MarnieThere are things we do that we convince ourselves we do because they are what we think we want. Sometimes that's just the rationale behind the compulsions hard wired into our psyches by past trauma. Some people actively choose to do evil things, or are drawn to the rewards regardless of the cost, but others still are compelled because in their mind it satisfies an unexpressed need. For Margaret "Marnie" Edgar (Tippi Hedren), her compulsion to steal, to lie--alongside her phobia of being touched by men--all ties back to her past. But Marnie's condition is more than a psychological challenge for Mark Rutland (Sean Connery); it becomes an obsession in true Hitchcock fashion.
|
|
There is a theory about director Alfred Hitchcock, that he had a predisposition to casting icy-cool, beautiful blondes as heroines or love interests in a significant portion of his films out of some fetishistic fascination with them and what he could expose them to. The irony is that Marnie is a film about psychological fetishism and itself embodies even more running themes of the director's work, and is surprisingly self-aware about it. Tippi Hedren had previously worked with Hitchcock in The Birds, where she is pursued by a flock of birds turned predator; however, in Marnie, she becomes pursued by the predatory, independently wealthy zoologist and businessman, Mark Rutland. His fascination with animals and their instincts is his method in trying to crack the riddle that is Marnie. He is intrigued by her aloof manner--not to mention her good looks, or at least that is the popular conceit he purports. Marnie has prided herself as an independent woman, not requiring the solicitations and support of men, an attitude endorsed by her mother, Bernice (Louise Latham), who keeps Marnie at arms length however, even though she accepts her daughter's frequent donations of money to keep her stable. Marnie's method of finance is superficially that of a secretary, but she secretly moves from town to town, changing jobs as she changes her hair color, while taking advantage of the money kept within the safes of her employers. If her most recent target was any indication of the caliber of men she has sought out to swindle before, they are brutish pigs, such as Sidney Strutt (Martin Gabel)--who regards her as an attractive woman first and foremost, and has no objections about discussing the quality of her legs or other features in open conversation. There is a sardonic cynicism in the relations between the sexes in Marnie; men like Strutt see a pretty girl in Marnie, a quality she can exploit, just as she considers men to exploit her and women like her. Marnie's repeat performances of stealing large amounts of money from boorish men mirrors that of Marion Crane in Psycho; only, Marnie is a repeat offender, who feels justified in her theft because her victims are chauvinists. She also no doubt gets some other satisfaction in it, giving the money to her mother to buy her love. But Marnie is no feminist; rather, she has been marked by her experiences in her youth, and her disdain for men and their companionship shares more with a kind of sexual trauma than mere female empowerment. Men have been her enemy and her quarry; so when Mark takes it upon himself to simultaneously offer her support, trying to aid her in both her larcenous and neurotic fixations, he also does so with the knowledge they share that he is effectively blackmailing her into a relationship, thus offering a kind of backhanded justification for her apprehension.
Marnie is a challenging story, with a psychologically complex narrative and plot that deals with mental health and sexual trauma. Marnie reacts to mental triggers that overwhelm her: the color red on white, thunderstorms; even her dreams are haunted by taps on the window, leading her to night terrors. Marnie finds comfort among her horse, Forio, and riding is an expression of freedom from restraint and her aliases she is forced to utilize to bring her compulsions to steal to fruition. Marnie remains a controversial film, not just for its dealings with psychoanalysis and trauma, but also in the content, primarily Mark's dominance over Marnie, including a scene where he rapes her on their honeymoon. Although the scene itself is played out with--dare I say it--an unnerving gentleness, it is a moment where it tells more about Mark and Marnie than hours of exposition could, as well as the real tone of the film. Marnie ends up so affected by the incident, that she attempts to drown herself aboard the cruise ship's swimming pool, saved only to remain a captive in Mark's company--married and perhaps even in love with him. Mark is a rare character who commands sympathy by raw charisma. Is his benevolent side a means to an end? If so, what is it? Is he trying to rope himself a pretty, young girl for a bride? If so, he already has the younger sister of his late wife, Lil (Diane Baker), fawning over him, her own jealous side triggered when Mark comes home with Marnie, only to wed her in rapid succession. Mark is astonishingly literate, always feeding his mind with education on the subjects that fascinate him--namely Marnie when she proves to be a knot more complicated to unravel than he could have predicted. None would look upon Sean Connery and not expect a predator to lurk beneath his rugged, yet debonair character. His account to Marnie of his skill at taming dangerous predators is, I suspect, because he sees a little of himself within these dangerous animals, but his assessment of Marnie as a predator at first proves to be inaccurate; she is an opportunist who believes she is a predator. When Marnie is caught by Mark in her game, she tries desperately to convince him to let her go, pulling out all the stops on the sympathy. In a way, Marnie resembles a cornered animal; she panics, she screams, she even becomes dangerous when stress and trauma push her past her tightly wound nerves. Is Mark only pursuing Marnie because of the challenge she poses, and his love is incidental? That's actually a tough question to answer definitively, because the film only offers us Mark's word that he loves her, and we have to believe him or not. (I suppose that's true for any love story, but it seems especially important in Marnie, because it might not be a "love story" at all.) Is Mark merely adopting the role of a "white knight", trying to "save" the haunted woman from her own demons with his superior masculine strength and intellect? Even Marnie is wise to this game, and calls Mark out on this when she catches him trying to psychoanalyze her...to fix her. Marnie remains one of Hitchcock's best examples of a film where the interpretation of who is the hero and who is the victim largely rests with the viewer, especially with regards to the sexes.
