MARNIE Deconstruction of a Scene: Marnie steals the money

Marnie is the first film in what I refer to as Hitchcock’s problematic trilogy.   This is a frustratingly flawed film, which nonetheless has many great moments and sequences.   I would like to break down the sequence in which Marnie (played by Tippi Hedren) steals the money from the safe at Rutlands.

The sequence runs just a couple seconds over five minutes, and contains 29 editorial cuts.  This averages out to 10.4 seconds per shot, which is a high number for a Hitchcock suspense sequence.   Sound is just as important as vision in this sequence.  Let’s see how Hitchcock did it.

If you’ve read my deconstructions before, you may have noticed that Hitchcock often opens sequences with a dissolve.  In this case the preceding scene fades to black, and he holds the black for two full seconds before fading in on this scene.

It is the end of the workday at Rutlands, and employees begin to file out.  Marnie heads to the ladies restroom.  Hitchcock does this in one shot lasting 26 seconds, tracking behind Marnie as she walks to the bathroom door.  The office is a hum of activity.

 

We next cut to the restroom interior as Marnie enters, and goes in a stall.  There are several women at the sinks, freshening their makeup and talking over each other in a constant murmur.  This shot lasts 10 seconds.

 

Hitchcock next cuts to the interior of the stall, which is impressively lit.   In many ways, this is the most important shot in the sequence.  Hitchcock holds this scene for 54 seconds, which is a long time for a scene which is visually static.  The key here is the sound.  As Marnie waits and listens, the sounds gradually diminish as the other women leave the restroom.  Finally there is complete silence.   This silence is important; there is no musical score in this scene either.

 

We then get an 11 second shot of Marnie leaving the stall, listening quietly, and exiting the restroom.   Hitchcock next cuts to the reverse with an exterior shot of Marnie coming out the restroom door.  This 3 second shot is the first quick cut in the sequence.

 

Here Hitchcock gives us the first subjective POV shots of the sequence as we see Marnie glancing around the office, and then cut to what she is looking at.  These are brief shots lasting only a couple of seconds.   We then get a 28 second shot that tracks with Marnie back to her desk, showing her getting a bag from her purse, and walking to the desk with the safe combination.  The emphasis here is on the key in her hand.

 

Next we get a close-up insert shot of the safe combination.  Generally insert shots of this type are very quick, a second or two at most, but Hitchcock lingers a bit here, giving us time to read the specifics of the safe combination, and to realize that Marnie is doing the same.

 

Next comes another 28 second shot which begins with the camera above Marnie’s head, one of Hitchcock’s favorite places to put the camera in a moment of tension.  The camera stays on her as she opens the door behind her and walks to the safe

 

Next up comes another fabulous shot:  a long shot showing both the office with Marnie on the right, and the corridor on the left.   The effect of the staging is rather like a split screen.  As Marnie takes the money out of the safe, we can see the cleaning lady mopping the floor on the right.   Hitchcock heightens the tension here by giving us knowledge that the characters on the screen do not have, and also by keeping us farther away in a long shot.   This shot is held for 47 seconds without a cut.

 

We then cut to a medium shot of Marnie at the office door.   We get two more subjective POV shots, as she looks first at the cleaning lady, and then at the stairwell, which is her means of escape.  We then see a medium shot of her feet as she slips out of her shoes, then slips the shoes in her coat pockets, one on each side.   It is important to point out that this sequence is still silent.  There has been no noise since Marnie left the bathroom stall.

 

Hitchcock then cuts on movement, as Marnie begins to slowly walk across the floor.  Here the cutting increases as the tension increases.  Hitchcock gives us a medium close of Marnie’s feet on the floor, then a close up of the shoe starting to slip from her left pocket.  He follows this sequence a couple more times, cutting from her feet to the shoe, with the cleaning lady now visible behind her.  These shots are all short, averaging around 2 seconds each.  Finally the shoe falls and hits the floor with a loud smack.  It sounds like a minor explosion.  Why?  Because it is the first sound we have heard in over three minutes.   This moment is why Hitchcock drained the sound from the sequence.  Surely the cleaning lady must have heard it?  Nonetheless, she keeps on mopping, her back to Marnie.

 

Marnie bends down, picks up the shoe, and quietly heads to stairs.  Here we get another brief split screen effect;  as she is starting to descend the stairs on the right side of the screen, yet another employee is approaching on the left.  And this employee comes up to the cleaning lady to speak to her.  We learn her name is Ruth, and we also learn that she is hard of hearing, which explains why she didn’t turn at the loud noise of the shoe hitting the floor.   What a great way to relieve the tension at the end of the sequence, with a slightly comic touch.  (Hitchcock buffs may be interested to note that this brief role of Ruth the cleaning lady was played by Edith Evanson, who had played the more substantial role of Mrs. Wilson in Rope 16 years earlier).

 

This great sequence then ends on a dissolve.   So in this case, Hitchcock created tension by employing all three of his favorite camera techniques:  the long take, montage, and the subjective POV.  But more importantly he used sound, or the absence of sound, to great dramatic effect, making this one of the most memorable moments in the film.

PSYCHO Deconstruction of a Scene: Arbogast questions Norman Bates

Psycho contains one of the most deconstructed and talked-about sequences in film history.  I’m referring to the shower scene, of course.   There is an entire documentary film devoted to this one scene.  The murder of Arbogast has also received a lot of attention.  I am going to go in a different direction and focus on  my own personal favorite scene in this movie:  Arbogast’s questioning of Norman Bates.

To set the scene:  Arbogast (Martin Balsam) is visiting all the hotels in the Fairvale area, looking for any sign that Marion Crane has stayed there.  This is set up with a brief montage.   Our scene opens on a dissolve to the Bates motel, with Norman sitting outside, eating candy corn and reading.  This sequence will run 8 minutes and 13 seconds, which comprises 7% of the entire film.  That’s a pretty long sequence for a two-person dialogue.  And yet it seems to pass in much less time.  There are 99 editorial cuts, which averages out to about one cut every 5 seconds.  Lets look at how the master did it.

The opening shot is longest of the entire sequence, running about 64 seconds without a cut.  As Norman is sitting in his chair, Arbogast pulls up, gets out of his car, walks up to the porch, and introduces himself.   Arbobast is clearly a detective with good instincts.  He comments that the Bates Motel is the first place he’s seen that looks like it is hiding from the world.   This is a classic interrogation scene between a man whose job is to find the truth, and another man who will do anything to hide it.

