family, or romance, are necessary for people to find some happiness in life. That this is pointed out after the revelation of the ultimate breakdown in the Thorwald’s relationship shows it’s not a saccharine view of life, but highlights that life can go on even after a community tragedy. This is more than Hitchcock at his height; it’s single-location cinema at its finest.