Almost There: Grace Kelly in "Dial M for Murder" & "Rear Window"
Monday, August 26, 2024 at 10:30PM ;)
This past weekend, Grace Kelly was honored on TCM, with an entire day of "Summer Under the Stars" dedicated to her filmography. Moreover, Rear Window is enjoying a brief 70th-anniversary re-release in a select few American theaters. Considering all this, it seemed fitting to explore the Monegasque Princess' work on Almost There, revisiting the superlative year she had in 1954. After all, though she won Best Actress for The Country Girl, Kelly probably accrued a fair number of votes for two other cinematic triumphs, both by the Master of Suspense. There's Alfred Hitchcock's aforementioned Rear Window and Dial M for Murder…
Dial M for Murder wears its stage origins like a badge of honor. The production is primarily set inside the confines of a London apartment, constructed out of two to three-player scenes with scant variation. Yet, to compare it to canned theater would be erroneous. Though limited by the text and location, Hitch commands the camera with his usual mastery, relishing over the clockwork exactness of the plotting, its de-constructible intricacies, and the opportunity to showcase the then-new 3D movie magic. Blocking, camera work, dramatic lighting and shadow play are all exquisite, and the cutting even more so.
That said, no element is more exciting than Grace Kelly's presence in the role of Margot, the unfaithful wife of an English professor who is secretly plotting her murder. Dial M for Murder was the first collaboration between director and star, and it's easy to see why their pairing is synonymous with cinematic excellence. Hitch had an unusually great rapport with Kelly, a palpable connection informing their choices. Consider how differently the actress approaches the text compared to Ray Milland, her on-screen spouse. While he performs the material's inherent theatricality, savoring the text like the cat who got the canary, detached but prideful, she's less ostentatious.
Kelly's also more attuned to the camera, seldom presenting herself for some imagined auditorium or the in-scene audience like Milland. Her tongue doesn't linger on the words, her body never moves through the space like it's facing a proscenium. Instead, she poses and flutters, she glides with the camera, dances with it, and seems more at ease playing off the shadows than her acting colleagues. Take her first two scenes, which hinge on distinct variations - a slyness that cuts through the domestic tableau like a hot knife cuts butter, followed by the erotic surrender of two reunited lovers. It's almost shameless, playful even.
Other early exposition-driven scenes, when Margot tells her writer paramour how she's been a target for blackmail, are Kelly's weaker passages. They offer little opportunity for the actress and the camera to do their waltz, reducing her to a dialogue dispensary when she seems more eager to participate in her director's formal strategies. On the night of the murder attempt, Kelly is especially luminous, starting in overt self-satisfaction as she toasts her sidepiece in her husband's presence. Not that Margot's actions drip poison or provocation. Instead, she appears willing to make the marriage work, always trying to start a conversation with Tony. It never quite works, though, and she notices it, too.
There's that flash of apprehension when his goodbye kiss tastes cold. The frigidity between the two sets up another interesting contrast, more perverse this time around. Whether intentionally or not, when Tony's reluctant assassin tries to strangle Margot, their dance of death rages on the verge of carnality. A lascivious leer possesses our gaze into the scene, while Kelly exults the sexual connotations. She does this without jeopardizing the character's integrity or undercutting the mental scars left by the assault, whether immediately or in later scenes when her account of the events is scrutinized.
In the moment after killing her would-be killer, Margot is left as if in a daze. Her body looks weighted down by the end of an adrenaline rush, her hands instinctually drawn to the tender bruises around her neck. It's an incredible thriller, quasi-horror, set piece that wouldn't be nearly as extraordinary without Kelly's contribution. She's equally impressive when Tony returns and his improvised contingency plan starts to play out. It's very telling how Margot wants more from her husband than what the paternalistic cretin's willing to give. Kelly projects the need for comfort followed by unsure awkwardness when that comfort doesn't manifest.
When the police come a-knocking with accusations of foul play on her part, panic erupts. It's the affliction of a cornered animal, showing through the cracks before it all explodes in paroxysms of helplessness. Then, it gives way to outrage, a seething fury. For having such a porcelain doll face, Kelly was exceptional at playing confrontations, exuding defiance. The expression closes, those ice-blue eyes harden, and the bone china delicateness of her features gains a sharp quality. As it often happens with Kelly on screen, Hitchcock knew how to take advantage of that talent for all it was worth, better than almost every other Hollywood director she worked under.
Through Grace Kelly, we can recognize a backbone of steel in Margot. It becomes increasingly apparent as the investigation goes on, and the woman finds herself at risk of the death penalty. Her fortitude doesn't override anguish. It merely tempers the torment as when Hitchcock stages the trial through two simple medium shots against red. An abstract nightmare, the passage is probably Kelly's best moment besides the nocturnal attack, setting up the anesthetized numbness of her final scenes. Consumed by sorrow, she acts a changed woman, defeated by Tony's psychological torture and barely able to stand. The effect is so visceral it effectively robs the narrative of catharsis. Justice is served, but it won't bring color back into poor, broken Margot.
