Fellow columnist Evan Puschak once told me, ‘There comes a day when you realize you’ve moved on from Hitchcock. It’s a sad day.’
After what I ought to call my ‘Summer of Hitchcock’ – a four-month frenzy during which my convictions about film crumbled at his feet – I fear that day has come for me. And so, to the Master of Suspense, I say: farewell, and thank you. I do believe you’ve taught me well.
To a fan or maker of film, there can be no better springboard into the world of great cinema than the work of Hitchcock. His filmography is a toolbox, a looking glass through which one can evaluate, appreciate and be challenged by films.
My Hitchcockian Odyssey began by reading his interviews with Fran’ccedil;ois Truffaut, which converted me to the auteur theory (which holds that the director is the author of a film) and taught me to ignore the storytelling-obsessed plausibilists, those archenemies of all that is creative and artistic in film.
Hitchcock opened my eyes to a different way of thinking about film. His work taught me how to convert my eye into a camera lens; each is a model of technical mastery that provides an invaluable reference to me in my own creative endeavors. This new way of thinking leads me to some substantial reevaluations of a number of films. Suddenly, half of my DVD collection seemed stale, unappealing, embarrassing (Why do I own Little Miss Sunshine?) My Netflix queue underwent some heavy reconstruction.
But more importantly, after the Summer of Hitchcock, I have a renewed approach to my work, my post-graduation goals and my classes here in the film program.
What BU teaches its students is how to sell storytelling (‘Make sure you hit the page 17 moment, because Shawshank did.’) So, while I was exposed to such titles as Roxanne, Robocop and Groundhog Day in my classes, I managed to get through seven semesters without once seeing a Hitchcock film in class. Luckily, he found his way to me at a crucial moment.
But now it’s time to move on. My greatest exhilaration comes from being challenged by a film. Nineteen of his films under my belt and Hitchcock no longer offers me that exhilaration.
His films provided for me the film 101 class I never had, and now as I’ve moved on to some of the other masters of cinema, it’s time to acknowledge that I’ve learned what I needed from Hitchcock. His films pulled my dragging feet up the staircase and opened the door at the top, and now Hitchcock’s watchful hand is pushing me through the opening. It’s time for me to take the next step.
Mr. Hitchcock, thanks for your help.
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