Bill Hare
01-29-2010, 10:55 AM
“Strangers on a Train”: Hitchcock’s Rich Imagery Reigning Supreme
By Bill Hare
One of the first lessons I learned when embarking on a series about great film directors was the unique value they attached to the camera and all it could accomplish in generating screen magic when applied by appropriately attuned creative minds.
As a youngster growing up in London, Hitchcock’s world existed inside dark movie theaters, where he could sit with eyes glued to a screen where an infinity of possibilities existed to entertain audiences. The vehicle was there and proper application of ingenuity, when pressed to the ultimate, resulted in permanent recognition of defining genius through repeated viewings and extended praise from critics and historians.
One of Alfred Hitchcock’s most celebrated works emanated from his mature phase. “Strangers on a Train” with its 1951 release came along almost exactly one decade after an earlier highly acclaimed venture into the brooding realm of film noir. Hitchcock’s 1942 masterpiece “Shadow of a Doubt” was set in the small Northern California town of Santa Rosa. The film dealt with how the homicidal madness of a worldly man also in possession of sophisticated genius, played by Joseph Cotten in his most challenging role, impacted on the typically American family from which he came, highlighted by a niece bearing his own name of “Charlie”, who initially idolized him but ultimately learned about the world of darkness that constituted his enduring essence.
Two Moody Psychopaths
As a film craftsman and master of psychopathic mood, Hitchcock struck gold with “Shadow of a Doubt” and “Strangers on a Train.” A fascinating feature of both films was how quickly Joseph Cotten as the murdering psychopath who killed wealthy women and Robert Walker as a rich young man doted on by a neurotic mother switched moods. One divisible style factor was that Cotten was older and more debonair in manner while Walker represented the essence of “youth must be served” impatience.
The performers with whom Cotten and Walker clash were vastly different types; Teresa Wright, signed by Samuel Goldwyn due to his preference for “sweet young lady” personas, as young Charlie the niece was a high school honor student with lofty ideals. Wright idolized an uncle she believed possessed comparable high level traits, only to be crushingly disappointed.
In the case of Walker, his dramatic counterforce was Farley Granger, someone who from their first meeting strove to get rid of him. Granger displays an awkwardness of youth and is perpetually thwarted as well as dumbfounded by the nonchalant audacity of Walker.
Introduction through Adroit Camera Technique
A good example to use for any Cinema 101 class displaying the difference between film and other methods of storytelling such as stage drama or novels is the manner in which the camera can be invoked. The first brilliant and story exploring camera gem the wily Hitchcock tosses our way is in the opening sequence.
Hitchcock zeroes in using a novel approach to introducing the contrasting characters of his drama. We do not see their faces; instead the visual activity resides in observing them stride onto the same train. One is dressed in the manner of the neighborhood sport. His cocky, confident strides match his choice of wearing apparel. The other man’s choice of wardrobe is more decidedly conservative, as are his strides, moving forward without the cocky authority of his counterpart, a young man cautiously but surely seeking to make his way into society.
When we meet the lead characters inside the train once that it is moving those differences made clear through revealing camera shots as they embarked are quickly solidified. Walker confronts Granger confidently, telling him that he is a fan, and that he has seen many of his tennis matches.
Granger finds the meeting awkward, and is being victimized by the wily Walker’s initial deception, that his interest focuses on being a tennis fan of Granger’s. In that Granger has correctly depicted Walker as a wild neurotic, when Walker jumps to the subject of Granger’s marital difficulties, known as a result of Granger’s tennis celebrity status, he makes the mistake of disregarding as a neurotic irrelevancy Walker’s proposal of a murder exchange – Granger’s difficult wife for Walker’s father – he bids him goodbye and assumes he will never see or hear from him again.
Flirtation as a Prelude to Murder
That puckish smile so frequently seen on Alfred Hitchcock’s face was reflective of a man who said that the appropriate inscription for his tombstone should be, “Here lies a very naughty boy.” The springboard of his success and source of audience fixation was the manner in which the director known as The Master drew viewers in with one grand tease after another.