While one registers the skill in Kelly's portrayal of Margot, how she delineates her peril and humiliation, the character is rather bland. She suffers through the plot yet leaves little impression beyond the tragedy of her situation. On the other hand, Lisa from Rear Window is one of the best characters to come out of Hitchcock's entire filmography, maybe even 1950s American cinema as a whole. Even more impressively, her introduction ranks among the most besotting in film history. It happens fifteen minutes into the movie, after James Stewart's Jeff, an injured photographer confined to a wheelchair in a Greenwich Village apartment, has fallen into a restless slumber.
As he wakes, the screen almost seems to flutter like sleepy eyes, and Kelly appears in all her glory. The focus is so soft that it looks as if she could dematerialize in a haze of grain, approaching for a kiss with hair like a glimmer of spun gold and eyes shining bright blue. For those watching Rear Window for the first time, Kelly's Lisa might even appear too good to be true, the world's most glamorous wet dream rather than a matter of flesh and bone. But she is true and Jeff isn't particularly inclined to ravish her, or propose, no matter how much Lisa clearly wants it. Indeed, as their conversation unspools, it becomes evident that she's as horny as your average Deborah Kerr vehicle, the summer heat personified.
She's also frustrated as fuck. Jeff has gotten into his head that her perfection means he's not enough for her and that Lisa will inevitably grow tired and, perhaps, resentful. It's obvious bullshit born out of middle-aged male insecurities, and Rear Window never once pretends its protagonist's right in his neurosis. In a way, the man's voyeuristic obsession is another symptom of that nonsensical anxiety, since most of his neighbors are sketched as different outcomes of committing or not committing to the woman of his dreams. Through that lens, instead of a single-minded essay on the perversion of spectatorship, Rear Window can be considered a romantic comedy above all else.
Mechanically, you could even say that Jeff's proto-true crime past-time exists in the plot so it can prove how Lisa is not just perfect, but also his perfect match. Well, she already knows that – it's him that needs convincing. And what a marvel Kelly is at playing that dynamic, having the time of her life as Lisa tries to coax Jeff into marriage. For example, their first shared scene bubbles with tension, even as the leading lady swirls in her Edith Head-designed froth of chiffon and tulle. Her look is so midcentury it hurts, a fashion plate come to life. Still, her gestures possess an electric joie de vivre, zapping a somewhat discordant but not unpleasant energy into every frame.
It's not all fun and games, of course. Romantic troubles may incur snappy sparring, but they also entail a fair share of disappointment and hurt feelings, the occasional viciousness that erupts from curdled affections. Sometimes, it's the tantrum of a spoiled child being denied the candy she wants most in the world. In other moments, it's a disarming earnestness, a deep want that bypasses the desire of the flesh and shoots straight for the heart. Her annoyance can invite a sharp line delivery, but she never gives in. Grace Kelly's Lisa never gives up, either. If her first line of attack won't work, then others will.
And through it all, the similarities between her and Jeff become increasingly obvious. The intelligence Kelly brings to Lisa's eyes is critical, for it soon establishes her as the photographer's equal in the peeping tom hobby. Early reluctance fades into fervor, skepticism snaps into belief that suddenly revives the pair's relationship. Even in instances when she's only a voice on the phone, the actress articulates how the murder mystery across the street has opened another avenue for the lovers to understand each other. It happens as she looks far away, attention disconnected from him. For once, it's Stewart whose eyes glue themselves to his scene partner and away from the window.
There's a savviness to her observations, a keen look that can as easily denote compassion as an obscene hunger for entertainment. Rather than a saintly ideal, the starlet reveals Lisa as a reckless adventurer who will throw herself into dangerous schemes with a mischievous smile on her face. It only works because Kelly has worked to make us understand Lisa's interiority within the constraints of a subjective device that explicitly keeps the audience with Jeff, at a distance from her. In fact, the feeling that Lisa is off in her own world, having a more interesting and revelatory character arc than her dolt of a boyfriend is essential for the climax.
Hitchcock weaponizes the framing limitations of Jeff's position and makes us feel latent danger for the first time by placing Lisa beyond his grasp. The implied murder, the dead dog, none of it is half as foreboding as the sight of Kelly in wide shot, galivanting through a moonlit courtyard, climbing into a killer's home in search of evidence. And, oh, she's brilliant again at sidestepping a killer, playing into the auteur's formalist demands, and delivering as nobody else could. For the closing shot, however, Hitch concedes the stage to his star and frames her accordingly. It's the cherry on top of a perfect movie, a cheeky little lark made irresistible by Kelly's smirk.
