Joan Crawford’s Tailor-Made ‘Strait-Jacket’ 1964

Joan Crawford's Lucy Harbin has an ax to grind with cheatin' hubby and his bimbo,
in 1964's thriller, "Strait-Jacket."

Joan Crawford’s post-studio contract films were often beyond over the top. But Strait-Jacket is right up there with Johnny Guitar as a bizarro bonanza. After the surprise success of What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?, Joan appeared in a solo suspense film, Strait Jacket, while Bette Davis made Dead Ringer.

Did Adrian design Joan's "Strait-Jacket?"

The lighting a match on the record player scene never fails to make me laugh.
I wish that Carol Burnett had spoofed Strait-Jacket on her classic TV series.

So much has been written about this camp classic, that I chose to note things about Strait-Jacket that I found personally interesting. The set up is about a young woman who catches her husband in bed with another woman upon returning home late one night. She responds by chopping their heads off with an ax. Done and dusted! She then spends the next twenty years in an asylum. Upon returning home to her grown daughter, creepy things begin to happen. And when the tensions really rise, heads begin to roll!

Frank Harbin and his bar pickup look laid out just like corpses! That's Lee Majors,
in his film debut, about to get the ax by Joan Crawford in 1964's "Strait-Jacket."

Lucy Harbin’s scrapbook, with pics of her 7 years younger hubby Frank, played by Lee Majors. In reality, Lee was almost 35 years younger than Joan! Note the pics in Strait-Jacket with hubby’s heads cut out. Shades of Uncle Greg in Mommie Dearest!

Strait-Jacket was written by Robert Bloch of Psycho fame. Producer/director William Castle worshiped Psycho director Alfred Hitchcock, which he demonstrated by totally copying him! Castle also admired the old-time stars, so getting Joan Crawford for this B thriller was a coup in his mind.

Ankle straps are a few of Joan’s favorite things, all on display in Strait Jacket!

Joan’s introduction as Lucy Harbin in Strait-Jacket is very similar to her
Sadie Thompson in Rain, another “big” performance!

Mama 'pank hard! Joan Crawford as a hoochie mama at the choo-choo station
makes me think of Bette Davis’ small town overripe vamp in Beyond the Forest:
the black fright wig, drag makeup, peasant dresses, and ankle strap shoes. 

The result is a fun fright flick that is presented in a stylish way. What undercuts Strait-Jacket is the dialogue and the story's plotting. All this and Joan Crawford working overtime to sell you that she’s 29 and later 49 at almost 60 sends the movie straight into camp orbit. Joan gives it her all and works well with Diane Baker, as her daughter. But Joan stands out in the wrong way against the weathered character actors who are her age, and the younger actors who actually look youthful. Contrasted against all of this is Joan, looking like a hillbilly Natasha Fatale.

Note the clap board. Joan plays 29 as Lucy Harbin in the opening set piece of 
Strait-Jacket. Crawford then plays her at 49 thereafter; Joan was 60-ish at the time.

“My mother, an ax murderer! Aren’t the pie slices bad enough? Must you degrade
 us?” Diane Baker as daughter Carol recalls her mother's history for the audience
and her boyfriend in Strait-Jacket's prologue!

Strait-Jacket was made on an even smaller budget than Baby Jane but was a moderate hit, helped by Joan’s tireless promotion. The downside was that it further stamped Joan as a hag horror film star.

Joan Crawford promoted her later movies and Pepsi with equal vigor. She even got
 Pepsi's PR vice-president a role as her psychiatrist in "Strait-Jacket!" 

George Kennedy, as Strait-Jacket's farm hand, who leers in his spare time. Isn’t it interesting that future “realistic” stars like Kennedy, Bruce Dern, James Caan, and Donald Sutherland started out playing "challenged" characters?

Time is a great healer and Joan’s star reputation has overcome the latter day downturns of Crawford’s life and career. Enjoy Strait-Jacket for what it is, one of Joan’s last gaudy jaunts at the Hollywood rodeo.

I love this candid from the wardrobe tests for Strait-Jacket. Joan’s silvery gray hair, simple make up, and smiling. This is much more appealing than the increasingly grim drag queen look Crawford sported in her later years.

Here’s my deep dive into Joan’s Oscar-winning Mildred Pierce, made 20 years before Strait-Jacket: https://ricksrealreel.blogspot.com/2020/03/how-joan-crawford-became-mildred-pierce.html

So my mother's an ax murderer! Mainstreaming Mommie has its challenges in 1964's
  Strait-Jacket. Joan with Rochelle Hudson, Diane Baker, and Leif Erickson.