The camera’s eye reveals a diligent Walker sizing up his prey, namely Granger’s difficult wife Laura Elliott, who refuses giving him the divorce he seeks so he can marry Ruth Roman, the daughter of a prominent United States Senator, played with appropriate dignity by Leo G. Carroll. Walker catches Elliott’s eye and the two engage in an interesting flirtation that occurs without the two men escorting Elliott knowing anything about it.
The flirtation occurs when both are on rowboats and culminates in another eye-popping visual, Walker’s strangulation of Elliott as seen through the image of the glasses she had formerly worn, and through the force of Walker’s sturdy hands have fallen to the grass.
Granger then receives the jolting shock of reality that Walker is anything but a bluff artist as he calls the tennis star, informs him that he has carried out his part of the bargain, and fully expects reciprocity on Granger’s part.
Dark Brooding Images
By the time of the film’s release America was immersed in the Cold War opposite the Soviet Union. Albeit Hitchcock was not a political person, as a filmmaker he was not only acutely aware of American and global trends; he knew that by incorporating familiar themes and images in his films he increased the likelihood of audiences identifying with them.
Walker could be seen as a dark totalitarian image as he was observed hovering around Washington’s familiar historical sites such as the Jefferson Memorial shrouded in darkness. While Walker represents the anarchistic challenge to established authority, the always distinguished, frequent Hitchcock character performer Leo G. Carroll appears as the cool establishment figure that stands for order and reason, seeking to comfort fears of his lovely daughter Ruth Roman and son-in-law to be Granger.
One of the film’s leading standouts from the character ranks is none other than Hitchcock’s daughter Patricia, who plays the younger sister of Roman. Her native intelligence and keen detective instincts, which are displayed in two pivotal instances in the film, are reminiscent of her father’s demeanor as evidenced in his films and personal comments, many of which were presented in hosting his own successful television series.
The unyielding efforts of Walker to become a permanent influence in Granger’s life provide an additional problem beyond the obvious ones of the destruction he has wrought through strangling the tennis star’s wife and might achieve in the future. Granger is revealed as a deeply troubled young man who wants to enter the top rungs of Washington, D.C. society, which a marriage to Roman would insure, but wonders if he is cut out for such a role. As a decent but apprehensive young man, Farley Granger proves to be the perfect dramatic opposite for Robert Walker, who can display an engaging nonchalance that charms upper crust society until he reveals his darker, emotionally and mentally troubled side.
From a classical film noir standpoint, one of the film’s towering moments is when Walker is seen from the distance, once more a brooding creature of darkness, on a critical evening when Granger is discussing his plight with the distinguished senator and family. They are all aware of his haunting presence, as someone who seemingly will never go away, as Hitchcock presents an unforgettable image of the contrast between good and evil, between authority and anarchy, between death and life, between a bright and positive future and a potential plunge into oblivion.
The Hitchcock penchant for putting his audiences on the edge of continuing suspense occurs after Granger decides to visit the family mansion in Arlington, Virginia, where Walker has lived in splendor, regaling under an enabler mother amid the continuing frustration of a realistic father, The Master’s camera and lighting techniques provide one of the signature moments in film noir.
How could suspense masters endure without staircases? Hitchcock uses the staircase approach to good advantage when Granger enters the mansion and proceeds with slow, determined purpose up the staircase. As befitting the tense moment, a shadow effect is employed.
Hitchcock had plenty of drama going in this scene as is, but being the innovator he was another nail-biting dimension was inserted. A large dog was silently perched in front of the door leading to the room where Granger’s anticipated meeting would occur.
Would the dog pose a danger? When Granger’s slim, shadowy image approaches, the dog takes an instant liking to him. He pets the dog, which in turn licks his hand. Does this mean that the fates are now on Granger’s side and a successful meeting with Walker’s father is at hand?
Fascination and intrigue abound. Granger, in his sincere, straightforward manner, speaks directly to the figure sitting on the bed. It is so dark that he cannot make it out but assumes it to be Walker’s father, telling him, “Mr. Antony, your son Bruno is sick and needs help.”
