ALFRED HITCHCOCK: THE CLASSICS COLLECTION 4K UHD Blu-ray (Paramount, Universal, 1954-63) Universal Home Video

Alfred Hitchcock once professed that for him, cinema was more a ‘piece of cake’ than ‘slice of life’. Indeed, in the intervening decades, Hitchcock has remained one of the most – if not the most – revered directors in Hollywood history, even if he occasionally gets slammed for making the same movie over and over again. When pressed by a reporter regarding his affinity for thrillers, Hitchcock once quipped, “If I made Cinderella, they’d be looking for the body in the coach.” Indeed, by the mid-1940’s, Hitchcock’s name was synonymous with suspense. And Hitch’s forays into straight comedy, 1941’s Mr. and Mrs. Smith, was widely considered ‘a lesser effort’. So, Hitchcock stuck with what he knew, refining techniques to make our skin crawl with delightful anticipation for a really good fright. Droll, sophisticated, uber-witty, and exacting, Hitchcock was undeniably in a class apart. Consider his reply to a camera set-up man, candidly informing him that his star, Tallulah Bankhead was not wearing any underwear on the set of Lifeboat (1944) – “I don't know if this is a matter for the costume department, make-up, or hairdressing.” Apart from being a genius in his medium, Hitch’ was also not above a bit of shameless self-promotion, with a minor streak of masochism, bent on always making his audience ‘suffer’ his nail-biting tension as much as possible.  “Give them pleasure,” Hitchcock once explained, “…the same pleasure they have when they wake up from a nightmare.”  Hitchcock’s ‘where’s Waldo-esque’ cameos (originally born out of necessity to fill-in crowd scenes on his more stringently budgeted British films, where money for hiring extras was tight) inadvertently led to his own popularity and became a much-anticipated trademark during his American tenure. Yet, it was those reoccurring cameos, as well as his amusing introductions to his weekly TV show ‘Alfred Hitchcock Presents’ that made his visage and wry humor instantly recognizable.

Hitchcock’s affinity for the ‘wrong man’ scenario and ‘MacGuffins’ (tangible commodities within the story that are of only superficial importance to the actual plot) was to become passé by the mid-1960’s; a particularly difficult period for Hitch’ who saw his own popularity steadily plummet after the release of Marnie in 1964. Did audiences turn against Hitchcock or did his movies simply become less proficient? The jury is still out on that one. Diehard fans insist the master never made a bad film. But troubled productions like Torn Curtain (1966) and Topaz (1969) suggest otherwise. There is little to deny that by the end of his career, Hitchcock’s critical reputation had slipped. But his legacy in totem never fell entirely out of fashion. Endlessly revived on late night television, and later, in various formats on home video, Hitchcock remains indestructible. He is probably the only director who can still command a viewing audience on name recognition alone – enough to sell out tickets virtually in minutes whenever his films are revived on the big screen. That alone is impressive. But more so is his body of work, that while dated in its star power, has arguably never aged in its ability to shock and delight us with an uncanny sense of ‘pure cinema’. Any one of Hitchcock’s masterpieces would be enough to sustain another director’s reputation as an auteur. That Hitchcock repeatedly gave us such iconic and superior product (hitting the bull’s eye with dead on precision) is beyond reproach. He is the undisputed master of suspense and every film maker since his time – even a few during it – owe him an eternal debt for providing the templates on how to make the successful thriller.

