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Movies Explained

Vertigo Explained: Part 2

In Part 1, we covered Vertigo‘s thematic meanings. Now it’s time for the fun stuff.

III. Green, Lavender, Red

Using the thematic framework we’ve outlined, we can now decode Vertigo’s color symbolism. (I love cracking a good color key.) This will also help us clarify certain points made in the first part.

You might have noticed that three particular colors appear prominently throughout the film: green, lavender, and red. Of these, green recurs most frequently. Some of its major appearances include: “Madeleine’s” dress when Scottie first spies on her, Madeleine’s car, Scottie’s sweater after rescuing her from the bay, Judy’s dress when Scottie first spots her on the street, and the neon color sign that illuminates Judy’s apartment.

Considering these clues, we can conclude that green represents romanticism—the idealistic attributing of positive qualities to someone else.

Most of the deployments of green in the first part of the film relate to the fictional “Madeleine,” who, of course, is romanticized by Scottie. Later uses of green often relate to Judy out of character, but only when Scottie idealizes Judy by mentally linking her to the Madeleine character. This culminates in Judy entering her apartment dressed and groomed exactly as “Madeleine,” obscured by a cloud of green.

Scottie can barely see Judy through the green haze. And indeed, at this point in the movie, he can barely “see” the real person of Judy, so obsessed is he with recreating the romanticized, fictional Madeleine character. (Roger Ebert called this moment “the greatest single shot in all of Hitchcock,” even without explicitly identifying the color symbolism.)

And Scottie isn’t the only character in Vertigo who romanticizes. We know this because in one scene he himself wears green.

This is when he and Judy share clear romantic tension during her recovery from jumping in the bay. We can infer, then, that his sweater reflects Judy’s own perspective: following Scottie’s act of heroism, albeit intentionally provoked by her, she romanticizes him, as well. This scene marks the beginning of her reciprocal feelings for him.

Moving on. Green’s symbolic opposite in the film is lavender, which represents simple, unfiltered reality. This becomes clear in the scene in which Scottie dines with Judy while she wears a lavender dress.

During this dinner, Scottie is bored and unsatisfied with Judy. Her romanticized appeal has faded since he first noticed her resemblance to “Madeleine” (at which time, appropriately, she wore green). Accordingly, after this dinner Scottie begins the doomed effort to make over Judy in “Madeleine’s” image. As we’ve said, reality (lavender) doesn’t interest him; his obsession is with a fantasy (green).

Another major character in Vertigo wears lavender, although she’s no longer alive: Carlotta Valdes.

This makes sense. Carlotta was thrown away and left to madness by a rich man. Therefore, her life story exemplifies the reality behind Elster’s illusions. Her fate foreshadows that the romantic mystery of “Madeleine” has an ugly and disappointing solution: a wealthy, brutal man using a poor woman for his own ends. As the shopkeeper Liebel summarizes, as if to warn Scottie: “There are many such stories.” Carlotta’s story is the authentic one, hence her lavender dress; “Madeleine’s” is the fake.

Lavender also appears in a place you might’ve missed: Midge’s brassiere.

Now, even disregarding the color symbolism, a brassiere is a containing, socially proper garment. It’s appropriate, then, that Midge—herself a containing, socially proper influence on Scottie—designs them for a living. By extension, it’s appropriate, too, that the mysterious, exotic Madeleine/Judy has, shall we say, scant interest in this particular article.

The lavender color of the bra only reinforces this connotation. Midge, its sensible designer, represents Scottie’s path to normalcy. On the other hand, “Madeline,” the habitual wearer of green—and no bra—represents the path to madness and unreality. (Recall that Midge is the only character to call Scottie by his given name, “John” or “Johnny,” reinforcing that her relationship with him is more “real” than others’.)

Let’s move on to red. This may be the easiest color to apprehend, since several clues explicitly indicate that red signifies Elster’s negative influence. Most obviously, Elster’s office is decorated in red. But so are Carlotta’s red-jeweled necklace; the Golden Gate Bridge, where Judy, at Elster’s behest, fakes a suicide attempt; and the roof on which Elster deposits his murdered wife.

