Part 3: Conclusions

The POV occurrences in Marnie, the most significant of which have been examined in the previous section, point towards a reassessment of Hitchcock's statement that the film is male-centered. If the quantity of POV episodes alone is considered, Marnie's character is, by far, the one through whose eyes the spectator most often looks. Tallying the numbers of POV occurrences is difficult, at best, because of the variety of forms the device may assume. (Whether usual POV should be given the same emotional weight as --- and hence considered equivalent to --- continuing POV is one of many questions perhaps too dependent upon narrative emphases and psychological nuances about which to generalize.) Nevertheless, by merely enumerating POV events, regardless of type, I have determined a reasonable count. The most significant characters in regard to POV quantity are as follows:

Quantity, of course, is not the only factor in considering the importance of the spectator's exposure to characters' points of view. Because narrative is apprehended in a linear fashion and with the willing participation of the viewer, the beginnings of stories are especially important to the building of the narrative event. A term borrowed from cognitive psychology, the "primacy effect," has been used to describe how narrative information which is presented initially establishes "a frame of reference to which subsequent information [is] subordinated as far as possible."²³ In other words, the first information about a story which a viewer receives forms the basis and sets the parameters for the diegetic world that the viewer creates. First impressions, therefore, carry more weight and must be accorded a greater responsibility than subsequent narrative disclosures as the viewer constructs the story.

Marnie as straight narrative clearly concentrates its early development on the female protagonist. At the outset of the film, Marnie is presented first, and she is presented as an enigma. The prologue, which mainly concentrates on relating information about the robbery at Strutt's, nevertheless offers Marnie as the center of attention. After the prologue, for the following three segments, Marnie is the recipient of our undivided attention: we watch as she changes her identity, visits Forio, and agonizes over the loss of her mother's love. The film Marnie at this point focalizes both externally (from outside, but closely following her movements) and internally (by letting the audience see what she sees) on the character Marnie. By extrapolation, POV may be seen here as a microcosmic equivalent, an integral component of the "primacy effect." And, because in the film POV demonstrably follows the narrative path, the trajectory of POV is an appropriate tool with which to uncover the story's emphases.

At the beginning of the film, the viewer is shown both Marnie and Mark in separate situations where POV, if it may be said to occur at all, is compromised. Mark, in the prologue, appears to be conjuring the vision of Marnie that follows his bemused close up; this has the form of, but certainly is not, POV. Later, we watch through Marnie's eyes as she, in her hotel room, changes her identity; but POV is equivocal here because of Hitchcock's prolonged withholding of shot A, the face of the protagonist. Both main characters, therefore, begin the film with nebulous POV episodes. This changes, appropriately enough, after Marnie has established her new identity.

Discounting the shot-reverse shot pattern which structures the scene in Strutt's office and a minor glance Strutt gives to the empty safe in the same scene, the first clear, unambiguous POV of the film belongs to Marnie. After she has placed her suitcase containing the pieces of her former life into a storage locker at the train station, the camera, which had been focused on her lower body as she walked through the depot, moves up to include her face. She looks off-screen, and there is a cut to the grating where she will dispose of the locker key. Because of camera placement in the preceding shots which include Marnie, shot A of this usual POV is only the second time her face has been revealed. This is a brilliant strategy on Hitchcock's part to build suspense, but it also encourages our fascination with this character because so much about her has been withheld.

After some shot-reverse shot involving Marnie and the hotelier and during the second explicitly individual POV of the film, she is at Garrad's, the stables where Forio is boarded. Marnie emerges from the car, shakes hands with the stable owner, and looks off-screen towards frame right: this is shot A; there is a cut to Forio being led from the barn; the horse is brought into close up, and the camera moves frame left with Forio as Marnie comes into the shot; Marnie is frame left, Forio is frame right; she nuzzles the horse ecstatically: "Oh, Forio, if you want to bite somebody, bite me." This B shot continues, becoming the A shot for Mr. Garrad's usual POV of Marnie as she euphorically rides off on her horse.