Joan Crawford Commands 'The Best of Everything'

Joan Crawford IS tough, driven book editor Amanda Farrow in 'The Best of Everything."

Here’s a classic, sometimes clichéd, Hollywood plot premise: A trio of young women set off in search of riches and romance, only to find hardship and heartache—surprise! Whether it’s Hollywood or Broadway, New York City, Italy, or heck, even Fort Lauderdale, the gal pals inevitably learn tough lessons about life and love. The results are often box-office bonanzas: How to Marry a Millionaire, Valley of the Dolls, Three Coins in a Fountain, and Where the Boys Are, to name just a few.

Fresh from her Oscar-nominated farm girl Selena Cross in 'Peyton Place,' Hope Lange goes to
 NYC as Caroline Bender.

They deserve the best of everything, but seem to get the worst!

The Best of Everything depicts, 1959-style, three young career women who set out to succeed in the Big Apple. The setting is sophisticated Fabian Publishing, but the girls’ goals are pure soap opera. Caroline (Hope Lange) is determined to become a book editor before she becomes a bride. April (Diane Baker) wants to work only to land a husband. Gregg’s (Suzy Parker) dream is to become a stage actress, but gets romantically blindsided. Warning signs of the rocky path ahead: Aging, hard-as-nails editor Amanda Farrow (Joan Crawford) and damaged goods divorced mother, Barbara (Martha Hyer).

Hope Lange, Suzy Parker, and Diane Baker as the "three girls" in the big city!

As with most ‘50s and early ‘60s movies, Hollywood tries to have it both ways: the girls seek to fulfill their ambitions and desires, as they titillate audiences. Then they suffer the consequences, courtesy of Hollywood’s censorship code. Sleeping with playboys will make you crazy or pregnant. Climbing the corporate ladder will only attract married jerks or criticism for not being a “real woman.”

Rona Jaffe was 25 when she wrote 'The Best of Everything.'

Despite promoting it as “In the outspoken tradition of Peyton Place,” like Wald’s most recent big-screen adaptation, The Best of Everything was “cleaned up” for the big screen. The most notable example was when April’s abortion was changed to a movie miscarriage, much like the screen version of Selena Cross in Peyton Place. However, hot young The Best of Everything writer Rona Jaffe insisted that realistic details of her “girls” personal and office lives be kept. Producer Jerry Wald, interested in depicting modern working women, listened.

The “movie-smart” dialogue in this movie has so many clinkers, I’m surprised that The Best of Everything hasn’t hit the camp status of Valley of the Dolls. When despicable Dexter is pressed by April whether he has gotten other girls pregnant, his gallant response is, “Not that I know of.” And when April wakes up in a hospital bed after losing the baby, she turns her head away: “I’m so ashamed…now I’m just somebody who’s had an affair!”

I know my various workplace cafeterias weren't this swanky, but then I wasn't working at
 'Fabian Publishing!'

For me, what makes The Best of Everything so watchable is to know that such stereotypes were once archetypes. Now, they are a snapshot of another era—but I know not all people feel that way. Movies like this are also a tribute to studio era filmmaking at its best. The lush score by Alfred Newman is intoxicating. William C. Mellor’s cinematography is stellar, particularly the NYC locales, capturing it in all its mid-century glory. Director Jean Negulesco was an old pro in utilizing Cinemascope and driving the “three girls” story, as director of How to Marry a Millionaire and Three Coins in a Fountain. The look of the film, from recreating Pocket Books’ offices for the fictional Fabian Publishing, to the various apartments of its characters, is Fab Fifties at its best. Technically, The Best of Everything really is the best. The reality that the makers were selling, even for its time, was fast becoming dated.

Lange is moving on up as the bright young thing in publishing.

There are two acting standouts in this movie. The first is Hope Lange, who gives the one natural performance in The Best of Everything. Lange is lovely but real, a strong presence. It's a shame Hope’s career didn’t take off beyond promising newcomer. However, Hope Lange’s star rose just as the studio system was waning, and a lot of promising newcomers ended up on television, rather than the big screen.

"I'll get the cards out on time, okay?!" Joan as bossy Amanda Farrow, hazing Hope Lange's
 Caroline on her first day at work!

