Alfred Hitchcock never admitted that he used any symbolism in his masterpiece, Vertigo, let alone incorporating any mythic elements. Yet this film, obsessed with the hopeless task of bringing a lost love back from the dead, leads to such interpretation. Indeed, the very premise is rooted in the Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, where Orpheus travels to the underworld to retrieve his dead wife. His love was so strong that the god Hades let her go, on condition that Orpheus be patient and not look at her until they exit. On their journey out, Orpheus thought he was fooled, he looked back at Eurydice before they reached the light, and Eurydice was pulled back among the dead. This myth has inspired countless works of literature and art. In the case of Hitchcock, his film was based on the book D’Entre les Morts (Between Deaths) by Pierre Boileau and Thomas Narcejac, where the same obsessive search for a dead love then creates the makeover of the same/different woman. In writing the script for Vertigo, many screenwriters were involved, and versions changed. During preparation of the last version involving Hitchcock and Samuel Taylor, Hitchcock was hospitalized twice in two months for a naval hernia and then serious gallstone surgery. He was in the hospital for a month for the latter, where he contemplated his own death. “The only way to get rid of my fears is to make a film about them,” he once said.
It was not only fear Hitchcock was trying to excise in Vertigo, but his own obsessions and subconscious feelings. Rather than communicate them in scripted dialogue, these elements were communicated symbolically and visually. Hitchcock had started as a silent filmmaker and believed that in many ways it was superior form of film making. In his interviews with Francois Truffaut he stated, “The silent pictures were the purest form of cinema.” Vertigo was filmed with long stretches of silence, but scored by the brilliant Bernard Herrmann: scenes of the introductory chase, Scottie’s tailing of Madeleine with drives through San Francisco streets, through a flower shop, at the cemetery of the Mission Dolores, and at the Art Gallery at the Palace of the Legion of Honor. Scottie voyeuristically watches her gazing at the portrait of Carlotta Valdez, whose gravestone she had just visited. Just enough dialogue elicited information on the painting from a museum guard. Madeleine’s husband had told Scottie that she thought she was Carlotta’s reincarnation. Hence the identical twirl to their hair-buns, and the same flower “nosegay’ they hold. As a main character, the beautiful Madeleine is also obsessed with death. After Scottie saves her life, he becomes obsessed with her, and her exact look when he is powerless to save her from jumping to her death. He was powerless because of his vertigo. The great documentary filmmaker Chris Marker was a big fan of Vertigo, having watched it nineteen times. He said about Vertigo in his film Sans Soleil, in part, “….It seems to be a question of trailing of enigma, of murder, but in truth it’s a question of melancholy and dazzlement…so confidently coded within the spiral that you could miss it, and not discover immediately that this vertigo of space in reality stands for the vertigo of time.”
Immemorial time is likely what Marker meant and can be inferred by the symbolism and myths in Vertigo. Scottie is fascinated by Madeleine, who says she is the reincarnation of a woman from the old Californio days of California, a theme reinforced by the visuals from two old missions. This is further reinforced by their trip to the Sequoia Redwood forest. The visual here shows their tiny size compared to a giant sequoia and the forest, reinforced by Scottie saying the tree is two-thousand years or older. Their name is, “Sequoia sempervirens — ‘always green, ever-living,’” Scottie explains. Madeleine views that as how many lives have come and gone in that time. This is emphasized visually by her looking at the tree rings of a sequoia. “This is where I was born,” Madeleine tells Scottie, pointing to a ring from the 1800s, “and this is where I died.” On the trip she also explains how she feels like she is walking down a long corridor that is covered with mirrored fragments. She feels the life she sees is not her own.
In Jean Cocteau’s great film Orpheus (Orphée) Jean Marais as Orphée walks through a mirror to reach the underworld. Mirrors serve as a symbol of duality throughout Vertigo. From the scene where Scottie first sees Madeleine at Ernie’s restaurant, as she and Gavin Elster are walking toward the bar, and then leaving, their duplicity is emphasized by their double images in the mirror. Earlier at the flower shop, Scottie’s best view of Madeleine was in the mirror. And later, with Judy, we see her often in the mirror, “putting on her face.” The other woman in Scottie’s life was Midge, the woman who cared for him the most and took care of him after his breakdowns. She knew too well about his obsession, but like a mother she was always there for him but could do little to divert his attention. Her warmth was symbolized by her red and yellow sweaters, and her work illustrating bras.