On February 15th, 1954, Grace Kelly received her first Oscar nomination, for Best Supporting Actress in Mogambo. That was the start of a year for the history books, when the Philadelphian thespian rose to superstar status and secured her spot as one of the defining faces of this midcentury Hollywood. By May, Dial M for Murder hit theaters and Rear Window followed in August. Both were successful, even if the first flick had to contend with the public's fading interest in the 3D novelty. They cemented Grace Kelly's status as a major star in a meteoric rise, further consolidating her image as one defined by impossible glamour for decades to come.
In December, that persona got shook up by The Country Girl and its stabs at prestige-seeking de-glam. The contrast proved too much to resist, with the solidity of Kelly's performance further guaranteeing equal measures of critical acclaim and commercial popularity. Furthermore, two other Kelly vehicles premiered that month, with The Bridges of Toko-Ri and Green Fire bolstering her box office cum cultural domination. As much as one might wish for another outcome, Grace Kelly was the star of 1954, and an Oscar only seems fitting, especially at a time when the Academy and the mainstream audience's movie-watching preferences were more aligned than they are now.
It was only a matter of which film would be her ticket to Oscar gold, with The Country Girl's theatrical pedigree and appearance of range doing a lot to boost its chances. Even so, the NYFCC and NBR cited the two Hitchcock hits along with George Seaton's stage-to-screen adaptation. It's not hard to imagine that, had Country Girl been delayed a few months, Kelly would have still competed at the 27th Academy Awards with one of her suspenseful star turns. Regardless, she won for The Country Girl, besting Dorothy Dandridge in Carmen Jones, Judy Garland in A Star Is Born, Audrey Hepburn in Sabrina, and Jane Wyman in Magnificent Obsession.
Dial M for Murder is streaming on Hoopla, IndieFlix, Kanopy, Plex, TCM, Tubi, and Xumo Play. Rear Window is streaming on the Criterion Channel and TCM. You can rent and purchase both films on Amazon, Apple TV, and the Microsoft Store.
Reader Comments (6)
Grace Kelly was a skilled actress.
Yet, have you noticed that she, as most young Hollywood actresses, was invariably paired with a leading man who was typically two decades older than she.
Kelly, a strikingly beautiful woman, was adept at making audiences believe that her characters found these greying, sagging middle aged men sexually appealing. I think her talent would have easily extended into more complex roles. It would have interesting to see Kelly age and explore her range..
In the late 1970s, Kelly wanted to play Dee Dee, the potential prima ballerina who chose marriage and children, played by Shirley MacLaine in The Turning Point. Interestingly, Audrey Hepburn actively pursued the role of Emma, the career ballerina played by Anne Bancroft. Now wouldn't that have been a movie to see!
Finbar in my alternate movie universe that's a film i'd have loved to see,Kelly's better in these 2 flicks than she is in her Oscar winning turn.
Thank you for covering her. Grace Kelly would be turning 95 if she was still alive. I imagine she would have been giving interviews with TCM like Eva Marie Saint as well.
I also can't help but compare her with Katharine Hepburn. Both born into wealthy privilege and got early success but called their own shots. Grace famously got Hitchcock to reconsider how her character dressed and was lit for Rear Window. I think Grace probably would have bought out any contract the studio would have over her and do her own thing like return to Broadway or TV.
In terms of why I think she got nominated for Country Girl and not the others, Dial M was perceived as a gimmick film. 3D was quickly seen as a flash in the pan and even though it made money, I don't think it was respected. Now Rear Window is a different story. It had critical acclaim right away but was praised more as a technical film- they built that entire neighborhood!- and not an acting showcase. This can also explain why Thelma Ritter didn't get nominated although this is one of her best performances.
I think she was much closer with Rear Window than Dial M. As Claudio mentioned above, these are very different performances but in the end Lisa emerges triumphant- one gets the impression Jeff isn't running off to any wild places any more now that he realizes he has a lioness next to him. But poor Margot is going to need YEARS of therapy. Grace is also able to add more shades to Lisa. Grace isn't afraid to portray Lisa as the spoiled child with adult intelligence. She is used to getting what she wants and is easily frustrated, even if the audience agrees with her. Even without Country Girl Grace still had an amazing year and I do think Rear Window would have been her nomination that year.
TomG: it's funny you compare her to Hepburn. I saw High Society as part of the TCM marathon, and she plays, essentially, the Hepburn part from The Philadelphia Story... and she's really funny in it!
Mike in Canada- I've got that on my DVR now from TCM. I'll be watching it soon!
It is *exactly* the same character, Tracy Lord. High Society is just a musical remake of The Philadelphia Story. A fairly tepid one IMO.