The importance of the way this POV episode is structured becomes apparent in the next segment of the film. Like the previous segment, Marnie's visit to her mother's house begins with a shot-reverse shot series: Marnie and little Jessie share an exchange at the front door. When Marnie walks into the living room, she looks off-screen frame right: this is shot A. there is a cut to her mother emerging from the kitchen; she walks towards frame left, the camera tracking with her and gradually moving in to a medium close up as Marnie enters from frame left; the two women embrace: Marnie is frame left, Mrs. Edgar frame right; Marnie then glances off-screen, and there is a cut to the red gladioli backgrounded by white curtains which trigger Marnie's traumatic reaction.

These two POV episodes are organized around the principle of repetition with difference which guides classically structured films.²⁴ Upon examination, the similarities are almost too obvious. The POV figure in each segment is preceded by a shot-reverse shot exchange involving Marnie and another character. In each POV episode (which follows shot-reverse shot), the characters and camera are in identical positions. Framing, composition, and directional elements are consistent: the same character looks off-screen towards frame right; the camera and "other character" movement are consistently towards frame left. There is the merging of the elements from shot A and shot B in the B shot: Marnie walks into the frame to join either Forio or her mother. Near the end of each B shot the "couple" nuzzles in a fairly tight two-shot: Marnie and Forio in the scene at the stables, Marnie and her mother at the house: Marnie is frame left each time. In each instance, shot B becomes the A shot for additional POV activity: in the scene at the stables, Mr. Garrad's usual POV of Marnie follows; at her mother's house, shot B perpetuates Marnie's usual POV and converts it into continuing POV.

Yet these two POV episodes are markedly different, and herein lies the importance of Hitchcock's symmetrical presentation. (Of course, the proximity which these POV episodes share is both representational and diegetic.) In the second segment, the shot-reverse shot exchange that Marnie shares with Mrs. Maitland at the hotel is brief and pleasant: Marnie is returning to a place where she is known and welcomed. By contrast, Marnie and Jessie's shot-reverse shot sequence at the door to her mother's house in segment three is tense and unpleasant: Marnie is treated as though she were an intruder in her mother's home. In each segment, the object of Marnie's gaze is also the object of her love, but the reactions provoked in her are at opposite extremes. Whereas Forio offers her unconditional love and brings her almost to a state of ecstasy (from the look on her face as she rides through the open countryside), Mrs. Edgar's greeting triggers trauma and fear in Marnie. Thus, each B shot becomes the stimulus for additional POV activity: in the second segment, Mr. Garrad watches the happy young woman ride off; but in the third segment, Marnie's usual POV leads to continuing POV, and this makes her confront the red-on-white demon, the vision which is at the heart of her distress.

Thus, in these crucial first scenes of the story, Hitchcock presents Marnie to us relentlessly and as the center of attention and mystery. He uses POV to reveal both narrative and psychological information about her, sometimes simultaneously. POV works, therefore, within these important initial segments, not merely to reveal narrative developments and to increase identification with Marnie, but also to draw subtle comparisons which reveal her deepest needs and fears and which encourage us to empathize with her. This is an exceptionally powerful initial presentation of a protagonist, and POV is an integral component of the "primacy effect."

With the very next segment of the film, however, the intensity of Hitchcock's focalization on Marnie begins to break down. Whereas in the previous segments, POV has been exclusively utilized to stimulate understanding of her predicament, when Marnie applies for the job at Rutland's, its scope becomes broader. Mark's POV trajectory is initiated during this segment, and this addition gradually begins to widen the perspective of the narrative.

Although Marnie's POV dominates this first scene at the Rutland office, she is also the subject of Mark's gaze. Specifically, during two episodes of continuing POV, he watches her as she waits in the outer office and, later, while she is being interviewed for the position. Mark's motivation here is murky: during the A shots of his first continuing POV, there seems to be a faint glimmer of recognition on his face; later, as he watches and listens to Marnie recount the story she has concocted to cover her true past, his ambiguous expression reveals little of his underlying motivation in urging the boss to hire her. But whether Mark is interested in Marnie sexually or as an aberrant personality, he and his POV's literally bring a fresh perspective to the narrative. Because he exhibits a healthy sense of humor and seems controlled in his demeanor (as well as the fact that this is, after all, really Sean Connery playing the role of hero), Mark's attention to Marnie does not have to be construed as threatening her with exposure. In fact, his solicitude in securing the job for her seems more motivated by a desire to help than anything else, and this places the viewer in a quandary. If Marnie gets a chance to steal again, she will. But if Mark knows about her and catches her, what will happen? Will he send her to jail? Will he help her? We want her to succeed in her illegal activities, but we also want her to be cured. Thus the question of Mark's influence on Marnie's future is suggested at this stage of the story, carrying with it the possibility of a new direction for her --- and for the narrative.