 

As the two men walk into the motel’s office, Hitchcock cuts to the office interior, following the two inside.  This second shot of the sequence is the second-longest, running 36 seconds.  This establishes the men in a medium two-shot.

 

Now Arbogast hands the photo of Marion to Norman, and Hitchcock begins a standard back-and-forth cutting, keeping both men in a medium shot.  Arbogast asks Norman to look at the picture “before committing yourself”.  Interesting choice of words to use with someone who will literally be committed by movie’s end.   Note the mirror behind Arbogast, capturing his reflection, and Norman’s stuffed birds behind him in the parlor.   While the cutting here is fairly standard, Hitchcock often has the camera not on the speaker, but on the listener.  Reactions are very important in this scene, as Arbogast begins to suspect something is awry, and Norman’s attempts to dissemble become more uncomfortable.

 

At this point, Norman leans over and flips a switch, and Hitchcock cuts to the Bates Motel sign lighting up.  Both shots last about a second together, almost subliminal.   Martin Scorsese has suggested this quick shot is rather like a slash from Norman’s knife.

 

After a little more standard back and forth cutting, with the same framing as before, Arbogast asks to look at the motel register.  Hitchcock cuts to a closer side-view of Arbogast’s hands above the register.  Then comes the most peculiar, and interesting shot of the entire sequence.   As the camera remains static, Norman moves around to look at the name in the register that Arbogast has pointed out.  The camera is looking up at the underside of his chin and his neck.  This scene plays for 16 seconds with no cut.  Hitchcock did something similar in a few films, having a character move into a close-up rather than cutting to them, but he never did it in such an unsettling way as he does here.

 

And now Hitchcock returns to the back-and-forth cutting.  Only now, the men are in close-ups rather than medium shots.  and the shots themselves are shorter.  The close-ups and tightening shots heighten the tension on screen.  Arbogast has caught Norman in a lie, and begins to press him.   Norman begins to stutter, expressing his discomfort even more, especially when Arbogast asks if Norman slept with Marion.   Arbogast openly admits his skepticism of Norman’s story:  “If it doesn’t jell, it isn’t aspic, and this ain’t jelling.”  

 

Finally the tension is broken with a return to the medium two-shot, followed by the men walking outside.  Arbogast walks up to the left, and then we finally get a subjective POV shot (Hitchcock just had to sneak one in), as Arbogast looks at Norman going down the line of cabins, then looks up at the house, seeing “Mother” in the window.

 

Norman comes back quickly, and the two men finish the sequence with another series of back-and-forth shots, only this time framed “over the shoulder”.  Arbogast presses Norman about Mother, and Norman finally asks Arbogast to leave.  Finally Arbogast drives away, leaving Norman alone in the dark, and the scene ends as it began, on a dissolve.

 

For me, this sequence is absolutely perfect.   The writing, the powerhouse acting by two actors at their absolute best.  And of course Alfred Hitchcock’s direction.   As he did in most of his memorable sequences, he combined his three favorite techniques here:  the long take, the quick cuts (or montage), and the subjective POV.   Even when the cutting is standard, he breaks it up by cutting to the listener rather than the speaker, or cutting over dialogue mid-sentence.   And he inserts one of the most bizarre camera angles ever seen on film for a two-person dialogue shot.   Once again,  something that could have been quite simple became much more than that in the hands of Hitchcock.

VERTIGO Deconstruction of a Scene: Argosy Book Shop

Vertigo is one of the most discussed and dissected Hitchcock films of all.   Plot elements, technical elements, psychological undertones; this movie has everything.  I could choose to deconstruct almost any scene in the film.  There are also many unanswered questions.   Such as:  Just how did Scottie get out of his rooftop predicament at the beginning?  How did Judy (playing Madeleine) get into her room in the McKittrick Hotel unseen?  Was the old lady paid off to lie?  And just what is going on with the lighting in the Argosy Book Shop?

I chose to look at the Argosy scene; I think it is interesting for a couple of reasons, and I hope we can dispel at least one of the often mentioned myths about it.  Near the end of this scene, the interior of the bookstore becomes increasingly dark.  At the end when Scottie and Midge step outside, it suddenly becomes bright again. Some have questioned whether this effect was deliberate.  There is also much debate about the source of the sudden light at the end.  Let’s take a look.

To set the scene:  Scottie Ferguson (Jimmy Stewart) is beginning to get reeled in to Gavin Elster’s plot.  Scottie asks his friend Midge (Barbara Bel Geddes) if she knows anyone who is up on the sordid history of San Francisco, and she recommends Pop Leibel (Konstantin Shayne), owner of the Argosy Book Store.

Hitchcock shot this scene with an economy of cutting, using staging, camera movement, and lighting to control the emotion.  There are only eight editorial cuts in the span of just over three minutes, which means an average shot length of 22.5 seconds.

The scene begins on a dissolve of the front of the book store, which is identified on the window.  The interior is clearly visible (you can see Pop Liebel’s head and torso on the upper level of the bookstore).   This shot lasts about 4 seconds.

 

Hitchcock next cuts to the bookshop interior.  The camera is just inside the door, showing all three characters in a long shot.  We watch Pop Liebel and Midge walk down the stairs.  Pop offers cigarettes to the other two.  This lasts about 37 seconds.  

I would like to point out the three visible light sources in the room.  Two long lamps, probably with fluorescent bulbs, at left and center; and a white half dome-covered light about three-quarters right.  Note that none are illuminated, and yet the characters are clearly lit.  You can see the light reflecting on Pop’s bald head.  Obviously cinematographer Robert Burks lit the interior, but what is the intended source of the light, if the visible lights are off?  I believe it is supposed to be sunlight, coming through the windows.

 

Hitchcock next cuts to a medium shot of Pop lighting his cigarette and beginning to talk about Carlotta Valdez.  This shot lasts about 14 seconds.

 

As Pop continues to talk off screen, Hitchcock cuts to a medium of Scottie listening, with Midge in the background, browsing book titles.  This lasts around 12 seconds.

Hitchcock next cuts back to Pop, in the same medium close up.  This shot lasts around 11 seconds.

 

At this point in his narrative, Pop mentions a child.  The cutting changes here.  Hitchcock gives us a medium close up of Scottie which lasts about three seconds.  He is listening intently.  Hitchcock then cuts to Midge, giving her a medium close as she looks at Scotty.  She doesn’t understand his interest in this story, but she is concerned.   This shot lasts only a second.

