Hitchcockian Subjectivity: The Sound of Alfred Hitchcock

Sound, by means of effects, dialogue and music, is today conceived as one of the most important methods of communicating a sense of drama. No matter the genre, style or directorial intent, it is a necessity of modern cinema. Alfred Hitchcock has become one of the most influential directors of all time, creating, innovating and furthering every aspect of cinema up until his final film, Family Plot (1976). One of his most powerful techniques was his use of sound.

By studying his work, it is possible to understand the importance in cinema, of speech, sound FX and music as dramatic conveyance, justifying Hitchcock’s mantle as “The Master of Suspense.”

Early Works

There have been many arguments as to the authenticity of the Auteurism theory in cinema, but without doubt Hitchcock was one of the closest artists to have achieved this namesake. He was involved in virtually all aspects of the film, and the audio-logical department was no different.

Hitchcock began his directorial career during the early 20 th century, during cinema’s “golden years”. These were times when the “silent” movie was still prevalent. Even at this early stage of his career, Hitchcock recognised the importance of a soundtrack, often “advising” his composer’s as to what he required.

However, it was the arrival of new technology and recording techniques that allowed Hitchcock to begin his development in sound. Blackmail (1929) Hitchcock’s (and often cited as Britain’s) first “talkie” was originally conceived as a silent movie, before the arrival of on set sound;

‘…marked a decisive shift in the intensification process…’

(Hardy 1997, The BFI Companion to Crime, p.51)

Indeed the film was finally released in two versions, one silent (to appease the cinemas and theatres who could not afford sound equipment), and one “part sound” version, where upon Joan Barry spoke off camera, dubbing a miming Anny Ondra. This was due to Ondra’s thick German accent, something of a inconsistency in the Cockney London setting. The ability to use sound in this new way was a major factor in Hitchcock’s narrative and dramatic progression. An early example of his understanding of sound is clear even from his first use in Blackmail . After stabbing and killing a would-be rapist, Alice (Anny Ondra) is confined with a sense of guilt. Whilst sitting for breakfast after the incident, this feeling is heightened. We are granted Alice’s subjective perspective as she is served her meal. Hitchcock repeats and highlights the word “knife” repeatedly throughout the dialogue to account for her conscience.

This is an effect Hitchcock would use throughout his career, however, conceptually the portrayal of an emotion through sound alone was something of a Hitchcockian signature.

Another distinguishing feature in his work, was Hitchcock’s editing of digetic and non digetic sound to transition scenes. Moving forward to 1935 and The 39 Steps , Hitchcock deploys another stylish technique to cut between scenes. The film tells the story of a foreign man wrongly accused of murder. After a women he has just met stumbles into his room with a knife in her back before dying in front of him, Richard Hannay (Robert Donat) follows the only clue the women left him to Scotland. On discovery of the women’s body, the apartment cleaner turns toward the camera and screams. The next shot reveals a train powering it’s way through a tunnel. It is on revelation of this train that we realise we are already “hearing” it. This said, although it’s barely noticeable, the “scream” from the cleaning lady is in fact the whistle of the train. This is a master stroke of seamless montage editing attained through sound.

His biggest change in style derived from his move to America and the glitz of Hollywood in 1939.

‘In his British films Hitchcock resorts to both aural and visual expressionistic effects in moments when he wants to reveal the feelings of his characters. In his American films he uses sound as a way out of visual expressionism. His distortions of sound draw less attention to his style than would their visual equivalents because audiences are less likely to notice aural than visual distortion.’

Weis 1978, The Sound of One Wing Flapping

The Hitchcockian Attitude

Hitchcock held a strictly authoritarian view to the purpose of sound in film. He often described his bias toward “pure film” – told visually through montage. However rather than neglecting the importance of sound, Hitchcock simply had a distaste for over using irrelevant dialogue.

“In many of the films now being made, there is very little cinema: they are mostly what I call “photographs of people talking.” When we tell a story in cinema, we should resort to dialogue only when it’s impossible to do otherwise. … In writing a screenplay, it is essential to separate clearly the dialogue from the visual elements and whenever possible, to rely more on the visual than on the dialogue.”

(Tuffaut 1985, Hitchcock)

He does not denounce the use of sound and music, simply dialogue when action could be more appropriate to the story. Whereas many directors at the time used sound or music to tell a scene- or make it more realistic, Hitchcock insisted on treating each sound and soundtrack as a new expression, using every detail possible to encapsulate the audience. This is best described in the “Hitchcock Notebook,” a journal of his clippings and notes. In a description of Psycho (1960), as Marion (Jane Leigh) pulls up to the “Bates Motel”;

‘Naturally, wind-shield wipers should be heard all through the moments she turns them on…. The rain sounds must be very strong, so that when the rain stops, we should be strongly aware of silence and odd dripping noises that follow…’

In many ways, this effect builds more character relation and plot development than any amount of dialogue could. We begin to relate certain sounds and score styles to synonymous events, for example, in Vertigo (1958) every time Scottie (James Stewart) feels his fear hit him, we are drawn in on it’s intensity through some clever camera work and an orchestral crescendo. This pairing of visual and audible effects place us into the characters perspective, showing us his feeling. This idea of grouping what we see and what we hear as one is a style Hitchcock used throughout his career.

