"There
was always time in our work sessions for stories and anecdotes. One
minute the script, the next a story about Ivor Novello’s tailor or the
Tahiti steamer schedule in the Thirties. Sometimes the talk was without
apparent purpose, but at other times some shred of casual chatter would
turn out useful to our work. He was obsessed with detail and had a slow,
meandering style.
Hitchcock had
the historical good fortune to have worked from silent films through
television. At his best, he was an inventor of part of the modem
cinema’s grammar. But unlike any other director, he was an identifiable
public figure, as recognizable as any president or movie star.
Television did that for him—but long before his television show he was
popping up in all his own movies, those tiny cameo appearances that
audiences loved. He exploited a physique that most would try desperately
to diminish. He wasn’t crazy about being fat, but he saw his body as a
tool to use in the making of his career. He always claimed that “in
England everyone looks as I do, and no one would remark on it.”
Maybe—but he exploited his profile as effectively as any pinup".--From
David Freeman's "The Last Days of Alfred Hitchcock," in Esquire, April 1982.
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