Then comes the most important, and interesting shot in the sequence.  The camera switches sides.  We are now on the opposite side, facing towards the door.   Why would Hitchcock choose to swing the camera around 180 degrees here?  None of these are subjective shots.  I believe it was because this is the point when he begins to bleed the light out of the scene, with the intention being that a dark cloud is passing in the sky.  Why else show the exterior?  He could have kept the camera precisely where it was before.

This shot is going to last 80 seconds without a cut.  Hitchcock begins it in a very interesting way.  He starts on a medium 2 shot of Pop and Scotty.

At this point Midge walks into the frame on the left.  The camera actually pushes a bit, following her, until the characters are framed in the three shot which will finish the scene.  This is not a  zoom;  the camera is physically dollying forward behind her.

At this point, Pop’s narrative is taking a very dark turn.  Here is the closing dialogue:

Pop:  And she became the sad Carlotta, alone in the great house, walking the streets alone, her clothes becoming old and patched and dirty.  And the mad Carlotta, stopping people in the streets to ask “Where is my child?  Have you seen my child?”

Midge:  Poor thing.

Scotty:  Then she died.

Pop:  She died.

Scotty:  How?

Pop:  By her own hand.  There are many such stories.

Pop interjects a wistful chuckle into this last statement, which says a lot about his character.   He knows many sad stories beyond this one.

Now let’s take another look at the lighting.  We can say definitively that the darkening of this scene is deliberate for a couple of reasons.  First of all, there is no other reason for Hitchcock to move the camera to the other side of the set, facing the windows.   Even more importantly, we can watch the interior light diminish.  Look again at the light in the first frame.  You can see it reflecting on Pop’s bald head.   There is clearly a studio light source above the actors here, even though all visible lights in the book shop are off.

As you look at this sequence of images getting progressively darker, don’t just focus on the characters in the interior. Look at the red and yellow striped awning across the street.  (This was actually a transparency.  The bookshop interior was a set, with the filmed street scene projected outside).  You can see the awning, along with everything else outside, getting darker as well.  

 

Hitchcock also plays with the sound in this scene.  As Pop has been talking, there has been no  sound other than his voice.  When he gets to his last line “There are many such stories” a streetcar passes outside,  and the clang of the bell breaks the spell we have been put under by Pop’s story.

 

What a masterful and subtle way to create atmosphere.   Hitchcock relied on the long take here, holding this shot for over 80 seconds.   He then removed sound and light, which pulls Scottie (and more importantly the viewer) deeply into the story.  Imagine a cloud passing right as Pop is speaking of Carlotta’s sad end.  This is something that Gavin Elster could never have planned for, but it certainly works in his favor.  Scottie’s obsession is beginning to take hold at this point.

Now Hitchcock cuts to the exterior, and after Scottie and Midge begin to talk, the light comes up again.   Many people think this is the result of Pop turning on the lights in the store.  But if you look closely, you will see the visible lights are still off.  The only one we can’t see is the lamp with the white globe cover.  It is obscured by Scottie throughout this scene.  Yet there is a glow of light on Pop’s head, indicating the studio lights are lit again.   I believe Hitchcock’s intent here was to indicate a cloud had passed.  This is reinforced by the light not becoming bright in an instant, but over the space of a couple seconds.  And yet, the characters, both in profile, seem to be backlit.  (Look at Midge’s hair.  There is more light on the top than the side facing us). What is going on here?

This scene ends as it began, on a dissolve.  The next shot is a dusk shot of Scottie and Midge driving home, which could add support to the idea that they left at sunset, and the light is coming from inside the store.

At the very least we can say the lighting decisions were deliberate, and very effective.  Is it interior light or a passing cloud?  Or perhaps something else?  What do you think?

ROPE Deconstruction of a Scene: A trunk, a talk and a hat

When Alfred Hitchcock began production on Rope he set quite a challenge for himself in deciding to shoot the film without editorial cuts, other than those necessitated by changing film reels.  This meant that the actors would have to go 8 or more minutes without a single break.  While Hitchcock eliminated editorial cuts, he did not choose to have a static camera.  The roving camera became his substitute for cutting.

Let’s take a look at one segment, which lasts just a few short minutes, but has no cuts at all.  We will see how Hitchcock used the camera to create tension without editing.

At this juncture in the movie, dinner is wrapping up, and everyone is worried about the whereabouts of David Kentley.   The viewer knows that the body of David Kentley is just a few feet away in the trunk.  As Mrs. Wilson (Edith Evanson) begins to clear the remains of the food, the camera stays on her, even though all the dialogue is happening off screen.

 

For two minutes of screen time, we watch Mrs. Wilson leave and return; once, twice, and a third time.  The other characters are all talking off-screen.  All we can see is a little bit of Rupert Cadell’s (Jimmy Stewart’s) back.   The dialogue is all about David.  Where is David?  Who last saw David?  Who spoke to David and when?  Hitchcock had to make sure that the dialogue was not essential, because he knew very well the viewer’s attention would be riveted by the on-screen action.  Will Mrs. Wilson open the trunk and expose the murder?  Finally she begins to open the trunk, and is stopped by Brandon (John Dall), who turns the two shot into a three shot.

 

Now the camera, which has been static for well over two minutes, pans right to show the others in the room.

 

The camera continues to pan right, stopping on Jimmy Stewart in a medium shot.  Clearly he is intrigued by the evening’s events.

 

Now the camera begins to track to the left, backing out of the room, as most of the characters head towards the door.  The camera lingers on Mr. Kentley (Sir Cedric Hardwicke) who is clearly distraught over his son’s absence.

 

As the camera pulls back to the entryway, we stop again as Kenneth (Douglas Dick) and Janet (Joan Chandler) create a two-shot.   This shot serves a couple of purposes.  It allows the characters a brief reconciliation, and it frames Hitchcock’s red neon “cameo” in between them.

 

Next Brandon steps into frame left, once again changing the two-shot into a three-shot.  This happens several times in the film.  Where a conventional movie would use cutting here, Hitchcock achieves his desired effect without needing to cut.

 

Now the camera will pan to the right, showing us two characters who did not leave the other room.  Cadell is still thinking, trying to put the puzzle pieces together, while he watches Phillip (Farley Granger) get increasingly drunker.