Subjective Sound: Rear Window

Typically, a film is constructed around three elements of sound. Dialogue, sound effects, and music. Hitchcock managed to successfully break these elements apart, often subverting an element to distort the audience perspective. In particular are his methods in Rear Window (1954), recognised for it’s particularly subjective approach to sound.

‘An ideal way to manipulate sound without distorting it is to dissociate it from its source. In Rear Window Hitchcock is able to maintain an almost total separation of what we see from what we hear. The result is a rich sound track that is both realistic in style and yet perhaps the most asynchronous and subjective of Hitchcock’s career.’

Weis 1982, The Silent Scream – Alfred Hitchcock’s Sound Track

After being confined to a wheelchair, L.B. Jeffries (James Stewart) begins to watch the residents of a building opposite him from his apartment window. Each “character” as it were, in view of his sight begins to develop their own story. Obviously being situated in Jeffries’ position, we are unable to rely on dialogue to keep us entranced and involved in the story. Initially, we are limited to atmospheric noises emanating from Jeffries’ apartment, combined with the occasional sound of traffic or whistle from a nearby dock. We are not able to hear the neighbours until they step onto their doorstep or turn on some loud music. This effect allows Hitchcock to manipulate our sense of prominence and shift our focus on the area in question. By rarely singling out a specific area, despite the camera aiming into a certain room, we become aware of the surrounding courtyard as a whole. As the camera pans between residents each leading separate lives, the sense of community as opposed to individuality is heightened. In turn, when Hitchcock does decide to focus sound as well as vision on a specified area, we are given a completely new and refreshing viewpoint, highlighting the oncoming event to extreme importance.

‘The tension between separation and continuity in human lives is central to the film, [which] expresses in physical terms the metaphysical idea that no person can remain isolated emotionally from other people.’

Weis 1982, The Silent Scream – Alfred Hitchcock’s Sound Track

By removing digetic action from characters audibly, Hitchcock can manipulate our feelings toward the protagonist and the case in subject. As his curiosity toward his subjects get the better of him, Jeffries uses a telephoto lens to magnify his vision. Contrary to realisms, Hitchcock uses this method to also amplify the sounds extruding from each area. As Thorwald (Raymond Burr), a particularly mysterious neighbour, and his invalid wife confront one another, we can hear their muted voices, but cannot interpret what they are saying. We can understand from their tone that they are arguing, however the actual argument remains abstract.

Consequently, later in the film when Thorwald murders his wife, we are invited to “view” the scene, however not to hear it. We “see” arguing through the window, before it is shut from our view. The only clue granted is a scream emanating from outside Jeffries room. We are not directed as to where the scream came from, and again, it is up to us to assume. When re-opened, Thorwald’s wife is gone. We are given visual clues to encourage our belief that a killing has taken place, however, without the confirmatory visual-sound link, cannot be certain as to what has taken place.

Hitchcock uses this abstract motif to great effect as a climax to the picture. After suspecting the worst, Jeffries sends his friend Lisa (Grace Kelly) to drop an anonymous note at Thorwald’s house. As Jeffries watches his reaction, he narrates his thoughts to us, becoming “the voice of God.” He is in a position of power. He blackmails Thorwald into leaving the house, allowing Lisa to investigate, however, after he returns earlier than expected, Thorwald spies Lisa miming gestures toward Jeffries’ room. He telephones Jeffries, confirming that his secret has been discovered, and exits his house. Suddenly, in a complete role reversal Jeffries is vulnerable. His room, once his place of safety and privacy, has now become a prison. Whilst he could see all but not hear, he was comfortable, separated from the dangers in front of him. Hitchcock flips this effect to achieve the reverse effect. Whereas before the room was filled with homely atmospheric sounds and noise from the streets outside, it is now silent. The only sound we hear is the crash of a door on the floor to his apartment, followed by long, reverberating footsteps, each one counting down an ultimate doom. Hitchcock followed the principle that “an unseen threat is more terrifying than a visual one,” a clear truth in this case. In further ironic reversal, Jeffries turns off all light in his home, leaving the room in darkness. As his nemesis enters, he asks “What do you want from me?” The advantage he once held has completely turned tail, he can now only hear Thorwald, and barely see him.

As Elisabeth Weis states in regard to Rear Window ;

‘…it is possible to consider the entire sound track as a subjective extension of Jeffries’ feelings. The sounds gradually become more and more focused.’

