Deep down, this is a film about the way people use each other. Whereas many films present us with love triangles, 'Stage Fright' explores the sharp edges of a love pentagon, in which all five characters are engaged in subterfuge and manipulation. At the heart of it lies Richard Todd's Jonathon Cooper, ruthlessly playing on Eve's affection for him in order to protect both himself and the woman he really loves, Charlotte. However, actress Charlotte is using him just as he uses Eve, whilst behind his back she's involved with her manager Freddy. And sweet little Eve, actress in training, is far from innocent - she lies to the charming 'Ordinary' Smith whilst concealing the man she thinks she loves - Jonathon.
Perhaps the most disappointing thing about 'Stage Fright' is that this daisy chain of betrayal is dismantled with barely a broken heart in sight. Unflinching insights into emotional cruelty and power imbalances in relationships are one of the most under-appreciated aspects of Hitchcock's films ('Rebecca', 'Notorious', 'Vertigo' and 'Marnie' in particular, although even the minor barbs James Stewart throws at Grace Kelly in 'Rear Window' hit the mark squarely), but here one of the most calculated betrayals in all of his work has absolutely no emotional resonance. Eve has already conveniently fallen into the arms of Smith, so there's no sting when she learns of Jonathon's deceit. Charlotte's betrayal of Jonathon carries no greater weight, because by this point the viewer has no empathy left for him. Only 'Ordinary' Smith's rather hurt reaction to learning the truth about Eve means anything, but it feels like a betrayal of a much slighter nature - she's a well-intentioned deceiver. Compare with the treachery of another Eve, in the similarly comic and 'lightweight' 'North by Northwest', and the sheer toothlessness of this film's emotional unravelling becomes apparent.
In fact, the only emotional impact made in the film's finale is by Marlene Dietrich's Charlotte Inwood, mulling over her actions in a beautifully shot scene. Dietrich's sheer luminosity can't help but draw the viewer in, and the direction certainly favours her here. The perversity of empathising with this great manipulator probably appealed to Hitchcock, who would later do the same with Robert Walker's Bruno Anthony and Anthony Perkins's Norman Bates, and I think it's possibly the one great scene in the film (if there's another, it would be Dietrich's self-choreographed rendition of 'The Laziest Gal in Town').
Mention of Walker and Perkins draws attention to the great failing of this film, which is the character of Jonathon Cooper. Richard Todd has been much criticised for his stiff portrayal, and I think it's fair to say he's rather a plodding performer, even if he's never truly bad - although his psychosis under the stage is tremendously effective. The real problem is the script, which denies the character a sense of humour. Almost all of Hitchcock's villains are witty and charming (certainly all his best ones are), but Jonathon is charmless. This is a real problem in a comedy thriller where almost every character has a comic appeal - even Kay Walsh's character has her own sour humour. By contrast, Jonathon seems repellent - he isn't entertaining in the way everyone else is, so we don't root for him. We should surely empathise with Eve's desperation to clear his name, but he doesn't seem worth the effort. Whilst Dietrich is appealing even at her most cruel (a true Hitchcockian villain), Todd is unappealing even in innocence.
The other performances range from the adequate (Wilding, just a little too lightweight as Smith) to the wonderful (Alistair Sim, it scarcely needs to be pointed out, shares the comic spoils with Dietrich, and both Sybil Thorndike and Kay Walsh do great things with limited roles. Joyce Grenfell, meanwhile, somehow turns an irrelevant bit of comic business into a transcendent piece of physical comedy). Jane Wyman seems a little uncertain in places, but funnily enough I think she's most effective in her 'Doris' guise, able to show off her comic skills, and sparking nicely with Dietrich.
The false flashback is a neat gambit, but unfortunately it unbalances the beginning of the film - Eve is sidelined for too long - and forces the script into some rather ugly expositional dialogue. However, the rising curtain is a lovely conceit.
Perhaps the most disappointing thing about 'Stage Fright' is that this daisy chain of betrayal is dismantled with barely a broken heart in sight. Unflinching insights into emotional cruelty and power imbalances in relationships are one of the most under-appreciated aspects of Hitchcock's films ('Rebecca', 'Notorious', 'Vertigo' and 'Marnie' in particular, although even the minor barbs James Stewart throws at Grace Kelly in 'Rear Window' hit the mark squarely), but here one of the most calculated betrayals in all of his work has absolutely no emotional resonance. Eve has already conveniently fallen into the arms of Smith, so there's no sting when she learns of Jonathon's deceit. Charlotte's betrayal of Jonathon carries no greater weight, because by this point the viewer has no empathy left for him. Only 'Ordinary' Smith's rather hurt reaction to learning the truth about Eve means anything, but it feels like a betrayal of a much slighter nature - she's a well-intentioned deceiver. Compare with the treachery of another Eve, in the similarly comic and 'lightweight' 'North by Northwest', and the sheer toothlessness of this film's emotional unravelling becomes apparent.
In fact, the only emotional impact made in the film's finale is by Marlene Dietrich's Charlotte Inwood, mulling over her actions in a beautifully shot scene. Dietrich's sheer luminosity can't help but draw the viewer in, and the direction certainly favours her here. The perversity of empathising with this great manipulator probably appealed to Hitchcock, who would later do the same with Robert Walker's Bruno Anthony and Anthony Perkins's Norman Bates, and I think it's possibly the one great scene in the film (if there's another, it would be Dietrich's self-choreographed rendition of 'The Laziest Gal in Town').
Mention of Walker and Perkins draws attention to the great failing of this film, which is the character of Jonathon Cooper. Richard Todd has been much criticised for his stiff portrayal, and I think it's fair to say he's rather a plodding performer, even if he's never truly bad - although his psychosis under the stage is tremendously effective. The real problem is the script, which denies the character a sense of humour. Almost all of Hitchcock's villains are witty and charming (certainly all his best ones are), but Jonathon is charmless. This is a real problem in a comedy thriller where almost every character has a comic appeal - even Kay Walsh's character has her own sour humour. By contrast, Jonathon seems repellent - he isn't entertaining in the way everyone else is, so we don't root for him. We should surely empathise with Eve's desperation to clear his name, but he doesn't seem worth the effort. Whilst Dietrich is appealing even at her most cruel (a true Hitchcockian villain), Todd is unappealing even in innocence.
The other performances range from the adequate (Wilding, just a little too lightweight as Smith) to the wonderful (Alistair Sim, it scarcely needs to be pointed out, shares the comic spoils with Dietrich, and both Sybil Thorndike and Kay Walsh do great things with limited roles. Joyce Grenfell, meanwhile, somehow turns an irrelevant bit of comic business into a transcendent piece of physical comedy). Jane Wyman seems a little uncertain in places, but funnily enough I think she's most effective in her 'Doris' guise, able to show off her comic skills, and sparking nicely with Dietrich.
The false flashback is a neat gambit, but unfortunately it unbalances the beginning of the film - Eve is sidelined for too long - and forces the script into some rather ugly expositional dialogue. However, the rising curtain is a lovely conceit.