Universal Home Video regurgitates 4 of the classics featured on standard Blu-ray as part of their endlessly repackaged ‘Masterpiece Collection’ into a ‘new’ 4K offering: Alfred Hitchcock: The Classics Collection. No argument here: all 4 of the movies in this set are dully owed the ‘classic’ moniker in spades. Realistically, I cannot argue with the movies chosen for this 4K foray into the master of suspense – the kickstart begun with Rear Window (1954). Based on Cornell Woolrich's 1942 short story 'It Had to Be Murder', Rear Window is a watershed picture for Hitchcock in many ways. First, it was his foray into widescreen. Second, it reunited Hitch’ with his favorite cool blonde, Grace Kelly (the two having worked previously on Dial M for Murder) and, one of his favorite leading men - James Stewart. Third, it illustrates, perhaps more perfectly than any other Hitchcock movie, the validity of the ‘locked room’ drama – made famous by Agatha Christie, and a main staple of British cinema, though not usually tried in American movies. In Rear Window, Stewart is L.B Jeffries, a somewhat sexually repressed magazine photographer, laid up with a leg he broke while on assignment. To pass the time, Jeffries spies on his neighbors: the voluptuous Miss Torso (Georgine Darcy), forlorn Miss Lonely Heart (Judith Evelyn), frustrated composer (Ross Bagdasarian) and frisky newlyweds (Rand Harper, Havis Davenport).  However, Jeff's attentions shift to the spurious comings and goings of one Lars Thorwald (Raymond Burr) after Thorwald’s wife, Anna (Irene Winston) suddenly vanishes from their apartment without a trace in the middle of the night. At first both Jeff's girlfriend, fashion model, Lisa Fremont (Grace Kelly) and his physical therapist, straight shooter, Stella (Thelma Ritter) believe he has begun to suffer from cabin fever. But then there are Thorwald’s unexplained bits of business slyly observed by all through Jeff’s rear window that suggest a more sinister conclusion. Did Lars Thorwald murder his wife? It isn’t long before Lisa, itching for excitement, but also the opportunity to prove to Jeff she is his kind of gal, decides to play amateur sleuth and get to the bottom of things – a move that nearly gets her killed in the process.

Rear Window is a miracle of screen economy. Jeffries' apartment, courtyard and the facing facades were all built as one gigantic three-sided indoor set inside Paramount’s Stage 11, removing the false floor at ground level to create an even greater sense of depth and height, thereby allowing for total control of lighting and sound conditions. The set is, at once, unremarkable, yet claustrophobic, adding to the tension in John Michael Hayes' taut screenplay. Like so many of Hitchcock's most fondly remembered thrillers, there is more than one story unfolding inside L.B. Jeffries' modest apartment. The central narrative is undoubtedly focused on resolving the mystery behind Anna Thorwald's disappearance. But there is also a fascinating subtext of male sexual frigidity running through the Jeff/Lisa romance. Lisa has already decided Jeff is her guy - a curious choice indeed, given his modest income and her affinity for expensive clothes; his middle-age angst pitted against her youthful maturity, and finally, his absolute aversion to wedding chimes that Lisa hears peeling madly for both of them.  In truth, Jeff cannot think of a single reason not to marry Lisa. She is perfect. Perhaps, that is the problem. Jeff knows that he is not. From the start of Hitchcock’s most prolific period in picture-making, to its penultimate farewell, the next movie to arrive in UHD is Vertigo (1958).

It is one of Hollywood’s great ironies – and perhaps even one of Hitchcock’s artistic tragedies that Vertigo, arguably his most moodily ‘artistic’ and stylish film to date, was an abysmal flop when it opened. Indeed, the intricacies of the obsession-driven narrative went right over the heads of most critics and audience members. Nevertheless, the passage of time has rectified and elevated our collective appreciation for the movie ever since; an exemplary – even peerless - thriller. Irrefutably, Vertigo is a departure from Hitchcock’s other suspense stories. Diabolically tragic, yet rather tawdry too, its audacious originality would remain unchallenged and never equaled for its psychological complexity. Based on Pierre Boileau and Thomas Narcejac's D'entre les mort (a.k.a. ‘From Among the Dead’), the screenplay by Samuel Taylor and Alec Coppel is as much a faithful adaptation of that harrowing French literary masterpiece as it proved an occasion for Hitchcock to create a magnificent travelogue dedicated to the city Hitchcock considered among the most cosmopolitan he had ever visited - San Francisco. Robert Burke's spectacular cinematography manages at once to extol Hitch’s obvious love for Frisco, yet with an evocative sense of foreboding.

