The recent release of Alfred Hitchcock’s masterpiece Psycho on blu-ray disc in the UK and its impending blu-ray release in the US this fall have stirred up a bit of controversy in some quarters. It has nothing to do with the film’s content, which caused a bit of a stir when it was released, but in how you view that content.
Some folks feel that since Hitchcock shot the film using a 1.37:1 aspect ratio for composition that must have been the way that the director meant for it to be exhibited. And that the recent/upcoming blu-ray release of the film in an aspect ratio of 1.78:1, which would coincidentally fill up s standard high-definition widescreen television, is nothing less than a travesty and “visual vandalism.”
The lightening rod for this dustup is internet journalist Jeffrey Wells. No stranger to stirring the controversy cauldron, Welles wrote an impassioned article for his Hollywood-Elsewhere blog back in June decrying the blu-ray’s announced aspect ratio as nothing less than an insidious plot to rewrite the history of theatrical presentation of films of the late 50s/early 60s by proponents of the high-definition home video format.
OK, maybe he is being slightly hyperbolic when he stated that, but he does emphatically state -
The Psycho norm was never intended to be 1.78 to 1 (i.e., the widescreen aspect ratio for high-def video). For the most part Hitchcock expected his film to be shown within ratios of 1.66 to 1 (moderate rectangle) or 1.37 to 1 (next door to a perfect box).
Wednesday, Wells brought up the topic again, this time calling the release “rape” and “precisely the same thing as taking a razor blade and slicing off the tops and bottoms of Leonardo da Vinci’s ‘Mona Lisa’ in the Louvre.”
The thing is, though, is that Wells is absolutely and completely wrong on this.
True, no one so far has been able to produce a quote where the director gives his final say so on the matter. What we can do, is look to the film itself for vital clues as to Hitchcock’s mindset.
While Hitchcock obviously shot the film to protect the entire 1.37:1 image, – i.e., there are no lights or boom mics dropping into the picture from the top of the frame – there is more than enough evidence to support the fact that he intended the film to be seen at the wider ratio. The film’s opening credits were hard matted at 1.78:1 as were portions of the film’s infamous shower scene. That, to me, speaks volumes about Hitchcock’s intentions. There is the additional support of notation of the 1.78:1 aspect ratio on paperwork to the film developing lab at Pathe and the fact that storyboards for the shower sequence are also in the widescreen ratio.
But I think that through producing Alfred Hitchcock Presents, the director was probably far more cognizant of fact that any widescreen composed film of his would be subject to the indignities of pan and scan for the 1.33:1 television screen. Rather than let viewers loose picture information on either the right or the left of the television image, he chose to give them more by expanding the frame vertically. Filming in 1.37:1 allowed for that, with the option to have the film presented in theaters at a different aspect ratio remained through the ability of projectionists able to use plates to mask the image to the desired size.
In the days before letterboxing, this was probably the most elegant solution.
Wells argument sits predominantly on the crux of his aesthetic judgment of how the 1.37:1 version looks compared to the 1.78:1 version. He states in the comments of his June post that the “the somewhat higher, boxier framings are far more elegant, inclusive, well-balanced — they provide agreeable breathing space to the characters and compositions.”
That may be true, but the film isn’t about comfortable characters. It’s a Hitchcock film, and the means a continual ratcheting up of tension in both the film’s characters and its audience. Rewatching Psycho this morning, I was struck again how Hitchcock builds the tension through the first third of the picture as Marion Crane (Janet Leigh) first steals the $40,000 from her job and then goes on the run. As she drives, she imagines the voices of her boss and co-workers discovering her crime and their reaction. After she trades in her car for another vehicle, all the while being observed by a policeman, she imagines a conversation between the cop and the car lot salesman in which they find her actions suspicious. By the time she reaches the Bates Motel, Marion is a bundle of nerves, paranoia is starting to nibble away at her. Opening up the picture frame to all her “breathing space” will only dissipate the mood Hitchcock is trying to build.
(I have a similar critique about the Special Edition of Irvin Kershner’s The Empire Strikes Back. When George Lucas went back and digitally messed about with the movie in the late 90s, he added numerous windows to Bespin’s Cloud City. The end result dilutes much of the sense of claustrophobic urgency to the scenes of Lando, Leia, Chewbacca and C-3PO racing to save Han from Boba Fett.)
Welles is certainly welcome to his opinion. Aesthetics and beauty are in the eye of the beholder, after all. But that very subjective nature also means that it can’t be taken for fact. But arguing that something is correct simply because you like it that way will get you bounced off of a junior high school debate team. It’s certainly no way to prove your point in the grown up world.
And all of Welles’ verbal screaming and stamping of feet will not change that.
(Aspect ratio comparisons found at Hitchcock Wiki Forums.)