SUSPICION (1941) **1/2 Alfred Hitchcock left such a distinguished, unique, and large, body of work that you've got to watch his films differently. You look for certain things: close-ups meaningful and spare but never random, a certain kind of undefineable character, gaping plot holes and how those holes relate to the inevitable plot twists. The Cornish Game Hen is my favorite-but I'll leave it up to you to figure our whether that's a close-up, character, or plot twist. In a similar vein the actors don't have to so much give historic performances as ones that over-indulge the idiosyncracies of the role. I don't know that I've ever seen Cary Grant more effective, the flawed but imminently satisfied with himself playboy suits him. Somehow someone dressed up Joan Fontaine to be credible as a spinsterish frustrated flower of the aristocracy, then it was easy to let her bloom in relation to a man she doesn't understand, but loves and trusts against any evidence. The psychological interplay between the two, archetypes without natural affinity but thrust together apparently by fate (the other choice being necessity), is somehow very real and personal on a level that transcends the modest script. Nigel Bruce is a tremendous sideman, his casting is a much more important touch to the film than the famous glowing (lightbulb inside) glass of milk. The ending has been much critisized, probably because it has a decidedly un-Hitchockesque ring of truth, thereby leaving its critics frustrated and jealous that Fontaine has won the life she deserves through patience, perseverence, and faith.
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