Dial M for Murder (1954)

dir Alfred Hitchcock

Someone recently told me that she likes to watch Hitchcock films around the holidays. I have to admit that Dial M was appropriately festive, if not for any other reason than that Ms. Grace Kelly looks absolutely stunning in that Santa-red dress.

Ah, yes, Fred Hitchcock’s wonderful take on a game of Rock Paper Scissors. Phone! Stocking! Scissors! Okay so let’s see if we can get this straight: stocking beats phone, scissors beats stocking, phone beats scissors?

Something like that.

I really love the way Hitchcock adapts plays to film. He maintains the elements that make it feel like a stage play: the movements, the focus, the scene changes. The sentencing sequence is especially theatrical. God, this story is uniquely hellish. You just feel so awful for Grace Kelly the whole time she’s stuck in this bad dream. Get that poor girl out of there!

Hitchcock himself said, “blondes make the best victims. They're like virgin snow that shows up the bloody footprints.” What a gross man. And yet, Kelly really does look stunning in her sadness. All shadowy cheekbones and sloping brows. A beautiful tragedy.

There really isn’t a real reason for an intermission here… the film is only 1h45m after all. But I feel spoiled and sexy to have the opportunity, so I got up and peed just for sport.

This has one of the best endings of all time. A delicious blend of satisfaction and hilarity. When the plan unravels, the perp gets caught and goes straight for the bottle. Meanwhile our lead investigator whips out the biggest comb I’ve ever seen and starts brushing his mustache. Positively cheeky! Perhaps if I solved a murder I would do the same.

But if there’s any lesson we can learn from this, it’s that when choosing to have an affair, seek a partner who is an avid lover of detective fiction. Say it with me, class: CRIME FICTION SAVES THE DAY.