For Vertigo, Hitchcock once again turned to his favorite 'every man', James Stewart; this time cast as retired police detective/turned private investigator, Scottie Ferguson. Suffering from bouts of dizziness in high places ever since witnessing the death of a police officer, Ferguson’s professional days seem to be at an end. He is brought out of retirement by former college acquaintance, Gavin Elstor (Tom Helmore); a shipbuilder whose lavish lifestyle is owed to his wife's formidable family fortunes. But it seems Elstor’s wife, the cool and strangely aloof Madeleine (Kim Novak) is plagued by mysterious blackouts. Elstor confides in Scottie, he believes in the very real possibility Madeleine is possessed by the spirit of Carlotta Vance – a well-known historical figure who met with a tragic end, and who will not rest until she has driven Madeleine to suicide. At first, Ferguson refuses to believe this far-fetched tale. Gradually, however, he begins to piece together a premise that does indeed suggest some other worldly possession has taken place. Scottie tails Madeleine all over the city. She buys flowers that resemble those held in a portrait of Carlotta hanging in the national gallery. Later, Madeleine registers at a hotel under the name Carlotta. She even visits Carlotta's grave, plucking petals to spread about the ground.

After rescuing Madeleine from a failed suicide attempt at Golden Gate Park, Scottie discovers he has begun to fall in love with her himself, much to the chagrin of his best friend and graphic artist, Midge Wood (Barbara Bel Geddes) who has been sincerely hoping Scottie will take a romantic interest in her. What Scottie does not realize as yet is he is part of an elaborate con concocted by Elstor and Judy – the woman impersonating his wife, whom Elstor has already murdered. Luring Scottie to the mission bell tower at Old San Juan Batista – and knowing his vertigo will prevent him from catching up to her in time - Judy/Madeleine appears to commit suicide by throwing herself off the belfry. Driven into a catatonic state, Scottie is gradually nursed back to health by Midge, only to accidentally run into Judy as a natural brunette. After an awkward first meeting, Judy agrees to go out with Scottie - hoping against hope he will come to love her for herself. But Scottie has become obsessed with remaking Judy over into the spot-on image of his dead love interest. Judy goes along with Scottie's wishes to a point, all the while fearing he will connect the dots and realize the truth about her deception. Eventually, he does, forcing Judy to recreate the scene of the crime inside San Juan Batista to prove his point. Only Judy slips at the last possible moment and dies the same tragic death as her alter ego, leaving an emotionally scarred Scottie once more to pick up the pieces of his shattered romantic life.

In many ways, Vertigo shows off Hitchcock’s cinematic prowess to its very best advantage. From the inventive spiraling main title sequence designed by Saul Bass, to Hitchcock’s extraordinary usage of color to evoke mood, to his memorable montage illustrating Scottie’s dizzy spells (a forward zoom/reverse tracking bit of camera trickery devised by Irmin Roberts and since overused in films and on TV), Vertigo is a movie-lover's feast. James Stewart is haunting as the fragile neurotic. When his disheveled hair and wild eyes stare directly into the camera, we believe every moment of his performance. Regrettably, the same cannot be said for Kim Novak's rather asexual turn as the vixen/con artist. Novak's particular brand of icy allure has always escaped me. Equating her rigidity to sexual frustration does not entirely work either, and Novak really does not give us much else except a few brief moments of compelling fear to believe in. Despite this central weakness in casting, Vertigo clings together with an almost hypnotic brilliance.

