the dark side of the moon
by Douglas Messerli
Maxwell Anderson and Angus MacPhail
(screenplay, based on a story by Maxwell Anderson), Alfred Hitchcock (director)
The Wrong Man / 1956
It is strange to think that only two
years after making one of his greatest films, Rear Window, and in the same year that Alfred Hitchcock directed The Trouble with Harry—perhaps his most
joyful film of this period—as well as the remake of The Man Who Knew Too Much, that the 1956 black and white movie The Wrong Man, was a dismal box office
failure.
To see the hard-working, good family man Manny Balestrero (intensely
played by Henry Fonda) be systematically destroyed by the US justice system is
so painful that it is a hard movie to watch. In some ways, The Wrong Man combines all of the fears and paranoias of the
mid-1950s, a period where the whole country was, in a sense, put on trial,
everyday men and women accused of anti-American sentiment and actions. Although
I have often suggested that the 1950s was far more interesting than the decade
is usually presented, this particular aspect of the period, along with the
angst of nuclear destruction, put everyone on edge. It is little wonder,
accordingly, that people did not flock to Hitchcock's dour film. Even a critic
writing as late as 2004, Christopher Null, describes it as one of Hitchcock's
"most forgettable works of his mature era."
Having recently watched the film again, however, I now think it, along
with Shadow of a Doubt, is one of his
most excellent, if frightening, depictions of American life. Films like Vertigo, North by Northwest, and even Psycho
are much closer to European cinema-making than either Shadow of a Doubt or The
Wrong Man, the latter of which is as grounded in the streets of New York as
many of the 1940s film noir, and, as
we now perceive, highly influenced artists like Scorsese in Taxi Driver.
It is not that the police in this film are villains, or that they are
even particularly insensitive enforcers. The dilemma of this film is not that
any group of men or women torment Manny, but that—once he has visited the local
insurance office to see if he might get a loan to pay for his wife's upcoming
dental bills—the whole world order crumbles, truth and memory slipping away
into nightmare reality. He is identified by women of the insurance office as a
man who twice before held them up, women can hardly bear to look at the accused
themselves, one of them almost sickening to even glance in his direction.
The police quickly create a line-up made up of persons, among whom the
women might have previously seen in uniform, as justice continues to crack,
leaving Manny Balestrero to face the shattering effects upon his life.
In this world turned upside down, coincidences predominate. When asked
to write the words that appeared in one of the hold-up notes, Manny makes the
same spelling mistake as did the criminal, reinforcing the police's belief in
his guilt. His simple statement, "I made a mistake," echoes in a
Kafka-like cry of existential guilt, repeated later in his wife's fractured
vision of reality that it is she who has made the mistakes by needing dental
care or through simply not being a good enough wife. Even Manny's two innocent
sons mope about as if they have helped to create the mountain of evidence that
appears to insure Manny's imprisonment.
Truth has little significance in this dark world. The fact that during
the first robbery the couple had been away on vacation and during the second
robbery Manny had a swollen cheek seems to matter little. None of his fellow
vacationers can be found, some having died, others disappearing into oblivion.
The young lawyer (Anthony Quayle) to whom Manny and his wife are recommended is
well-meaning but inexperienced (in this instance, Hitchcock did change the
facts, since originally he was a New York Senator at the time of the trial).
As Manny’s wife Rose (Vera Miles) slips into insanity, it is as if jazz
player, a religious believer, were suddenly suffering the trials of Job. The
only bit of luck he receives, if one can call it that, is that a juror screams
out early in the trial concerning the mundanity of court room details,
apparently in the belief that Manny's guilt is obvious, thus assuring a
retrial, and giving the defense more time to prepare.
One cannot imagine the final events to be anything but fiction, so
perfectly do they fit with Hitchcock's sense of moral outrage against
institutional systems and individual fate. Quite by accident the head detective
in this case encounters another recently arrested man in the precinct hall who
looks vaguely like Manny, and turns back from his exit to further investigate,
discovering that he is responsible for the robberies for which Manny has been
accused.
In the frame of the movie, however, Manny's new freedom seems hardly to
matter. His wife, locked away in an asylum, apathetically ignores his claims
that everything will now be all right. She, so the doctor proclaims, is still
"on the dark side of the moon."
Only a written after-note tells us that two years later Rose recovered,
allowing the family, perhaps, to return to some normalcy. But one doubts, after
all they have been through, that everyday life was ever possible again.
Los Angeles, September 3, 2011
Reprinted from World Cinema Review (September 2011).
No comments:
Post a Comment