Vertigo

Distributed by
Pioneer LDCE

Cat.no: PLFEB 37111

Cert: PG

Running time: 124 minutes

Sides: 2 (CLV)

Year: 1958

Pressing: 1998

Chapters: 35 (16/19)

Sound: Dolby Surround

Widescreen: 1.85:1 (VistaVision)

Price: £19.99

Extras : None

---

Director:

Alfred Hitchcock

Cast:

James Stewart
Kim Novak

---

Scottie retires from the force but is hired by an old school friend to tail the latter's wife Madeleine (Novak) who intermittently suffers from the delusion that she is her great grandmother, a tragic figure whose life ended in suicide. Scottie becomes obsessed with her but fails to prevent her death when she throws herself off a tower. Grief-stricken, he sees the image of the dead woman everywhere he saw her when alive - her blonde hair pinned up, her grey coat - then he runs into Judy (Novak again) who would be a dead ringer but for her different clothes, hair colour, make-up and speech. So he starts to mould Judy's likeness into that of the dead woman.

Considered by many Hitch's masterpiece, this is a flawlessly constructed film. Actually, it does contain one terrible cliche where Stewart and Novak kiss as waves crash behind them on the shore - but perhaps that's deliberate. (Incidentally, the end of this scene is the perfect place for a sidebreak - and that's where Pioneer, bless 'em, have put it.) Then, there are some terrible matte paintings of a Spanish mission tower - although by the time you reach them, you're so emotionally wound up they scarcely matter.

Something that matters a great deal on this disc, however, is its one major drawback - the opening rooftop chase set up sequence, in which Stewart discovers at the worst imaginable moment that he suffers from vertigo, is rather dark and difficult to see here (it was fine in the cinema). The very last scene too is likewise beset by similar (if ultimately less damaging) problems. Occasional dark tones aside, the remainder looks fine - and sounds fantastic, having been not only restored but simultaneously remixed in state-of-the-art Dolby Digital. The proceedings are further helped to no small extent by the original widescreen aspect ratio presentation.

Over a decade and a half before that shot in Jaws where the beach seems to elongate as Roy Scheider thinks he sees a shark, Hitchcock created the device here first to express Stewart's vertigo by the elongation of a stairwell; the effect being achieved by simultaneously forward zooming the lens and reverse tracking the camera. Like technical film making prowess is evident throughout, from masterly composition and editing through extraordinary alternating red/green (stop/go) lighting and the up and down slopes of the hilly San Francisco locations to an incredible dream sequence. If you look closely, the film's logic is in fact that of the dream: check out Chapter 8's conundrum where Scottie follows Madeleine into the McKittrick Hotel only to discover that she wasn't there at all!

Then there are the performances - Stewart's inexorable transformation from American nice guy to ruthless pervert, Novak's extraordinary wraithlike Madeleine played off against (and ultimately melded into) her down-to-earth, ordinary everyday Judy, plus countless wonderful bit parts from others. Stewart and Novak give the performances of their careers.

Ultimately, Hitchcock's most personal film is an extraordinary revelation of sexual psychosis clad in doom-laden romanticism, a unique and special work to be greatly cherished. Bernard Herrmann (Psycho, Jason & The Argonauts, Cape Fear) contributes a fantastic score too, infinitely improved by its Dolby Surround remix. On top of this, the sound effects are clearer than ever - most notably in the satisfying thud when Madeleine's body flies out of a tower window and hits the ground.

Were it not for the difficult to view opening scene (a real shame, that), this would be an unquestionably great disc. But Vertigo is such an emotional powder keg that such disc flaws can ultimately do little to dent the piece's overall emotional impact, even after the viewer has long since lost count of the number of times s/he's seen the film.

Film: 5/5
Picture: 4/5
Sound: 5/5

Review copyright © Jeremy Clarke, 1998.