By 1960, Hitchcock was internationally acclaimed and instantly recognizable around the world. Only part of this notoriety was due to his films. Hitchcock’s more palpable celebrity came from his weekly appearances on TV, introducing segments of Alfred Hitchcock Presents to his legion of fans. TV’s budgetary restrictions and the fast pace of shooting an episodic series would serve as a template for Hitchcock’s next and most celebrated thriller. Often cited as the film that matured American cinema into its present state of sublime cynicism, Psycho (1960) is based on a novel by Robert Bloch, rooted in the real-life serial killings by Ed Gein, a deranged, yet unassuming New England farmer who quietly butchered his neighbors. In the book, Norman Bates is a rather pudgy middle-aged recluse – easily identifiable as someone with a darker side. In transplanting these attributes onto the seemingly normal and youthfully handsome Anthony Perkins, Hitchcock played upon an erroneous - yet almost universal movie-land mis-perception; that evil is easily identifiable or, as Shakespeare more astutely observed, “he who smiles may smile and be a villain.” Budgeted at a remarkably modest $800,000, Psycho went on to earn forty-million in its initial release – a telling sign of the cost-cutting that would come to exemplify film-making more and more throughout the 1960s. Joseph Stephano’s screenplay is imbued with an immersive underlay of psychoanalysis, perhaps because Stephano was also in therapy at the time the script was being written.

The story concerns Marion Crane (Janet Leigh) …or so we are initially led to believe. Marion is a hot and bothered secretary whose lover, hardware salesman, Sam Loomis’ (John Gavin) is unable to commit to marriage because he is struggling to pay off his ex-wife’s alimony. To expedite their way to the altar, Marion decides to steal fifty thousand dollars from her employer as a runaway down payment on that fantasy life she mis-perceives can be theirs. Unfortunately, en route from Phoenix to Fairfax, the weather turns ugly, forcing Marion to take a night’s refuge at the Bates Motel from which she will never return. The motel’s proprietor, Norman Bates is a congenial mama’s boy on the surface, but quickly develops a paralytic sexual frustration that manifests itself as murderous psychosis. After assuming the manner and attire of his dead mother, and brutally stabbing Marion to death inside one of the motel showers, Norman disposes of her body in a nearby swamp. Enter private investigator, Milton Arbogast (Martin Balsam). Assigned by Marion’s employer to track her down, Arbogast eventually traces Marion to the Bates Motel and shortly thereafter suffers the same fate as our heroine.

Forced to take matters into their own hands, Marion’s sister Lila (Vera Miles) and Sam journey to the motel and that now infamous old Gothic house on the hill just beyond – actually a free-standing set, built on Universal’s back lot. After Sam diverts Norman's attentions, Lila hurries up to the house in search of ‘Mrs. Bates’. Having earlier been told by Arbogast that Norman's mother is an invalid, Lila is determined to question the old woman. But Norman becomes unsettled by Sam's probing questions. After temporarily knocking Sam unconscious, Norman hurries to confront Lila who has hidden in the cellar, the last place she thinks anyone will look for her. Unfortunately, the basement is home to the real truth about Norman Bates; his mother, who figured prominently as a possible suspect in Marion’s disappearance, is actually a mummified corpse, dressed in her favorite shawl and wig, but rotted through nonetheless. Hitchcock frames Lila’s terrifying moment of realization in extreme close-up, with mother’s back to the camera. He then slowly spins her chair around to reveal the shriveled corpse, its cavernous and blank eye sockets staring to some unfixed point beyond the camera. Lila's shrieks draw Norman to the cellar, dressed in his mother's clothes and toting a butcher knife for the next kill. But Sam arrives in the nick of time to thwart Lila's murder and apprehend filmdom's most celebrated serial killer.

Viewed today, the final act of Psycho is dedicated to a somewhat laborious explanation by Dr. Fred Richmond (Simon Oakland) regarding Norman's 'condition' – explained away as an inability to reconcile his matricide by giving half his life to a schizophrenic counterpart that becomes jealous whenever Norman is sexually aroused by other women. Although brilliantly explained for its time, this finale, with Hitchcock slowly transposing the image of ‘mother’ over Norman’s wickedly grinning face, while a disturbing revelation, emerges somewhat anti-climactic now. Of the picture’s many riveting moments, the shower scene remains one of the most effective and masterful bits of editing ever put on film. Involving ninety cuts, a partially nude stand-in for Janet Leigh, and a melon being slashed to simulate the sound of steel cutting into flesh – the sequence unravels as an assault on the senses – its quickly panned horizontal and vertical slashes reassembled inside our collective mindset as a brutal homicide that, in reality, is never entirely visualized on the screen. Psycho was denounced by the Catholic League of Decency as well as by a select few film critics who thought Hitchcock had gone too far. The backlash, coupled with Paramount’s clever marketing only served to further fuel the public’s rabid fascination to see it. As a result, Psycho proved to be Hitchcock’s most profitable thriller. Three years later Hitch’ would startle audiences yet again, in his penultimate terror-fest, The Birds (1963); a technologically brilliant reworking of a short story by Daphne du Maurier (Hitchcock’s favorite author and a personal friend), superbly fleshed out by screenwriter, Evan Hunter.

