The Best Of Alfred Hitchcock On The Criterion Collection
I remember the first time I truly understood the power of silence. I was a kid, maybe ten years old, and my dad had rented some old movie. I can’t recall the title now, but the scene was etched into my brain. It was a tense standoff, a shadowy figure creeping through a darkened house. And then… nothing. No dramatic score, no frantic whispers, just the creak of a floorboard, the distant howl of a dog, and the pounding of my own heart in my ears. It was terrifying. Utterly, deliciously terrifying. My dad, sensing my unease (or maybe just amused by my wide eyes), leaned over and whispered, "That's Hitchcock, kid. He knew how to use what isn't there."
And that, my friends, is the magic that the Criterion Collection so brilliantly captures and preserves. When we talk about the best of Alfred Hitchcock on Criterion, we’re not just talking about movies; we’re talking about a masterclass in suspense, a meticulously crafted journey into the human psyche, all presented with the kind of loving care that makes you want to frame the Blu-ray case. Seriously, their transfers are usually gorgeous, and the extras? Oh, the extras are a whole other rabbit hole of deliciousness.
It’s easy to throw around the word "masterpiece," but with Hitchcock, especially the ones you find gracing the Criterion spines, it feels… earned. These aren't just films; they're cultural touchstones, blueprints for how to build tension, how to play with audience expectations, and how to make us simultaneously terrified and utterly fascinated by the darkness lurking within ourselves and others.
So, grab your popcorn (or your preferred beverage of choice – mine's usually a strong cup of coffee for those late-night viewings), and let's dive into some of the absolute gems. It's a tough job, picking favorites, you know? It’s like choosing your favorite child, if your children were all brilliant, slightly twisted filmmakers. But we have to start somewhere, right?
The Early Masterpieces: Setting the Stage
Before the blonde bombshells and the dizzying heights of Vertigo, Hitchcock was already honing his craft. And Criterion has given us some of these early triumphs with the kind of reverence they deserve.
The 39 Steps (1935)
Okay, let’s talk about The 39 Steps. If you haven’t seen this one, do yourself a favor. It's a whirlwind of mistaken identity, espionage, and a positively charming Robert Donat. He’s this ordinary bloke who gets caught up in something way over his head. Think of it as the original "wrong man" thriller, but with a very British sense of humor and some truly inventive set pieces. The memory of that iconic chase on the Forth Bridge? Still gives me chills.
Criterion’s release is fantastic. The black and white cinematography pops, and the audio is crisp. You get all these incredible interviews and essays that really unpack the filmmaking techniques. It's like having Hitchcock himself walking you through the process, except, you know, he's not physically there. A bummer, but the extras are the next best thing.
The Lady Vanishes (1938)
And then there’s The Lady Vanishes. Another gem from his British period. This one is just pure fun. A group of strangers on a train, a kindly old lady who disappears, and a bunch of people insisting she never existed? It’s a puzzle box of a film, brilliantly constructed and wonderfully acted. You’ve got the witty banter, the escalating paranoia, and that classic Hitchcockian knack for making the mundane terrifying.
Criterion’s edition often includes background information on the political climate of the time, which adds another layer of understanding to the story. It’s not just a thrilling mystery; it’s also a reflection of the anxieties of pre-war Europe. Pretty clever, eh?
The Hollywood Golden Age: Blonde Bombshells and Psychological Thrills
This is where things really start to get iconic. Hitchcock moved to Hollywood, and the films that followed are the ones most people immediately associate with his name. And Criterion has collected some of the absolute best.
Shadow of a Doubt (1943)
Now, for a moment, let’s consider this: Hitchcock himself called Shadow of a Doubt his "most chilling" film. And if the Master of Suspense says that, you know you’re in for something. It’s set in a seemingly idyllic small town, and this charming, charismatic uncle (Joseph Cotten, doing a magnificent job) comes to visit. But there’s something off about him, a darkness that slowly seeps into the family’s perception. It’s a slow burn, building dread with every seemingly normal conversation.
Criterion’s release allows you to really appreciate the subtle visual cues and the performances. You’ll find yourself scrutinizing every look, every gesture. It’s a masterclass in building psychological suspense without resorting to jump scares. Plus, the fact that it was filmed in Santa Rosa, California, and captures that era so well… it’s just chef’s kiss.
Spellbound (1945)
This one is fascinating. Ingrid Bergman plays a psychiatrist who falls for a new patient (Gregory Peck) suffering from amnesia and possible guilt. It delves into the world of psychoanalysis, dreams, and memory. And that dream sequence? Designed by Salvador Dalí himself! How cool is that? It’s visually stunning and deeply psychological.
Criterion’s editions of Hitchcock’s films often come with interviews with film scholars who can explain the psychoanalytic themes and the impact of Dalí’s involvement. It’s a film that rewards multiple viewings, as you pick up on more and more layers of meaning. And if you’re a fan of noir-ish melodrama, this one’s for you.