After we have been conditioned to slow movements, silence and darkness, Hitchcock then unleashes angry verbal pyrotechnics. Granger has been tricked by the wily Walker. He is the figure on the bed. Walker becomes enraged over Granger’s “deceit” and in the ensuing verbal hostilities Granger strikes the man who was willing to move heaven and earth to become his lasting “friend.”
The meeting is a pivotal story point because it is then that Walker declares his determination to make Granger pay a price for spurning his offer of friendship and refusing to reciprocate in kind by killing his father after the psychopath had done him a big “favor” by killing his difficult wife.
A Novel Chase Scene
Once Walker has made his declaration of vengeance against Granger he decides to plant the cigarette lighter he had taken from him in the same spot where Granger’s wife was strangled, thereby implicating Granger in her murder. His effort is bolstered by the fact that Granger and his wife had engaged in a loud argument at the record store where she is employed shortly before her death.
In the case of extending the period leading up to the dramatic argument between the film’s two chief figures, Hitchcock had done his utmost to “milk” scenes by extending suspense. Once more he leaves his audience in a nail-biting state. About the time that it is concluded one can easily wonder if Hitchcock has unleashed his full bag of tricks and has nothing more left to generate additional surprise. Such concerns were groundless.
A period of surprising suspenseful intensity occurs when Granger, faced with playing in the finals of a tennis match, realizes that a furious Walker, feeling that Granger has betrayed him, is heading to Granger’s hometown of Metcalf, Pennsylvania to plant the cigarette lighter that he hopes will be the linchpin to frame him for the murder of Granger’s wife.
In the tennis match that is filmed, utilizing as Granger’s opponent Jack Cushingham, a top professional of the period, crowd sequences were shot from actual footage at the U.S. Nationals competition at Forest Hills, New York, enhancing scenic authenticity.
As a means of extending drama, the tennis match involves Granger adopting a strategy that is inconsistent with his general deliberative style, which matches his lifestyle as well. The match’s radio commentator expresses surprise over Granger’s slashing, aggressive style of attacking the net, pressing the action against Cushingham. The viewer knows that the strategy is based on the necessity of reaching the Metcalf amusement park before Walker can accomplish his evil deed.
At one point in the match it appears that Granger’s strategy has succeeded to the point where an early victory is at hand. Once more Hitchcock prolongs suspense as the radio announcer reveals that Cushingham has made a brilliant comeback as the match is extended.
Hitchcock Assists Granger
As the match tightens close-ups are shown of a tense, perspiring Granger, who knows that time is his enemy as his determined adversary seeks to frame him for murder. The importance of time is emphasized as Granger, between volleys, sneaks peeks at the stadium clock while his face registers worried concern over the crucial nature of the moment at hand.
Once that the match ends Granger is given a timely assist from Hitchcock. No, not from Alfred Hitchcock but his daughter Patricia, the wily young sister of Ruth Roman, who knows the importance of Granger eluding the two Washington, D.C. police officers assigned to trail the then murder suspect.
Since one of the officers has a crush on Hitchcock she engages him in a brief flirtation while the less friendly partner is away, giving Granger the break he needs to make his exit and ultimately make it to Grand Central Station. At that point the race moves into high gear as Granger catches a train bound for Metcalf.
Hitchcock is part of another key scene of the film. She learns firsthand the killing urge of Walker at a wealthy aristocratic Washington party. While Walker is demonstrating murder mystery technique for an aristocratic older lady he stares piercingly at Hitchcock, who bears a striking resemblance to Granger’s wife, right down to the spectacles each wore. Hitchcock realizes that Walker is symbolically strangling Granger’s wife again as he ultimately has to be pulled off of the society matron.
Identifying with the Villain
An important scene from “Strangers on a Train” occurs when the audience has an opportunity to identify with the film’s villain. During the race to plant the potentially incriminating cigarette lighter, Walker drops it into the grill and to the bottom of a manhole.
A desperate Walker, proclaiming that he has lost an important family heirloom, receives the help of downtown locals who believe they are being good Samaritans, never realizing they are assisting a psychopathic killer seeking to frame an innocent man for a murder he has committed.
