Vertigo

The notion of the ‘it’s all a dream’ or even dream sequences as a whole, have become something in cinema that is frowned upon; a cheap way of creating resolution. In a sense it’s the all-time greatest deus ex machina. However, I’d like to propose that when it is done properly it can be a beautiful and also a terrifying use of cinematic exposition.

In his essay, A Free Replay (notes on Vertigo), Chris Marker points out that “the second part of the film… is nothing but a mad maniacal attempt to deny time, to recreate through trivial yet necessary signs the woman whose loss he [Scotty] has never been able to accept”. Essentially what Marker means by this is that every scene after the sanatorium scene can be considered a delusional dream that Scotty has made up in which to provide closure to his grief. However I would consider it to be more than this. This is not to dismiss Marker’s approach and reading of the film, but rather to build up on it and to analyse it in terms of its construction.

The second half is peppered with small scenes in which we see Scotty tracing his journey so far, we see him at the restaurant where he first saw Madeline, the gallery where he watched Madeline watching the painting and sat outside her house waiting for her to come out. What is important about all three of these scenes is not the simplicity of the fact that he’s revisiting these places and expecting Madeline to be there, but rather the way in which Hitchcock has shown them to us. If you look carefully you’ll notice that they are all shot in the same way and they all occur at the same times of day as when he first went to them. So rather than these being actual events, they can be confirmed as being dreams; copies of an original memory with significant and poignant changes. Of course, the counter-argument to this is that Scotty doesn’t use the same mannerisms that he used previously and due to the obsessive persona he quickly adopts soon after these three scenes, we can assume that it is the foundations of his unhinged psyche. This counter-argument can quickly dismissed by pointing out that during the second half the hazy light that can often be seen behind them is very similar, if not the same, as the flashing lights and backdrops which are used in the more literal dream sequence in the middle of the film.

The idea that Scotty uses direct copies of memories in his dreams can also be noted in way in his he talks to Madeline and Judy. For example, he says to Madeline when handing her a brandy “drink this quick, like medicine” and then says the same thing to Judy when handing her one. There are also more iconic moments in the mirroring such as the way in which he sees Madeline’s suit on a stranger in Ernie’s.

If we also consider in the second half the way in which all the scenes are much shorter than in the first half. For example in the first half, the scene in which he follows Madeline is between 15 and 30 minutes long and in the second half, between 15 and 30 minutes may consist of Scotty’s meeting of Judy and the grinding down in which it takes him to transform her into Madeline. This quick-paced half is in principal, much more like a dream as they flutter past in quick succession, similar again to the more literal dream sequence. The final scene in which drives home this notion, is the sudden and abrupt ending and the way in which there is no actual resolution. Like a dream, the film just terminates without any resolution; nothing has been learnt and Scotty is not enriched as a person.

In his essay, Marker also notes the absence of Midge as a big turning point and an important thing to consider in terms of whether it is, or isn’t a dream. Also note that she leaves at the end of the first half and just a few moments before this actually says “you don’t even know I’m here”. Note that here is the point where she leaves is the point where Scotty abandons his only link with reality, therefore moving into his delusional dream-like status.

At the beginning of this essay I noted that dreams can be a terrifying use of cinematic exposition. I use this as no metaphor, analogy or figure of speech, but rather as a way of stating that what cannot be controlled is utterly terrifying. Dreams are something that we cannot control and something that we do not pick and choose. This wildness is what makes the dream sequence part of the scariest corner of cinema and what makes it so brilliantly beautiful at the same time.