I've talked before about the power of the closeup. When the frame is so close to a character's face, we the audience can feel the character's emotions more strongly. We develop an intimate connection, an empathy.
Few directors understood film technique as well as Alfred Hitchcok, and he understood better than just about anyone else how, to borrow his phrase, "play the audience like a piano." His films are filled with iconic closeups, but I want to examine one from Shadow of a Doubt, where he combines a closeup with another technique - the zoom - for chilling effect.
Shadow of a Doubt stars Joseph Cotton as the Merry Widow Murderer, a sociopath who murders rich widows to steal their money. Theresa Wright plays his niece who gradually learns the horrifying truth about her beloved Uncle Charlie.
The moment I want to talk about is a monologue by Joseph Cotton.
Joseph Cotton had a great career playing reasonable, decent men, but he is creepy here. Uncle Charlie, without admitting guilt to his family, reveals his contempt for his victims and his complete lack of human empathy.
Hitchcock cedes the floor to Cotton during this part of his monologue instead of cutting away to reactions. This unbroken take (which in the above clip begins as Uncle Charlie says "wives) lasts more than 30 seconds, which by today's rapid cut standards is an eternity on screen.
Here is how the shot begins.
Nothing fancy. Uncle Charlie looks off to the right-hand side of the frame. We see him from the shoulders up. Shadows cover his face, which hint at his dark nature. Then, Hitchcock begins turning the screws by zooming in.
Zooms can be tricky to pull off because compared other to other techniques; they draw more attention to themselves, and that can distance the audience and take them out of the moment. Hitchcock uses the zoom to draw us closer to Uncle Charlie and the danger he represents.
But Hitchcock does not rush the zoom. He zooms in slowly, keeping our attention on Charlie's words. We don't notice we're getting closer. This part of the shot doesn't look fundamentally different from the beginning. Unless we're really paying attention, we probably don't notice we can barely see the top of one shoulder and can't see the top of his head. However, the eyes of the monster remain front and center, and that's where we keep looking.
The zoom continues. We get so close, we only Charlie's face. We hear his cold words, and more importantly, we see his cold eyes.
Then the kicker. His niece, also named Charlie, asks a question any decent, kind human being would ask, but we don't cut to her as expected. Something else happens.
Uncle Charlie turns and stares right at us. The monster notices us noticing him, and we're right next to him. We were so engrossed in what he was saying, we didn't realize how close how we got. When he looks at us, the spell is broken, and we're in trouble.
Hitchcock depicted voyeurism is a number of his movies, namely Psycho and Rear Window. Here, he turns the tables on the audience; we're the voyeurs, and we've been eavesdropping and looking at a killer, but we're safe, aren't we? We're in a theater or a couch, far away from the Merry Widow Murderer.
Then, he turns and looks right at us, and all bets are off. No jump cuts, no shocking musical stings. Just chilling words and dawning realization. We don't need to cut away to see young Charlie's reaction to her uncle because in that moment, we are her, and we know what she's feeling.
Hitchcock cedes the floor to Cotton during this part of his monologue instead of cutting away to reactions. This unbroken take (which in the above clip begins as Uncle Charlie says "wives) lasts more than 30 seconds, which by today's rapid cut standards is an eternity on screen.
Here is how the shot begins.
Nothing fancy. Uncle Charlie looks off to the right-hand side of the frame. We see him from the shoulders up. Shadows cover his face, which hint at his dark nature. Then, Hitchcock begins turning the screws by zooming in.
Zooms can be tricky to pull off because compared other to other techniques; they draw more attention to themselves, and that can distance the audience and take them out of the moment. Hitchcock uses the zoom to draw us closer to Uncle Charlie and the danger he represents.
But Hitchcock does not rush the zoom. He zooms in slowly, keeping our attention on Charlie's words. We don't notice we're getting closer. This part of the shot doesn't look fundamentally different from the beginning. Unless we're really paying attention, we probably don't notice we can barely see the top of one shoulder and can't see the top of his head. However, the eyes of the monster remain front and center, and that's where we keep looking.
The zoom continues. We get so close, we only Charlie's face. We hear his cold words, and more importantly, we see his cold eyes.
Then the kicker. His niece, also named Charlie, asks a question any decent, kind human being would ask, but we don't cut to her as expected. Something else happens.
Uncle Charlie turns and stares right at us. The monster notices us noticing him, and we're right next to him. We were so engrossed in what he was saying, we didn't realize how close how we got. When he looks at us, the spell is broken, and we're in trouble.
Hitchcock depicted voyeurism is a number of his movies, namely Psycho and Rear Window. Here, he turns the tables on the audience; we're the voyeurs, and we've been eavesdropping and looking at a killer, but we're safe, aren't we? We're in a theater or a couch, far away from the Merry Widow Murderer.
Then, he turns and looks right at us, and all bets are off. No jump cuts, no shocking musical stings. Just chilling words and dawning realization. We don't need to cut away to see young Charlie's reaction to her uncle because in that moment, we are her, and we know what she's feeling.
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