Hitchcock's Rear Window

Jeff’s broken bones leave him stranded in his apartment, perched at his rear window leading a voyeuristic existence with nothing but his binoculars and his own imagination, while those who visit him are tugged into his discoveries that eventually become obsessions. Jeffries observes all of his neighbors change, and while he watches so to does his own life take on a transformation. The narrative of those living at Jeff’s rear window matters just as much to the plot as what goes on inside his own apartment. The people through whom Jeff vicariously lives act as stopwatches or time tables of sorts- We’re given a sense of how the film is developing, of how much time is passing, of how Jeff’s own relationship is shifting. The goings on of Jeff’s neighbors represent the amalgam of where Jeff and Lisa can go and how they can turn out, and while Jeff is confined to his apartment, we sometimes get a sense of what the two of them could be doing, a more exciting life they could be living.

Miss Lonelyhearts’ enactment of romantic evenings over wine and dinner can represent an extreme of how Lisa might feel about the fact that Jeff doesn’t often reciprocate warm feelings and affection. Miss Lonelyheart is hopeless and alone, and her own imagination comforts her as she fantasizes about having some company. Likewise, Lisa probably feels hopeless that Jeff is not as loving and sometimes seems oblivious to her messages. On a lonely night after a disappointing visit to Jeff’s, Lisa may possibly just as well succumb to her own imagination and role play a little at what a romantic evening she wants to have or should be sharing with Jeffries. One can't sense, however, that Lisa’s frustration could reach the point of suicide as does Miss Lonelyheart’s.

Across from Jeff’s window lives Miss Torso, the dancer who lacks a proper leotard. She is quite social, but her activities usually involve only the company of men. Lisa too seems socially active. Someone with her sensibility and style would almost have to be. But again, these two women might share a certain lacking emotionally in that, though they surround themselves at parties or get-togethers, there doesn’t seem to be stability. Lisa especially is searching and prying at Jeff to realize what she’s after or to see what they have together. After an especially frustrating visit, Lisa hints at not returning for a while. Jeff asks when he’ll see her again, and she caves. Maybe tomorrow, she admits. There is resolve in the end in that Jeff and Lisa finally find romantic commonality, and so does Miss Torso, rather humorously.

The life of the newlywed man might represent what Jeffries, along with most men, both desire and fear. The shades are drawn for nearly the film’s entirety, and when the man finally peers his head out the window, his wife nags him and the completely spent look on his face is priceless. Jeff is reluctant to be tied down, but does at last see past this momentary frustration and downside of being a couple. He becomes more responsive to Lisa, but then again a man with two broken legs can’t really go anywhere.

Always Be Closing

Mamet, on accusations of being a misogynist, in 1997: "It's inaccurate and it's a lie, and not only is it that, but it's cowardly. [N]othing could be further from the truth, either in my personal life, if it's anyone's business, or in my work. I think if someone wants to make such an unpleasant and demonstrably false assertion, let him or her make it, and I'll respond with whatever small courtesy it deserves" (The Boston Globe, 1997).

I do feel that Mamet’s choice in an all male cast drives home the message that women, despite being trashed behind their backs and downplayed by an all male cast, rather harshly, are, in fact, to be admired strangely enough.
In my eyes, the women mentioned in Mamet’s play are depicted as both rational (Mrs. Lingke gets her husband to detract from a bs purchase) and also human and vulnerable (Levene’s daughter is in the hospital). In their absence, Mamet’s women earn their rank in being a man’s better half. Mamet also chooses to deliberately exclude women from his play to help fill out its macho, chest-pounding and highly competitive atmosphere. Would an all female real estate office breed this “eat or be eaten” aggression? It might. I doubt a woman’s motive differs from a man’s when earning a pretty penny is at stake. I will, however, hypothesize that four women might be more cunning and less obvious. I’m sure the one-up-manship would involve a lot more tact, something other than bragging about a sale or calling a rival the C word. Either C word. Perhaps if a woman were in the sales office, my notion of her sort of upstanding image might fly out the window. In the spring of 2009, director Gary Krinke of STAGEStheatre took this approach straight to the stage in casting women for the four main roles:

http://www.ocweekly.com/2009-05-21/culture/glengarry-glen-ross-stagestheatre/

Having casted a female, Mamet could have done a number of things. Perhaps Levene might have had a scene displaying his emotional, fatherly side at a hospital visit. Perhaps Lingke’s wife might have shown up in the office with James, and we would really get to see Roma’s chops (and manipulation) as a salesman. But in keeping the women of the play in the background, Mamet keeps their integrity intact. But I would really like to have seen Alec Baldwin’s speech be delivered by someone like Judge Judy, but I’m not sure how the brass balls thing would hold any water in that scenario.