Peeping Tom

I do not write my reviews specifically to avoid spoilers. Just so you know.

Bill, from the Outside The Cinema podcast, wondered what my opinions of this film would be. Happily, their review of the film led to my finding I did not already own a copy, so I popped out down the shops to buy a special edition of it, and sat back down to re-watch it for the first time in a few years. Upon initial release, this film was vilified as misogynistic and violent trash. Nowadays, of course, we can see it for what it truly is – a film that hates ginger people.

Initial Thoughts:

• Is that a camera in your jacket or are you just pleased to creep me? Already we can the victims react to the camera lens (us), not to the cameraman.
• Mr. Peters: “Which magazine sells the most copies?”
Mark: “Those with girls on the front covers and no front covers on the girls.”
• Would sir like some free newspapers with his porn?
• My word – Mark is far too good at getting the facial expressions he wants from his models.
• When Helen asks about Mark’s father, she asks “what was he?” rather than “who was we?” Spot on.
• Watching you, watching me.... Helen enjoys seeing the look of fear (on the killers face, no less); perhaps watching some of his films would be a suitable birthday gift after all?
• Filming her fear at watching his childhood trauma gives a “by proxy element” to his strategy here, which might explain why Mark comes to favour Helen – that, or the fact she isn’t as slutty as he thinks most of his victims are. Probably both, actually.

Moving On:

• You say “mem-oh,” I say “mee-mo.”
• He’s a bad un, that Baden.
• “I stand to lose nothing.” Regardless of if he gets caught or not, nothing is going to change how Mark feels inside. Eek!
• Mark: “Imagine someone coming towards you who wants to kill you, regardless of the consequences. “
Vivian: “A madman?“
Mark: “Yes but he knows it - and you don't.”
• Mother: “I don't trust a man who walks quietly.”
Helen: “He is shy.“
Mother: “His footsteps aren't. They're stealthy.”
• Her choice of theme for the book – is it irony or poor plotting? I can never decide. Anyway – “There are some things I photograph for nothing.” Best not put them in a book for children though Mark, right?
• “The silly bitch has fainted in the wrong scene!” That line is soon followed by “I don’t want to spoil anyone’s fun, but we do have a maniac on our hands.” Two moments of wonderful black humour.
• Most murderers would be able to overcome their fear of locks to prevent anyone finding out what they have been up to – but no, not this one!
• “Take me to your cinema.” Why, it’s all over your face already, mother dear.
• Cinema rarely gets this unsettling. But then, “Instinct is a wonderful thing, isn't it Mark? A pity it can't be photographed.”
• Now that the “cure” seems like too much hard work, I think we can all agree she should have spent the night with one of her many other “gentlemen.”
• A sign on the shop door reads “You Can’t Beat Pains.” Mark looks at this, and the pictures of numerous ladies in bikinis, and smiles...he is a lot less sympathetic now.

Final Moments:

• We know Mark has been in the house for some time – and the time between his arrival and his appearance behind Helen is hugely uncomfortable. Should we assume her mother has not had the greatest night in? Regardless, the suspense in waiting for him to appear on screen again is unbeatable.
• Mark: “You will be safe as long as I can’t see you are frightened.” Is he talking to Helen, or to the viewer?
• Mark: “Aged five...aged seven...all the rooms were wired for sound...they still are...” Helen starts to realise how Mark came to understand the residents so well.
• Mark: “Do you know what the most frightening thing in the world is? It’s fear. So I did something very simple...very simple.”
• Mark: “I have timed it so often...” The timer suddenly makes sense.
• Young Mark: “Goodnight daddy...hold my hand...”

