The Twelve Lives of Alfred Hitchcock: An Anatomy of the Master of Suspense by Edward White

Alfred Hitchcock. His name alone can brings chills, fond spooky memories, discomfort, and nostalgia. 

I was still ten years old in 1963 when I saw The Birds from the back seat of the family car, parked at the local drive-in movie theater. My parents thought I would fall asleep.

 

I didn't. The scene of a man missing his eye balls gave me nightmares for years. 

The next year, in 1964, I was nearly twelve when I saw Marnie. I am sure my folks did not expect me to be asleep that time. I did not understand it, I had no concept of sexual dysfunction, so of course watched it every time it came on television, trying to puzzle out the feelings it raised in me. 

Alfred Hitchcock Presents (1955-1962) was a childhood staple. I learned the theme song, The Funeral March of the Marionette, on piano. It impressed the neighbor boy who was also a Hitchcock fan. I had story collections like Alfred Hitchcock's Ghostly Gallery: Eleven Spooky Stories for Young People.

Over the years, watching the classic films I had seen in the movie theater with my folks, including Vertigo. Rear Window, and North By Northwest, and those I only saw later on television, like Psycho, I understood things I could not as a girl.

And I wondered why in the world did Mom take me to see those films! Today, scenes of rape, obsession, murder, and suicide would not be considered proper fare for the under-13-year-old child.

As far as I can tell, the only harm these movies did me, other than nightmares about eyeless men, was a penchant for stylish suspense stories.  I knew that birds would not flock and attack me in reality, or crop dusters chase me. 

"He was a child, you know, a very black-comedy child" screenwriter Arthur Laurents said of Hitch. Perhaps that was his appeal to children. Raised on Dick and Jane while undergoing 'duck and cover' drills and watching adults glued to the news during the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis, we were ready for the safety of theatrical horror.  War became daily television fodder and political assassinations punctuated our teen years and watching Hitchcock movies on television were not as shocking any more.

I had never explored the man behind the persona. The nine-line sketch Hitch walked into on his show was all I needed to know. The sketch, I learned in The Twelve Lives of Alfred Hitchcock, Hitch himself drew and propagated as part of his image.

Edward White's biography considers the man through the lens of twelve aspects of his personality, each fully explored through Hitchcock's life and art. 

On the one hand, the book is hugely informative and gave me a full picture of the man and the artist.

On the other hand, Hitchcock remains a mystery. He carefully controlled his persona, as deliberately and thoughtfully controlling our image of him as his films controlled our responses.

Was his marriage to Alma platonic? Did he remain a virgin expect for once, resulting in the birth of his daughter? Did he lunge at actresses and ask his secretary to 'erotically entertain' him? I saw Tippi Hendren talk about her experience. Can we tell the difference between the persona Hitch offered and truth?

He grew up with WWI air raids, the 1918 flu pandemic,  in a rough part of town, with a Catholic Education. There is a lot of horror to draw from with that background. 

And yet, Hitch was averse to conflict and could not deal with "complex emotions."  He would not use animal cruelty in his films and preferred to have his victims thrown off a building than shot as in American films. 

Still,  he was fascinated by violence and cruelty, grew up reading classic British crime fiction including G. K. Chesterton and John Buchan. He once expressed his belief that he would have made a great criminal lawyer.

I learned about his  middle class, Catholic childhood, his struggle with his appearance, the art and film and stories that inspired him.

The book is always fascinating, always interesting, and often disturbing. Especially when I ask myself what kind of person is a Hitchcock fan, as perhaps it reveals things about myself I would rather not consider.

I received a free galley from the publisher through NetGalley. My review is fair and unbiased.

The Twelve Lives of Alfred Hitchcock: An Anatomy of the Master of Suspense
by Edward White
W. W. Norton & Company
Pub Date: April 13, 2021 
ISBN: 9781324002390
hardcover $28.95 (USD)

from the publisher

A fresh, innovative biography of the twentieth century’s most iconic filmmaker.

In The Twelve Lives of Alfred Hitchcock, Edward White explores the Hitchcock phenomenon—what defines it, how it was invented, what it reveals about the man at its core, and how its legacy continues to shape our cultural world.

The book’s twelve chapters illuminate different aspects of Hitchcock’s life and work: “The Boy Who Couldn’t Grow Up”; “The Murderer”; “The Auteur”; “The Womanizer”; “The Fat Man”; “The Dandy”; “The Family Man”; “The Voyeur”; “The Entertainer”; “The Pioneer”; “The Londoner”; “The Man of God.” 

Each of these angles reveals something fundamental about the man he was and the mythological creature he has become, presenting not just the life Hitchcock lived but also the various versions of himself that he projected, and those projected on his behalf.

From Hitchcock’s early work in England to his most celebrated films, White astutely analyzes Hitchcock’s oeuvre and provides new interpretations. He also delves into Hitchcock’s ideas about gender; his complicated relationships with “his women”—not only Grace Kelly and Tippi Hedren but also his female audiences—as well as leading men such as Cary Grant, and writes movingly of Hitchcock’s devotion to his wife and lifelong companion, Alma, who made vital contributions to numerous classic Hitchcock films, and burnished his mythology. And White is trenchant in his assessment of the Hitchcock persona, so carefully created that Hitchcock became not only a figurehead for his own industry but nothing less than a cultural icon.

Ultimately, White’s portrayal illuminates a vital truth: Hitchcock was more than a Hollywood titan; he was the definitive modern artist, and his significance reaches far beyond the confines of cinema.