This interesting highly visual scene supplies yet another example of Hitchcock’s unique ability to make his characters jump through hoops in an effort to drain every conceivable drop of suspense from a scene.
The Ultimate Roman Candle?
Hitchcock was noted for setting off Roman candles in his films, visual pyrotechnics that virtually exploded while transfixing filmgoers. Perhaps the ultimate Roman candle the great director unleashed came in the culminating scene of “Strangers on a Train” when Granger seeks to take the cigarette lighter away from Walker while they are on a rapidly moving carousel.
Robert Burks, who had been a special effects photographer at Warner Brothers, began a lengthy collaboration with Hitchcock on “Strangers on a Train.” He would serve as Hitchcock’s cameraman for every film from 1950 to 1964, with the exception of “Psycho.”
Burks’ background in special effects was particularly helpful in the merry-go-round scene. As I wrote in my book “Hitchcock and the Methods of Suspense”:
“When the carousel finally breaks down there is a massive explosion. Screams are heard while bodies and machine parts fly. To achieve this dramatic effect Hitchcock took a toy carousel and photographed it being blown up by a small charge of explosives. The film was then enlarged and projected on a vast screen. Actors were strategically placed around and in front of it, creating the effect of a mob of bystanders intermingled with plastic horses and hysterical passengers in a state of great confusion. The effort to achieve order amid the reigning chaos can be said, once more, to symbolize Hitchcock’s fascination with duality, juxtaposing the cruel and anarchistic side of nature with that of orderliness and human decency.
“Given the potential of such a spine-tingling dramatic climax, Hitchcock could not resist the opportunity to once more delay the moment of resolution. An amusement park worker is compelled to crawl slowly beneath the runaway carousel, creeping slowly underneath it to finally shut off the power and bring it to a screeching halt. In true Hitchcock fashion, every slow, difficult movement was photographed. Another clever touch had the veteran amusement park employee pausing briefly to blow his nose.”
This was Robert Walker’s finally completed film and his dazzling performance culminated with his death after he was thrown violently from the carousel as he continued to cling to the precious cigarette lighter until his final moment of life, when it falls free from his previously tightly clenched hand.
A Good Price and Collaborating with Chandler
By having his agent negotiate for the rights to the Patricia Highsmith suspense novel “Strangers on a Train” while keeping his identity hidden, Hitchcock was able to secure them for $7,500. While the low price displeased Highsmith, the American born author who wrote many more novels and lived most of her life in Paris, received name value by her attachment to one of Hitchcock’s most heralded films that endured for the remainder of her long and productive career.
Hitchcock began by collaborating on a screenplay with Raymond Chandler. Eventually the great detective author became disgusted and broke off their collaboration. The finished screenplay, nonetheless, despite Chandler’s belief that his contributing efforts had been ultimately abandoned, bears his name along with that of the person Hitchcock chose after their relationship ended, Czenzi Ormonde, who was a frequent collaborator with Ben Hecht. The veteran Hecht, who did not get involved in this project due to other commitments, had written screenplays for two of Hitchcock’s most successful films, “Spellbound” (1945) and “Notorious” (1946).
Chandler, despite personality conflicts, had co-written the brilliant 1944 adaptation of James Cain’s novella “Double Indemnity” along with the film’s director Billy Wilder, but Hitchcock’s methods appeared so alien to the master detective author that he quit in the belief that the director’s imprint would remain alone at the end of the project.
At one point during their collaboration, Chandler was quoted as stated in exasperation to the effect of, “If you can do it all by yourself then why do you need me at all?”
Chandler’s frustration stemmed from an absence of understanding Hitchcock’s approach to filmmaking. Hitchcock, along with Walt Disney, used storyboards for their films, working with an artist to painstakingly present each scene in graphic detail prior to photographing scenes.
Whereas Billy Wilder followed a fundamental approach to story writing that Chandler understood, developing a screenplay scene by scene, Hitchcock began with a personal vision. That vision began with a series of graphic images that were honed into scenes, after which the appropriate dialogue and other story action unfolded.
To Alfred Hitchcock filmmaking represented visual imagery at its zenith. Those images remain immersed in the memories of anyone who viewed his films, and “Strangers on a Train” marked a crowning blend of skillful suspense merging with dazzling imagery.