Aftermath:

The plot of Peeping Tom is fairly simple. A loner (Mark) works at a movie studio and as a ‘glamour' photographer – and he also murders several young women. This voyeuristic killer – disturbed by a childhood spent with a mentally abusive father - uses a camera to film the women (none of whom suspect his actual motive for doing so), attaches a mirror so that they can see their facial expressions, than reveals a blade at the end of one tripod leg, murdering them whilst they look at their fear. He finds a degree of comfort with a girl (Helen) who lives downstairs – but not from her disapproving mother or friends. Eventually, trying to talk himself out of murdering Helen, (now aware Mark is a murderer) and realising he is about to be arrested and punished for his crimes, Mark films his suicide, witnessing his own fearful reaction as he dies. Helen lies next to his corpse, distraught, and is eventually helped away by a policeman.

Endlessly quotable (you, er, may have noticed?), this remains a terrifying, if flawed, thriller that almost totally finished off the career of director Michael Powell (previously responsible for numerous melodramatic classics of cinema, such as A Matter of Life and Death), the best known of which were his collaborations with Emeric Pressburger. To say Powell made the wrong move to go it alone would largely be unfair - although his decision to make Peeping Tom must, despite the way it has generally gone on to be seen as one of the most effective thrillers of all time, have been something he felt was something of a misjudgement soon after the time of the original release of the film. At the film's completion, Powell seemed to believe he had made his best film – something time and current opinion suggests is the case. Critical and popular opinion in the early sixties vehemently disagreed. Whilst Hitchcock was saving himself from the damage caused to his career by the critical reaction to Psycho (helped by the film finding a decent sized audience amongst the public), Powell struggled after Peeping Tom failed to find an audience (it lasted less than a week at UK cinemas in 1960, the distributor desperate to separate themselves from the negative reaction). Powell promptly disappeared to Australia and found himself limited in future output.

Of interest – to me anyway – was Powell using one of his sons and their home in the film, not least since his home would appear to be the location which formed the central location for the madness and his son played the abused child. Nice touch. Someone call social services.

The key reason for the effectiveness of this film –which led to early audiences for it being so very appalled – is the direction. There are several memorable scenes: one involving falling stationery (of which, more in a moment), the home movies showing a traumatic childhood, an unfortunate dance performance which establishes far too much audience interest in a woman we know is not likely to be long for this world, the reveal shot of a facial disfigurement, Helen taking far too long to run when she realises what some of Mark’s films mean, and the projection of murderous scenes in front of Helen’s blind mother. The camera frequently positions the viewer directly behind Mark so that we become “as one” – not a comforting position to be in when Mark is the killer. This trick has become more popular in thrillers and horror films –the POV shots in Halloween and most of fellow Slasher brethren, the video playback sequence in Henry... – but in 1960, being “as one” with a demented mind pursuing murderous intentions was rather new, and not what an unsuspecting audience would likely enjoy.

The narrative and dialogue provides ample opportunities for us to feel sympathy for Mark, which fuels the discomfort of “being” him so often. Siding with a killer is always frustrating, occasionally exhilarating, to an audience. Hitchcock used the idea to great effect in several films – most notably, I would argue, in Frenzy, which has several close ties to Peeping Tom. Powell employs it well here, and there is a fantastic scene where Mark almost gives himself away whilst spying on police investigating one of the murder scenes. For just a few seconds, we find ourselves hoping Mark gets away with it – then we find ourselves annoyed and despairing when he escapes, undiscovered, having had us hope that we this killer would do so. His social ineptitude and sexual confusion are results of his being a tormented child, and his knowledge that his actions are wrong keeps being pushed back by his desire to find a resolution to his feelings. He does not just want to see the look of fear on his victim’s faces, but their knowledge of this expression –he has had to witness his fearful reactions during childhood, so what makes these women any different? But his actions do not bring Mark the peace he desires – to his, and our, upset - although he clearly finds a certain comfort in seeing the reaction on the face of a buxom model that had pursued her own control and analysis of him.