 

Finally, Rupert Cadell will walk in the other room to collect his hat and leave.  Now comes another piece of brilliant staging.   Cadell puts on the hat, realizes it’s not his, and looks inside the brim, seeing the letters “D K”.   In a conventional film, this shot of the hat would certainly have been a close-up cutaway shot.  But Hitchcock, by having Jimmy Stewart naturally lower the hat to look inside, allows the camera (and the viewer) to see it as well with no need to cut.

 

Rupert Cadell leaves, and Brandon closes the door, believing the evening to be a success.

 

So in these few minutes of screen time, Hitchcock has accomplished several things.  He starts with two minutes of tension building by keeping the camera static on the trunk.  He then uses the roving camera to show us every character in the film.  We see single shots, two shots, three shots, group shots.  We also get an almost casual glimpse of the final clue that will help Jimmy Stewart solve a murder.  And all of this is done with no cutting at all.     Some critics refer to this movie as a gimmick,  but Hitchcock clearly got the emotional effect he was seeking through the use of the camera, without the need for cutting.

SHADOW OF A DOUBT Deconstruction of a Scene: Signature Scenes

There are a lot of great camera moments in Shadow of a Doubt.  Rather than an in-depth look at one scene, I decided to do a more brief overview of several scenes.   Although there are several standard coverage shots in this film, they are interspersed with moments of ingenuity.  Hitchcock never let the camera set-ups become boring.

1.  Charlie visits the library and learns a secret

When young Charlie (Teresa Wright) reads the newspaper at the library she discovers an article that both implicates her uncle in a series of murders and offers explanation for the inscription on her ring.   Hitchcock has the camera start tight in on the ring then pull back, and keep pulling back, until the camera is far above the library floor.  This bold camera move heightens Charlie’s shock, and her feeling of being alone with her knowledge.  This scene is incredibly well lit too.  Joseph A Valentine was the cinematographer on this film, and two others for Hitchcock.

 

2. Uncle Charlie’s monologue

It wouldn’t be a Hitchcock movie if he didn’t use subjective point of view at least once.   As the Newton family sit at the dinner table, Uncle Charlie (Joseph Cotten) begins to talk about widows.   As he speaks he becomes more passionate, and his choice of words more shocking.  We are watching Uncle Charlie in profile, from niece Charlie’s point of view on her uncle’s right.  As he speaks of “horrible, faded, fat greedy women” the camera slowly zooms in, until his face fills the screen.  Then young Charlie, off camera, mentions that these women are alive, are human beings.   Uncle Charlie whips his head to the right.  “Are they?” he asks Charlie, and us as well, looking directly into the camera.   This is a moment of considerable tension, and the first time we really understand just what a monster Uncle Charlie could be.

 

3.  Trapped in the garage

After Uncle Charlie’s plan to trap his niece in the garage fails, and she survives death by carbon monoxide, the family is gathered outside the house preparing to leave.  Hitchcock does something very clever here.  He wants to give Mrs. Newton a close-up as she contemplates her daughter’s close call, and he does so with staging rather than with a zoom.  The family are standing together.  As they climb in the taxi, Mrs. Newton gets in the back seat and slides over to the driver’s side.  At the same time, with no cut, the camera dollies down the driver’s side of the car, stopping on Mrs. Newton’s window.  She has just moved into a close-up!  After she delivers her line of dialogue, the taxi pulls away, leaving young Charlie small and alone.   Still with no editorial cut, she turns and walks to the house.

 

4.    The ring on the stairs

After the speech, Uncle Charlie is proposing a toast.  He is happy, believing he has won.  At first he smiles as his niece descends the stairs.  Then he realizes that she has stolen back the incriminating ring, which now rests on her finger.  Checkmate.  The smile drains from Uncle Charlie’s face.

 

 

None of these camera moves draw attention to themselves on first viewing.  They are all driven by the motivations of the characters, and contribute greatly to the emotional tension.   Hitchcock was ever the experimenter, looking for new ways to allow the camera to tell the story.   Shadow of a Doubt is one of his greatest achievements.

SABOTEUR Deconstruction of a scene: The Statue of Liberty finale

Alfred Hitchcock had a penchant for staging his film climaxes in high places, with a risk of falling posed to one or more of the central characters.  We see it in his early British films like The Man Who Knew Too Much and Jamaica Inn, as well as later classics like Vertigo and North By Northwest.

One of the most striking early examples is the climax of Sabotuer, which takes place atop the Statue of Liberty.   Our hero Barry Kane (played by Robert Cummings) has finally cornered saboteur Frank Fry (Norman Lloyd), a man he has tracked from coast to coast.  Kane follows Fry out onto the arm of Liberty’s torch, which is where the sequence begins.

The sequence runs roughly 2 minutes and 38 seconds, with 47 editorial cuts.   This averages out to approximately one cut per 3.4 seconds.  One thing that makes this sequence unique is the amount of special effects work.  There is a life-size reproduction of the statue’s hand with the torch, a smaller mock-up of the statue, as well as matte painting effects and live action film.  For a black and white sequence shot in 1942, it holds up admirably.

 

Hitchcock opens on Barry Kane in a medium shot, opening the door and walking out onto the torch walkway.  He then pulls back to give the audience this establishing long shot.

 

After about 3 seconds, Hitchcock cuts to a standard medium two-shot, with Barry Kane holding a gun on Fry.

 

Hitchcock continues to hold this shot for about 9 seconds, as Kane backs Fry up to the railing, which Fry then flips over and falls.  Hitchcock wanted Norman Lloyd to do his own stunt here, so it could be done without a cut.  Of course when Lloyd flipped backwards over the railing, he was only a few feet from the floor, with a nice soft cushioned landing.  An impressive stunt for the young actor, nonetheless.

Hitchcock then cuts to a long shot as Fry (now played by a stuntman) falls, grabbing on between the thumb and index finger on Lady Liberty’s hand.  Hitch then cuts to a medium shot of Barry Kane looking down, followed by this shot from Kane’s POV, looking at Fry (Lloyd again) holding on precariously. This scene was shot with the hand resting on its side, so the actor could rest against it without having to literally hang on.  The lower portion and base of the statue are matted in here.

 

Hitchcock next cuts back to Barry Kane, first in a medium shot, then a long in quick succession.  Then we get this shot, which holds for about five seconds.  This is what I call the God’s eye view shot.   Hitchcock loved to sneak one of these shots in to most of his films.  This type of shot can break camera logic (whose point of view are we supposed to be seeing?) but add to the viewer’s sense of helplessness and awe.   The composite pieces of film here all blend very well together.

