Last Year in San Francisco

Rating: 8/10 (31 July 2018)

An awe-inspiring array of state-of-the-art 50's film production values - high voltage stars Jimmy Stewart and the almost supernaturally beautiful Kim Novak in a killer wardrobe by Edith Head, Bernard Herrmann's magnificent score, Robert Burks' glowing Vistavision & Technicolor travelogue photography of San Francisco and of the surrounding area and of Miss Novak, handsome sets, titles by Saul Bass, all under the firm hand of maestro Hitchcock at the top of his game - combine to camouflage an extremely nasty and wildly improbable tale of a cruel and preposterously complicated conspiracy to murder, and it's gormless patsy.
One can understand contemporary audiences' bewilderment at Hitchcock lavishing all this care on a mood piece which ravishes the senses as it throws plausibility out the window at every opportunity; but with the passage of time it's fifties trappings make it seem ever more exotic, with even Midge's geeky spectacles looking like design classics. (It probably influenced 'Last Year at Marienbad'.)
James Stewart's Scottie is already exhibiting an unpleasant superciliousness even as early as his treatment of hotel manager Ellen Corby, and his treatment of both Midge and Judith makes you want to slap his face. The simulteously demure and erotic moment when Judith eventually presents herself to him fully suited-up with her hair up for his delectation is a typically cunning Hitchcock moment doing more with less which will strike a chord with any man on whose behalf the lady in his life has at long last agreed to made him very happy indeed by finally getting into biking leathers or a policewoman's uniform. If only Scottie had been content to stop there and not persisted in being such a morose, self-centred oaf indulging his hang-ups to the point of destruction...