Possibly the most instructive appearance of red, though, comes when Scottie first sees “Madeleine” in the restaurant. As previously mentioned, she wears a bold green dress, underscoring Scottie’s instant romanticizing. But the walls of the restaurant are bright red.

Conceptualize the image like this: the romanticized character of Madeleine exists only in the context of Elster’s sinister fraudulence. His scheme comprises the environment in which she operates. Scottie, due to his focus on “Madeleine” (green), misses the wider picture, which is Elster’s exploitative plot (red).

We might wonder, given the association of red with Elster, why Midge wears red when Scottie visits her for the second time.

It’s because the negative outcome of this scene—the two initially agree to dinner and a movie, but Scottie abruptly cancels upon seeing her painting—is ultimately attributable to Elster.

After all, the bantering Scottie of the opening scene surely would have appreciated Midge’s humorous contrast of her plain self with the mysterious Carlotta, via her new painting. But he now finds the irony jarring and upsetting, because he’s so invested in the intrigue of Carlotta that he can’t bear to have it invaded by an ordinary person like Midge. Thus, Elster’s machinations indirectly doom the date night. Midge becomes a secondhand victim of Elster’s, hence the red color of her blouse in this scene.

When I mentioned in Part 1 that Elster’s scheme results in the emotional ruin of an innocent woman, I referred, of course, to Midge. As her hopes of marriage rapidly dwindle thanks to Scottie’s increasing derangement, she engages in some legitimately concerning behavior. For example, in one scene she spies on Scottie after dark while talking to herself in an uncharacteristically spiteful manner. In another, Scottie mentions Midge having left “desperate” letters looking for him, which she unconvincingly denies. Finally, Midge’s detailed familiarity with the Carlotta Valdes portrait indicates even more snooping.

These moments, especially from a typically levelheaded character, suggest serious emotional suffering. Elster’s influence, it appears, doesn’t only sabotage those swayed by his lies; the damage also spreads outward to unknown lengths.

In addition, remember that the abandoned Carlotta spent the end of her life in a state of “madness.” Midge’s painting, then, may foreshadow her own fate.

Another interesting appearance of red is the robe that “Madeleine” wears while recovering from her jump into the bay.

We can interpret this appearance of red just as we did the previous one. Think of it this way: just as Midge’s red blouse foreshadows the nixing of date night with Scottie due to Elster’s influence, “Madeleine’s” red robe foreshadows the nixing of a potential sexual encounter—also because of Elster.

After all, as previously mentioned, this scene exudes romantic and sexual tension. But nothing comes of it, because Judy suddenly runs away. And we can infer that she does so only because Elster has forbidden her to get involved with her investigator.

The guy ruins everything!

We might also take the symbolism to another level and note that Judy’s red robe is the only piece of clothing she wears in this scene. Elster serves as the only barrier, as it were, preventing physical escalation.

IV. The Dream

With our color key in hand, we can finally tackle the movie’s most abstract episode: Scottie’s nightmare. Watch:

A lavender filter flashes on the screen as Scottie begins dreaming. Based on our analysis of the movie’s color symbolism, this is significant. It tells us that, like many dreams, this dream will capture important truths—the realities behind the illusions.

And indeed, in Scottie’s dream, Elster soon appears with Carlotta Valdes standing by his side. This accurately foreshadows the nature of Elster’s treachery, since, as previously mentioned, Elster uses Judy and discards her just as Carlotta’s lover did long ago. Scottie’s dream, therefore, highlights what we determined in Part 1: that Elster belongs to a lengthy tradition of the wealthy abusing their power. Perhaps at this point Scottie subconsciously perceives something suspicious, or at least unsavory, about Elster.

A brief shot of Carlotta’s necklace ensues, followed by Scottie walking toward and into Carlotta’s grave. Remember, we’ve concluded that this dream will capture important truths, so it’s no surprise that it would correctly convey that Scottie’s investigation is leading him toward destruction and possibly death. And a red filter flashes during this shot, correctly indicating the unseen mastermind: Elster. I suspect that the shot of the necklace means to help us decode the symbolism of red before it begins flashing in the subsequent shot, but we’ve already covered that in detail.