After some searching, Hitch' found his leading lady in Tippi Hedren, a statuesque beauty who had appeared in a shampoo commercial on television. Squiring the ingénue through various screen test and rehearsals, and even a private wardrobe fitting with imminent costumer, Edith Head, Hitchcock finally revealed to Hedren that she had won the coveted role in his next big movie project; eliciting tears of joy from the former model. Given Hedren’s previous glowing accounts of working with Hitchcock, her more recent denouncement in her autobiography and claims of a sexual assault are not only off-putting but highly suspect. While no one could deny Hitch’ had an affinity for blondes, stretching it to include a sexual compunction is a bit much. From a purely technical standpoint, The Birds is undeniably Hitchcock’s most ambitious movie, relying heavily on old school photographic trickery that only occasionally belies its origins under today’s closer scrutiny. The sodium vapor matte process employed for the film was largely the invention of Disney SFX specialist, Ub Iwerks, who was called upon after Hitchcock became dissatisfied with the less than stellar results reproduced by the more traditional ‘blue screen’ process. In hindsight, The Birds would be Hitchcock’s last hurrah. Although he would continue to make pictures well beyond it, none would recapture his former glory.

The plot of The Birds eventually concocted by Hunter is centered in the quaint fictional hamlet of Bodega Bay: weekend getaway for hotshot defense attorney, Mitchell Brenner (Rod Taylor). While in San Francisco, Mitch tweaks the nose of Melanie Daniels (Tippi Hedren), a wealthy socialite and practical joker whose wild past has been regularly expounded upon in the tabloids. Mitch and Melanie quickly escalate their mutual antagonism from tempestuous rivalry to smoldering romance; quietly abhorred by Lydia (Jessica Tandy), Mitch’s mother and even more painfully observed with passive jealousy by Mitch's old flame, school teacher Annie Haywood (Suzanne Pleshette). Mitch invites Melanie to his kid sister, Cathy's (Veronica Cartwright) birthday party. As there are no available rooms in town Melanie stays with Annie for the weekend. Despite their competing interests for Mitch’s affections, the mood between Melanie and Annie becomes friendly, with Annie admitting Lydia broke apart her relationship with Mitch years ago. Cathy’s party is interrupted by a flock of seagulls that dive bomb the children. Only a day earlier, Melanie was struck in the head by a wayward seagull while sailing off the coast of Bodega Bay. That incident might have been easily construed as isolated - but not the party: especially after a swarm of finches flies down the chimney later in the evening, transforming the Brenner's living room into a feathery mess. The next day, Lydia drives out to Dan Forsythe's farm to make her inquiries about some chicken feed her fowl refuse to eat, only to make the gruesome discovery of Dan's badly mangled body, eyes pecked out, lying in a corner of the bedroom.  As the Santa Rosa police begin their investigation, Melanie offers to pick up Cathy from school. However, while waiting for class to let out, Melanie becomes acutely aware of a sinister flock of crows amassing on the jungle gym.

