In the last two months I have heard more mentions of the Alfred Hitchcock classic Rear Window than I can ever recall. It first popped up in a book I was reading about film called Talking Pictures by Ann Hornaday. Hornaday used the film as an example in numerous chapters, especially cinematography and set design. Rear Window was also a clear inspiration for the Academy Award winning short film titled The Neighbors’ Window. With the modern take still in my mind, and Horanday’s glowing praise still top of mind, I figured I should sit down and watch Rear Window for the first time.
Simply, Rear Window is fantastic. Its simple premise meanders down hallways whose doors occasionally reveal a clue, other times a Technicolor red herring. For a film with a claustrophobic focus — one city courtyard through one man’s window, often through a camera lens or binoculars — to feel so wide open is impressive. Nearly seventy years later, Rear Window is timeless and appropriate for our time. (One question did linger as I watched: why didn’t Jefferies, a photographer, take any photos of the unfolding cover-up?)
There is one key difference between Rear Window and The Neighbors’ Window that alters how you absorb the story. In Rear Window, you can hear the neighbors — their voices, their music, their pets — which makes them feel more intimate and connected to you as the viewer. In The Neighbors’ Window, you only see the neighbors across the way, we never hear them. Without that aural connection, the viewer feels more voyeur than neighbor. As I watched Rear Window, I thought that that difference between the two films cleverly spoke to a generational difference in how we now interact with our neighbors. I live in a condo development that features a few common areas but I very rarely use them to interact with neighbors. Instead, my wife and I are content to entertain ourselves inside and only share passing pleasantries with our neighbors. Ironically, much of that time we spend inside keeping to ourselves is spent on screens streaming content that acts as a window to some other neighborhood. I know my parents and grandparents became great friends with those living next door or across the street. So, what impact would it have on our lives if we forged more meaningful relationships with our neighbors?
Somewhere between Rear Window and The Neighbors’ Window we lost the desire and interest in being good neighbors. Both films end with scenes of neighbors making an unexpected connection which encourages me that if we all just “love thy neighbor” we can make our own neighborhoods a better place to live.
Robert F. Cowper 