This feeling that Mark wants to help Marnie is substantiated and enlarged upon in the segments which follow. As he watches her on the job, it seems as though he observes the careful way she gathers information about the safe. Later, when Marnie works overtime for him and breaks down during the thunderstorm, he takes advantage of her vulnerability by approaching her sexually, but he is also adopts a solicitous attitude towards her discomfort and seems to be genuinely concerned.

It is during this segment that the third significant "character" in terms of POV is introduced, as Marnie and Mark begin to share POV episodes. When Marnie enters Mark's office, her continuing POV (of Mark, his late wife's displayed artifacts) segues into shot-reverse shot as they discuss his interest in zoology and, in particular, "lady predators," which may be construed as a direct reference to Marnie's criminal activities (and which is perhaps the only positive indication Mark has given thus far that he is aware of her past). The device of shot-reverse shot, as we have seen, can be used as a reinforcing tool for a character's feelings (as between Mrs. Maitland of the hotel and Marnie) or it may be oppositional (as with Marnie and her mother). In this instance, it seems to contain elements of both: while Marnie and Mark's conversation is friendly enough, they also tease one another by means of body language and eye movements which contain hints of the secrets they each carry.

Of course, as Mark individually and Mark and Marnie as a couple are made the objects of deeper focalization, Marnie's influence in this sphere necessarily becomes somewhat diluted. Although still important in relation to Marnie's character development and narrative placement, the device of POV at this point begins to be stretched across a wider purview. This may be illustrated most easily by reproducing the data from Figure 1 (Part 2, above) in the form of a table:

Segment	Marnie	Mark	Marnie & Mark	Total
prologue	0	0	0	0
1. Marnie revealed	2	0	0	2
2. hotel/Garrad's	1	0	0	1
3. mother's	4	0	0	4
4. applying for job	4	2	0	6
5. office	4	1	0	5
6. thunderstorm	3	2	1	6
7. race track	1	1	5	7
8. Rutland home	0	0	2	2
9. robbery	3	0	0	3
10. Mark's confrontation	3	3	6	12
11. honeymoon	0	7	6	13
12. arrival home	1	2	2	5
13. nightmare	1	3	1	5
14. party	1	0	1	2
15. hunt	7	0	0	7
16. attempted robery	4	2	2	8
17. mother's	4	4	1	9
totals	43	27	27	97

Viewed in this form, the data perhaps more clearly illustrates the methodology behind the fragmentation of POV. Marnie's initial monopoly of the device is evident, as is the subsequent development of, first, Mark's POV and, later still, the shared POV of Marnie and Mark. These individual trajectories are not random or accidental but, rather, an integral component in the careful and gradual process of the construction of the narrative.

Mark's individual POV arc builds consistently to reach its zenith in the honeymoon segment. Before this event, Marnie holds her own with Mark, POV-wise, but once Mark has confronted her and issued the terms of the blackmail he demands (marriage), Marnie's command of her own fate is eroded, and this is reflected in her diminishing POV activity. Mark's forceful physicality on their honeymoon leaves no room for Marnie's perspective at all. (She has no individual POV activity whatsoever in segment 11.) Mark's POV activity is more plentiful than Marnie's over the next two segments, disappears when Marnie takes more control (segments 14 and 15), and again becomes a factor at the end of the story.

Concurrent to this development and in conjunction with it, the shared POV's of Marnie and Mark gain ground at the race track and when the couple goes to the Rutland estate. In fact, the narrative takes such a decided turn in the direction of the couple that this seems to be what pushes Marnie to rob the Rutland office safe. But Marnie's autonomy at this juncture cannot last, and the couple's shared POV activity becomes most prolific as Mark's power reaches its height, both narratively and in regard to POV, in his confrontation of Marnie and the honeymoon which follows.