The second is Joan Crawford, in full veteran star mode. Crawford makes her entrance as the dragon lady editor by opening her office door and announcing to Lange’s Caroline, “I’m Amanda Farrow,” in a manner akin to movie space aliens pronouncing their dominance over hapless earthlings. Crawford was well into the next phase of her career: Pepsi spokesperson. So the role of business pro Amanda Farrow was a perfect fit. Crawford plays a variation of the same role that Susan Hayward later immortalized in Valley of the Dolls, Broadway barracuda Helen Lawson—a role Joan expressed interest in! And like hard cookie Hayward, Crawford steals the movie with her withering delivery. Time has stood on Joan Crawford’s side: When The Best of Everything was first released, Joan’s name and image was at the bottom of the film’s posters. Now, on DVD covers, Joan is prominently displayed, despite the brevity of her role.

Joan was not in the best of spirits during filming. Photo by legendary Eve Arnold.

It's really a shame that Joan's part was later trimmed, because she was lured into the part with a showy drunk scene, depicting her lonely personal life. Crawford’s return to film wasn’t under the best of circumstances. Her hoped-for “happy ending” of a marriage to Pepsi executive Alfred Steele ended with Joan cast as a widow. Also, Crawford was short on cash. So, for the first time in 30 years, Joan Crawford took a secondary role. Imagine her mood on the set. There was a clash with co-star Lange over which actress a scene ended on. Joan no longer held sway over Jean Negulesco, who directed her a dozen years earlier in Humoresque, right after her Oscar win. The director, a well-known art collector and artist, also mocked Crawford in front of the cast, over her taste in art—those Keane paintings!

In contrast to Lange’s fresh take on a starlet role was Martha Hyer as Barbara, the slightly older, single mother. Hyer’s obsolete delivery only calls attention to her own sell-by date as a starlet. Despite her inexplicable best supporting actress Oscar nomination the prior year, for Some Came Running, her part was cut as much as co-star Crawford’s. While Hyer was at her short-lived peak and Crawford then considered passé, both got a trim job from a movie brimming with plot and characters.

Diane Baker is gullible April; Robert Evans is greasy Dexter.

Most of the characters are hilariously hopeless. Diane Baker, usually a good actress, is stuck with April, who is a total dip. The small town girl, apparently was dropped on her head as a baby, finds Mr. Perfect in Robert Evans as playboy Dexter. Evans, who looks like a greasy gigolo, is so repellent that he later found the perfect career, as a sleazy movie producer! April is so gullible that Dexter dupes her into getting dolled up for their “wedding” day, and instead takes her to an abortionist.

Suzy Parker starts off all breezy banter as “Gregg,” the aspiring actress whose day job is secretary. Then she goes all Fatal Attraction over Louis Jourdan, the womanizing director, David Wilder Savage—that name alone should have sounded off alarms. Jourdan, unlike Evans, was an established star, so he’s given the chance to look sadly repentant when Parker plunges from a fire escape, after spying on him.

Suzy Parker as Gregg & Louis Jourdan as the aptly named David Wilder Savage!

 Former Crawford leading man Brian Aherne is Mr. Shalimar, the “charming” old office letch. Every time I hear someone say his name, I think of that ‘80s one hit wonder singing Dancing in the Sheets—which is most appropriate for this movie. Despite his pinching and cornering the vulnerable office females, Shalimar always has a quip or quote to deflate his own sails.

Here's my take on the anti-Mildred Pierce, the notorious Mommie Dearest starring Faye Dunaway: https://ricksrealreel.blogspot.com/2021/09/the-making-aftermath-mommie-dearest-1981.html

The nicest guy in the movie is a self-hating office lush named Mike Rice, played by Stephen Boyd. He tries to warn Lange’s Caroline off the career track so she doesn’t end up bitter like Crawford’s Amanda. Ironic, since Rice is pretty cynical himself. Boyd’s attempt at hiding his Irish accent to play an American is right up there with Sean Connery’s Scottish brogue in Marnie. Like Sean, Stephen is such a fine specimen that he could speak Pig Latin for all I care.

A decade later, everything would become much tougher for certain young NYC gals!

The Best of Everything is a look at life in the Big Apple during the Mad Men era, filtered through the lens of studio era Hollywood. The Old Hollywood glamour and the glimpses of a new reality that shine through are fascinating, if not heartwarming reminders of the ‘50s era. 

Hitchcock’s 'Marnie': Misunderstood Masterpiece or Fascinating Failure?