By Bill Hare
One of the first lessons I learned when embarking on a series about great film directors was the unique value they attached to the camera and all it could accomplish in generating screen magic when applied by appropriately attuned creative minds.
As a youngster growing up in London, Hitchcock’s world existed inside dark movie theaters, where he could sit with eyes glued to a screen where an infinity of possibilities existed to entertain audiences. The vehicle was there and proper application of ingenuity, when pressed to the ultimate, resulted in permanent recognition of defining genius through repeated viewings and extended praise from critics and historians.
One of Alfred Hitchcock’s most celebrated works emanated from his mature phase. “Strangers on a Train” with its 1951 release came along almost exactly one decade after an earlier highly acclaimed venture into the brooding realm of film noir. Hitchcock’s 1942 masterpiece “Shadow of a Doubt” was set in the small Northern California town of Santa Rosa. The film dealt with how the homicidal madness of a worldly man also in possession of sophisticated genius, played by Joseph Cotten in his most challenging role, impacted on the typically American family from which he came, highlighted by a niece bearing his own name of “Charlie”, who initially idolized him but ultimately learned about the world of darkness that constituted his enduring essence.
Two Moody Psychopaths
As a film craftsman and master of psychopathic mood, Hitchcock struck gold with “Shadow of a Doubt” and “Strangers on a Train.” A fascinating feature of both films was how quickly Joseph Cotten as the murdering psychopath who killed wealthy women and Robert Walker as a rich young man doted on by a neurotic mother switched moods. One divisible style factor was that Cotten was older and more debonair in manner while Walker represented the essence of “youth must be served” impatience.
The performers with whom Cotten and Walker clash were vastly different types; Teresa Wright, signed by Samuel Goldwyn due to his preference for “sweet young lady” personas, as young Charlie the niece was a high school honor student with lofty ideals. Wright idolized an uncle she believed possessed comparable high level traits, only to be crushingly disappointed.
In the case of Walker, his dramatic counterforce was Farley Granger, someone who from their first meeting strove to get rid of him. Granger displays an awkwardness of youth and is perpetually thwarted as well as dumbfounded by the nonchalant audacity of Walker.
Introduction through Adroit Camera Technique
A good example to use for any Cinema 101 class displaying the difference between film and other methods of storytelling such as stage drama or novels is the manner in which the camera can be invoked. The first brilliant and story exploring camera gem the wily Hitchcock tosses our way is in the opening sequence.
Hitchcock zeroes in using a novel approach to introducing the contrasting characters of his drama. We do not see their faces; instead the visual activity resides in observing them stride onto the same train. One is dressed in the manner of the neighborhood sport. His cocky, confident strides match his choice of wearing apparel. The other man’s choice of wardrobe is more decidedly conservative, as are his strides, moving forward without the cocky authority of his counterpart, a young man cautiously but surely seeking to make his way into society.
When we meet the lead characters inside the train once that it is moving those differences made clear through revealing camera shots as they embarked are quickly solidified. Walker confronts Granger confidently, telling him that he is a fan, and that he has seen many of his tennis matches.
Granger finds the meeting awkward, and is being victimized by the wily Walker’s initial deception, that his interest focuses on being a tennis fan of Granger’s. In that Granger has correctly depicted Walker as a wild neurotic, when Walker jumps to the subject of Granger’s marital difficulties, known as a result of Granger’s tennis celebrity status, he makes the mistake of disregarding as a neurotic irrelevancy Walker’s proposal of a murder exchange – Granger’s difficult wife for Walker’s father – he bids him goodbye and assumes he will never see or hear from him again.
Flirtation as a Prelude to Murder
That puckish smile so frequently seen on Alfred Hitchcock’s face was reflective of a man who said that the appropriate inscription for his tombstone should be, “Here lies a very naughty boy.” The springboard of his success and source of audience fixation was the manner in which the director known as The Master drew viewers in with one grand tease after another.