The simultaneous buildup of the POV's of Mark and the couple, as mentioned earlier, accompanies the waning of Marnie's individual perspective. She then has a temporary, but stunning, high point in her POV trajectory, rallying in the pivotal hunt segment when the threat of Strutt's exposure and the sight of a red hunting jacket propel her into the frenzy that will result in Forio's death. The proliferation of Marnie's POV activity at this point is one indication of the importance of the event, both narratively and psychologically, to Marnie's recovery. The fact that she must, in good conscience, kill the one source of unconditional love in her life foreshadows her remembering and reexperiencing the death of the sailor in flashback at the climax of the film. Forio's death also propels Marnie towards one last bid for freedom: the attempted robbery in segment 16. This time Marnie is incapable of completing the act (whereby, technically, she would be stealing her own money), even before Mark's intervention stops her. Compared to her previous robbery of the Rutland safe (in segment 9), Marnie's POV episodes here are not autonomous, rather they are equally matched (at least quantitatively) by combining the POV's of Mark and the couple.

The symmetry evidenced by the distribution of POV in segment 16 prefigures the form the device will assume during the denouement in the final segment. At Mrs. Edgar's house, where Marnie remembers the horror of her childhood, Marnie and Mark's individual POV episodes, while encouraging more intimacy with her because of the extended flashback, are equally divided quantitatively. These individual occurrences culminate in the final POV of the film, the bracketing of Marnie and Mark's A shots around their shared vision of the children playing as they leave the house. Thus, there is an egalitarian quality to the division of POV here which culminates in the joining of the couple both narratively and formally.

The trajectory which POV assumes over the course of the film, then, matches the thrust of the narrative. The initial concentration on Marnie places her at the center of the enigma and defines the limits of the diegetic world as conforming to her problems and concerns. After the basics of the story have been laid out, the focalization disseminates. First, Mark begins to insinuate himself in Marnie's life. Mark's position of authority and his persistence where Marnie is concerned compromise her autonomy. While she plays along with him, he forces her into an escalating closeness which is, nevertheless, false. POV reflects this proximity, directing internal focalization towards Mark and, later, the couple but always within the scope of Marnie's needs. Not until she has been narratively "cured" by the uncovering of the solution to the mystery is the couple allowed to achieve the degree of intimacy implied in the final POV occurrence of the film. When they, the couple, enclose the sight of the children on the front steps within their gaze, they have conquered Marnie's demon and are facing their future together.

Hitchcock helps our comprehension of the formation of the couple by the previously mentioned symmetry which gradually builds and which pervades his use of the POV device. For example, in segment 4, when Marnie applies for the job at Rutland's, she has twice the number of POV occurrences as Mark. By segment 7, at the race track, their equally divided POV's are overwhelmed by the proliferation of the multiple perspectives they share. When Mark confronts Marnie about the robbery in segment 10, their POV's are equally matched, but, once again, the couple overwhelms the individuals. Mark's high point in the narrative, in terms of control, comes during the honeymoon (segment 11). His POV occurrences there exactly match in number Marnie's later POV occurrences during the hunt (segment 15) when she must kill Forio. With this sort of attention to detail building up to the climax, the symmetry evidenced in the final scenes of the film provides a resonant closure to the narrative.

The POV evidence I have uncovered indicates a reassessment of Hitchcock's statement that Marnie is the story of a man who is obsessed with a thief. While Mark's fixation on Marnie is a force that drives the narrative, even to the point of bringing about the resolution to the mystery, there is scant evidence pointing towards Mark's being the central protagonist. The POV occurrences in the film reveal Marnie as the character who is subjectively presented as the focal point of the film. Furthermore, since POV demonstrably adheres to the emphases and trajectory of the narrative, a feminist reading of the film clearly is possible.