Recommended for: Fans of a psychological thriller, delving into the psychology of childhood trauma and compulsion. It is a decidedly unorthodox love story, but definitely original and thought-provoking.
Marnie is a challenging story, with a psychologically complex narrative and plot that deals with mental health and sexual trauma. Marnie reacts to mental triggers that overwhelm her: the color red on white, thunderstorms; even her dreams are haunted by taps on the window, leading her to night terrors. Marnie finds comfort among her horse, Forio, and riding is an expression of freedom from restraint and her aliases she is forced to utilize to bring her compulsions to steal to fruition. Marnie remains a controversial film, not just for its dealings with psychoanalysis and trauma, but also in the content, primarily Mark's dominance over Marnie, including a scene where he rapes her on their honeymoon. Although the scene itself is played out with--dare I say it--an unnerving gentleness, it is a moment where it tells more about Mark and Marnie than hours of exposition could, as well as the real tone of the film. Marnie ends up so affected by the incident, that she attempts to drown herself aboard the cruise ship's swimming pool, saved only to remain a captive in Mark's company--married and perhaps even in love with him. Mark is a rare character who commands sympathy by raw charisma. Is his benevolent side a means to an end? If so, what is it? Is he trying to rope himself a pretty, young girl for a bride? If so, he already has the younger sister of his late wife, Lil (Diane Baker), fawning over him, her own jealous side triggered when Mark comes home with Marnie, only to wed her in rapid succession. Mark is astonishingly literate, always feeding his mind with education on the subjects that fascinate him--namely Marnie when she proves to be a knot more complicated to unravel than he could have predicted. None would look upon Sean Connery and not expect a predator to lurk beneath his rugged, yet debonair character. His account to Marnie of his skill at taming dangerous predators is, I suspect, because he sees a little of himself within these dangerous animals, but his assessment of Marnie as a predator at first proves to be inaccurate; she is an opportunist who believes she is a predator. When Marnie is caught by Mark in her game, she tries desperately to convince him to let her go, pulling out all the stops on the sympathy. In a way, Marnie resembles a cornered animal; she panics, she screams, she even becomes dangerous when stress and trauma push her past her tightly wound nerves. Is Mark only pursuing Marnie because of the challenge she poses, and his love is incidental? That's actually a tough question to answer definitively, because the film only offers us Mark's word that he loves her, and we have to believe him or not. (I suppose that's true for any love story, but it seems especially important in Marnie, because it might not be a "love story" at all.) Is Mark merely adopting the role of a "white knight", trying to "save" the haunted woman from her own demons with his superior masculine strength and intellect? Even Marnie is wise to this game, and calls Mark out on this when she catches him trying to psychoanalyze her...to fix her. Marnie remains one of Hitchcock's best examples of a film where the interpretation of who is the hero and who is the victim largely rests with the viewer, especially with regards to the sexes.
Recommended for: Fans of a psychological thriller, delving into the psychology of childhood trauma and compulsion. It is a decidedly unorthodox love story, but definitely original and thought-provoking.