The camera’s eye reveals a diligent Walker sizing up his prey, namely Granger’s difficult wife Laura Elliott, who refuses giving him the divorce he seeks so he can marry Ruth Roman, the daughter of a prominent United States Senator, played with appropriate dignity by Leo G. Carroll. Walker catches Elliott’s eye and the two engage in an interesting flirtation that occurs without the two men escorting Elliott knowing anything about it.
The flirtation occurs when both are on rowboats and culminates in another eye-popping visual, Walker’s strangulation of Elliott as seen through the image of the glasses she had formerly worn, and through the force of Walker’s sturdy hands have fallen to the grass.
Granger then receives the jolting shock of reality that Walker is anything but a bluff artist as he calls the tennis star, informs him that he has carried out his part of the bargain, and fully expects reciprocity on Granger’s part.
Dark Brooding Images
By the time of the film’s release America was immersed in the Cold War opposite the Soviet Union. Albeit Hitchcock was not a political person, as a filmmaker he was not only acutely aware of American and global trends; he knew that by incorporating familiar themes and images in his films he increased the likelihood of audiences identifying with them.
Walker could be seen as a dark totalitarian image as he was observed hovering around Washington’s familiar historical sites such as the Jefferson Memorial shrouded in darkness. While Walker represents the anarchistic challenge to established authority, the always distinguished, frequent Hitchcock character performer Leo G. Carroll appears as the cool establishment figure that stands for order and reason, seeking to comfort fears of his lovely daughter Ruth Roman and son-in-law to be Granger.
One of the film’s leading standouts from the character ranks is none other than Hitchcock’s daughter Patricia, who plays the younger sister of Roman. Her native intelligence and keen detective instincts, which are displayed in two pivotal instances in the film, are reminiscent of her father’s demeanor as evidenced in his films and personal comments, many of which were presented in hosting his own successful television series.
The unyielding efforts of Walker to become a permanent influence in Granger’s life provide an additional problem beyond the obvious ones of the destruction he has wrought through strangling the tennis star’s wife and might achieve in the future. Granger is revealed as a deeply troubled young man who wants to enter the top rungs of Washington, D.C. society, which a marriage to Roman would insure, but wonders if he is cut out for such a role. As a decent but apprehensive young man, Farley Granger proves to be the perfect dramatic opposite for Robert Walker, who can display an engaging nonchalance that charms upper crust society until he reveals his darker, emotionally and mentally troubled side.
From a classical film noir standpoint, one of the film’s towering moments is when Walker is seen from the distance, once more a brooding creature of darkness, on a critical evening when Granger is discussing his plight with the distinguished senator and family. They are all aware of his haunting presence, as someone who seemingly will never go away, as Hitchcock presents an unforgettable image of the contrast between good and evil, between authority and anarchy, between death and life, between a bright and positive future and a potential plunge into oblivion.
The Hitchcock penchant for putting his audiences on the edge of continuing suspense occurs after Granger decides to visit the family mansion in Arlington, Virginia, where Walker has lived in splendor, regaling under an enabler mother amid the continuing frustration of a realistic father, The Master’s camera and lighting techniques provide one of the signature moments in film noir.
How could suspense masters endure without staircases? Hitchcock uses the staircase approach to good advantage when Granger enters the mansion and proceeds with slow, determined purpose up the staircase. As befitting the tense moment, a shadow effect is employed.
Hitchcock had plenty of drama going in this scene as is, but being the innovator he was another nail-biting dimension was inserted. A large dog was silently perched in front of the door leading to the room where Granger’s anticipated meeting would occur.
Would the dog pose a danger? When Granger’s slim, shadowy image approaches, the dog takes an instant liking to him. He pets the dog, which in turn licks his hand. Does this mean that the fates are now on Granger’s side and a successful meeting with Walker’s father is at hand?
Fascination and intrigue abound. Granger, in his sincere, straightforward manner, speaks directly to the figure sitting on the bed. It is so dark that he cannot make it out but assumes it to be Walker’s father, telling him, “Mr. Antony, your son Bruno is sick and needs help.”
After we have been conditioned to slow movements, silence and darkness, Hitchcock then unleashes angry verbal pyrotechnics. Granger has been tricked by the wily Walker. He is the figure on the bed. Walker becomes enraged over Granger’s “deceit” and in the ensuing verbal hostilities Granger strikes the man who was willing to move heaven and earth to become his lasting “friend.”