The next image is purely symbolic: Scottie’s head appears against a psychedelic looking background as the music increases in pace. Both face and background blink red. Then, the colors change, with Scottie’s head turning green and the background lavender.

By now, you don’t even need me for these. But I’ll go ahead anyway: Scottie’s mind is trapped in fantasy and romanticism, hence the green color of his head. Meanwhile, the background is lavender, representing the surrounding reality to which he can no longer connect. The previous image of both head and background shaded red signifies that his entire existence—both perception and reality—has been sieged and scrambled by Elster.

I’d love to dismount there, but one disturbing image remains.

The dream ends with Scottie hurtling downward off the bell tower. Like the earlier image of Carlotta’s grave, this suggests that Scottie’s current path leads toward the destruction suffered by others who tangled with cruel men like Elster. (The image flashes with a red filter.) But then the roof disappears, leaving Scottie falling amidst only a white background. Only then does he wake up, terrified.

With respect to Roger Ebert, I submit that this is the greatest shot in all of Hitchcock.

Scottie’s doctor later diagnoses him with “acute melancholia” and a “guilt complex.” These words, of course, mean nothing. His true psychic state only surfaces for these brief seconds, as he hurtles through blank nothingness.

Some scholars have opined that Moby Dick’s whiteness evokes the meaninglessness of life, which is why Captain Ahab wars against him so viciously. I think Hitchcock has something similar in mind with this cut to white. Having been battered and disoriented by Elster’s reckless scheming, Scottie has lost interest, or perhaps even belief, in life. He has succumbed to nihilism. Thus, the shot of him falling through a featureless void summarizes the ultimate psychological danger of our deceitful postwar world—of our collective societal vertigo.

But I’m contradicting myself. I said that the dream would deal only in truths, and now I’ve characterized its most disturbing shot as only a philosophical wrong turn, a peril to be avoided.

Possibly Hitchcock and I have different views on the wisdom of this frighteningly bleak image. Or maybe I’m simply constrained by the blog essay format to provide a palatable, prosaic interpretation. After all, I might purport to “explain” great movies, but certain facets of art defy explanation: what good, really, is a summary of Moby Dick?

Regardless, I’ve steered away from where my own analysis has led me, which is a good sign that it’s time to end this piece.

So. The best movie ever made? I’ll still take 2001: A Space Odyssey. But Vertigo fans, you have a lot of ammunition. This classic deserves everyone’s attention—and everyone’s rewatching.

 

—Jim Andersen

For more movies explained, check out my analysis of The Master. Or, go back to Part 1 of this piece.

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Movies Explained

Vertigo Explained: Part 1

If you believe the plurality of professional critics, then Hitchcock’s Vertigo is the greatest film ever made. Does it warrant such premier standing? If so, we should expect plenty of deeper meanings and artistic significance.

Sounds like a job for Movies Up Close. In this essay, I’ll provide an in depth explanation so that viewers out there can better appreciate this quirky cinematic enigma. My thesis is that Vertigo proposes and examines a modern societal condition in which our understandings of reality have been distorted by reckless, power-hungry elites—a condition that exposes us to obsession, rage, and self-destruction.

I. The Shipbuilder

I’ll start with an obligatory plot summary. Detective John “Scottie” Ferguson (Jimmy Stewart) is a retiring San Francisco cop. As he wraps up his career, he receives a strange request from an old college friend and current shipbuilding tycoon, Gavin Elster (Tom Helmore). Elster wants Scottie to investigate the recent strange behavior of his wife, Madeleine. He worries in particular that she may be channeling the spirit of her great-grandmother, Carlotta Valdes, who committed suicide long ago.

But this exposition turns out to be an elaborate hoax. Unbeknownst to Scottie, Elster has actually hired a woman named Judy Barton (Kim Novak) to play Madeleine during the investigation. This is because Elster plans to murder his real wife and make off with her fortune, and he deduces that if Scottie, a credible witness, believes that she killed herself, he’ll get away with the crime unsuspected. So he hires Judy to convince Scottie that the suicidal Carlotta really is possessing her. Plus, he arranges the murder in such a way that Scottie, due to his pathologic fear of heights, can’t find out the truth.