As the film begins, Jeffries is simply a man bored and restricted to a wheelchair. The traffic sounds and vague random noises of the area reveal his state of mind, however, once he begins to become more involved with the detective like following of Thorwald, sounds become more refined. From the acquisition of his telephoto lens “magnifying” a more specific aural selection, to the finale, at which the killer speaks to him directly, as he realises his position and feelings.

Music and the Influence of Bernard Hermann

As mentioned, Hitchcock had a strong hand in every aspect of the films he directed. This included the scoring of a film, as well as on set recording. Every song or track was chosen in regard to the utmost relevancy in depicting character, setting and mood. Unlike many directors, who used music to compliment a scene, Hitchcock used music to quite literally tell a scene.

Characters were often defined by a sound, however insignificant, and Hitchcock used these as metaphors. In Vertigo , Scottie (James Stewart) complains to his adoring secretary Midge (Barbara Bel Geddes), to turn off the music she is playing. It is a symphony by Mozart. Later, after he suffers the ordeal which brings forth his vertigo, a doctor suggests some music to try and calm him down. Again Mozart is played. Midge, knowing of Scotties relationship with another women seems to admit defeat, stating “I don’t think Mozart’s going to help at all.” This line-

“…conveys her sense not only of Mozart’s inadequacy but of her own.”

(Wood 1969, Hitchcock’s Films)

Of all his composers, Bernard Hermann has become most renowned, scoring seven soundtracks, as well as working as a consultant on the more experimental “electronic” soundtrack of “The Birds”. The initial partnership took off immediately, with Herrmann successfully impressing Hitchcock with his numbers for The Trouble With Harry (1955) and The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956). The third film with which they would work together, The Wrong Man (1957) would mark a first in Herrmann’s career, as his first collaboration on more than two films with the same director. Hitchcock learned to trust Herrmann as their relationship grew, granting him more and more leeway and creative freedom.

Typically, the two began to develop what Royal Brown in “Overtones and Undertones: Reading Film Music” (1994) describes as;

‘…the “Hitchcock chord,” a minor major-seventh chord in which there are two major and one minor third.’

This was a motif the two would use to juxtapose important sequences, for example, as North by Northwest is introduced- by Hitchcock himself, a two note medley is played. Later on in the film, during the scene involving a plane crash, the same selection is heard.

Perhaps their most famous collaboration was over the soundtrack to Psycho . After viewing the rough cut, a disappointed Hitchcock had lost faith in the film, considering cutting it as a short television drama. He was also considering experimenting with no music at all during the majority of the action sequences. Herrmann, albeit ignoring the wishes of Hitchcock, composed a score using only strings.

‘Bernard Hermann was to concoct nothing less than a cello and violin masterwork, “black and white” music that throbbed sonorously as often as it gnawed at the nerve endings. The score would prove to be a summation of all of Hermann’s previous scores for Hitchcock’s films, conveying as it did the sense of the abyss that is the human psyche, dread, longing, regret in short, the wellsprings of the Hitchcock universe.’

(Rebello 1999, Alfred Hitchcock and the Making of Psycho)

A look at the film reveals much regarding the directors intent, and Herrmann’s influence upon it. The score brilliantly combines with the monotone visual style to create an eerie, grating sensation, providing as much a “scream” as the on screen action itself. In a superb twist to the demand for resolute, “happy” endings asked for by the studios, Hitchcock and Herrmann understanding the power of minimalist recording over full orchestral set ups were able to use music to achieve a sense of “irresolution” (Haeffner 2005, p.52).

It was on scoring Torn Curtain that the two broke their bond. Hitchcock was convinced he could design a pop music-esque soundtrack to appeal to a changing audience, however, Herrmann continued to write a grittier, more romantic score, fitting into the dark tone of the story. Hitchcock deplored the soundtrack, effectively firing Herrmann from his role. A new one was scored, but too failed to achieve the “hit tune” makeup Hitchcock had demanded.

Conclusion

Without question, Hitchcock’s impetus toward music and sound tracks was at times revolutionary. A look at the surrealist musical style of Spellbound (1945), or the electronic essence of The Birds (1963) shows an infallible conceptual idealism in his work. Indeed, The Bird’s goes as far as to even a remove digetic sounds (such as a car starting up) in favour of a mechanical “hum.” Weis (1978) states that this- amongst some of his other techniques:

‘…is ultimately a sign of the director’s control over his characters, his viewers, and his art.’

Alfred Hitchcock’s films were some of the most innovative, ground-breaking, important creations in the history of cinema. Whilst his use of sound is usually considered second to his visual style, it serves to provide as much, and often more depth to his films. His status in film is fully justifiable, as his knowledge of film sound and it’s effect on the human psyche was virtually second to none.