The meeting is a pivotal story point because it is then that Walker declares his determination to make Granger pay a price for spurning his offer of friendship and refusing to reciprocate in kind by killing his father after the psychopath had done him a big “favor” by killing his difficult wife.
A Novel Chase Scene
Once Walker has made his declaration of vengeance against Granger he decides to plant the cigarette lighter he had taken from him in the same spot where Granger’s wife was strangled, thereby implicating Granger in her murder. His effort is bolstered by the fact that Granger and his wife had engaged in a loud argument at the record store where she is employed shortly before her death.
In the case of extending the period leading up to the dramatic argument between the film’s two chief figures, Hitchcock had done his utmost to “milk” scenes by extending suspense. Once more he leaves his audience in a nail-biting state. About the time that it is concluded one can easily wonder if Hitchcock has unleashed his full bag of tricks and has nothing more left to generate additional surprise. Such concerns were groundless.
A period of surprising suspenseful intensity occurs when Granger, faced with playing in the finals of a tennis match, realizes that a furious Walker, feeling that Granger has betrayed him, is heading to Granger’s hometown of Metcalf, Pennsylvania to plant the cigarette lighter that he hopes will be the linchpin to frame him for the murder of Granger’s wife.
In the tennis match that is filmed, utilizing as Granger’s opponent Jack Cushingham, a top professional of the period, crowd sequences were shot from actual footage at the U.S. Nationals competition at Forest Hills, New York, enhancing scenic authenticity.
As a means of extending drama, the tennis match involves Granger adopting a strategy that is inconsistent with his general deliberative style, which matches his lifestyle as well. The match’s radio commentator expresses surprise over Granger’s slashing, aggressive style of attacking the net, pressing the action against Cushingham. The viewer knows that the strategy is based on the necessity of reaching the Metcalf amusement park before Walker can accomplish his evil deed.
At one point in the match it appears that Granger’s strategy has succeeded to the point where an early victory is at hand. Once more Hitchcock prolongs suspense as the radio announcer reveals that Cushingham has made a brilliant comeback as the match is extended.
Hitchcock Assists Granger
As the match tightens close-ups are shown of a tense, perspiring Granger, who knows that time is his enemy as his determined adversary seeks to frame him for murder. The importance of time is emphasized as Granger, between volleys, sneaks peeks at the stadium clock while his face registers worried concern over the crucial nature of the moment at hand.
Once that the match ends Granger is given a timely assist from Hitchcock. No, not from Alfred Hitchcock but his daughter Patricia, the wily young sister of Ruth Roman, who knows the importance of Granger eluding the two Washington, D.C. police officers assigned to trail the then murder suspect.
Since one of the officers has a crush on Hitchcock she engages him in a brief flirtation while the less friendly partner is away, giving Granger the break he needs to make his exit and ultimately make it to Grand Central Station. At that point the race moves into high gear as Granger catches a train bound for Metcalf.
Hitchcock is part of another key scene of the film. She learns firsthand the killing urge of Walker at a wealthy aristocratic Washington party. While Walker is demonstrating murder mystery technique for an aristocratic older lady he stares piercingly at Hitchcock, who bears a striking resemblance to Granger’s wife, right down to the spectacles each wore. Hitchcock realizes that Walker is symbolically strangling Granger’s wife again as he ultimately has to be pulled off of the society matron.
Identifying with the Villain
An important scene from “Strangers on a Train” occurs when the audience has an opportunity to identify with the film’s villain. During the race to plant the potentially incriminating cigarette lighter, Walker drops it into the grill and to the bottom of a manhole.
A desperate Walker, proclaiming that he has lost an important family heirloom, receives the help of downtown locals who believe they are being good Samaritans, never realizing they are assisting a psychopathic killer seeking to frame an innocent man for a murder he has committed.
This interesting highly visual scene supplies yet another example of Hitchcock’s unique ability to make his characters jump through hoops in an effort to drain every conceivable drop of suspense from a scene.