If Marnie is to be approached on feminist terms, the narrative must be retold in terms of the character around whom it is structured. The film then becomes the story of a powerful woman traumatized in childhood who must be subjugated to the norm. Her background, based upon information from the film, is easily sketched in. Marnie's mother got pregnant with Marnie in order to obtain "Billy's" school sweater, and later she supported herself and Marnie by prostitution. The sailor whom Marnie killed is one in a long line of "suitors" who called upon "Mrs." Edgar. Once the investigation of the crime has securely placed Marnie with her mother, the little girl is reared "decent" and made more and more fearful of contact with men. As Marnie becomes an adult, she rejects sex completely, and the outlet for her sexual frustration then becomes the crimes she commits. She constructs her life precariously upon a lie and is successful, at least, in fooling her mother about the source of her income. When she meets Mark, he is fascinated by her aberration and undertakes her rehabilitation, but he must force her to confront her past and her fears before she is able to commit herself to their relationship.

Hitchcock, who typically shies away from socially relevant stories, downplays this aspect in favor of suspense and romance. But the topic lying just under the surface of the narrative is Marnie's punishment of the patriarchal establishment for the lives she and her mother have been forced to lead. The goal of the narrative, therefore, becomes the subjugation of the female under the male in the guise of sexual coupling.

This feminist reading of Marnie that I have uncovered through point of view analysis is reinforced by Hitchcock's use of the colors gold and red to connote, respectively, patriarchal power and feminine weakness. Throughout the film, yellow or gold is used to emphasize control. The yellow purse that Marnie carries in the first shot of the film is especially set apart because the other colors in the frame are rather muted; the purse, bulging with the money she has stolen, seems to carry the woman. Marnie's hair changes color, of course, several times during the film, but for much of the story's course her hair is reddish blonde; it pointedly becomes a true golden blonde when she is powerful: after her successful robberies and when she rides Forio. Little Jessie's hair, when Mrs. Edgar brushes it, is the subject of Marnie's gaze; it spreads out over the child's shoulders to fill the frame and remind Marnie of her mother's rejection and the child's power over the old woman. The prominent color at the high-class Rutland home is the yellow-gold that accents the living room. Most tellingly, in the scene where Mark literally overpowers Marnie and rapes her, the bathrobe he wears is of a golden color .

The color red, on the other hand, describes a loss of control. The reds that hypnotize Marnie draw our attention because of the muted colors that pervade the film and because of the contexts in which they are shown. Red triggers Marnie's "rosophobia," which is represented cinematically by the suffusion of the screen with red after Marnie has seen the color against a white background. Of course, these instances are conveyed through POV shots, thus infusing the color with potent emotional overtones which help to establish Marnie's traumatic state at these times. Marnie's distress at the color red, while gaining entree into the privileged world of money by engendering her compulsion to steal, nevertheless is symptomatic of her basic flaw: she dares to stand against the society which fostered her illness.

Gold, the traditional symbol of the patriarchal system of capitalism, is associated with power in Marnie. The color connotes exorbitant wealth and, by extension, control over social standing and the forces that drive the culture. In an oppositional way, red is linked to the menstrual blood which conventionally keeps a woman "in her place" and away from the center of authority. Within the context of the film, the color connotes weakness. Thus, Hitchcock's use of color supports my contention of an agenda that exposes the underpinnings of sexual power and subjugation within our society while maintaining a surface veneer of romance and suspense.

Interpreting Marnie in this way provides a unique approach to the questions concerning the position of gender that I posed at the beginning of this examination. Many of these issues have already been addressed within the body of my work. The question of who does the looking in the film has been resolved through the analysis I have performed: we see through Marnie's eyes most often, but Mark's POV's and those of the couple also influence the narrative forcefully. Clearly, the reliance of Marnie on the woman's perspective calls into question the placement and purpose of the male POV within the film.

As we have seen, the issue of sight is associated with gender within the classical Hollywood cinema and usually points towards the empowerment of the male by means of the objectification of the female. Certain of Mark's POV's objectify Marnie, and his is the only significant male perspective in the film; but the emphasis on Marnie's control of the device, most unusual because it provides access to the transgressive woman on a deeply intimate level, provides an alternative to, and is in fact more central to the narrative than, the male POV. The fact that this intense focus on Marnie is not maintained throughout the film but, rather, is disseminated by both the male POV and the shared perspective of the couple bears a direct relationship to the progression of the narrative. What, then, is the interrelationship of the three main perspectives in the film and where is it leading?

