What does it mean to be the “Master of Suspense?” I’ll give you my take – it means I can watch this particular film for the fifth time and still cringe at the possibility of Eva Marie Saint falling off Mt. Rushmore. That is the Alfred Hitchcock legacy.
North by Northwest has been a recognized classic for over sixty years. Entire books have been written about the film, hence I doubt very seriously whether I will hit on any new insight here, but I’ll go through the motions anyway, cuz I like talking about four star films. Suffice to say, if you don’t know North by Northwest, you should.
Now, I’m not sure I ever noticed the plot of North by Northwest. No previous viewing had ever encouraged me to notice whether or not the story made any sense. I mean here’s a film with an exposed city slicker being hunted by a crop duster with a machine gun; at that point, do you really care why the guy is there in the first place?
Ah, but North by Northwest is a classic mystery of sorts. Roger Thornhill (Cary Grant) is a Manhattan ad executive who enjoys the trappings of being a Manhattan ad executive in the 1950s: secretaries, stenographers, schmoozing, three martini lunches, and taking a cab for any trip longer than 50 feet. While meeting with Schmoozies, he tracks down the bell boy and is mistaken for “George Kaplan” (the bell boy’s intended target). This sets off an ugly chain of events.
First, thugs strongarm Thornhill and deliver him to the estate of Lester Townshend, currently occupied by James Mason and some goons who all want answers. Thornhill is belligerent because he can’t play ball even if he wanted to, so the goons liquor him up and leave him to drive himself off a cliff. Gotta say that navigating a cliffside route at escape velocity while under the influence is something I would imagine could only be done by Grant contemporary Dean Martin.
Next thing you know, there is an entire network of bodies and gaslighting and nobody seems to have Thornhill’s back, which makes him desperate to understand what’s going on … and the trail leads North by Northwest. Well, it leads west, but North by Northwest is a much better title. And along the way, Thornhill acquires the enigmatic Eve Kendall (Saint). If you can find more alluring train companions than Cary Grant 
and Eva Marie Saint, well, good luck. FWIW, at the time of filming, Grant was 54, twenty years older than Saint, who is playing several years younger than her age.
Do we care about the age discrepancy? I don’t think so, even under current sensibilities. I think we approach this by saying: look at the role she’s playing. She’s a big girl. Nobody is taking advantage of her. I felt a little iffy about James Stewart going gaga over Kim Novak with Barbara Bel Geddes just sitting there in Vertigo, but there is no reasonable equivalent in North by Northwest.
What strikes me most after this viewing of North by Northwest is how other action films fail. I saw one last week, Ghosted, which had at least two action scenes which were far more involved than anything in North by Northwest. The Ghosted climax takes place in one of those revolving restaurant towers with a mechanism out of control and a doomsday device armed and ready. That’s exciting, right? Like a gunfight on a carnival ride. Of course it was, and yet at the same time, I’d choose cropduster/exposed Thornhill ten times out of ten. North by Northwest is a masterpiece. I guess I’d fault it slightly on the count of the dated technology in the drunk car chase scene, but such is a very minor quibble. North by Northwest was enjoyable then, is enjoyable now, and will be enjoyable one hundred years from now. The same cannot be said of 99.9% of film, including Ghosted.
An ad exec from the city
Was hunted by lethal committee
He ran into a Saint
With looks far-from-faint
Mortal peril has never been so pretty
Rated “Approved”, 136 Minutes
Director: Alfred Hitchcock
Writer: Ernest Lehman
Genre: Films we can all agree rocked!
Type of being most likely to enjoy this film: Fans of classic film
Type of being least likely to enjoy this film: You, sir, have no taste. None.
