Capsule reviews.

Marnie, This Little Art, Eric Rohmer

Ideally there should be two or three other kinds of posts between capsule review posts, but sometimes…

Marnie (Alfred Hitchcock, 1964)

I don’t know if you can even call Marnie “problematic”—I feel that implies that it’s unaware of itself and thinks it’s playing some sort of innocent game. It certainly fits into the Hitchcock romcom type outlined here in its own completely deranged way: a little of The Lady Eve, a little of The Taming of the Shrew, a little rape to cure frigidity… a little completely bogus psychoanalysis… It is, on the face of it, an almost ludicrously misogynist movie. And I mean, it is, I don’t actually think there’s any arguing that point. But I don’t have to stay there.

Marnie does represent a particular kind of romantic fantasy, which is basically: if somebody knew how really, truly insane you were, would that person still love you? Not ju…