Hitchcock's bizarre love triangle

Gothic melodramas and romantic thrillers featuring new or prospective brides in danger reigned supreme in the 1940s. For proof, consider the popularity of films like Rebecca (1940), Suspicion (1941), Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1941), Jane Eyre (1943), Gaslight (1944), The Spiral Staircase (1945), Secret Beyond the Door (1947), and Sleep, My Love (1948). But the crown jewel in this cycle was Alfred Hitchcock’s Notorious (1946), which could be his greatest picture of the 1940s and the director’s finest work up to this point in his career.

The rock-solid setup? The American daughter of a convicted Nazi spy (Ingrid Bergman) is recruited by a government agent (Cary Grant) to infiltrate a group of German exiles in Rio de Janeiro. Tensions rise as she finds herself trapped in a dangerous love triangle, forced to marry a high-ranking Nazi target (Claude Rains) while the agent she truly loves watches from the shadows.

To listen to a recording of our CineVerse group discussion of Notorious, conducted last week, click here (if you encounter an error, simply try refreshing the page). To hear the latest Cineversary podcast episode celebrating Notorious’ 80th anniversary, click here.

This is a perfectly cast movie, and possibly the most perfectly cast Hitchcock film. You don’t get any bigger in 1946 than Grant and Bergman as your leads, and this is the first Hitchcock movie with two Hollywood A-listers. And what a coup to have in the third position the consistently excellent Rains (who was actually several inches shorter than Bergman), Leopoldine Konstantin as perhaps Hitchcock’s most memorable mother figure, and the always sturdy Louis Calhern as the spy chief.

There’s not an ounce of fat on this film— not one superfluous scene or unnecessary character. It’s a testament to the masterfully constructed screenplay co-written by one of the greatest scribes of this period: Ben Hecht. The way Hecht and Hitchcock conclude the picture is particularly impressive in its efficiency, restraint, and craftsmanship, with the final 10 minutes playing like a perfectly synchronized Swiss watch and ending without any of the gunplay, deaths, or chases that viewers expect. This could be the most expertly structured and satisfying ending to any film by the Master of Suspense.

The film also benefits from having the fingerprints of other major Hollywood talents all over the celluloid, including producer David O. Selznick, who helped develop Notorious but bowed out and sold the project to RKO; the legendary Edith Head in charge of costumes; and cinematographer Ted Tetzlaff and art director Caroll Clark, both Oscar-nominated in their careers.

Additionally, Notorious shines as a showcase for some of the director’s most bravura visual flourishes. Cases in point: the famous elevated crane shot that swoops us down to a close-up of a key held in Bergman’s hand, all the while maintaining camera focus; Devlin standing in the doorway in a canted point of view shot while Lisa wakes from a hangover; the extended makeout sequence between Grant and Bergman that lasts nearly three minutes; the wine cellar discovery moment, where tight spatial framing and expert cutting height the tension and claustrophobia; the tainted coffee segment, which uses carefully aligned POV shots, rhythmic cutting, and exact performance timing to transform a mundane gesture into an experience of mounting dread; Lisa’s poison-induced hallucination and various shots where clever lighting, blocking, and pacing underscore Alicia’s gradual physical decline; and the fantastic rescue finale that employs masterful cross-cutting and a gliding camera down the staircase.

Hitchcock set the bar high for sexy smooching in the 1940s. In the famous kissing scene between Devlin and Alicia, which begins on her balcony and continues inside her apartment while Devlin makes a phone call, nearly three minutes of slightly interrupted snogging ensue. This is believed to be the longest extended kissing scene of its kind up to that time. The Hays Code forced filmmakers to limit each on-screen kiss to three seconds or less, but Hitchcock got around this rule by having Alicia and Devlin lock lips for brief moments, disengage, then reengage continually, talking in between about having dinner in sexually coded language. Their first kiss during the sequence actually lasts four seconds, which breaks the three-second rule.

Amazingly, the filmmakers prove that you can create a sympathetic Nazi villain just months after the end of World War II. We arguably feel warmer toward Alexander than Devlin for most of the picture; the former truly adores Alicia, while the latter is caustic and cold to her for the majority of the runtime. And yet another sympathetic Nazi is Emil, a pitiable bumbler who gets rubbed out quite early in the story.

This picture's got one of the most malevolent matriarchs ever to grace the screen: Alexander's mom, played with icy aplomb by Konstantin, the quintessential mother-in-law from hell. This character, along with Mrs. Vale in Now, Voyager from 1942, is one of the earliest examples of a villainous mother role in a non-horror, non-animated Hollywood feature film. The anomalous relationship between Sebastian and his mother paved the path for future aberrant mother-son pairings in later Hitchcock films, including Strangers on a Train (1951), North by Northwest (1959), Psycho (1960), The Birds (1963), and Marnie (1964), and in movies by other directors, such as The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (1946), White Heat (1949), Sudden Fear (1952), and The Manchurian Candidate (1962).

The influence of this film doesn’t stop there. Many believe Notorious, along with its direct Hitchcock descendant North by Northwest, helped shape contemporary spy movies, particularly the James Bond films that began in the early 1960s.

