Hitchcock's Personal Favorite?
In a 1974 interview with Andy Warhol for "People" magazine, Hitchcock said that these were the movies of his that he liked the most and wanted to last:
The 39 Steps
Shadow of a Doubt
The Trouble With Harry
North by Northwest
An interestingly upbeat group of movies for Hitchcock to choose from his collection. One could only suppose that at that late age, Hitchcock didn't want to be remembered for the shocks of "Psycho" or the tragedy of "Vertigo."
Of that group, Hitchcock in other interviews named "The Trouble With Harry" his personal favorite, and invariably seemed to frame that statement as meaning: the movie of his that reflected HIM the most in its humor and mood.
"The Trouble With Harry" said Hitchcock, reflected the kind of deadpan British humor that he loved, epitomized when Mildred Natwick looks at Edmund Gwenn dragging Harry's dead body across the meadow and asks nicely: "What seems to be the trouble, Captain?"
Not a terribly funny line given that the years since have seen Woody Allen, Mel Brooks, Animal House, "Caddyshack", "Airplane" and the Farrelly brothers doling out the big laughs, but certainly a line reflecting 1955 Alfred Hitchcock and his mordant sense of humor.
Evidently, US audiences didn't find "The Trouble With Harry" particulary funny back in 1955, either. Hitchcock said it was the only of his pictures to lose money -- a whopping $500,000 in loss. Ha. So what we've got here is a personal movie, a non-commercial movie.
Or as Shirley MacLaine called it: "A bomb. A very arty bomb, but a bomb nonetheless."
A very arty bomb. Draw closer: an art film. That's what it is. Hitchcock's art film. Hitchcock's PERSONAL art film.
Maybe that's why Hitchcock loved it so. He knew he was an artist, but he didn't particularly want his studio bosses to know. It was his little secret.
"The Trouble With Harry" has one of the greatest Hitchcock titles. It's been used for decades ever since to discuss OTHER topics: "The Trouble with Harry Potter" for instance, led a review of that film. "The Trouble With Harry Truman," a political piece. Etc.
But just on its own, its a jaunty little title, that creates its own kind of suspense:
Just what IS the trouble with Harry?
The trouble with Harry is that he is dead. And most publically so, lying in a nicely-tailored suit-and-tie (Hitchcock's decorum at work) in the middle of a beautiful meadow amidst the beautiful fall foliage of Vermont. An absent-minded professor trips over him while reading a book, and walks on; a bum steals his shoes (leaving Harry's corpse wearing bright red socks); and a series of individual people maintain a running gag: each one thinks he or she killed Harry, each one buries Harry (with a little help from their friends), each one determines that they DIDN'T kill Harry, and each one digs Harry up and returns him to the meadow.
"The Trouble With Harry" is a mild, mellow film, but one critic felt it was Hitchcock's most distasteful movie other than "Psycho." Why? Well, because a dead body becomes a joke prop, buried and dug up and buried again. Not particularly respectful towards the dead.
Ah, but Hitchcock understood: death is the great unknown, the great mystery, the great fear. Why not make some fun of it? Or at least of the remains.
And why not make death pretty?
"The Trouble With Harry" is considered a black comedy, but I think if you take in its first pleasant beautiful minutes (with Bernard Herrmann's atypically lyric and beautiful score, his first for Hitchcock), you'll see that it is also a very whimsical tale of paradise and love. Dead Harry will end up being the "matchmaker" to two couples who need love: a sexy young couple (John Forsythe and Shirley MacLaine) and a lonely older couple (Edmund Gwenn and Mildred Natwick.)
In a wonderful "Hitchcock rhyme," Hitchcock matches the opening shots of two sequences. In the first, John Forsythe walks across a gorgeous Vermont lane to the home of Shirley MacLaine, and woos her. In the second, Edmund Gwenn walks across a gorgeous Vermont lane to the home of Mildred Natwick, and woos her. By matching these two sequences exactly, Hitchcock makes his point: be you 25 or 55, love is a wonderful thing, and perhaps the greatest antidote to the death that will come for all of us.
