If it weren't for the Code which did not allow murderers to get away with it at the end, or the apparent miscasting of Cary Grant as the ambiguous husband, SUSPICION would rank higher as a subtle masterpiece of sheer, romantic suspense.
Over the years many critics have stated that Grant, in his first collaboration with director Alfred Hitchcock, doesn't quite convince much as a man who progressively seems to have ulterior motives with the people around him, most notably his wife. I personally believe that evil is best expressed under a facade of deadpan deceptiveness, such as the friendly neighbors in a similar thriller, ROSEMARY'S BABY. Of course, you might think: isn't this film completely different from SUSPICION? Not really. Strip away the Satanic plot and all you have is a growing sense of paranoia surrounding a similarly mousy wife who slowly realizes her husband and everyone around her is not what they seem. And we know how that film ended.
Grant is a perfect choice to play Johnnie Aysgard. He has the dark, handsome looks, that gleaming smile and loving charm and he literally sweeps spinster Lina McLaidlaw (Joan Fontaine, Oscar winner for this role) off her feet. His presence only vaguely suggests the menace hidden underneath and this is perfect for a convincing psychological, cerebral thriller. If Lon Chaney, for example, had played Aysgard, or Joseph Cotten, Orson Welles, or even Basil Rathbone for that matter, it wouldn't be hard to yell at the screen and pinpoint the villain in the story. Grant, however, is so completely at home in his ambiguousness that even in the climactic scene where he drives Fontaine to her mother's home, we still can't quite decide what his intentions are even though every added piece of evidence leads to the mounting horror that he is about to kill her.
And his presence is the reason this movie works as an excellent psychological thriller even if the ending is a letdown. Using an actor like Grant misleads the public into being sucked into the lighthearted tone of the first third of the story. Introducing the most trivial of incidents surrounding his playboy-like character, which gradually lead to more sinister ones does the tone darken and before we know it we're in the middle of a tense drama of wills between husband and wife and staring at that ghostly glass of milk, wondering if to drink or nor to drink.
Over the years many critics have stated that Grant, in his first collaboration with director Alfred Hitchcock, doesn't quite convince much as a man who progressively seems to have ulterior motives with the people around him, most notably his wife. I personally believe that evil is best expressed under a facade of deadpan deceptiveness, such as the friendly neighbors in a similar thriller, ROSEMARY'S BABY. Of course, you might think: isn't this film completely different from SUSPICION? Not really. Strip away the Satanic plot and all you have is a growing sense of paranoia surrounding a similarly mousy wife who slowly realizes her husband and everyone around her is not what they seem. And we know how that film ended.
Grant is a perfect choice to play Johnnie Aysgard. He has the dark, handsome looks, that gleaming smile and loving charm and he literally sweeps spinster Lina McLaidlaw (Joan Fontaine, Oscar winner for this role) off her feet. His presence only vaguely suggests the menace hidden underneath and this is perfect for a convincing psychological, cerebral thriller. If Lon Chaney, for example, had played Aysgard, or Joseph Cotten, Orson Welles, or even Basil Rathbone for that matter, it wouldn't be hard to yell at the screen and pinpoint the villain in the story. Grant, however, is so completely at home in his ambiguousness that even in the climactic scene where he drives Fontaine to her mother's home, we still can't quite decide what his intentions are even though every added piece of evidence leads to the mounting horror that he is about to kill her.
And his presence is the reason this movie works as an excellent psychological thriller even if the ending is a letdown. Using an actor like Grant misleads the public into being sucked into the lighthearted tone of the first third of the story. Introducing the most trivial of incidents surrounding his playboy-like character, which gradually lead to more sinister ones does the tone darken and before we know it we're in the middle of a tense drama of wills between husband and wife and staring at that ghostly glass of milk, wondering if to drink or nor to drink.