I'm an advertising man, not a red herring.

Rating: 9/10 (19 April 2016)

North by Northwest's aesthetic is stylish yet anxious - the now iconic opening titles arrange the text in rigid, geometric lines splayed across the screen in 3d, and below, reflecting on the vast mirrors of skyscrapers, citizens milling and scuttling like an insect collective, bond by a single instinct to survive. The post-war modernity, the architecture of Frank Lloyd Wright, the slick decor, the stylish fashion, all marred by the contextual Cold War paranoia. The leading man is thrust out of the masses into a plot of spiralling complexity and mystery, but of course he is no spy, but another everyman just trying to get by (and early on we have that overhead shot of the UN escape making him tiny like an ant). The film resolves to get more out of him; to fill that big, empty 'O' in the middle of his name and in short, be a man his mother would be proud of.
The film's plot would be torn apart into shreds these days, but back then it was the spy thriller before 007, and Phillip Vandamm is the Bond villain before there were Bond villains. His closing of the shutters and atmospheric lamp is the spinning chair and stroking cat of the 60s. His villainy does not subscribe to subtlety, so we have the showy, evil monologue, where they circle each other like they were in a gladiatorial arena, and then the least inconspicuous way of murdering an enemy agent. For every dodgy rear projection car scene we have the crop duster, still a marvel to this day. The torched brown wheat-fields, the rural American icon, transformed into something of an expressionist nightmare taking its cues from the German movement; the geometric rigidity of the horizon, two tiny figures intersecting at perfect right angles, the undeviating rows of gold. The overhead wide shot betrays nothing - airplanes and buses materialise out of nowhere, and the mystery is only furthered.
Nevertheless Hitchcock does veer in gratuitous territory every now and again. The appearance and lengthy seduction of Eva Marie Saint as a sort of crimson guardian angel is as risqué as they come, and Lehman can't help but pause the tension for few well directed one- liners and suggestive whispers. It is only empowered by later revelations that paint the scene in a new light as a jolt in her confined life. This theme comes together in a stunning reveal at the auction; it starts on the blonde back of Kendall's head, with Vandamm's hand caressing and wrapping around her like suffocating tendrils, then slowly pulls back to reveal the rest of the auction and lastly Thornhill's spurned glare. Hitchcock is channeling a similar vibe on obsession and possession as he did in Vertigo, and Kendall's blonde locks and red dress stick out disturbingly in the crowd. A masterful reveal with pure image, though I suppose it is slightly undercut by Grant's annoyance (rather than what we would expect and are shown, fury) and slapstick antics in messing with the bidding.
Of course what Hitchcock really wanted to do was a climatic sequence atop Mount Rushmore. The final set was a giant replica of the famed carvings, and it holds up rather well, projecting a sense of depth from high up above down to the rocky cliffs below. The action staging is a little less exciting than a modern audience would have liked - Hitchcock had to cut from wide shots of the real site to closeups of the replica for the actual action, resulting in a rather stilted sequence of events where they are eventually rescued by the agency. And the way Grant struggles to pull Saint up from over a cliff, and how his desperation turns into a slight smile as the scene transitions forwards onto a train bed? Pure silliness and sentimental theatricality, but at least they are openly admitting it. We can't help but crack a grin as the train rushes into the tunnel.