From here, Hitchcock ups the ante for his subsequent bird attacks. The crows descend upon the children but take no victims. In town, the gulls retaliate, knocking a gas station attendant unconscious. This assault starts a fire that the birds use to their advantage to launch their all-out attack on Bodega Bay. Melanie narrowly escapes becoming their next victim. But Annie dies while pushing Cathy indoors to relative safety. That night, Mitch boards up all of the windows in the Brenner home where Melanie, Cathy and Lydia wait out the next deluge. The sound of flapping wings and screeching outside is deafening, but then, even more ominously dies out. Have the birds gone away?  After Lydia, Cathy and Mitch have fallen asleep, Melanie is stirred by the nearby sound of fluttering wings, the beam from her flashlight inadvertently startling a mixed flock that have managed to peck through the roof. The birds pounce on Melanie, tearing at her hair and clothes and sending her into a catatonic state. Barely rescued from the attic, Melanie is carried to the car by Mitch, the family narrowly escaping as the birds plot their next attack.

Universal’s 4K 4-pack represents some interesting ‘work’. Notice, I didn’t say ‘upgrades’ because only one of the movies in this set exhibits a breathtaking ‘re-imagining’ from its standard Blu-ray counterpart. That movie is Vertigo. Prepare to be dazzled by this one, folks, because what’s here will – at intervals – absolutely take your breath away. I was bowled over, not only by the overall improvement (richness) in color, but the luminescent pop in fine details, at long last given their full flourish in all their former VistaVision glory. The flower shop sequence? Mesmerizing. The ‘nightmare sequence’ where Scotty suffers his nervous breakdown? Wow! Midges apartment, with its breathtaking view of the Bay area? Holy cow! The audio?... Sigh, I suppose we can’t have everything. Still curiously absent – an authentic mono mix (remember, vintage VistaVision only housed a mono track). Herein, we get the same ‘2.0’ dual mono down-mix, plus the newly remastered 7.1 DTS derived from a stereo mix created for Vertigo’s theatrical reissue in the mid-1990’s. Alas, this mix takes simple foley like gunshots during the opening ‘chase’ sequence and makes them sound like reverberating canon fire. Ditto for the harsh acoustic of footsteps on cement during the climactic climb up the bell tower, obviously sourced from new SFX ‘folded’ into the otherwise vintage audio, and none too convincingly either!

Psycho represents the second best UHD transfer in this set, and thank heaven too, as the 2012 Blu-ray left a lot to be desired, not the least, an overall digitally scrubbed image, absent of any meaningfully rendered grain. Uni has caught up to where Europe has been for several years, finally offering us both the theatrical, and, 'uncut' versions of the movie, seamlessly-branched. Actually, the ‘uncut’ version sports just a few added goodies; a few more salacious peephole glances from Perkin’s pervert, ogling Janet Leigh nearly shedding her black bra. There are also a handful of shots scattered throughout the picture that are extended, in some cases, by only a few more seconds. Blink and you’ll miss the edits – proof positive, the theatrical cut was the one Hitchcock wanted everyone to see. The big improvement here – grain and contrast; the former, brought into all its finite glory, the image more subtly nuanced and textured throughout; the latter, appearing noticeably darker by comparison to the old Blu-ray release, which seems more ‘authentic’ somehow (although this, I have absolutely no way of knowing).  And Uni has actually deigned to include this newly remastered edition of Psycho on both the UHD and Blu-ray editions included here. All of the other movies in this set come with the same tired 2012 mastered Blu-ray editions.

The two movies that continue to fall short visually are Rear Window and The Birds. First, to Rear Window, sourced from film elements that have been extensively remastered over the years - alas, from elements not always properly curated. Before continuing, I suppose I should begin with a disclaimer: that both Rear Window and The Birds advance over their Blu-ray counterparts. But the improvements are marginal at best. Rear Window still has ‘contrast’ issues. It always has, and likely always will. Colors are more refined over the Blu-ray edition, and flesh tones are definitely improved here. I also think the main titles look much more stable than they ever have elsewhere on home video. The standard Blu-ray often registered flesh with a curious hint of jaundice or leaned too liberally toward pale pink. Herein, flesh looks…well…fleshy. The overall improvements outweigh the shortcomings. So, don’t feel as though you are buying inferior product, because you’re not. The image advances – just not as spectacularly as Vertigo. Finally, The Birds – one of my absolute favorite movies of all time – gets the booby prize in this set. While 4K has tightened up the image, this is by far the most anemic ‘improvement’ of the lot. Over the years, I have pondered why The Birds – one of the youngest movies in any of these Hitchcock sets – has always retained an extremely dated color palette, often, with clumpy grain to boot, and, contrast that continues to toggle from fairly good to only so-so. All of these shortcomings endure on this 4K remaster. Yes, side by side comparisons confirm this is a new scan, with minute improvements in all of the aforementioned criteria.  But the film still looks ‘worn’ and/or ‘dated’ for lack of a better descriptor.

