The McGuffin Film to End All McGuffin Films: Torn Curtain

Torn Curtain, directed by Alfred Hitchcock, starring Julie Andrews and Paul Newman, struck me as a strange film the first time I saw it. I put down the oddity to Julie Andrews.

Don't get me wrong! I adore Andrews! But it seemed an odd film for her to star in. She lacks the inherent vulnerability that Hitchcock seems to favor in his female stars. 

On the latest viewing, however, I determined: the oddity isn't Julie Andrews. It's Paul Newman.

Paul Newman's character, Michael Armstrong, is supposed to be a professor who appears to defect to East Germany (goes behind the Iron Curtain). He is actually acting as a self-appointed spy, there to collect important rocket science information from a German professor. His fiancee, Andrews's character Sarah, follows him there, unaware of his plans.

I know this will sound like a cliche (hey, Hitchcock wisely and intelligently used cliches!) but Newman is the least professor-like actor I've ever seen. Gregory Peck would have been better cast. Good grief--even Cary Grant (of course, Grant could do anything). But Newman looks like a tough guy. Wouldn't the East Germans have said, "Good grief, that man looks like a man who might consider himself a spy! Don't let him in!" 

The scene between Paul Newman and the older scientist is well-handled, but I spent the whole time thinking, "Why is he telling all this to a American who clearly knows nothing about math?" (I assume David Krumholtz does when he's covering the chalkboard with marks--not Newman.)

It would have made more sense if Paul Newman's character was acting for a friend and had memorized a bunch of math stuff, which would still be impressive!

The moment I questioned Paul Newman, I had to question the premise. He isn't an official spy. He decided to carry out this mission himself. Who in the U.S. State Department would ever agree to send an amateur on this type of mission? And if they didn't agree--which is implied--who would ever let him back in the country? 

Finally, I realized: It's all a McGuffin (arguably true of all Hitchcock plots). Hitchcock doesn't care why the main characters are behind the Iron Curtain. He just needs them there so he can get them out.

The movie is a series of escape scenes by ordinary mortals (not trained agents). They have to be ordinary mortals trying to get out of a university, a town, a bus, a post office, a theater because only ordinary mortals would be so bad at it. 

I found the escape sequences tedious--but not, I should make clear, because they are badly done. They are actually quite impressive. Hitchcock was still the master at creating tension from ordinary moments (Is the other bus getting closer?) and both Andrews and Newman do solid jobs, in their mutually undemonstrative ways, of expressing uncertainty and fear and a feeling of being out of their depth. 

But still--either they make it or don't. After awhile, I cease to care.

The one scene I remembered from my prior viewing is the scene I noted now. Michael, Newman's character, drags Sarah, Andrews's character, up a hill to ostensibly persuade her to support his defection but truly to communicate that he is not defecting. Sarah's relief is expressed almost entirely through body language. It is still, for me, the most memorable part of the movie.

In addition, the scene where Sarah (Andrews) stands numbly at a hotel window while Michael (Newman) fidgets in the background is so strong a domestic scene, I can't help but ponder:

Why didn't Hitchcock tell THIS story?