Oliver Georgiou and Kate McArthur in ‘The Rear Window’, Bygone Theatre
Rear Window is my absolute favourite Hitchcock film. In fact, it was while watching that classic, at age eleven, I realized what a director does! Since then, after more than twenty viewings over three decades, my appreciation has only increased. Having been intrigued and delighted by several aspects of Bygone Theatre’s stage interpretation of The Birds, I was eager to take in writer/director Emily Dix’s treatment of The Rear Window (a remount), presented by Hart House Theatre.
L.B. Jefferies (Oliver Georgiou), a photo journalist with a broken leg, is trapped in a cast with little to do but spy on his neighbours through a landscape of windows. The film fleshes out many of these characters through his eyes, but we fixate on the villain here—Lars Thorwald (Antonino Pruiti), whom our hero believes he’s witnessed murder his wife (a relatively brief turn by Simone Matheson). In his urge to prove it, he gets spotted and almost murdered himself. His love interest, an actress named Lena Hall (Kate McArthur), is caught up in the suspenseful shenanigans. She really wants to marry him, but he’s dragging his feet, adamant that their differing lifestyles are incompatible. A desperate-to-please underling from the newspaper, Charlie (Cayne Kitagawa), figures prominently.
I imagine the core demographic for this production are those familiar with the film. Cornell Woolrich’s original short story “It Had To Be Murder” is, I think, an absolute bore. All the compelling personalities were an invention of screenwriter John Michael Hayes, who really worked some magic on it. Dix’s adaptation takes more of its cues from there and wisely so.
There are snippets of dialogue lifted directly from the film, though sometimes the context has been altered or given to a different character. One of the film’s best characters, the wisecracking nurse Stella (Thelma Ritter’s such a hoot and is greatly missed here) has been completely taken out of the equation.
Casting doubt on Jeffries’ reliability as a witness is one of the most promising of Dix’s subversive flourishes. This version of Jeffries, the boredom and isolation taking its toll, is addicted to painkillers and booze; though this could have gone in a campier, more radical direction. (I’m reminded of the garish and gory absurdity of Dix’s finale for The Birds.)
Pacing issues abound in the limp first act, with banal stage business and stretches of dead air. Though Bria Cole’s projections are technologically impressive, all the action seen through the surrounding windows feels flat when compared to the fleshy three dimensions of the main room and adjacent murder apartment. A bigger problem is that Georgiou tends to mumble so much of his dialogue. He’s also doing James Stewart, which makes his performance more of an impression.
The energy picks up for the second act when emotions are ramped up, giving McArthur and Georgiou some very compelling moments. McArther isn’t trying to channel Grace Kelly (good choice) and so their dynamic is relatively novel. Like Grace Kelly’s Lisa in the film, she’s adventurous. Her fashionista, socialite sensibilities don’t stop her from holding her own in a dangerous situation. Where Lisa proved this more through action, Lena’s defiance is considerably more vocal. Dix and Georgiou have also intensified Jefferies’ arrogance and condescension, making him a far less endearing character than Stewart’s.
Like the film, Wesley Babcock’s set is a character. Jefferies’ apartment takes up the most space and feels a little generic and un-lived in. The brick exterior flanks do naturally lead our eyes towards key points of action and are affectively immersive. I wish a slight ledge had been added because the miming of precarious balance as actors negotiate the exterior section isn’t very convincing. Even a few inches off the stage floor would be enough to give our imaginations some traction.
The Hitchcock nerd in me appreciated the little nod towards Rope and McArthur’s sudden appearance in Grace Kelly’s iconic black and white dress. The finale is much darker than the film’s, though it doesn’t feel entirely earned. The supporting ensemble of neighbours (Sean Jacklin, Trinity Lloyd, Jacob Dowdall and Rachel Frederick) are little more than set dressing. I greatly appreciate Dix’s intent; her affectionate take on classics is aesthetically rigorous, blending period detail with her own contemporary concerns. Overall, this isn’t consistently compelling enough to satisfy, though it is undeniably ambitious with some arresting moments.
The Rear Window
running May 17 to 31, 2024
Hart House Theatre (7 Hart House Circle)
running time: 2 hours, 15 minutes
Oliver Georgiou in ‘The Rear Window’, Bygone Theatre