L.B. watching you ...

Rating: 10/10 (31 March 2012)

An everyday man trapped in an out-of-control situation, a cool and sophisticated blonde with a burning flame and a heart-pounding paranoid sensation driving the narrative until a suffocating and suspenseful climax. On the surface, "Rear Window" is made of the same usual Hitchcockian ingredients, but the film has a specificity that elevates it above all the other Hitchcock experiences and best exemplifies his brilliance as a director and a storyteller.
The secret of "Rear Window"'s timeless appeal relies on its self-reflexive approach to whatever defined Hitchcock's style, in the first place, the identification with the hero. Here, we root for L.B. "Jeff" Jefferies, not just because he's an ordinary man, but also because he's stuck in a condition similar to us with his leg casted after a car accident. He's still above ordinariness through his job, he's a photographer and from what it seems, quite an adventurer, the very cause of his accident happens to be due to his closeness to a car just to get the perfect shot. His métier, cleverly hinted in the opening scene with the shots on his material and pictures, is the perfect device to justify the presence of binoculars, and sort of redeem Jeffries' voyeurism by translating it into a simple case of job conditioning. But apart from these considerations, it's still not Jeffries the photographer whom we identify with, but Jeffries, the man.
The man can't move, can't wear other clothes than his pajamas, a nice visual touch that makes the film even more memorable, he can't go outside and basically, he's condemned for a seven-week passivity. Therefore, the only area of freedom that is offered to him is to watch his neighbors from the titular window, and discovering their private lives. Hitchcock uses a clever plot device by setting the film in a hot summer week so it justifies why all the windows are open. We discover a beautiful neighborhood setting where each window represents a little vignette of action within a movie, there is Miss Lonelyhearts, the old maid seeking love desperately, Miss Torso, a pretty dancer who invites many guys at parties, a couple of newlyweds, another used to sleep in a balcony and owning a little pet dog, and there are the Thornwalds, the typical constantly-arguing couple. If only for the setting, the film is a remarkable technical and artistic achievement.
Now, "Rear Window" doesn't question if watching the neighbors is morally defendable, Hitch is just stating the obvious, if we were put in Jeffries' situation, we would watch, because human nature has a tendency for voyeurism. It kind of reminds me of the French adage that says: 'when I see myself, I feel bad, when I see the others, I feel better'. Jeffries seems to enjoy watching people precisely to reconcile himself with his own condition. It's human and this is where we identify with him, especially when Hitchcock tricks us into admiring the voluptuous body of Miss Torso, or laugh at the couple caught by the rain. We're even more voyeur when we tend not to see what's wrong inside us, and this is the psychological dimension that enriches an already clever script. More than a mystery, "Rear Window" acts as an excellent character study and introspection into the mechanism of voyeurism. And the two female characters play a significant part by indirectly mirroring Jeffries' inner weaknesses that we'd notice if we weren't too busy watching what he watches.
The first one is Thelma Ritter as Stella the no-nonsense caregiver who can't understand many of Jeffries' attitudes: why doesn't he marry Lisa, if she loves her? Why is he spending time watching other people, it will only cause trouble (and we know it will). Stella is the common sense of the story, and the reflection of Jeffries' own indecision. Lisa, on the other hand, provides the romantic aspect of the film, which is essential -her entrance with this extraordinary close-up is one of the most beautiful from any film-, Lisa is a fashion designer, elegant and classy, she spoils Jeffries, bringing a whole restaurant to his modest room, but he doesn't share her passion and doesn't feel like she could follow him. They love each other but they can't make up their minds, and while we see them arguing about the way to handle their relationship, we –viewers- experience exactly what Jeffries does every day.
Indeed, Jeffries embodies our own perspective, and the neighbor's windows symbolize what we see on-screen. The film is remarkably told in focal perspective where we're put in the same position than the character, and the directing, rightfully Oscar-nominated, is particularly attentive to very simple but subtle details. Basically, each important moment of Jeffries' watching is regulated in three times, he sees- we see what he sees and then his reaction (a smile, a surprise, a shock ) betrays his interpretation. A voice-over would have cheated with the concept, now we only see and try to figure out what happened from what he saw. And when Thornwald leaves the house many times during a rainy night, taking saw and ropes, and suddenly his wife isn't here for the next days, anyone can get suspicious. But Hitch also teases us by showing us things that gets unnoticed by Jeffries. We're frustrated because we know something he doesn't and can't do anything, we're powerless, but ironically, so is Jeffries.
And this is where the power of the climax relies, because Jeffries can't do anything, he can't move, he can't even cry for help if he becomes the watched or if he sees his beloved Lisa in danger in Thronswald's house. The suspense here allows us to experiment the viewer's condition on the character and uses the romance to drive the narrative: Lisa becoming a bit of an adventurer and Jeffries starting to put his own troubles and torments into perspective, and learning that any watcher should watch himself first  which of course, applies for us too.