Sean Connery and Tippi Hedren in Alfred Hitchcock's still-controversial 'Marnie.'

The making of Alfred Hitchcock’s Marnie has become as much a part of the 1964 movie’s legacy as the film itself. I will just review Marnie here. It’s key to keep the two separate, though the troubled production certainly informs the film. Revisionists have muddied the waters in elevating Marnie’s status by denigrating Hitchcock’s personal reputation, and not by judging the picture’s artistic merits.

Tippi Hedren & Sean Connery looking terrif as Marnie & Mark!

Marnie is fascinating to watch—I’ve seen it about a half dozen times in my life—where beautiful moments mix with absurd ones. Viewing Marnie as a story feels cold, and is probably why it underperformed at the box-office. Yet, it’s always intriguing to watch Hitchcock, even at his most uneven. The “What if?” scenarios in my mind bump up against “What the hell?” moments when I see Marnie. What Hitchcock excels at still works beautifully. What doesn’t is Hitchcock’s clinging to conventions that were dated even in ‘64. At Marnie’s worst moments, I feel as if I am watching Mel Brooks’ Hitchcock parody, High Anxiety.

Tippi Hedren as 'Marnie,' a frigid thief who meets her match...

The tale of a frigid thief on the fly is dark and more than a bit dicey. This subversive type of material always turned Hitchcock on. Yet, Marnie is dressed up with a lushly romantic score, gorgeous photography, and lavish Edith Head clothes and elaborate Alexandre of Paris hairstyles for Tippi Hedren. Even Sean Connery is high style in his suits, toupee, and waxed eyebrows! But the story and the presentation feel at odds with each other—and not in way worthy of the Master of Suspense. Is Hitchcock trying to dish this up as traditional romantic suspense movie? Or is the seamy story his way of pumping new blood into a genre he helped create decades ago?

Hitchcock seems to have had a love-hate attitude toward actors. He was self-conscious around beautiful actresses and actors. Yet, he was highly aware that he needed them to ensure his films’ financial backing and box-office success. Later, with the erosion of the studio system, Hitch became frustrated with actors who now had the audacity to make financial and family demands, or worse, have artistic ideas of their own.

Grace Kelly, circa early '60s.

Grace Kelly and Cary Grant were two of Hitchcock’s favorite actors. By the time Marnie came up, Hitch had been deeply disappointed by actors a in the last seven years or so. Hitch’s first protégé, Vera Miles, kept getting pregnant. Audrey Hepburn, poised to be the first ideal Hitchcock brunette, dropped out of a proposed film because of script issues and then, pregnancy. Then there was Grace Kelly, now Her Serene Highness of Monaco. Grace was eager to return to the screen. Several things prevented Princess Grace’s comeback: Marnie’s script was considered distasteful; Prince Rainier had big policy problems in tiny Monaco; and Grace had retired from MGM—if she returned, she would have to honor her old contract. So, she re-retired.

Tippi Hedren, toiling away on The Birds, was chosen as Marnie. Cary Grant was now too old to play Marnie’s husband, Mark. But in choosing young Sean Connery, then known for two James Bond films, Hitch was obviously trying to recreate his most famous Hitchcock blonde and brunette in Hedren and Connery.

Tippi Hedren as compulsive thief Marnie...and about as warm as that safe!

The stars are the first big problem with Marnie. Though they each have their moments, Hedren and Connery are flat through most of this film. The recent revisionism of Marnie claims that Tippi was unfairly compared to past leading ladies of Hitch. My thought is: What Hitchcock blonde hasn’t been compared to previous ones? Another revisionist rationalization is that Hedren’s inexperience actually works for Marnie, which I agree with—to a point. It’s also been said that Tippi and Sean only seem wooden because they were judged by the over-emoting styles in vogue back then. Well, Grace Kelly and Cary Grant weren’t known for over-acting, but they did have charisma, charm, and confidence in front of a movie camera.  I would not describe Tippi and Sean with any of those terms in this film. Their acting is like bad acting from the golden era: they are stiff and artificial movie mannequins. Watching it twice recently, I’d say that Connery comes off worse than Tippi, partly because his character is downright inexplicable.

Scottish Sean Connery as an Philadelphia old-money millionaire, with an eye on Marnie.
And we got our eyes on him!