In order for the narrative to progress, the focus on all three major points of view is essential because to eliminate any one of them would be to change the story radically. Marnie's POV episodes, besides representing the woman's perspective, add depth and resonance to the central enigma. Her POV frequently exposes the pain and damage that a male-driven society can cause through the objectification of the female. It is pivotal that this exposure is heralded by the woman's gaze, but dramatic construction demands a polarizing force which provides conflict for the central protagonist. Certainly, Mark's POV, carrying as it does the onus of male domination, represents this opposition both from a general perspective (reflecting the patriarchy and its responsibility for the histories of Marnie and her mother as victims) and as the antagonist of the unfolding narrative (as the one who is "obsessed" with Marnie as a sexual object and who ---despite his attempts to help --- is her adversary through much of the film). The perspective of the couple, likewise, is vital to the story, for therein lies the nucleus from which the "happy ending" will grow: Marnie's vision and Mark's vision, each separately so powerful and dangerous, will be forever united and tamed, bracketed in the final POV of the film, around the child which completes their "nuclear family."

The internal focalization on each of these "characters" --- Marnie, Mark, and the couple --- is thus integral to the dramatic progression that is developed and to the rounded resolution of the narrative. By structuring the story in this way, Hitchcock offers an unorthodox narrative portrait of sexual relations. In a reversal of the usual gender assignments in a mainstream film, the major protagonist is a woman who is aggressive, frigid, wracked with guilt over a dark secret, and a criminal. The "love interest" --- typically a female character but here a male --- helps her to unravel the enigma of her life and points the way towards a societally acceptable future. Moreover, the resolution of the drama, which outwardly seems conventional, fully acknowledges (in the final POV of the film where the couple bracket the child who represents Marnie) the pain of the past which the couple must carry with them.

Hitchcock, then, offers a more balanced approach to the issue of male-female relations than is usual in the mainstream culture contemporary to the film, and he does this in the guise of the suspense genre. His public statements about Marnie point towards a typical depiction of male voyeurism, but actually he has presented a film which is atypical of the Hollywood patriarchal establishment. Instead of punishing or killing the transgressive, aggressive woman in the final reel (which was the standard for the classical Hollywood cinema's morality that was polished to perfection in the films noirs it produced), Hitchcock exposes the causes behind Marnie's aberrant behavior and offers an alternative which will allow her to function as a viable member of society.²⁵ At the deepest level, he lays bare the compromises a woman in this society must make to be allowed to function: by relinquishing her personal strength, the woman gains peripheral entree into the world of consensual male power that organizes and maintains the culture.

What are we to conclude, then, about Hitchcock's purpose in structuring the film around such ambivalence and the resultant duality of interpretation evidenced in such contrary views as those of Mulvey and Bellour (who see Marnie as reinforcing the patriarchal prerogative) and that of Modleski (contending that there is a viable woman's voice in Hitchcock's films)? First of all, I would contend that nothing in Hitchcock's work is accidental. Even if one discounts the extensive documentation of his compulsive pre-production planning, the evidence on screen confirms the controlled hand that guides the film (as in, for example, the exquisitely balanced initial POV's that compare and expose Marnie's feelings for her horse and for her mother).

