Article by Kevin Murphy
It’s the characters that drive Shadow of A Doubt, Alfred Hitchcock’s 1943 thriller starring Theresa Wright and James Cotton. The plot is thick and the setting alive, but the film’s strength rests in its people.
The film begins on the east coast, in the city. Uncle Charlie (Cotton) is in a motel, and though he is fully dressed, and though it’s the middle of the day, he’s lying in bed with a cigar, thinking. Two detectives wait on the corner. They want to speak with him, seems there’s been a couple of murders lately, some rich widows, and whoever is responsible has been making off with the ladies’ goods. Charlie leaves the motel and passes the detectives. They pursue and Charlie eludes. We follow him into a drug store, to a phone, where he sends a telegram to his beloved family on the west coast, telling them he’s planning a visit.
Moments later and all the grit and dangers of the city are swept away. We’re transplanted to Santa Rosa, California, where Uncle Charlie’s sister, Emma Newton (Patricia Collinge) is enjoying the sanctity of small-town life. But Emma’s daughter, and Uncle Charlie’s namesake (Theresa Wright), isn’t satisfied with the slow hum of the Newton’s daily routine, so she’s ecstatic when her uncle arrives, certain he’ll provide the necessary shake up for which she’s been yearning.
And for a little while that shake up comes in the form of cheerful dinners and walks through town, with Uncle Charlie charming the pants off everyone he meets. His niece is pleased, and life in Santa Rosa couldn’t be better. But soon trouble arrives, two more detectives trailing Uncle Charlie, and a dark cloud smears the light of this happy little town. Soon Uncle Charlie is not only suspected by the detectives, but by his sleuthing niece as well, and the once inseparable duo is pitted against each other. Now the film starts its sprint toward its memorable final scenes.
Those final scenes, in which Charlie the niece struggles to survive against Charlie the uncle, are the culmination of the film’s work. Throughout the film, characterization is developed with finely sketched performances. Initially, Charlie the niece is a temperate, dissatisfied youth, anxious for something interesting to happen. As we watch her become a strong, intelligent woman, forced to cope and understand a painful situation, her growth is a natural, determined force, one that demands respect and admiration. She also balances beauty and intelligence, an act worthy of applause considering most female actors starring in the thrillers of the early twentieth century were forced to numb their intelligence and use instead sex appeal as their sole survival skill.
In playing the mother, sister and wife of the Newton clan, Emma remains unblinking in her complete devotion to her family. Only once, after Charlie suffers her second of mysterious accidents, does she wonder if something might be awry. Her steadfastness, providing without question the luxuries and services of a selfless mother, stand as the spine in this otherwise paralyzed family. She is quiet and reserved when Uncle Charlie criticizes women. She dismisses her opinions, maintaining peace, and busies herself with endless chores. She represents the consummate mother, forever optimistic, even when faced with severe contradictions.
Hitchcock meddles with contradiction and harnesses its undertones so what is seen on the surface undermines the deeper assumption felt within. For instance, a firm, decisive man leads every healthy, secure family. Superficially, Joe Newton (Henry Travers) earns this description, as he is the breadwinner working at the local bank. If examined closer, though, he is an aloof father, a smoke detector with low batteries; a jovial, passive man whom by all means is committed to and loves his family but is blinded by his humorous preoccupation with pulp crime literature, and his endearing relationship with Herb (Hume Cronyn), so that he’s unsuspecting of the dark predicaments germinating under his roof.
But everyone knows nothing can germinate in darkness. And while nothing good may come of Uncle Charlie’s bad seed, he is nonetheless alive, still squirming, searching for the light that will save his soul. His family tried to help. But the past is never far behind, and when his fate is jeopardized, Uncle Charlie uses his evil, murderous devices to find his way out. Maniacal in his mood swings, Uncle Charlie does what every good killer must. He uses superior charm and intelligence to manipulate those who love him in order to gain sanctuary and support. This, obviously, can last too long. And when those lousy detectives blow into town looking to spoil everything, Charlie casts a sinful stare in his niece’s direction. For she’s betrayed him, too, just like every other no-good woman in this world, and now his fury has been unleashed. It’s all so sad, really. He’s a nice young man, but such a temper.
Hitchcock’s ability to create delightfully wicked films hallmark his legacy. The plots shift, writhe, try to shake free. But in the end, when enough humor and anxiety and desperation have fused, someone has to die. In Shadow of A Doubt, he examines what happens when betrayal and violence visit a small town. He does this with expert craftsmanship, tediously filtering our senses with an ominous soundtrack, irascible themes, and fully realized characters. The camerawork backs us into corners, gives breathing room, and then traps us. We struggle in the dark, panic. It’s only when the light switch is finally flipped that we recognize his famous silhouette chuckling to the unforgettable sound of his unique music. Hitchcock got us again, we say. And we chuckle with him.
P.S. -After Shadow of A Doubt, watch Silence of the Lambs. Clarisse and Hannibal Lector share undeniable similarities with Charlie and Uncle Charlie.