Tippi Hedren certainly looked like the epitome of a Hitchcock blonde, but she lacked the softer, perfect looks of Grace Kelly, and had little underlying warmth. Hedren is adequate in the early scenes, with Marnie pretending to be a secretary or a happy wife. Tippi’s detached air works—but I don’t think it was intentional—it was likely the best Hitch could get from Hedren.

Tippi Hedren as Marnie, trying very hard to remember what happened suddenly last...oh, wait, that's another movie!

The scenes where Tippi is supposed to crack and emote are cause for eye rolling. Hedren’s voice, when pushed, sounds nasal and metallic, and her line readings limp. The climactic scene, where Tippi recalls her haunted past, is reminiscent of Elizabeth Taylor’s in Suddenly, Last Summer. Taylor, not a well-reviewed actress in her time, and often criticized for her voice, yet she gives Tennessee Williams’ tongue-tying monologue emotional depth and variety. The difference is Taylor started acting at age 10, whereas Hedren had zero acting experience when she started just two years prior at 32. Typically, Hollywood gave promising actresses the build up when they were in their late teens or early 20s. By the time they were Tippi Hedren’s age, actresses like Taylor, Audrey Hepburn, Sophia Loren, or Marilyn Monroe, were at the height of their careers—not just starting out.

There was a cool new blonde in town that made Hedren look even colder-Deneuve!

The other big problem when Marnie was released was this: the Hitchcock blonde, along with many other Hitchcock conventions, had quickly become passé. The only star at this point with a cool, classic blonde image was French actress Catherine Deneuve, who once said she’d liked to have played Marnie. Instead, she went ahead of the curve with Hitchcock’s heir apparent, in Roman Polanski’s Repulsion, and Luis Bunuel’s Belle du Jour—which ironically have themes Hitch admired.

Two years later, this was what a sexy suspense film looked like!

 Vanessa Redgrave was the cool new reddish-blonde mystery woman in Blow-Up, two years after Marnie. Instead of dated “daring” dialogue and two perfect Hollywood specimens posturing, Blow-Up offered audiences two androgynous actors who matter-of-factly undress and copulate in exchange for incriminating information. A far cry from Marnie or To Catch a Thief, but surprisingly, Hitchcock screened Blow-Up and loved it!

Hey Hedren, Crawford called and wants her wig back for 'Strait-Jacket 2!'

With Marnie, Hitchcock wants to shock and awe with the tawdry story of a frigid klepto who perversely turns on a rich guy, who wants to possess her—but then presents it in the most obvious, old-fashioned way. This also happened to director Billy Wilder and his sexy comedies. Wilder often took risqué material like The Seven Year Itch or The Apartment and put it over with edgy but tempered by an appealing, charismatic cast. Wilder also hit a wall in 1964, with Kiss Me, Stupid, which has a tasteless plot, smutty dialogue, and sitcom star Ray Walston feebly filling in for Jack Lemmon and catatonic Kim Novak playing a role meant for Marilyn Monroe. Of course, some film fans now say Kiss Me, Stupid is a misunderstood masterpiece. If enough time goes by, Showgirls will be considered a masterwork.

Since his huge American hit Rebecca in 1940, Hitch refined his skills, gathered a great technical team, and was considered an iconic filmmaker by the end of the 1950s. To audiences, Hitchcock started off well enough at the dawn of the ‘60s. Psycho and The Birds were huge hits with Hitch’s fans, if not all critics. Then came Marnie, Hitchcock’s lowest-grossing movie since its thematic bookend, 1958’s Vertigo. And the reviews were as cold as Marnie.

"Is Hitch ever going to let us out of this mock car and rear projection hell?"

Despite Hitchcock’s crew gently urging him to jettison geriatric conventions like phony painted backdrops and over-reliance on rear projection. Watching this movie twice in a row, I realized how much time Hedren and Connery spend in a car—at one point, they stop at a Howard Johnson’s—to break up the monotony or expository dialogue? I half expected them to run into Mad Men’s Don Draper!

Is Tippi Hedren seeing red over the script of 'Marnie?'

Hitchcock apparently couldn’t be dissuaded from using heavy-handed effects in which to hit audiences over the head—like the red light special filter whenever Marnie literally sees red! Or the zoom lens, in and out, whenever Marnie is under great stress. What’s it all about, Alfie? We get it, we get it—it’s SIGNIFICANT!

Marnie, the master of disguise, sports wigs and/or dye jobs, the worst of which is a jet-black number perhaps borrowed from Diane Baker’s Strait Jacket co-star, Joan Crawford.