 

Hitchcock then cuts to a long shot of Barry Kane climbing over the railing in an attempt to get to Fry.

 

As Kane lowers himself down, the pace of the cutting begins to pick up a bit.  Hitchcock also does something interesting here.  After showing us Fry from Kane’s point of view, he all of a sudden shifts to Fry’s point of view.  We are looking up at Fry’s hands holding on.

 

There are a few short shots here cutting between the two men, until Kane finally lowers himself closer to Fry.  “I’ll get your sleeve” Kane says, and we see his hand stretching down.

 

After shifting the point of view from Kane to Fry, Hitchcock is going to shift it back to Kane again.  But first he is going to “reset” the POV by giving us a neutral two-shot, which lasts a brief two seconds but serves its purpose.

 

Finally we are back to Kane’s POV for this shot, which lasts about 3 seconds.  Kane has grabbed a hold of Fry’s sleeve.

 

Hitchcock cuts back briefly to a medium of Kane, then back to Fry in close up.

 

Now we get the first close up of the shoulder seam in Fry’s suit starting to pull apart.  From here the cutting will become even more rapid.

 

Hitchcock will cut away from Fry’s suit, then back to it in a series of shots.  Every time he cuts away, he gives us a completely different view of the Statue, all of them emphasizing the height, as Fry’s situation becomes more precarious.

 

Finally we go back to a  POV shot, as Kane looks down at Fry.

 

Hitchcock then cuts to a close-up of the hands,which allows us to see the sleeve as it finally tears completely.

 

Next comes the incredibly dramatic fall, a shot of about 4 seconds, as Fry falls away from us crying “Kaaaaaaaane!”  This shot was done with Norman Lloyd sitting on a custom saddle-like chair, on the floor of the studio sound stage, against a black screen (the precursor of today’s green screen).  The camera pulled up from the floor to the ceiling rapidly, as Lloyd flailed his limbs, pantomiming falling.  Then the shot was run in reverse with the background matted in.  It holds up very well over 75 years later.

 

Hitchcock then cuts to a close up of Barry Kane’s reaction to Fry’s plummet to his death.

 

And finally, Barry Kane climbs back up to the torch where Pat Martin (Priscilla Lane) is waiting for him.  The film ends here, rather abruptly, almost before Kane can climb into her waiting arms.

 

This sequence is relatively short, at just over two-and-a-half minutes, and it is thrilling from start to finish.  When you break it down, you can see that each of the 47 distinct pieces of film serves a very specific purpose.  Hitchcock knew exactly how to represent visually what he wanted his viewers to experience emotionally, a skill at which he would only improve over time.

TORN CURTAIN: Deconstruction of a scene (the killing of Gromek)

Torn Curtain may be one of Alfred Hitchcock’s most problematic and frustrating films.  It is a film of moments, a few of them quite good, and perhaps the greatest moment is the Gromek murder sequence.   Here is Hitchcock to set the scene:

In doing that long killing scene, my first thought again was to avoid the cliche.  In every picture somebody gets killed and it goes very quickly.  They are stabbed or shot, and the killer never even stops to look and see whether the victim is really dead or not.  And I though it was time to show that it was very difficult, very painful, and it takes a very long time to kill a man.

This sequence runs around 8 minutes and 8 seconds in length, and is made up of 138 pieces of film, which averages out to an editorial cut every 3.5 seconds.   I have seen this sequence many times, and thought I knew it very well, but it was only upon studying it frame by frame that I realized how much Hitchcock relies on quick cutting and montage here.  This sequence is similar in that regard to the shower scene in Psycho and the attic attack in The Birds, although this sequence runs much longer.

Gromek (Wolfgang Kieling) enters the small house, looking very happy that he has caught Professor Armstrong (Paul Newman), who is looking for another way out.

There is some standard back and forth cutting here, as Gromek begins to question Armstrong.  Then Armstrong and the woman (Carolyn Conwell) move to the center of the room, with the supporting beam between them.    

There is some more back and forth cutting, then Gromek calls Armstrong to the door.  Gromek shows him the pi symbol drawn in the dirt.  Hitchcock does something very interesting with the cutting here.  As Gromek is interrogating Armstrong, trying to provoke him, he reaches out his hand and pokes at Armstrong’s midriff.   This is shown in a couple of very fast (< 1 second) insert shots, almost like blows.

Gromek closes the door, and Armstrong moves back to the center of the room.  As Gromek moves to the phone  to call in and report there is more back and forth cutting here, with the shots averaging 3 seconds or so.  After Gromek dials the phone, a pot of soup is hurled at his head, landing just above the phone.  Hitchcock here inserts an extremely fast, almost subliminal close up of the the pot passing Gromek’s head.  I had to slow the image down to 1/8 speed to be sure it was an editorial cut and not a zoom.  It is a seamlessly inserted cut on movement, which then returns to the medium shot of the pots contents all over the phone and the wall.  

Then Hitchcock gives us this interesting image, the only such image in the sequence.  Why does he pull back like this, besides the fact that the composition of the shot is beautiful, almost like a painting?  I think it is to show us the lay of the land, before the confrontation begins in earnest.

Gromek goes for his gun, which flies across the room as Armstrong grapples for it.  The woman grabs it.  Unfortunately she cannot use it, because the taxi driver outside the window would certainly hear.  Armstrong has Gromek in a chokehold, which we observe from a high angle.

Hitchcock employs his subjective point of view, as he often did, by giving us shots from the woman’s POV.  She observes the taxi driver out the window, then searches for a quiet weapon.   She sees the knife in the kitchen drawer.

Then Hitchcock places the camera in front of her, and slowly tracks as she crosses the room, holding the knife out.

There is more cutting back and forth here between the woman and the struggling men.  She is hesitant, not wanting to injure Armstrong.  Gromek continues to talk (“She’s gonna cut your fingers off”).

Finally she stabs Gromek.  Just at the instant of the blade landing, it snaps off.  And here Hitchcock inserts another one of those very fast, almost subliminal close ups before returning to the medium shot.

Gromek continues to stuggle with the tip of the blade embedded in his neck.  Now Hitchcock returns to the subjective point of view as the woman looks around for another weapon.  She sees the shovel, and grabs it.

The next series of shots are done in montage, about 8 shots in less than 10 seconds.   First a close up of the shovel hitting Gromek’s knee, then a close up of his face in pain.  This repeats four times.  Until Gromek finally slumps to the floor.