The Ultimate Roman Candle?
Hitchcock was noted for setting off Roman candles in his films, visual pyrotechnics that virtually exploded while transfixing filmgoers. Perhaps the ultimate Roman candle the great director unleashed came in the culminating scene of “Strangers on a Train” when Granger seeks to take the cigarette lighter away from Walker while they are on a rapidly moving carousel.
Robert Burks, who had been a special effects photographer at Warner Brothers, began a lengthy collaboration with Hitchcock on “Strangers on a Train.” He would serve as Hitchcock’s cameraman for every film from 1950 to 1964, with the exception of “Psycho.”
Burks’ background in special effects was particularly helpful in the merry-go-round scene. As I wrote in my book “Hitchcock and the Methods of Suspense”:
“When the carousel finally breaks down there is a massive explosion. Screams are heard while bodies and machine parts fly. To achieve this dramatic effect Hitchcock took a toy carousel and photographed it being blown up by a small charge of explosives. The film was then enlarged and projected on a vast screen. Actors were strategically placed around and in front of it, creating the effect of a mob of bystanders intermingled with plastic horses and hysterical passengers in a state of great confusion. The effort to achieve order amid the reigning chaos can be said, once more, to symbolize Hitchcock’s fascination with duality, juxtaposing the cruel and anarchistic side of nature with that of orderliness and human decency.
“Given the potential of such a spine-tingling dramatic climax, Hitchcock could not resist the opportunity to once more delay the moment of resolution. An amusement park worker is compelled to crawl slowly beneath the runaway carousel, creeping slowly underneath it to finally shut off the power and bring it to a screeching halt. In true Hitchcock fashion, every slow, difficult movement was photographed. Another clever touch had the veteran amusement park employee pausing briefly to blow his nose.”
This was Robert Walker’s finally completed film and his dazzling performance culminated with his death after he was thrown violently from the carousel as he continued to cling to the precious cigarette lighter until his final moment of life, when it falls free from his previously tightly clenched hand.
A Good Price and Collaborating with Chandler
By having his agent negotiate for the rights to the Patricia Highsmith suspense novel “Strangers on a Train” while keeping his identity hidden, Hitchcock was able to secure them for $7,500. While the low price displeased Highsmith, the American born author who wrote many more novels and lived most of her life in Paris, received name value by her attachment to one of Hitchcock’s most heralded films that endured for the remainder of her long and productive career.
Hitchcock began by collaborating on a screenplay with Raymond Chandler. Eventually the great detective author became disgusted and broke off their collaboration. The finished screenplay, nonetheless, despite Chandler’s belief that his contributing efforts had been ultimately abandoned, bears his name along with that of the person Hitchcock chose after their relationship ended, Czenzi Ormonde, who was a frequent collaborator with Ben Hecht. The veteran Hecht, who did not get involved in this project due to other commitments, had written screenplays for two of Hitchcock’s most successful films, “Spellbound” (1945) and “Notorious” (1946).
Chandler, despite personality conflicts, had co-written the brilliant 1944 adaptation of James Cain’s novella “Double Indemnity” along with the film’s director Billy Wilder, but Hitchcock’s methods appeared so alien to the master detective author that he quit in the belief that the director’s imprint would remain alone at the end of the project.
At one point during their collaboration, Chandler was quoted as stated in exasperation to the effect of, “If you can do it all by yourself then why do you need me at all?”
Chandler’s frustration stemmed from an absence of understanding Hitchcock’s approach to filmmaking. Hitchcock, along with Walt Disney, used storyboards for their films, working with an artist to painstakingly present each scene in graphic detail prior to photographing scenes.
Whereas Billy Wilder followed a fundamental approach to story writing that Chandler understood, developing a screenplay scene by scene, Hitchcock began with a personal vision. That vision began with a series of graphic images that were honed into scenes, after which the appropriate dialogue and other story action unfolded.
To Alfred Hitchcock filmmaking represented visual imagery at its zenith. Those images remain immersed in the memories of anyone who viewed his films, and “Strangers on a Train” marked a crowning blend of skillful suspense merging with dazzling imagery.