His plan succeeds. But things get messy along the way, because Scottie develops romantic feelings for “Madeleine,” unaware that she’s merely a character of Elster’s creation. Her staged death consequently devastates him, and he requires an extended stay in a mental hospital.

Things get even crazier after his release. Still reeling from his beloved’s supposed suicide, he spots Judy on the street out of character and notices her striking resemblance to “Madeleine.” Not realizing that she’s the very same woman, he asks her to dinner and begins dating her. Their relationship, however, proves acrimonious and ugly, as Scottie soon urges Judy to alter herself to more closely resemble her former part. He finally realizes the truth and confronts Judy in rage and despair. But a nun startles her into taking a false step, and she plummets to her death.

The end.

This bizarre narrative is, let’s face it, highly unsatisfying. For starters, the primary villain, Elster, pays no price for his crimes. He causes the death of two women and the emotional wreckage of an innocent man (and arguably the emotional wreckage of another woman, but we’ll get to that later), yet he absconds with a shipbuilding fortune and never accounts for the devastation he leaves behind.

Even more unsettling, the movie’s dialogue implies that Elster’s behavior is commonplace among those with vast resources. Recall Elster’s early remark that he envies “the power and the freedom” of Gold Rush-era businessmen. This initially seems like harmless nostalgia. But later, a kindly shopkeeper illustrates the darker side to these words, describing how San Francisco elites used to have “the power and the freedom” to discard poor women like garbage. The echoing of the phrase foreshadows Elster’s true motives: he longs to wield his wealth with total unaccountability, even at the potentially deadly expense of others.

And, discouragingly, he succeeds in doing just that. Despite his early lament about lacking freedom relative to his predecessors, Elster still commits deadly, callous crimes with no consequences at all. While laws and norms of 1950’s America may discourage such behavior, Elster circumvents these obstacles by engaging in the deception we’ve detailed.

With enough money, it seems, anything remains possible. Consider an early scene in which Scottie sees “Madeleine” enter a motel. He tries to follow her inside, but the motel owner swears that, despite what he has just seen, no one has recently entered the building. Soon thereafter, Scottie realizes in confusion that “Madeleine’s” car is gone. It’s an eerie, unsettling moment, and it seems to lighten Scottie’s early dismissal of Elster’s theory about Carlotta Valdes.

In retrospect, though, there’s only one plausible explanation: Elster paid off the motel owner to lie to Scottie. Not only is Scottie’s investigative subject on Elster’s payroll; his witnesses are, too.

The episode therefore illustrates just how far Elster is willing—and, more importantly, able—to go to sell his sham ghost story to Scottie. In fact, based on incidents like this one, it’s not exaggerating to say that the entire reality that Scottie experiences throughout most of Vertigo is liable to be fraudulent. If the sweet, elderly motel owner was paid off, was the shopkeeper, too? Was the curator at the museum? With someone like Gavin Elster involved, everything and everyone is suspect.

Now for the pivot. How many Elsters, then, are currently scheming in our own world, screwing with our very realities for the sake of expanding their “power” and “freedom”? In post-WWII America, are we all just living in scrambled worlds fabricated by the Elsters of our day? This frightening thought is the artistic premise of Vertigo.

Elster truly is a symbolic “shipbuilder”: a constructor of realities aboard which others have to navigate life. And surely he has real world counterparts. I won’t name names, but I’m sure you can think of some 2022 parallels who operate with similar tactics, building the perceptions and illusions on which the rest of us float, unsuspecting.

But what is it like to live on a ship built by a shady elitist? How does it feel to live aboard a fake reality? That’s where Hitchcock is primarily concerned. Elster disappears from the narrative for a reason: he’s boring. Vertigo isn’t about shipbuilders; it’s about the people on those ships, navigating through waters of distortion and deceit. Vertigo is about us.

II. A Modern Quixote

It’s clear that the symptom of vertigo in the movie symbolizes the emotional disorientation that results from Elster’s scheming. Scottie harbors the diagnosis of acrophobia throughout his investigation for Elster, during which, as we’ve described, he lives in an unreliable, often fraudulent reality. And he’s “cured” only when the details of Elster’s crime come into focus late in the movie. (In addition, recall that Scottie first experiences vertigo while chasing a criminal who, like Elster, gets away.)