There's a lot in "The Trouble With Harry" that is pretty boring, today, I suppose. Edmund Gwenn's long speech to himself about a day's hunting gone bad (but listen: he sounds just like Hitchcock speaking.) All that pitching of woo. And then the "magical" but fey scene in which Forsythe has a millionaire pay for his paintings by granting Forsythe and the denizens of the Vermont village a wish each.
But one suspects that all of that reveals the true heart of Alfred Hitchcock, by all accounts a shy homebody of a man who stayed married to the same woman for over 50 years. Here is a movie filled with British humor (albeit moved to Vermont) and whimiscal romance, and saet in a beautiful world tucked so far away from the Big City (which, as Forsythe ruefully notes, "is filled with people in hats") as to suggest the magical Brigadoon of that 50's musical.
Hitchcock was a master of atmosphere, and "The Trouble With Harry" has great atmosphere: the whole thing unfolds in the the red-gold-browns of autumn, in scenes so quiet you could hear a pin drop (as when Forsythe strolls into town booming out that "Tuscaloosa" song).
As Hitchcock noted, the dead Harry isn't in "counterpoint" to beautiful nature. If so, Harry's body would be surrounded by the new life of spring flowers. No, Harry's death comes in full accord with the "death" of nature, in autumn. Nature dies gorgeously, and Harry dies funnily.
Apart from the golden hues of a fall day, some of the blue-night images in "The Trouble With Harry" are like mood paintings by Hitchcock: the shadows of the five gravediggers on a hilltop; the Deputy Sheriff's old jalopy putting down a hilly road to the town below. Cool pictures with soothing clarity, yet just a bit macabre.
About that Deputy Sheriff. He's played by rangy, hillbilly-ish Royal Dano, and he proves just dangerous enough a policeman to add a modicum of suspense to "The Trouble With Harry." Will he find the body? Will he arrest one of these nice people -- or all of them -- for murder? Hitchcock milks this little bit of suspense nicely, and then turns it to comedy when the deputy comes over as Harry's getting a bath.
Hitchcock contemplated Cary Grant for "Harry," and then William Holden, but ended up going cheap with young John Forsythe. After considering Grace Kelly for the female lead, and losing her to other projects and princesshood, he cast newcomer Shirley MacLaine, thus launching the first major "Hitchcock redhead" (he cast MacLaine because she looked like pert Brigitte Auber from his previous film, "To Catch a Thief," and he thought of Auber for this part.)
Together, Forsythe and MacLaine made an offbeat, arty little couple, different from Hitchcock's usual starry couples. She's a kooky single mother; he's a Bohemian artist who tells her at first meeting: "I'd like to paint you in the nude." You could picture these two becoming middle-aged hippies in the sixties ahead.
Edmund Gwenn is Hitchcock's stand-in here, an elfin little Englishman who had played Santa Claus and just recently battled giant ants in the Warner Brothers hit "Them." Gwenn's courtship of Mildred Natwick is charming. As Forsythe remarks, she's well preserved, and "someone has to open the preserves sometime."
"The Trouble With Harry" has another Mildred -- Dunnock -- and her presence adds a little melancholy to the otherwise romantically cheerful proceedings. "Wiggy" is widowed and runs the general store and has that ornery Deputy Sheriff for a son. She looks to be the one character in the movie who won't find love, won't get happiness. But she does gets her wish from the millionaire: a new cash register for her store. Still, she's a sad reminder: not everybody finds love for their whole life.
And hey, who's this other famous Hitchcock "find": The Beaver! Jerry Mathers, quite nicely ready with his cute little line-readings. (Years later, Hitchcock was housed on the Universal lot and he'd see Jerry on the lot making "Leave it to Beaver" and he would say, "Good morning, Master Mathers," each and every day. Hitch may have been proud of this discovery.)
In the age when thrillers have to be shocking to be thrillers ("Psycho" started all that), "The Trouble With Harry" isn't much of a thriller. It's not particularly funny, either -- "Weekend at Bernies'" went a lot farther with its dead-body-as-fall-guy humor.
But "The Trouble With Harry" stands as something much more special perhaps. The personal testament of a very famous but very private man, Alfred Hitchcock. The movie is pretty, relaxed, funny, sad, very romantic (and very sexually so for censored 1955), and ultimately takes as much of the sting out of death as can possibly be taken. It's a very special movie.
And as they say at the end of the movie,
The trouble with harry is over.