Alfred Hitchcock’s Shadow
of a Doubt serves as an exemplary example of the psychothriller genre.
Hitchcock plants a seed of suspicion in viewers upon their initial meeting of Uncle
Charlie. Within the first few minutes of the film, he is presented as a corpse—the
undead—as he lies quietly in his bed with his arms crossed over his chest. His
eyes and voice are devoid of emotion. Although Uncle Charlie displays a
generally apathetic demeanor, it is apparent that he exercises great control to
present a façade to the outside world. That seed grows as the story develops.
The film heavily implies that Uncle Charlie is the Merry
Widower Murderer but leaves a sliver of doubt by presenting information that
there is another suspect in the string of murders. The viewer is left to ask
whether Uncle Charlie is just a weird guy who happens to have a strong distaste
for wealthy widows and is attached, through a number of unfortunate
coincidences, to the victims of the murders. The seed planted earlier grows in
every which direction as the viewer questions what they are watching. The film
unveils multiple interpretations of the events unfolding on screen, some more
conventional than others. An example is watching the film in a Fight Club-esque way: one of those
Charlies is a figment of the other Charlie’s imagination. I don’t particularly
subscribe to this interpretation of the film, but it’s entertaining to give it
a try.
With that said, Uncle Charlie definitely kills rich old
ladies for fun. Mark Seltzer’s “The Serial Killer as a Type of Person” presents
the characterization of serial murders as having a cooling-off period. The
events of the film take place during Uncle Charlie’s cooling-off period as the
newspaper headlines found in the film and the gifts that Charlie gives his
family indicate that he had recently killed multiple women within an allotted
time before visiting his family. Uncle Charlie paints his desire to move to
Santa Rosa, California, in the guise of wanting to live close to his family,
but Uncle Charlie really wants to live within a bubble of stranger-intimacy. The
people of Santa Rosa demonstrate that they know of the events happening in the
lives of their fellow townspeople—the line between private and public has been
blurred.
The relationship between Uncle Charlie and Young Charlie
highlights the narcissism that the serial killer is drawn to. Young Charlie’s
introduction to the viewer mirrors Uncle Charlie’s first appearance in the
film; they’re both lying in bed until someone interrupts them. Besides sharing
the same name, Young Charlie claims that she and her uncle share a special,
telekinetic connection. Both Young Charlie and her family remark on the
similarities between her and her uncle. Their closeness leaves an unsettling
feeling bubbling up in the viewer’s stomach, because the line between familial
closeness and attraction feels as if it has been crossed at times. I can’t help
but wonder whether the Newton household is oblivious to the nature of their
daughter’s relationship with her uncle or if they are simply turning a blind
eye. Regardless, their sexual tension could be cut by glass. By the end of the
film, it appears as if the empty circularity of self-seeking, as Seltzer puts
it, has come to fruition.
The musical composition of Franz Lehár’s “The Merry Widow’s
Waltz”—and the visuals of the waltz that accompanies it—creates a haunting
presence in the film. The twirling bodies become an apparition as they are
superimposed within sequences of current events. Young Charlie finds the tune
to be an earworm and welcomes the song to take over both her mind and the
sequence unfolding on screen. However, when Young Charlie becomes suspect of
her dear uncle’s violent hobby, she develops an aversion to the waltz. Although
the song becomes a reminder of Uncle Charlie’s distaste for wealthy widows (as
signaled by his MRA-esque rant), the waltz becomes a signifier of a cycle—a
cycle of narcissism-driven violence—when Young Charlie, through her paranoia, is
ultimately responsible for her uncle’s demise.
Jessica,
ReplyDeleteYour note about the idea that maybe one of the Charlies is a figment of the other's imagination is very interesting, and might even beg a second viewing, though I agree with you that it's unlikely. I also agree that there is very little (Shadow of a--) doubt that Charlie isn't a serial killer of widowed women, especially due to his dinner rant, belittling them as "faded, fat, greedy women". It's a chilling speech, and one that's quite telling about his "occupation". Nice post!