I would also contend that Marnie is integral to Hitchcock's body of work and that its place in that canon is unusual in some ways but hardly atypical of the director. Thematically, Marnie fits the profile of a Hitchcock film. Although it contains elements of melodrama, the film is suspense-oriented on several levels: the mystery of Marnie's "red trauma" and what happened in her past; the contradictory pull towards both wanting her to get away with the robberies and wanting her to be cured; the question of Mark's obsession and how it will effect Marnie; the sexual conflict between Marnie and Mark, with Lil's interest in Mark adding to the tension. Marnie also takes up Hitchcock's familiar theme of the guilty woman, where the degree of punishment meted out usually depends upon the degree of guilt: going to the extreme of complicity in murder demands death for Madeleine/Judy in Vertigo, but women whose guilt involves lesser crimes (in Blackmail and Notorious, for example) suffer and then are restored to "normalcy." Certainly the theme of the moral complicity of the voyeur is pushed to the forefront in Marnie, where the narrative foundation rests upon a voyeuristic situation. Mark's obsessive love for Marnie comes close to what Scottie exhibits for Madeleine in Vertigo. Another major concern of Hitchcock's, the weight of the past upon the present (prevalent in Psycho, Vertigo, Notorious, etc.), is prominent in the actions of Marnie and her mother, while Mark seems able to let go of its hold on him. The idea of the doppelganger, used so forcefully in Strangers on a Train, Shadow of a Doubt, The Wrong Man, etc., is reflected in Marnie's different identities. The atmosphere of romantic longing which often invades his stories (Vertigo, particularly, but also Notorious) is evident in Marnie and is dependent upon the degree of intimacy we are privileged to share with the characters. Also, themes more specific to particular films are echoed in Marnie: the use of psychiatry in Spellbound, although the male-female roles are reversed; To Catch a Thief, with the woman, this time, obsessed with the idea of loving a thief; in Vertigo, Scottie makes Judy over into Madeleine whereas Marnie makes herself over when she changes her identity; the relationship of mother and child alluded to in Psycho may be close to what we witness between Marnie and her mother; The Birds shares not only the "cool blonde" persona of Tippi Hedren but also the idea of the woman as perpetrator of widespread damage against society.

Hitchcock's style of filming utilizes both spectacular editing and moving camera, which are well represented in Marnie. Editing sequences of note include Mark's rape of Marnie on board the ship and Marnie's last ride on Forio. Memorable moving camera shots include the long tracking shot across the room filled with partygoers as the camera closes in on Strutt's face when he appears at the front door of the Rutland estate, and Hitchcock's expressionist use of the camera during Marnie's POV's. Hitchcock also uses self-conscious techniques of narration: the camera angles at the start of the film that withhold the sight of Marnie's face, the symbolic camera movement to the porthole as Mark rapes Marnie, the scream triggered by the memory of the blood that is used as a sound bridge from the past to the present when Marnie recalls the sailor's death. Indeed, a comprehensive account of the threads linking Marnie to Hitchcock's other films would require an expanded examination entirely to itself.

Closer to the focus of this study, I have also examined several other Hitchcock films for his point of view strategy. Some films use the device solely to elevate identification with a traditional male hero. In The 39 Steps and North by Northwest, for example, even when POV episodes involve others, their main purpose is to build tension around the hero's predicament. In Strangers on a Train, POV is used in a more complicated way to clarify the positions of the men in the narrative. A familiar variation on the closed POV form is used:

Here Hitchcock substitutes Guy for Bruno, just as in Marnie he substitutes Mark for Marnie in the last POV episode of the film. Although his method for distorting the form is the same in both films, Hitchcock uses the distortion to different purposes: in Strangers on a Train, the point is both the difference between the two men (good vs. evil) and their mutual, but forbidden, attraction; in Marnie, of course, it represents the societally condoned joining of the couple.

Other of Hitchcock's films that I have examined for POV evidence show a greater awareness of the woman's place in the narrative and may even indicate that Hitchcock grappled with the question of a woman's response to a male-dominated society throughout his career. In Sabotage, for example, the woman's POV is largely either ignored or included with the man's in multiple POV situations; this treatment prevails until Mrs. Verloc is motivated to kill her husband, and the conversion to the concentration on her POV is almost as startling as the act of murder itself. Rebecca, about a dependent woman who becomes more independent, seems to provide a mirror (reverse) image both of Marnie's narrative situation and its POV strategy: the second Mrs. de Winter shares most of her POV episodes until she becomes stronger and gains (albeit within marriage) more autonomy. The POV episodes in Rear Window are pointedly divided in a way that calls attention to the woman's strength: characters in the drama look either inside or outside Jeff's apartment, and the form of POV figure which is used changes accordingly: when the gaze is turned outside the apartment, continuing POV is the overriding pattern, and this most often means the male is in control; inside the apartment, shot-reverse shot prevails which gives Lisa a more egalitarian place in the narrative and thus reflects her character's effectiveness. Indeed, Vertigo, most obviously about a man looking at --- and for --- a woman, nevertheless builds separate but symmetric POV episodes for Madeleine and for Judy that are so tightly structured in their form and presentation that the duality of the character played by a single actor (Kim Novak) is emphasized.

