Strangers on a Train (1951) Part 1

Strangers on a Train: Hitchcock’s Rich Imagery Reigning Supreme
By Bill Hare

One of the first lessons I learned when embarking on a series about great film directors was the unique value they attached to the camera and all it could accomplish in generating screen magic when applied by appropriately attuned creative minds.

As a youngster growing up in London, Hitchcock’s world existed inside dark movie theaters, where he could sit with eyes glued to a screen where an infinity of possibilities existed to entertain audiences. The vehicle was there and proper application of ingenuity, when pressed to the ultimate, resulted in permanent recognition of defining genius through repeated viewings and extended praise from critics and historians.

One of Alfred Hitchcock’s most celebrated works emanated from his mature phase. Strangers on a Train with its 1951 release came along almost exactly one decade after an earlier highly acclaimed venture into the brooding realm of film noir. Hitchcock’s 1942 masterpiece Shadow of a Doubt was set in the small Northern California town of Santa Rosa. The film dealt with how the homicidal madness of a worldly man also in possession of sophisticated genius, played by Joseph Cotten in his most challenging role, impacted on the typically American family from which he came, highlighted by a niece bearing his own name of “Charlie”, who initially idolized him but ultimately learned about the world of darkness that constituted his enduring essence.

Two Moody Psychopaths

As a film craftsman and master of psychopathic mood, Hitchcock struck gold with Shadow of a Doubt and Strangers on a Train. A fascinating feature of both films was how quickly Joseph Cotten as the murdering psychopath who killed wealthy women and Robert Walker as a rich young man doted on by a neurotic mother switched moods. One divisible style factor was that Cotten was older and more debonair in manner while Walker represented the essence of “youth must be served” impatience.

The performers with whom Cotten and Walker clash were vastly different types; Teresa Wright, signed by Samuel Goldwyn due to his preference for “sweet young lady” personas, as young Charlie the niece was a high school honor student with lofty ideals. Wright idolized an uncle she believed possessed comparable high level traits, only to be crushingly disappointed.

In the case of Walker, his dramatic counterforce was Farley Granger, someone who from their first meeting strove to get rid of him. Granger displays an awkwardness of youth and is perpetually thwarted as well as dumbfounded by the nonchalant audacity of Walker.

Introduction through Adroit Camera Technique

A good example to use for any Cinema 101 class displaying the difference between film and other methods of storytelling such as stage drama or novels is the manner in which the camera can be invoked. The first brilliant and story exploring camera gem the wily Hitchcock tosses our way is in the opening sequence.

Hitchcock zeroes in using a novel approach to introducing the contrasting characters of his drama. We do not see their faces; instead the visual activity resides in observing them stride onto the same train. One is dressed in the manner of the neighborhood sport. His cocky, confident strides match his choice of wearing apparel. The other man’s choice of wardrobe is more decidedly conservative, as are his strides, moving forward without the cocky authority of his counterpart, a young man cautiously but surely seeking to make his way into society.

When we meet the lead characters inside the train once that it is moving those differences made clear through revealing camera shots as they embarked are quickly solidified. Walker confronts Granger confidently, telling him that he is a fan, and that he has seen many of his tennis matches.

Granger finds the meeting awkward, and is being victimized by the wily Walker’s initial deception, that his interest focuses on being a tennis fan of Granger’s. In that Granger has correctly depicted Walker as a wild neurotic, when Walker jumps to the subject of Granger’s marital difficulties, known as a result of Granger’s tennis celebrity status, he makes the mistake of disregarding as a neurotic irrelevancy Walker’s proposal of a murder exchange – Granger’s difficult wife for Walker’s father – he bids him goodbye and assumes he will never see or hear from him again.

Flirtation as a Prelude to Murder

That puckish smile so frequently seen on Alfred Hitchcock’s face was reflective of a man who said that the appropriate inscription for his tombstone should be, “Here lies a very naughty boy.” The springboard of his success and source of audience fixation was the manner in which the director known as The Master drew viewers in with one grand tease after another.

The camera’s eye reveals a diligent Walker sizing up his prey, namely Granger’s difficult wife Laura Elliott, who refuses giving him the divorce he seeks so he can marry Ruth Roman, the daughter of a prominent United States Senator, played with appropriate dignity by Leo G. Carroll. Walker catches Elliott’s eye and the two engage in an interesting flirtation that occurs without the two men escorting Elliott knowing anything about it.

