Last night was the first time I had watched Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo and really attended to it. Odd of me, I know—I eagerly read the classic Truffaut book, and besides Vertigo, had seen just about every Hitchcock film outside of the earliest ones at least twice. It was one of those films I had stumbled upon on TV around 30 minutes into, then cursori…
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to PostModernConservative to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.