Yet no film of Hitchcock's that I have investigated comes closer to mimicking Marnie's initial POV strategy with a female character than Psycho. Especially, Hitchcock's intricate build-up of Marion Crane's POV and his extreme focalization on her throughout the beginning of the film fosters an initial connection in the spectator which is as strong as and similar to that established with Marnie. When Marion Crane is brutally murdered less than half way through Psycho, the viewer is devastated, particularly because of the degree of intimacy that has been achieved. (The film's POV trajectory veers from Marnie's at this point and control of the device comes to rest with Marion's sister, Lila, for the unraveling of the mystery.) Marion's murder and the subsequent transfer of POV control to her double seems to indicate an acceptance of the patriarchy's manipulation of women in a way which Marnie does not.

Besides the thematic and stylistic overlaps, another major thread tying Marnie to Hitchcock's other work is the film's basic ambiguity as expressed through its dependence upon intense subjectivity. As discussed in the first part of this paper, the subjective positioning of the viewer is usually orchestrated by Hitchcock to fluctuate among several layers, both from within the perspective of the narrative and standing outside it. In fact, Hitchcock especially uses subjectivity to create fluctuations in the narrative that cause the viewer to reassess her/his allegiances. The viewer is often placed in a morally indefensible position as, for example, when Marnie robs the Rutland safe for the first time: wanting Marnie to succeed is hardly a sound moral position for the viewer, yet this is the only alternative that Hitchcock extends. Over and over, he places us in positions that, in the midst of great tension, nevertheless offer the possibility of reassessment and reevaluation. Certainly, in Marnie, Hitchcock provides the viewer with ample opportunity to empathize with contrary viewpoints: Marnie's POV's and Mark's POV's at times delineate opposing perceptions of the society, yet we move from one emotional place to the other many times over the course of the film thanks to the director's skillful subjective manipulations.

Is it therefore possible to read in Hitchcock's work a sophisticated awareness of the position of women in our culture? An unqualified answer to this question is impossible. Paradoxically, Marnie seems both to justify the status quo and to criticize it. Since the film speaks with a male voice and a female voice, Hitchcock, the master planner who leaves nothing to chance, does, too. The on-screen evidence points towards an ambiguity in the director that, because of the intense focalization of his films, he transfers to the viewer on a very personal level. Hitchcock, who almost simultaneously has been accused of hating and loving women, exhibits complexity and depth as an artist, particularly in his mature work, that moves beyond facile theoretical comprehension. As the original enunciator who assumes different positions within the narrative, he places the viewer in different positions which will facilitate the development of the narrative in its richest configuration.

When Hitchcock made the statements to Truffaut that describe Marnie as an affirmation of the male's control of our culture, he most certainly was aware of the film's emphasis on the female protagonist. No doubt, his disappointment in the film was extreme, considering the poor critical and popular response it engendered.²⁶ (Clearly, after such an unmitigated failure, he would not have touted it as the experimental film it is.) He may also have been personally distressed by his inability to lure one of his favorite and most utilized actresses, Grace Kelly, from her retirement in Monaco back to the screen as his star. Given his droll approach and penchant for control, it is also possible that he considered the ruse to be an elaborate joke. Whatever his public stance on the film, upon close examination Marnie clearly contains elements that, while supportive of the patriarchy, also expose its role in the society. Hitchcock uses the subjective tools of storytelling to inscribe us within this message, and the equivocal placement of the spectator must be seen as directly related to his own ambivalence as a man working within the culture. Hitchcock's cameo appearance in the film, when he looks first at Marnie and then turns directly to the camera and to us, may be read as recognition of his equivocal position. A member of the dominant group, he acknowledges the foundation of one woman's suffering to be his own voyeurism --- and ours.