The flirtation occurs when both are on rowboats and culminates in another eye-popping visual, Walker’s strangulation of Elliott as seen through the image of the glasses she had formerly worn, and through the force of Walker’s sturdy hands have fallen to the grass.

Granger then receives the jolting shock of reality that Walker is anything but a bluff artist as he calls the tennis star, informs him that he has carried out his part of the bargain, and fully expects reciprocity on Granger’s part.


Dark Brooding Images

By the time of the film’s release America was immersed in the Cold War opposite the Soviet Union. Albeit Hitchcock was not a political person, as a filmmaker he was not only acutely aware of American and global trends; he knew that by incorporating familiar themes and images in his films he increased the likelihood of audiences identifying with them.

Walker could be seen as a dark totalitarian image as he was observed hovering around Washington’s familiar historical sites such as the Jefferson Memorial shrouded in darkness. While Walker represents the anarchistic challenge to established authority, the always distinguished, frequent Hitchcock character performer Leo G. Carroll appears as the cool establishment figure that stands for order and reason, seeking to comfort fears of his lovely daughter Ruth Roman and son-in-law to be Granger.

One of the film’s leading standouts from the character ranks is none other than Hitchcock’s daughter Patricia, who plays the younger sister of Roman. Her native intelligence and keen detective instincts, which are displayed in two pivotal instances in the film, are reminiscent of her father’s demeanor as evidenced in his films and personal comments, many of which were presented in hosting his own successful television series.

The unyielding efforts of Walker to become a permanent influence in Granger’s life provide an additional problem beyond the obvious ones of the destruction he has wrought through strangling the tennis star’s wife and might achieve in the future. Granger is revealed as a deeply troubled young man who wants to enter the top rungs of Washington, D.C. society, which a marriage to Roman would insure, but wonders if he is cut out for such a role. As a decent but apprehensive young man, Farley Granger proves to be the perfect dramatic opposite for Robert Walker, who can display an engaging nonchalance that charms upper crust society until he reveals his darker, emotionally and mentally troubled side.

From a classical film noir standpoint, one of the film’s towering moments is when Walker is seen from the distance, once more a brooding creature of darkness, on a critical evening when Granger is discussing his plight with the distinguished senator and family. They are all aware of his haunting presence, as someone who seemingly will never go away, as Hitchcock presents an unforgettable image of the contrast between good and evil, between authority and anarchy, between death and life, between a bright and positive future and a potential plunge into oblivion.

The Hitchcock penchant for putting his audiences on the edge of continuing suspense occurs after Granger decides to visit the family mansion in Arlington, Virginia, where Walker has lived in splendor, regaling under an enabler mother amid the continuing frustration of a realistic father, The Master’s camera and lighting techniques provide one of the signature moments in film noir.

How could suspense masters endure without staircases? Hitchcock uses the staircase approach to good advantage when Granger enters the mansion and proceeds with slow, determined purpose up the staircase. As befitting the tense moment, a shadow effect is employed.

Hitchcock had plenty of drama going in this scene as is, but being the innovator he was another nail-biting dimension was inserted. A large dog was silently perched in front of the door leading to the room where Granger’s anticipated meeting would occur.

Would the dog pose a danger? When Granger’s slim, shadowy image approaches, the dog takes an instant liking to him. He pets the dog, which in turn licks his hand. Does this mean that the fates are now on Granger’s side and a successful meeting with Walker’s father is at hand?

Fascination and intrigue abound. Granger, in his sincere, straightforward manner, speaks directly to the figure sitting on the bed. It is so dark that he cannot make it out but assumes it to be Walker’s father, telling him, “Mr. Antony, your son Bruno is sick and needs help.”

After we have been conditioned to slow movements, silence and darkness, Hitchcock then unleashes angry verbal pyrotechnics. Granger has been tricked by the wily Walker. He is the figure on the bed. Walker becomes enraged over Granger’s “deceit” and in the ensuing verbal hostilities Granger strikes the man who was willing to move heaven and earth to become his lasting “friend.”

The meeting is a pivotal story point because it is then that Walker declares his determination to make Granger pay a price for spurning his offer of friendship and refusing to reciprocate in kind by killing his father after the psychopath had done him a big “favor” by killing his difficult wife.

Part 2