There’s a scene with prim secretary Hedren working overtime, taking dictation from dashing boss Sean, when a storm comes out of nowhere. Marnie’s freaking out, and it all climaxes with a tree crashing through the office window, and ends with a romantic kiss in extreme close-up—one of the creepiest love scenes I’ve ever seen.

This is a rape scene in 1964.

This is the reaction to a rape in 1964.

The later rape scene comes out of nowhere and makes no sense at all, but Hitchcock wanted the voyeuristic value, and later fired screenwriter Evan Hunter, when he objected. Finally, the climactic scene between Marnie and her mother is painstakingly shot, but is undercut by Hedren’s amateurish acting. Morally, this is one of those movies that has one foot stuck in the ‘50s and the other in the ‘60s, and suffers accordingly. If Marnie had been filmed in 1966 or later, after the end of Hollywood’s censorship code, it would have been a whole different story.

Yet, there’s much that works wonderfully. The Bernard Herrmann score, which Universal and Hitchcock criticized, gives Marnie much-needed warmth. His score is one of the best things about Marnie. The movie’s shots are incredibly detailed and imaginatively staged. The cinematography by Robert Burks is stunning—even that strange office kiss is technically a wow.

Diane Baker as Lil, in one of those wonderfully framed Hitchcock shots.

Strong supporting casts are often the saving grace of bad movies. In Marnie, Diane Baker is tartly appealing as the jealous young sister in law. Louise Latham, slathered in old age makeup, but only eight years older than Hedren, is cast as Marnie’s mother. Though they live in Baltimore, Hedren’s cultured diction slips to a southern dialect when stressed, and Latham sounds like Carol Burnett in her TV show’s “Mama & Eunice” skits. Still, Latham gives the uptight, religious Berniece empathy, especially as she reveals long-held secrets about herself and Marnie.

The ridiculously phony backdrops of 'Marnie' did not help stave off rumors that
Hitchcock was past his prime.

Director Douglas Sirk added subversive and stylish elements to the studio soaps he made at Universal in the 1950s. As a view, you respond to that undercurrent of emotion, while suspending disbelief that what you’re watching is artificial and from another era. In the cutthroat ‘60s, this isn’t what Universal or Hitchcock was aiming for. That’s why the “pure cinema” or “expressionistic” rationale that Hitchcock historian Robin Wood pompously cites doesn’t wash. Hitchcock deliberately made Psycho four years earlier to prove he could do a down and dirty modern thriller, after being criticized for his elaborate, expensive suspense films.

Louise Latham as Marnie's cold mother; she was only 8 years older than Hedren.

Frankly, even his masterwork Vertigo has similar elements of questionable taste, but it is helped enormously by Stewart’s stellar performance and Novak, who is perfectly cast as the insecure object of obsession. But Hitchcock attempts to revisit similar material six years later and the ‘60s were a changin’. Hitch’s brand of sex and suspense, performed in Marnie like an upscale Ross Hunter movie, looked very dated—and still does.

The Hitchcock style still could be successful, like Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn in 1963’s Charade—seeing these stars cast elsewhere must have made Hitch’s blood boil! Or Gregory Peck and Diane Baker in ‘65’s Mirage or Peck and Sophia Loren in Arabesque in ’66. These faux-Hitchcock films succeeded where his started to fail because they were escapist films, without Hitch’s heavy-handed psychology and perverse plot points.

One of those crazy zoom shots in 'Marnie' that is fraught with meaning!

Hitchcock historians did some heavy lifting in trying to justify the dated and artificial aspects of Marnie after its release. But now, certain writers and film buffs have concocted the theory that when Tippi Hedren rejected Alfred Hitchcock, he just gave up on Marnie. It makes a great Hollywood story, especially to hang an essay or a book deal on. I think there’s a much simpler reason: Hitch was set in his ways, at a time when movie-making was swiftly changing, and he fell behind the times. This happened with nearly all of the directors of his generation: Billy Wilder, John Ford, George Stevens, George Cukor, Vincente Minnelli, to name but an illustrious few.

FYI: I put all the movie overflow on my public FB  movie page. 

Check it out & join!  https://www.facebook.com/groups/178488909366865/

To me, there is much to enjoy in Marnie, but the film is no Hitchcock masterpiece. Yet, sometimes, flawed films say much more about their creators or an era than a classic.

Enjoy the awesome and absurd mashup that make 1964's Alfred Hitchcock camp classic 'Marnie' so much fun.