The Iconic Trilogy: Suspense Personified
Now we arrive at what many consider the holy trinity of Hitchcock’s Hollywood output. These are the films that defined cinematic suspense for generations. And yes, Criterion has you covered.
Notorious (1946)
Let’s talk about Notorious. Cary Grant, Ingrid Bergman, Claude Rains. A spy thriller set in post-war Rio. It’s got everything: romance, betrayal, espionage, and one of the most famous kisses in film history. The tension between Grant and Bergman is palpable, and Rains as the insidious Alexander Sebastian is just chillingly effective. You can practically feel the danger simmering beneath the surface.
What makes Criterion’s release so special? The clarity of the transfer allows you to appreciate the cinematography by Ted Tetzlaff. And the extras often include deep dives into the screenplay and the production. You’ll learn about the challenges of filming under wartime restrictions and the sheer brilliance of Hitchcock’s direction. It’s a film that feels both grand and incredibly intimate.
Rear Window (1954)
Oh, Rear Window. Is there a more perfect embodiment of voyeurism and suspense? James Stewart is confined to his apartment with a broken leg, and he starts spying on his neighbors. He becomes convinced he's witnessed a murder. The brilliance lies in the confined setting. We’re trapped with him, seeing only what he sees, feeling his growing fear and obsession.
The Criterion edition of Rear Window is a must-have. The visual detail is incredible, allowing you to appreciate every little thing happening in the neighboring apartments. The supplements are usually packed with interviews about the technical aspects of the filmmaking, the symbolism, and the social commentary. It’s a film that makes you question your own relationship with observation and the stories we tell ourselves.
Vertigo (1958)
And then… there’s Vertigo. For years, it was often overlooked, even by Hitchcock himself. But time has a way of revealing true genius. Now, it’s widely considered one of the greatest films ever made. James Stewart plays a former detective with a fear of heights, hired to follow a woman who he becomes obsessed with. It's a film about obsession, identity, and the unreliability of perception. It’s haunting, beautiful, and deeply unsettling.
Criterion’s release of Vertigo is, without question, exceptional. The restored image and sound are crucial for appreciating the film’s visual poetry and Bernard Herrmann’s iconic score. The extensive documentaries and essays explore the film's complex themes, its troubled production history, and its journey to critical acclaim. It’s a film that truly benefits from the meticulous restoration and scholarly context that Criterion provides.
The Later Years: Continued Brilliance and Innovation
Hitchcock didn’t stop there, of course. His later films continued to push boundaries and deliver unforgettable thrills.
North by Northwest (1959)
Talk about pure, unadulterated, thrilling entertainment. North by Northwest is Hitchcock at his most playful and most spectacular. Cary Grant again, this time as an advertising executive mistaken for a government agent. It’s a globe-trotting adventure with some of the most iconic set pieces in cinema history: the crop duster scene, the Mount Rushmore climax… it’s breathtaking.
Criterion’s edition is a feast for the eyes. The vibrant Technicolor looks stunning, and the detail in those sprawling landscapes is incredible. The extras will likely delve into the film’s screenplay, the remarkable stunts, and its place in the spy genre. It’s the kind of film that reminds you why you fell in love with movies in the first place.
Psycho (1960)
Ah, Psycho. The film that changed everything. The shower scene? Legendary. The Bates Motel? Iconic. This film shattered audience expectations and redefined horror. Janet Leigh’s performance is brilliant, and Anthony Perkins as Norman Bates is one of cinema’s most memorable villains. It’s a film that’s still shocking, still disturbing, and still utterly brilliant.
Criterion’s release of Psycho is often accompanied by extensive documentaries on its groundbreaking production, its controversial release, and its lasting cultural impact. You’ll learn about the innovative filming techniques, the marketing genius, and the sheer audacity of the storytelling. It’s a film that, even after all these years, continues to provoke and fascinate. And the extras make you appreciate just how much of a risk this film was.
Why Criterion Matters
Look, there are other ways to watch these films. Streaming services, other Blu-ray releases. But there’s something about the Criterion Collection that just elevates the experience. It’s the curation, the research, the meticulous restoration, and the wealth of supplementary material that helps you understand these films not just as entertainment, but as significant works of art.
When you pick up a Criterion edition of a Hitchcock film, you’re not just buying a movie. You’re investing in an experience. You’re getting a piece of film history, presented in the best possible way, with context that allows you to truly appreciate the genius at work. They treat these films with the respect they deserve, and for fans of Hitchcock, that’s everything.
So, if you’re looking to dive into the world of the Master of Suspense, or if you’re a seasoned fan looking to revisit these classics with the best possible presentation and deepest insights, the Criterion Collection is your absolute go-to. Happy watching, and try not to jump at every shadow!