Not the greatest film ever made... but it's close

Rating: 10/10 (19 November 2012)

Is Hitchcock's 'Vertigo' the greatest film ever made? According to the most recent BFI Sight & Sound Poll, this is most definitely the case. Generally, I have little time for polls like this. They're normally voted on by people who are too pretentious to admit that their favourite film isn't really 'Vertigo' or 'Citizen Kane' at all but is actually something much more mainstream like 'Die Hard'. Nevertheless, this is the most comprehensive poll we've got and, in its defence, it's a pretty decent one. Whilst I wouldn't necessarily agree with their assertion that 'Vertigo' is the greatest film ever made, I'd be hard pressed to find any more than a dozen films that rival it.
The problem for me, however, is that I don't actually think 'Vertigo' is Hitchcock's greatest film, let alone the greatest film ever made. That's not to say it isn't one of the most accomplished and marvellous pieces of cinema I've ever seen, and it is of course a testament to one of the World's greatest ever directors that a film of this calibre isn't actually his greatest achievement, but if you're a Hitchcock-virgin (he'd love that) or you've only ever seen 'Psycho', let me use this opportunity to implore you to get watching the majority of his filmography straight away. And, if you've never seen 'Vertigo', then based on the results of the Sight & Sound Poll it's probably the best place for you to start.
At its most basic, 'Vertigo' is a tense and compelling mystery with a resolution that is so simple and, in many ways, so obvious, it's a real testament to Hitchcock's genius that you never catch on until it's spelt out for you. Red herrings jump up at you from all angles and keep you hooked from start to finish, always knocking you off the scent in the most subtle of ways. Ultimately, the only logical explanation for what is going on is exactly the one that Hitchcock tricks you into avoiding. If you're watching it for the first time, the mystery should be more than enough to satisfy you. However, 'Vertigo' is multi-layered and fascinating and thoroughly engrossing on many other levels too. For one, it is a wonderful deconstruction of a man dealing with loss, grief and the aftermath of trauma. James Stewart plays the role of Scottie with all his usual charm, brilliantly portraying every facet of this wonderful and complex character's personality. The manner in which he adapts his performance throughout is so skillful and impressive that it's impossible to imagine anyone else in the role. On another level, it is a film about love and the all-consuming power it can have over people. The mystery often plays second fiddle to the intensity of the relationship between Scottie and Madeleine and, later, between Scottie and Judy. Kim Novak is, as one would only expect, dazzling in her role and alongside Stewart, the characters are utterly captivating.
It is Hitchcock's marvellous direction that truly makes the film the absolute classic that it is. His signature camera-work and visual tricks are all used to great effect. Consider, for a moment, that majestic, overhead shot of the Church following Madeleine's apparent jump, or that spellbinding shot from beneath the Golden Gate Bridge that stretches out into the distance, almost like it will never end, both of which give the film a wondrous, dreamlike quality that is all but unrivalled in contemporary cinema. Speaking of which, the dream sequence following the court case is one of the most beautiful and daunting things I have ever seen. Hitchcock was always a master at manipulating colour and imagery to induce any and every emotion that he saw fit in his audience. That particular sequence, however, takes it to a whole new level. For its time, it would have been startling and completely innovative (one can't help but get the feeling that Kubrick borrowed rather heavily from it in the latter part of '2001: A Space Odyssey') and looking back on it now, it's still an incredibly powerful visual piece.
This is a film in which colours speak a thousand words, a film in which every shot can be pored over for detail and a film in which every line can have multiple meanings. It is obvious that Hitchcock has devoted so much care and attention to this film that it is only right that it is praised as much as it is. Everything comes together – intense performances, stunning imagery and a soundtrack by Bernard Herrmann that is so assertive and gripping that the film can go for minutes-on-end without a single word being spoken and still tell you everything you need to know – to result in a truly thrilling conclusion. As all of the pieces fall into place, and everything becomes clear, Hitchcock drags you on that little bit further and relentlessly cranks the tension up until the credits start to roll and leaves in place a series of emotions that will remain long after they've finished.
This is filmmaking at its finest. It's beautiful, it's mesmerising and it's utterly absorbing. It might not be the greatest film ever made but, in a number of ways, it's probably about as close as you're ever going to get.