The charge of misogyny is too often thrown in Hitchcock's direction - it's a lazy tag that refuses to engage with his admittedly complex and occasionally troubling perspective on and relationship with women. The irony is that he was probably responsible for the creation of more memorable, dynamic female characters in classic Hollywood (particularly the fifties) than almost any of his contemporaries (bar Billy Wilder, whose attitude towards women strikes me as equally problematic). However, with 'Marnie', the charges begin to stick. The power imbalance of the central relationship, the pathologising of the female, the sexual violence against women - it reads like a feminist film-theory tick-list.
It isn't as simple as that, of course, but there's a tendency for critics to be a little mealy-mouthed about what is going on in this film. Rape is made justifiable (although it isn't quite justified). The women are all damaged or perverse; Hitchcock claimed Connery's character is just as sick, but the film avoids pathologising him in the same way. There's a thread of something genuinely unpleasant in this film, and in fairness it wouldn't work if there wasn't. The rape scene is the most discomforting scene in all of Hitchcock's work, and my knee-jerk reaction is to wish it wasn't there. However, the way it conveys the horror of the violation without graphically depicting it (and thus turning it into a voyeuristic spectacle) may be the most impressive aspect of the film. This is the only 'classic' Hollywood film I can think of that treats rape seriously, as opposed to as a plot detail. The pity is that the film ultimately neglects the consequences beyond Marnie's immediate reaction.
The film certainly provokes wildly divergent responses, and some pretty complex readings. This isn't just a matter of viewer response - the film encourages it. The bad taste it leaves in many people's mouths (my own included) seems deliberate, and it is for that reason that I give it the benefit of the doubt.
The performances are more easily defensible. Despite a lot of criticism, Tippi Hedren gives a really potent performance as Marnie. At times she wavers, bordering on the hysterical or the arch, but then this a more challenging role than her debut in 'The Birds'. She nails the role in ninety percent of the scenes. Connery seems deliberately miscast, but he's rarely been this interesting since. Again, there are wobbles - he does better by Mark's dark sexuality than by his easy charm (which comes off as patronising) - but it remains a career high point. The scene stealer, though, is Diane Baker as Lil. I've never seen the actress this well cast before - she seems to have been underused all the way through her career. She has the unusual benefit of an actual character arc, rare among Hitchcock's minor characters, although it is rather muffled by her absence at the climax. In her final scenes, we can see her coming to comprehend the depths of Marnie's trauma, and anticipate a more supportive relationship between the two in future. Hitchcock, alas, has no interest in that. I'm always left wanting more of this elfin, mischievous character - and the actress who plays her.
There are some striking sequences in the film - particularly the opening shot - but the fake looking backdrops are a mistake. I've never heard a really good justification for them (you can evoke unreality or superficiality without making your film look so darned tacky). The montage of the horse crashing over the wall may be the single most risible moment in Hitchcock's prolific career.
Marnie is unquestionably successful in one respect - it gets under the viewer's skin like no other film of its period. I can't think of another film that provokes such queasy - yet rapt - attention. My own feelings about it are deeply ambivalent. I don't love it - or like it, really - and yet I can't dismiss it. My opinions about it shift with every viewing - and I keep going back to it.
It isn't as simple as that, of course, but there's a tendency for critics to be a little mealy-mouthed about what is going on in this film. Rape is made justifiable (although it isn't quite justified). The women are all damaged or perverse; Hitchcock claimed Connery's character is just as sick, but the film avoids pathologising him in the same way. There's a thread of something genuinely unpleasant in this film, and in fairness it wouldn't work if there wasn't. The rape scene is the most discomforting scene in all of Hitchcock's work, and my knee-jerk reaction is to wish it wasn't there. However, the way it conveys the horror of the violation without graphically depicting it (and thus turning it into a voyeuristic spectacle) may be the most impressive aspect of the film. This is the only 'classic' Hollywood film I can think of that treats rape seriously, as opposed to as a plot detail. The pity is that the film ultimately neglects the consequences beyond Marnie's immediate reaction.
The film certainly provokes wildly divergent responses, and some pretty complex readings. This isn't just a matter of viewer response - the film encourages it. The bad taste it leaves in many people's mouths (my own included) seems deliberate, and it is for that reason that I give it the benefit of the doubt.
The performances are more easily defensible. Despite a lot of criticism, Tippi Hedren gives a really potent performance as Marnie. At times she wavers, bordering on the hysterical or the arch, but then this a more challenging role than her debut in 'The Birds'. She nails the role in ninety percent of the scenes. Connery seems deliberately miscast, but he's rarely been this interesting since. Again, there are wobbles - he does better by Mark's dark sexuality than by his easy charm (which comes off as patronising) - but it remains a career high point. The scene stealer, though, is Diane Baker as Lil. I've never seen the actress this well cast before - she seems to have been underused all the way through her career. She has the unusual benefit of an actual character arc, rare among Hitchcock's minor characters, although it is rather muffled by her absence at the climax. In her final scenes, we can see her coming to comprehend the depths of Marnie's trauma, and anticipate a more supportive relationship between the two in future. Hitchcock, alas, has no interest in that. I'm always left wanting more of this elfin, mischievous character - and the actress who plays her.
There are some striking sequences in the film - particularly the opening shot - but the fake looking backdrops are a mistake. I've never heard a really good justification for them (you can evoke unreality or superficiality without making your film look so darned tacky). The montage of the horse crashing over the wall may be the single most risible moment in Hitchcock's prolific career.
Marnie is unquestionably successful in one respect - it gets under the viewer's skin like no other film of its period. I can't think of another film that provokes such queasy - yet rapt - attention. My own feelings about it are deeply ambivalent. I don't love it - or like it, really - and yet I can't dismiss it. My opinions about it shift with every viewing - and I keep going back to it.