The abuse of women – and achievement of showing their pain back to them – was seriously nasty content for the time too. It remains hard to watch at times. In Mark, the apparent misogyny (all of his victims are women) seems to come from the way in which his father married a second wife and left Mark to play with (uh oh!) a camera whilst he went on honeymoon. The result should have been a hatred of his father and relief at this woman causing a few days of peace – but the movie doesn’t explain why Mark chooses to murder women rather than men. Perhaps his work just makes them the more obvious victims? Does he see himself as feminine?

Anyway, the treatment of poor Vivian – a minor character briefly offered the opportunity to literally take the lead female role in order that she be dispatched – is particularly difficult to deal with. Murdered on a quiet stage, her corpse is tucked away into one of the props (“at greatly reduced prices” reads a sign in the setting). I doubt she would have been so willing to be the centre of attention under quite those circumstances!

The jazz soundtrack is a beauty, matching the atmosphere and locations with a mixture of harsh blows, comical undertones and a variety of fast changing or consistent beats. All of the key performances are excellent, although Carl Bohm is the standout. As Mark, his faint German accent (which side was daddy on 15 years beforehand, hmm?) adds to the outsider, slightly off-kilter value of his character in the film environment. Mark is portrayed as a frightened man capable of slight of-hand violence, an insecure person with the ability to control others without their knowing. The contrivances around his character could feel nonsensical whilst watching the film, but his performance makes them seem almost entirely plausible.

The problems I have with this film are mostly with the final third – although, it has to be said, the weapon used by Mark is one of the clumsiest imaginable. Characters sprawled out beneath it might just about be justified in struggling to avoid the blade, but Vivian has absolutely no such excuse. The concept might underpin the excellence of the film in leading the audience, but the end result would be a laughably daft idea in practice, and it looks ridiculous when we see it being prepared from third person viewpoints. Also, why do the victims not shut their eyes when they are about to be murdered?

The sloppiness of the police and the effort Mark has gone to in order to prepare for his suicide (not having gone through with it when it would have been a more plausible action) ultimately make the conclusion even less satisfying, though it is certainly tense (almost unbearably so).

By the end, Helen – whilst interesting – is a character that offers neither the genuine support Mark needs nor the suspicions that could have ended his murderous activities. Perhaps her faith in so obvious a disturbed individual is a result of having been raised by an unhinged mother? The result is that Helen ends up being a bit of a waste of space, despite the depth offered to her character. She ends up joining for Mark for dinner, asking him to help provide pictures for the most stupid sounding book for children ever (I cannot bring myself to repeat it here – it really is bloody awful and was clearly conceived in the hope of providing a hilarious link to Mark’s activities), and then she (briefly) plays a damsel in distress as punishment for continually displaying the same sort of altruistic attraction that killed the cat (and Mark). She is as obsessed with watching, with spying and misinterpreting, as Mark – albeit with less fatalistic and interesting consequences.

Ultimately, Helen is too sorely lacking in judgement, strength and a clear purpose within the events of the film to count for much as an early attempt at a “final girl.” Her mother is a more interesting – if frustratingly elitist and moody – character, yet her role is limited to offering advice to protect Mark and her daughter (it doesn’t work, neither pay as much attention to her wittering as they perhaps should) and she is almost entirely absent from the end of the film. A recording suggests she might be drunk in another room, but it is entirely possible that Mark is playing back from an earlier recording, and has already paid the old dear a visit. For several minutes, he was certainly doing something unseen by the viewers and there is also a throwaway comment by another lodger suggesting she might have been involved in some sort of struggle. Disappointingly, we will never know and I suspect Powell presumed it would be of no interest, rather than wanting to keep us guessing.

These flaws prevent me from having as high a regard for this film as many others obviously hold for it, but as an alternative to period Hitchcock, an early influence on many of my favourite films from the seventies, and I suppose in its own right, this is a dark and effective little shocker that deserves the recognition history eventually offered it.

This weekend, I will post a brief review of equally awful things captured on film, and a longer lasting reaction of mass contempt from critics and the public alike. Joy.

Grade B (Take The Time)