Some will also poo-poo the fact Uni has NOT included any ‘new’ extras in this set. But frankly, I cannot fault the studio for this, as it did some wonderful work on their previous ‘Masterpiece Collection’ goodies, of which, virtually all have found their way back into this set too. So, on Rear Window we get John Fawell’s audio commentary, the nearly hour-long doc, ‘Rear Window Ethics’, a featurette with screenwriter, John Michael Hayes, the nearly half-hour docs, Pure Cinema: Through the Eyes of the Master, Masters of Cinema, and, Breaking Barriers: The Sound of Hitchcock, audio of Hitchcock and Francois Truffaut, stills, and, a badly dated trailer. Vertigo is favored with William Friedkin’s audio commentary, the half-hour doc, Obsessed with Vertigo: New Life for Alfred Hitchcock's Masterpiece, Partners in Crime, the hour-long look at Hitchcock's behind-the-scenes collaborators; plus, tributes to the master’s wife, Alma Hitchcock, graphic artist, Saul Bass, costume designer, Edith Head, and composer, Bernard Herrmann. We also get the foreign censorship ending, an extensive stills gallery, and 2 trailers. Psycho is a jam-packed affair, starting with Stephen Rebello’s audio commentary, and, The Making of Psycho. We also get Psycho Sound, tributes to Hitchcock’s legacy and more reflection from the famous Hitchcock/Truffaut tête à tête, plus analysis of ‘the shower scene’ with and without music, newsreel footage of the movie’s premiere, extensive galleries devoted to publicity and marketing, and trailers.

Finally, The Birds contains ‘All About The Birds’ – that definitive doc on the movie, running almost 1 ½ hrs. and featuring glowing tributes from Tippi Hedren, Rod Taylor and others.  I take notice of this as Ms. Hedren has since had a change of heart and reflects rather differently on her experiences making the movie than what she offers up here. Also, on this disc, deleted scenes, and, production stills pieced together as ‘the original ending’, The Birds: Hitchcock’s Monster Movie – a reflective puff piece in which contemporary film makers pay homage to the master’s foresight, storyboards, screen tests, more Hitchcock/Truffaut, and newsreel junkets shot to promote the movie. Despite the obvious advances made on all of these 4K discs, my parting thoughts are decidedly mixed. On the one hand, I am ‘over the moon’ to have what I consider the definitive UHD of Vertigo in my collection. What a fabulous experience for those with a proper 4K set-up. Get excited! It’s worth your blood-pressure. And Psycho too is a definite plus in UHD – subtler improvements, but obvious nonetheless. I just wish Uni had done a little something extra with the other two movies in this set – especially, The Birds, given its renown and enduring reputation. And, seriously, can we just get Uni to cough up the necessary funds for a new 1080p and 4K remaster of The Man Who Knew Too Much – a great film, currently, in one of the ugliest-looking hi-def transfers anywhere on the market? But I digress. Bottom line: if you are like me, you have likely double – even triple – dipped for this vintage catalog; proof positive Hitchcock will always remain the master of suspense and a lucrative cash cow for Universal. However, if it is perfection you seek, only Vertigo offers it in 4K. The other movies are of varying visual integrity. Oh, and one final complaint. Can someone at Uni just put an end to this deplorable cardboard ‘slip cover’ housing once and for all? Talk about awkward, clumsy storage! Recommended, with caveats.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

Overall – 5+

VIDEO/AUDIO

Rear Window 3.5

Vertigo 5+

Psycho (both cuts) 4.5

The Birds 3

EXTRAS

3