Interestingly, Notorious was remade in Germany as White Poison (1951). And Mission: Impossible 2 (2000) has been called a loose remake of Notorious; both movies concern a romantic triangle in which an agent falls in love with a woman he must send to bed with the villain.

Many consider this Hitchcock’s first truly realized love story, one that’s less a spy film than a gripping story about relationships and a convoluted romantic triangle. “He takes all the elements of a typical romance and turns them upside down. The romance isn’t a romance until the end,” said Hitchcock biographer Donald Spoto in an interview for the Criterion Collection. “Notorious is also the first Hitchcock film whose every shot is not only filled with meaning, but also beautiful,” wrote Criterion Collection essayist William Rothman. “Hitchcock seems to be in love with the world he is creating. Shot after shot simply takes our breath away. For the first time in a Hitchcock film, the camera achieves a lush romanticism equal to its wit, elegance, and theatricality – as it will be in his greatest later films.”

This was the director’s first opportunity to be his own producer; still under contract to Selznick at the time, he was temporarily freed from this servitude when Selznick sold the project to RKO, and his creativity seems to benefit.

Consider how Sir Alfred cleverly shifts occasionally between objective and subjective camera throughout the movie so that we share Alicia’s eyes and better identify with her. Recall how, when Alicia suffers a hangover in bed, we view Devlin upside down, from her vantage point. And when she’s being poisoned, we see fuzzy and distorted framings. The perspectives of other characters are occasionally shown, as well, such as the unnamed reporter peeking into the courtroom at the beginning of the film, Sebastian watching Alicia with Devlin, and Devlin surveying Alicia with Sebastian.

As is true in so many of Hitchcock’s works, the key to effective suspense and intrigue in Notorious is that he provides the viewer with more information than the main protagonist (Alicia), which increases our concern for her well-being as well as the intelligence mission she has accepted. We are shown privileged scenes in which Alicia is necessarily absent, such as private meetings between Devlin and his superiors, Sebastian and his fellow Nazis, and Sebastian and his mother, where crucial details are shared – most importantly, Sebastian’s realization of her true identity and his plan to slowly kill her.

Ponder, as well, how Hitchcock uses music or the absence of it in this film. Near the ending, from the moment Devlin reaches Alicia’s bed until they begin to leave the room, three-and-a-half tense music-less minutes elapse. Earlier, instead of queuing up a knot-tightening score when Devlin and Alicia are in the wine cellar, diegetic Brazilian music played by the band upstairs is heard. And during the extended kissing scene, we only hear faraway diegetic music that fades out.

The director’s approach in Notorious interestingly deviates from many of his other films. First, quite uncharacteristically for Hitchcock, he and Hecht revamped the screenplay during filming, often completing pages the night before cameras rolled. Second, he broke his own rule of disallowing actor input and improvisation. The director took advice from Bergman on how to shoot a particular sequence differently – specifically, the dinner scene where she observes Emil concerned about the wine bottles – an extremely rare occurrence for an ultra-controlling figure known for carefully planning every facet of filmmaking before shooting. And he encouraged ad-libbing by Grant and Bergman during the extended kissing sequence.

Third, Bergman and her Alicia character are distinguished from other classic Hitchcock leading ladies. She’s a brunette who’s been around the block, not a seemingly unattainable icy blonde. “She eschews the patrician iciness of Grace Kelly, the painful yearning of Joan Fontaine, and the gleaming eroticism of Kim Novak,” Rothman continued. “These women can be wanting, cutting, lovely, and even mired in obsessions of their own. But Alicia’s supple vulnerability and mature sexiness are singular.” Also, consider that the paradigm here is the rescuing of a brunette by a “right man”, instead of the classic Hitchcock pattern of a blonde rescued by or partnered with a “wrong man” on the run, as evidenced in The 39 Steps (1935), Saboteur (1942), To Catch a Thief (1955), and North by Northwest (1959).

Fourth, this is the first instance of a Hitchcock espionage/spy thriller wherein there is no deadly physical violence – no assassinations, shootings, stabbings, or bombings. In fact, there are zero on-screen deaths in this story.

The MacGuffin in this picture is particularly noteworthy. Here, it’s the uranium ore bottled up in Sebastian’s wine cellar. Ponder that during preproduction, no one involved knew that uranium would be a key ingredient in the creation of the atomic bomb. Fascinatingly, Hitchcock insisted he was tailed by the FBI for months after discussing uranium with his collaborators prior to filming.