The symbolic meanings of the colors used in Vertigo have been written about at length. Starting with Madeleine’s gray suit, a fixation for Scottie, and more so for Hitchcock. He insisted Edith Head design one for Kim Novak despite her objections. Gray represented modesty, and the gray was perhaps an association with a nun’s habit. Combined with Kim Novak’s blond hair it gave the image of the woman of mystery – the figure-hugging suit on a cool woman with fiery insides. Her car is green, and Judy’s first costume is a bright green color. While green normally denotes evergreens and life, Hitchcock’s strong association with green started in the theater in London as a youth, where ghostly representations were depicted in lime green. See also the greenish gown and make-up of the ghostly character Elvira in the 1945 British film Blithe Spirit directed by David Lean.
Vertigo is full of symbols. After Scottie has finally persuaded Judy to be made over in the image of Madeleine, she emerges from her bathroom and we see the bed as she approaches Scottie, which was barely seen before. Scottie’s own apartment window has a clear view of the phallic Coit Tower. The Mission Dolores, as it was commonly known, plays an important role, an old and historic building, named after the nearby Creek of Sorrows. Then there is the double itself, always a bad sign in mythology, and the basis of so much of Vertigo. The movie is structured as two halves, or a doubling of Scottie obtaining and then losing his love by “death.” And there is that great symbol of the Lissajous spiral, that swirling vortex that sucks in our main characters and serves as the graphic symbol of the movie’s opening title sequence. Death permeates Vertigo, alongside re-birth and reincarnation. Scottie has met Judy and begun a relationship – a relationship where he needs to change her into the lost love Madeleine. “Can’t you just love me for who I am?” Judy asks Scottie. But her need for love and his obsession results in the makeover. That miraculous final transformation takes place when Judy emerges, seemingly from the haze of time and green light in her apartment, as the very image of Madeleine, gray suit and blond hair in spiral bun. Scottie is transfixed, his eyes dazzling, and as they embrace and kiss, the camera captures a rotating scene of them at San Juan Bautista Mission. Seemingly spinning through time and memory, a “vertigo of time” as Chris Marker stated.
But as we know, Scottie has been duped in the story’s plot. Judy really was Madeleine all along, or rather Madeleine was Judy. Scottie discovers this when, as Judy dresses for dinner, she puts on the Carlotta Valdez necklace. So instead of going out to dinner Scottie takes her on a long drive, back to San Juan Bautista, back to the scene of the crime. Judy is bewildered at first, but she sees Scottie’s hostility as he pushes her up the bell tower stairs. “He made you over just like I made you over,” he says accusingly to Judy. Only Elster had made her over first, and thus Scottie had been pursuing the hollow goal of recreating another man’s fantasy. And then he accused her of being “an apt pupil,” for Elster, which he repeats twice – something she hadn’t been for him. That demonstrated to Scottie, and served as the film’s underlying theme, that the pursuit of an empty ideal is futile. For Hitchcock, it was a deeply ingrained motif, one that would keep repeating itself as he tried to mold one of his blonds after another into his fantasy, only to have her leave him for one reason or another. With the character Scottie, this creation and possession fantasy was played out not as a means of domination, but rather one where we could believe that once his fantasy woman was created, he could surrender and succumb to her. She could have been his Madeleine/Midge. But alas we know that that that too would have been another fantasy – another beguiling but untrustworthy image reflected in a mirror. But such was Scottie’s anger that he overcame his vertigo to go all the way up the stairs, dragging Judy to the top of the bell tower where “Madeleine” had fallen, or rather had been pushed to her death. In the book D’Entre les Morts, Roger Flavières strangles “Madeleine.” the woman who had duped him, out of jealousy, and knowing what he had transformed her double into was an illusion of lost love. Scottie wants to do Judy harm, although Judy shows her honest emotion. The ending seems clumsy, an accidental fall off the tower, but caused by the dark appearance of a nun announcing, “I heard voices.” For the Catholic Hitchcock, a director that never had anything in his films not carefully considered, this must have been a sort of absolution for Scottie (Hitch’s alter ego?). Yet we start off nearly where we began. Orpheus caused Eurydice to fall back to the underworld by his carelessness. Roger Flavières is sent to the mad house. Scottie would no doubt have returned to a clinic, forever damaged, perpetually seeing the loving, imploring eyes of Judy/Madeleine staring into his. Vertigo is not Hitchcock’s greatest mystery, but rather his greatest tragedy.
See other post in the ALFRED HITCHCOCK Blogathon sponsored by maddylovesclassicfilms.com