But, again, what is it like to have “vertigo”—to live and love in a world of illusion?

Well, at the beginning of the movie, Scottie is folksy and jovial. Even the recent death of his partner in the field has only shaken, not depressed him. He spends time goofing around with his friend and erstwhile fiancée, Midge, and in fact, their opening banter suggests an eventual romantic happy ending. After all, Midge doesn’t hide her feelings for him, and he playfully hems and haws, never contradicting or rejecting her. Perhaps having retired, Scottie realizes that Midge is his future. She knows him well, cares for him deeply, and balances out his occasional immaturity.

But no. Immediately after this promising opening, Elster enters the picture, and Scottie’s personality accordingly begins a progressive decline toward rage and mania. The vehicle, of course, is his obsession with “Madeleine,” the beautiful subject of his new investigation. Something about Judy’s portrayal of Elster’s wife enchants him, causing him to forget all about Midge—and every other good thing in his life.

What accounts for “Madeleine’s” spellbinding quality? It isn’t physical beauty, since when Judy later reappears out of character, she doesn’t satisfy Scottie. Rather, it seems that “Madeleine’s” mysterious—and fictional—elegance and torment comprise her appeal. As Scottie becomes intrigued by the fantastical tale of Carlotta Valdes and her influence from beyond the grave, his attraction to “Madeleine” correspondingly grows.

Thus, it appears that Scottie is ultimately hoodwinked by the allure of the exotic and extraordinary. After all, with such an otherworldly mystery unfolding, of what interest is a regular life as a retiring cop? Of what interest is a regular woman like Midge?

Elster knows this allure. He has sprinkled his fictional Madeleine with all with the right touches: her delicate, forlorn intonation; affected whimsy; glamorous jewelry, clothing, and hair; predilection for romantic historical landmarks; and linkage with a foreign-sounding ancestor. When Scottie falls “in love,” these, truly, are the objects of his love. Late in the movie, Judy pleads with Scottie to accept her for her own self, to forget Madeleine and simply be happy. But her begging falls on deaf ears: Scottie is obsessed with a fantasy, not a reality.

Now another pivot. Doesn’t the appeal of fantasy—so central to modern culture—impact all of us? For instance, we may root for Scottie to tie the knot with Midge, but I venture that many of us know a Midge (or a male version of Midge) and find ourselves, despite what reason might dictate, longing for a more extraordinary partner. A more intriguing partner. Perhaps we’ve become, like Scottie, obsessed by the fantastical images crafted for and distributed to us by our own elites. By the Elsters of our day.

Consider that when Vertigo was released, the cultural distribution of fantastical, glamorous imagery had recently undergone a radical change. The percentage of American households with a television reached 50% in 1955. Vertigo was released in 1958. Perhaps Hitchcock was one of the first artists to perceive and comment on the seismic—and potentially dangerous—psychological effects of mass consuming these alluring entertainments.

After all, Don Quixote was tilting at windmills after a few chivalrous books. Imagine what he would have done with Game of Thrones. Maybe Vertigo is the Don Quixote of the screen era.

And what about Judy? She agrees to play a part and pays dearly for it—both psychologically and, eventually, with her life. Having once entered the role of Madeleine, she finds herself doomed to play it forever, because her audience, Scottie, won’t have it any other way. Her character has become her reality: the performer’s nightmare. Fitting, then, that she meets the same fate—falling from the bell tower—as the woman she played and the woman who “possessed” her character. (Also remember that Carlotta supposedly grew up afraid of strict nuns, and a nun scares Judy to her death in the ending scene.)

So not only do the deceived suffer amidst all of these glamorous stories and images; the deceivers suffer, too. And surely this applies not only to professional performers. Who among us hasn’t “played a part” for someone’s approval? After all, with so much fantasy guiding our culture now, expectations often exceed the possibilities of reality. We’re expected to deceive. Judy’s miserable experience highlights the pitfalls of fulfilling that expectation.

 

End of Part 1

Continue to Part 2, where we’ll cover the meanings of Vertigo‘s color symbolism and notorious dream sequence.