Gromek just won’t quit.  He smiles as he begins to rise.  Once again the woman scans the room, and her eyes stop on the oven.  We get a close up of her hands  turning on the gas jets, then she and Armstrong begin to grapple with Gromek.

Then comes a fascinating sequence of shots, mostly from Gromek’s point of view.   As the other two are sliding Gromek across the floor towards the stove, we get a close-up of Armstrong’s face, then Gromek’s head on the ground, then a close-up of the woman, and finally a shot of the open oven.  This same four-shot sequence repeats two more times, with the oven getting closer each time it repeats.  We see a total of 12 shots in 28 seconds.  

We next get a one-second shot of Gromek’s head going in the oven.  Then we cut to an overhead shot of Gromek in the oven.  After all the rapid cutting, Hitchcock holds this shot for 41 seconds without a cut.  We see Gromek’s hands flailing, then finally falling limply to his side, indicating his death.

The final cut of the sequence begins with a close up of the gas jets being turned off.  But Hitchcock does not cut away from this.  Instead he keeps one continuous take, as the two survivors move away from the stove, recovering from their ordeal.  This shot is the longest in the sequence, at around 50 seconds.  Why does Hitchcock end with this long take?  It allows both the characters and the audience to catch their breath.

As in many of Hitchcock’s signature scenes, he employed all three of his favorite camera techniques here:  montage, the long take, and the subjective point of view.   The sequence was carefully storyboarded before shooting, and when you break it down, you can see how each individual piece of film is integral to the story that Hitchcock is telling.

SPELLBOUND: Deconstruction of a scene (Gregory Peck sees white)

While constructing the movie Spellbound Alfred Hitchcock was absolutely bursting with ideas.  In this piece I would like to take a look at one sequence that is full of ideas, and also incorporates many of Hitchcock’s favorite visual motifs in one sequence:  montage, the long take, and the subjective point of view.

This sequence takes place at the house of Dr. Brulov.  It lasts around 5 minutes and 3 seconds, with 22 pieces of film.

We begin with a fade-in from black.  Gregory Peck’s character wakes up at the foot of the bed, gets up, walks to the bathroom and turns on the light.  This  runs around 55 seconds with no cuts.

The first cut is a very nice reverse as Peck flicks on the light;  from being outside the bathroom, in shadows, we are now inside the bathroom in bright light.  Peck walks to the sink, in a dreamlike state, drinks water, looks and touches his face, sees shaving apparatus and begins to lather up to shave.  This all takes about 53 seconds with no cut.

At this point, after two long takes that run about 108 seconds combined, the cutting increases dramatically.  There will be 12 editorial cuts in the next 30 seconds.  As the cutting shifts into high gear, the point of view changes as well.  Hitchcock now employs his subjective POV.  Our first subjective shot is a close-up of the white shaving cup.

Hitchcock then cuts to Peck hastily putting the cup down.  Then we get a quick series of images and reaction shots, as Peak swivels his head around the room, overwhelmed by the bright white surfaces everywhere.

First he looks at the white sink.

Then he looks at the white chair to the left of the sink.

Next he whirls around and notices the white counter top, upon which even the jars are white.

And finally he turns to the white bathtub.

He walks out the bathroom door, and we cut again on a reverse.  Peck is back in shadows, only now he is holding the razor blade in his hand.

At this point the cutting slows down, heightening the tension.  Hitchcock returns to the subjective POV as Peck looks at the white bedspread, following it up to the sleeping face of Ingrid Bergman.

Peck slowly walks into the room, moving close to Ingrid Bergman, the threat of the knife still visible in his hand.  Hitchcock cuts to a close-up of Bergman, highlighting her vulnerability.  Will the sleepwalking Peck kill her?

 

Instead Peck walks out the door to the landing.  Then Hitchcock employs a fantastic shot, in which Peck walks downstairs, razor in hand, and walks into a closeup on the razor.  This lasts around 35 seconds without a cut.

Then begins the longest shot of the sequence, running around 75 seconds without an editorial cut. We start with a subjective POV shot of actor Michael Chevhok, as Dr. Brulov, at his desk.  Chekhov walks up to Peck, the visible threat of the knife gleaming.

The camera turns to follow Chekhov as he walks into the kitchen and out of frame, although we can still hear him talking.  He then walks back into frame.  This entire time, the razor is prominently displayed.

The camera then turns to follow Chekhov back to the desk, returning to a subjective point of view without cutting.  Chekhov has his back to the camera as he pours the milk (to disguise the fact that he is drugging it, as we will learn later).  He then walks back and hands the glass to Peck.  All of this happens with no editorial cutting.

Finally we cut to a reverse of Peck as he prepares to drink the milk.

The sequence ends with this very clever shot, a POV shot seen through the glass of milk!  As the glass tips up, the frame turns to white.  And as the sequence began on a fade-in from black, it ends on a fade-out to white.  A fitting end, since white is the color that triggers Peck’s episodes.

In a span of only five minutes, Hitchcock heightens the tension of the scene by employing several techniques.  First of all in the cutting, which begins with long takes, then moves to a short montage of quick cutting as Peck reacts to all the white objects in the bathroom, and finally stretching out again to longer takes at the end.   He also creates tension through the prominent placement of the razor in the frame.  It is never used (or even held) in a threatening manner, but it feels menacing because of how it is shot, and lit.  And finally tension is heightened through the use of clever subjective POV shots.

I will close with some comments Hitchcock made about this sequence in an article he penned in 1946:

Here is one way of making drama out of camera angles.  In Spellbound you’ll remember the scene where Gregory Peck comes down a curving flight of stairs with an open razor in his hand…Now, in that scene I hardly move the camera at all.  It is placed facing the stairs and Gregory walks right into the camera — right into the audience.  As he gets closer his face and shoulders fade from the lens until all you can see is the razor in his hand.  Then the camera moves.  

But there’s no dialogue and really very little movement.  The whole scene depends on suspense and the use of camera.  We pan to the doctor and hold him while he talks to Gregory…The doctor moves off to give him a glass of milk –which, incidentally, he dopes — and the camera stays with Gregory.  Back comes the doctor and hands him the glass of milk.

The camera moves to a back shot, so that the audience is behind his eyes as he drinks.  You get the impression of the white liquid obscuring his sight as he tilts the glass.  This is doubly effective because in the film white is the color which affects his mind. 

The secret of good directing is to remember that you are telling a story visually.  Your medium is that of sound and sight.  The screen should tell this story as much as possible — not the dialogue.