Notorious’ central thesis is trust and betrayal. Devlin betrays Alicia emotionally, Alicia betrays Devlin romantically, Alicia betrays Alexander personally and professionally, and Sebastian betrays Alicia mortally, with each relationship complicating the next. Several other prominent themes explored include:

• Playacting and the masking of identities. Notorious is concerned with pretending to be something or someone you’re not. Alicia feigns love and affection for Sebastian, Devlin and Alicia disguise their love for each other as animosity, and Sebastian and his mother keep up appearances to avoid the suspicion of their fellow Nazis. Every major character plays a role, whether it’s lover, spouse, patriot, or loyal soldier. Identity in Notorious is fluid and strategic, particularly for Alicia, whose survival relies on convincing performances.
• The price of personal sacrifice. Alicia accepts the undercover assignment out of patriotic duty, but consequently sacrifices her relationship with Devlin and subjects herself to reputational degradation.
• Love as collateral damage. Devlin and Alicia secretly love one another, yet deliberately hurt each other, suggesting that we often wound those we most deeply care for.
• Paternal vs. maternal control. The story centers on a woman who is willing to have her identity transformed to satisfy the demands of a manipulative male authority, a theme Hitchcock would revisit more obsessively in Vertigo. But the film also depicts how Sebastian defers to his mother’s infantilizing authority.
• The damsel in distress. Notorious invokes a dark fairytale vibe, with Alicia cast as a cunning princess captured by a shadowy knight and an evil stepmother, imprisoned in a figurative tower, and in need of rescue by a brave prince.

Visually and symbolically, Notorious also relies on recurring patterns and motifs, most importantly surveillance (characters are constantly spying on or suspiciously watching other characters), keys (minor objects that command major attention; whoever possesses the keys in Sebastian’s house garners power and knowledge), and the consumption of dangerous liquids (whether poison or alcohol, used to inflict harm or escape an unbearable reality). And then there’s that imposing staircase, which serves as the architectural centerpiece of the film, representing the nexus between the private (upstairs) and the public (downstairs). Alicia ascending the staircase results in risk and danger; descending provides a means of escape and control. Consider that two of the most important shots in the film have the camera perched at the top of the staircase – the famous crane shot that forward tracks to Alicia’s hand, and the moment when Alicia collapses and is taken upstairs by Sebastian and his men – suggesting perhaps that even the staircase has a POV and is, therefore, a spying character unto itself in a story filled with watchers.

Additionally, Notorious features symbolic images or ideas that are mirrored/repeated. For example, the film opens with a doomed figure being judged (Alicia’s father, with his back to the viewer) and ends with a different doomed figure being judged (Sebastian, also with his back to us); we see the back of Devlin’s head when he makes his first appearance, and in a later scene in the main office he also faces away from the camera; we observe partygoers passed out from inebriation (alcohol poisoning) and later Alicia fainting (poisoned coffee); there are two “love tests” she is subjected to: one by Devlin, the other by Sebastian when he proposes marriage; and there are two rescues of Alicia by Devlin, the first occurring when Devlin convinces the patrol officer to overlook her intoxicated driving.

This film’s greatest gift is that it ultimately works as a powerful love story without conforming to romance movie conventions or clichés. Yes, it’s a tense thriller. Yes, it’s a spy film. But at its heart, it’s a narrative about romantic redemption and reconciliation in which most of the runtime is focused on the absence of ardor and the animosity between Devlin and Alicia. Ruminate on their separate motivations in their roles as spies and how these motivations add delicious complexity to the love story as well as to the characterizations by Grant and Bergman: Devlin’s jealousy and resentment cause him to be frosty and cutting to Alicia, which makes her more easily gravitate toward Alexander and flourish in her role as an undercover agent. The irony here is that, deep down, he doesn’t want her to sleep with Sebastian, but by emotionally pushing her away and maligning her name, she embraces this call of duty and rubs her intimacy with the enemy in Devlin’s face. However, when Alicia stops showing up for their emotional sabotage sessions, that absence triggers concern, which reignites his suppressed love. Devlin arrives in the nick of time to save her, but equally important is that he confesses his jealousy and unwavering love, which gives the weakened Alicia the strength she needs to escape.

It’s the supreme payoff for the bulk of the narrative – 75 minutes – when love takes a backseat and duty, envy, mistrust, and bitterness grab the wheel. National security interests, defeating the Nazis, and reputation buffing may appear to be in the foreground, but they’re really the background to what is essentially a relationship story. Notorious demonstrates that the master of suspense can stir the heart as deftly as he can quicken it, and it endures as his finest romantic endeavor.

Notorious has received enduring recognition over the decades. At the 19th Academy Awards, Claude Rains earned a nomination for Best Supporting Actor, while Ben Hecht was nominated for Original Screenplay; his script was later named one of the Writers Guild of America’s 101 greatest screenplays in 2005. Additionally, in 2006, the Library of Congress selected the film for the National Film Registry for its cultural, historical, and aesthetic significance.

Meanwhile, Roger Ebert named it his favorite Hitchcock work and included it among his ten greatest films of all time. It placed No. 66 on Entertainment Weekly’s greatest films list and No. 77 on The Village Voice’s Top 250 Films of the Century. The American Film Institute ranked it No. 38 on its 100 Years…100 Thrills list and No. 86 on its 100 Years…100 Passions list. Time included it in its All-Time 100 Movies roundup, Cahiers du cinéma placed it no. 38 in 2008, the BBC named it 68th among the greatest American films in 2015, and Time Out ranked it No. 34 among the greatest thrillers in 2022. That same year, the BBC Sight and Sound poll of critics had Notorious slotted at no. 133 out of 250.