THE BIRDS: Deconstruction of a scene – The death of a farmer

The Birds is full of scenes that are worthy of being broken down and analyzed.  Rather than the schoolhouse attack, or Melanie’s attack in the room at the end of the film, I wanted to take a look at one short but memorable sequence:  Lydia Brenner’s visit to Dan Fawcett’s farm.

I first became interested in Hitchcock at about the age of 10.  One of the local TV affiliates in Los Angeles used to air an “Alfred Hitchcock film festival” every year, with a different movie televised every night for a week.  I saw The Birds on television that week.  When it aired the next year, I watched again, and this is the sequence I was waiting to see.  At the time, I was fascinated by the image of the man with his eyes pecked out.  Later on, I realized how well structured the entire scene is, just like the rest of the film.

This sequence lasts around 2 minutes and 40 seconds, and features 21 editorial cuts, which means an average of 7.6 seconds per shot.  When you break it down to the individual shots, there is nothing average about it.

I call this a palindromic, or nesting doll sequence.  There is a series of shots that is later repeated, in reverse order, for a different dramatic purpose.

The scene opens on a dissolve from Melanie, into a long shot of Lydia’s green pick up truck approaching Dan Fawcett’s farm.  The camera remains static, forcing the viewer to follow the truck.  This shot lasts around 14 seconds.

Next the camera is set up in the driveway.  The truck passes in front of the camera, makes a counterclockwise half circle, and parks.  This shot lasts around 13 seconds.

Then Hitchcock cuts to a medium shot of Lydia exiting the truck.  The camera then pans left as she approaches George, a farmhand in front of a tractor.  They briefly converse in a perfectly framed two shot, then she walks up the path to the front door of the house.  This is all done in one shot with no cuts, in a shot lasting about 28 seconds.

 

Hitchcock then cuts to a medium shot of Lydia on the porch where she knocks, looks in the window, and then enters the house.  This shot lasts around 10 seconds.

Next Hitchcock cuts to the home’s interior, as Lydia enters the front door.  She calls out for Dan, looks around, and then notices the broken teacups, which the camera zooms in on.  We see her reaction, then the camera pans left as she moves towards the hallway.  This scene lasts around 21 seconds.  Hitchcock described it this way:

Another improvisation is the mother driving up to the farm, going into the house and calling the farmer before noticing the wrecked room and discovering the farmer’s body.  While we were shooting that, I said to myself, “This doesn’t make sense.”  She calls the farmer and he doesn’t answer.  Well, a woman in that position wouldn’t push it any farther; she’d walk out of the house.  So that’s how I got the idea to keep her there by having her notice the five broken teacups hanging from the hooks.

Next the camera holds on Lydia as she walks down the hallway.  There is complete silence as she slowly walks to the end of the hall and looks left.  This shot last around 18 seconds.

Next the camera is inside the bedroom.  It cuts to a medium shot of Lydia moving her head into the room.  Now Hitchcock switches to the subjective point of view, as he so frequently did in his career.  We get a series of shots of Lydia looking, then we get a shot of what she is looking at.   The first shot of Lydia lasts maybe three seconds.  First she looks at the broken window, with a dead gull hanging in glass, for about two seconds.  Then we cut back to Lydia continuing to sweep her gaze from left to right.  After another three seconds, we cut to what she is seeing.  The general disheveled state of the room, with another dead bird on the bed.

After holding this shot for two seconds, we return to Lydia again.  The camera stays on her for about 4 seconds as she continues looking left to right, finally looking down.   We then cut to a pair of bloody feet, and torn and bloody pajama legs almost up to the knee.  The cuts continue to quicken;  this shot lasts only about a second.  Then we get the fourth shot of Lydia at the door, as she looks around it to see who is lying there.  This shot lasts maybe two seconds.  And then, we get the shot of Dan Fawcett propped against the wall, clearly dead, with his eyes pecked out.  Rather than zooming in here, Hitchcock does three quick cuts, taking us ever closer, until the last image is a close up of the bloody blinded face.  The three shots in total last around two seconds, with the last being the shortest.

Hitchcock calls this triple shot:

a staccato movement…I wanted a change from the zooming in…And another interesting thing about that moment, I never show the woman’s reaction to it.  I cut to the shoulder.  I never show her face.  I knew I couldn’t.  I knew very well I could never get an expression strong enough.

Next we get the series of reverse shots, mirroring the opening.  Just as the camera held on Lydia walking down the corridor, we now see her running from the room towards the camera, in a shot lasting five seconds.

Just as we saw Lydia approach George and walk up the path in one shot, we now get the reverse.  The shot opens standing just outside the gate to the house, with a little bit of George’s pant leg visible on the right.  Lydia comes out of the house, runs into a close-up two-shot with George, tries to scream but is inarticulate, then runs on.  This shot lasts around 11 seconds.

I would like to quote extensively from Hitchcock here, as he talks about the importance of both the sound and the visual, before we see our last mirror shot of the truck driving away rapidly in a long shot, leaving a trail of dust.

The soundtrack was vital just there; we had the sound of her footsteps running down the passage, with almost an echo.  The interesting thing in the sound is the difference between the footsteps inside the house and on the outside.  Did you notice that I had her run from the distance and then went to a close-up when she’s paralyzed with fear and inarticulate?  There’s silence at that point.  Then, as she goes off again, the sound of the steps will match the size of the image.  It grows louder right up to the moment she gets into the truck, and then the screech of the truck engine starting off conveys her anguish.  We were really experimenting there by taking real sounds and then stylizing them so that we derived more drama from them than we normally would. 

For the arrival of the truck, I had the road watered down so that no dust would rise because I wanted that dust to have a dramatic function when she drives away.  The reason we went to all that trouble is that the truck, seen from a distance like that, moving at a tremendous speed, expresses the frantic nature of the mother’s moves.  In the previous scene we had shown that the woman was going through a violent emotion, and when she gets into the truck, we showed that this was an emotional truck.  Not only by the image, but also through the sound that sustains the emotion.  It’s not only the sound of the engine you hear, but something that’s like a cry.  It’s as though the truck were shrieking.  

In a film full of technically challenging scenes, this sequence is fairly standard.   But Hitchcock devoted a significant amount of time to this sequence, and that devotion is reflected in the final project.

THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH: Deconstruction of a Scene – Royal Albert Hall (1934 vs. 1956)

Alfred Hitchcock was asked once about the differences between his two versions of The Man Who Knew Too Much.  He replied that the first was the work of a talented amateur, and the second was the work of a professional.   I would argue that he’s being a bit modest calling himself an amateur.  By 1934, Hitchcock had been in the movie industry for over a decade, and had directed a dozen movies.  I think that qualifies for slightly better than amateur status.

While both versions of this movie are good, sometimes for very different reasons, when watching them back-to-back I find the original to be much more engaging and fresh.  Both versions feature a penultimate scene that takes place in the Royal Albert Hall. (As far as the final scene is concerned, the original movie wins by a mile, in my opinion.  Would you rather watch Edna Best take a rifle from a policeman and shoot the villain off the roof, or would you rather hear Doris Day sing “Que Sera Sera”?  That’s an easy choice for me.)  I thought it would be interesting to compare the two Albert Hall sequences.  The set-up of both scenes is the same:  The heroine arrives at the Albert Hall as her child is being held hostage.  She knows that an assassination is planned at the Hall, and will attempt to stop it, with no clear idea how to do so without risking her child.

In the earlier version, the sequence runs around 6 minutes and 10 seconds, with approximately 91 editorial cuts, which averages one cut every 4.1 seconds.

In the remake, the sequence is much longer, running around 14 minutes and 20 seconds, with approximately 193 editorial cuts.  This averages out to one cut every 4.5 seconds.  So even though the scene is considerably longer, Hitchcock’s cutting overall is very similar.  So let’s look at where the scenes are similar, and where they differ.  (The reason for the difference in frame size is because the first film was shot in a 1.33:1 ratio, which was the standard at the time, and the remake was shot in VistaVision and shown in a 1.85:1 ratio).

Both scenes begin with an establishing shot of the Royal Albert Hall exterior, advertising the concert about to take place.

 

 

We now have similar shots of Edna Best and Doris Day in the Albert Hall lobby, not quite sure what they are looking for.

 

 

Next, we get subjective POV shots, as they both recognize the assassin.

 

 

At this point in both films, after the heroine speaks to the assassin, she makes her way into the Hall.  One difference is that Edna Best actually takes a seat, whereas Doris Day stands in an aisle way.

 

 

The later movie begins to stretch out just a little bit here, taking more time to set the scene before the music begins.

We get these POV shots, as Doris Day locates both the dignitaries’ box, and the assassin’s box.  So the geography of the scene is already established for the viewer.

 

 

Next, the music begins, with a series of similar establishing shots.

 

 

The remake again takes a little more time here, with a greater variety of shots, from a variety of angles.  The older, more established Hitchcock does a better job of building suspense, even making sure to point out both the cymbalist and his instruments early in the sequence.

 

 

In the remake, Alfred Hitchcock has a VistaVision camera and he intends to make the most of it, giving us almost every conceivable camera angle of the musicians in the Albert Hall.  From the left:

 

From the right:

 

Even from above, in strange angles like this one:

 

After this both films follow a similar pattern.  We see our heroine looking, then we see what she is looking at.  This is textbook subjective POV.

 

Now the original film does something clever, out of necessity.  The camera pans along a wire, stopping on a radio transmitter.  Hitchcock uses this as a means to cut to the conspirators’ hideout, so we can see their reactions as they listen on the radio.  This is important because this is where both father and daughter are still being held captive.

 

 

Just as this sequence is unique to the original, the remake has a new sequence here.   Whereas the male lead was still a prisoner in the first film, in the remake Jimmy Stewart has broken free and comes to the Albert Hall.  So the camera breaks away from Doris Day to show his arrival.

 

Next, Jimmy Stewart finds Doris Day and they exchange information.  Hitchcock made the wise decision to play this scene without dialogue.  It is rather like a scene in a silent movie.  We see their mouths moving, we see their arms gesticulating, but we hear only the sweeping music.  Of course, we don’t need to hear the dialogue, because we know as much as the characters do.

 

So the second movie’s sequence will find much of its greater length here, as Hitchcock cuts away to Jimmy Stewart several times while he rushes upstairs in an attempt to find the assassin.

 

But in the first movie, Edna Best has no assistance.  She is all alone.  The cutting increases as she continues to look from assassin to target.  Edna Best gives such a heartfelt performance here.  Another brilliant Hitchcock touch:  we see Edna Best crying, then we see a “blurred vision” POV shot, as if we are seeing through her tears.

 

As the cymbal crash approaches, the cutting comes even faster, with many shots averaging less than a second.    In the second film, Hitchcock really relishes the buildup, with many more shots in the sequence.  Both films have the nearly-identical  iconic shot of the gun slowly coming around the curtain.

 

 

Again, the build-up is much lengthier in the remake.  Hitchcock has many shots of conductor Bernard Herrmann, even cutting to extreme close-ups of the musical notes that indicate the moment when the shot will come.

 

We even get this bizarre shot, just before the climax, taken from the point-of-view of the cymbalist!  This seems to break Hitchcock’s rule of “camera logic”, and yet as part of the montage, it adds to the emotional tension.  As a shot that is onscreen for less than a second, it registers emotionally before the mind can question it.  (If you look closely, you can see there are no hands holding the cymbals.  They seem to float in the air!)

 

When the moment for the assassination arrives, we get the scream of Edna Best and Doris Day.  The original film shows Edna stand to scream, then cuts to the hideout, where we hear the scream over the radio.   This adds to the suspense of the moment.  Was the assassin successful?  (We learn over the radio that he was not).

 

In the later film, Hitchcock gives Doris Day a close-up for her scream, which registers much more powerfully (and effectively) on the soundtrack.

 

In this case, Hitchcock stays at the Albert Hall.  We see firsthand that the assassin’s bullet causes only a flesh wound, and we see the dramatic moment of Jimmy Stewart bursting in his box, and the assassin’s fall, presumably to his death.

 

So, the final analysis:

The original film has a much shorter sequence, but still does an excellent job of building suspense.  Hitchcock employed many clever moments (the “blurred vision” POV, the cut from the radio transmitter to the actual radio in the conspirators’ hideaway) to tell the story.

When he did the remake, the changes in story structure (Jimmy Stewart’s arrival at the Albert Hall) necessitated changes in shot composition.   But more importantly, Hitchcock used many more shots, from many different angles, to increase the suspense of the moment.  While he was no amateur in the early film, it is clear that his mastery of the film medium had increased by the time of the remake, and he used that mastery to make a more powerful, and memorable sequence.