Shadow of a Doubt is a 1943 film directed by Alfred Hitchcock, his favourite of all of his films, and the one he enjoyed making the most. Written by Thornton Wilder, Sally Benson, and Alma Reville, Shadow of a Doubt was based on a story treatment by Gordon McDonell called “Uncle Charlie,” which in turn was based on the true crime story of Earle Nelson, a serial killer, rapist, and necrophile from the late 1920s known as “The Gorilla Man.”
Most of Nelson’s victims were middle-aged landladies, killed by strangulation, and many were raped after death. The writers of Hitchcock’s film changed the victims into wealthy, elderly widows, and Nelson’s charm–as a mild-mannered Christian drifter–was retained in Uncle Charlie. I find the connection between landladies and wealthy widows as victims to be interesting, as I’ll get into later.
The film stars Joseph Cotten (as Uncle Charlie) and Teresa Wright, with Macdonald Carey, Patricia Collinge, Henry Travers, Wallace Ford, and Hume Cronyn. McDonell was nominated for an Oscar for Best Story. The film received universally positive reviews upon release, and in 1991, it was selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry by the Library of Congress, being deemed “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant.”
Here are some quotes from Shadow of a Doubt.
A crucial theme in this film is the sharp contrast between a man’s charming outer persona and his dark, evil inside. Note what Hitchcock himself once said as an overarching theme: “Love and good order is no defense against evil.” Uncle Charlie has such a good reputation among his own family, the Newtons, whom he’ll visit in Santa Rosa, California (in McDonell’s treatment, the small town the villain will visit is Hanford in the San Joaquin Valley), that the last thing they’d ever suspect is that he’s a serial killer.
Uncle Charlie’s sister, Emma Newton (Collinge), and her husband, Joseph (Travers), named their eldest daughter, Charlotte “Charlie” Newton (Wright) after him because he’s idealized so much, an idealization that spreads out to the entire city of Santa Rosa, a location chosen for the film as a paragon of a peaceful, small, pre-WWII American city. Such a nice place for Uncle Charlie to hide out in reinforces this idea of a good, wholesome exterior hiding a shady secret.
On top of all of this is Young Charlie, a sweet, pretty young woman sharing the name of the villain. On two occasions in the film when she and her uncle chat, they speak of themselves as being twins, rather than uncle and niece.
Her wish to have him come over to Santa Rosa, to relieve the boredom and meaninglessness of their lives, coincides with him sending a telegram to her family, saying he wishes to pay them a visit. She imagines that her wish has been mental telepathy, sent to him to make him send the telegram; a Jungian would say this meaningful coincidence, a linking of her inner mental state with the outside world, is a case of synchronicity. In any case, this coincidence is yet another linking of the two Charlies, with her nice-girl Persona and his serial-killer Shadow.
Her adoration of her handsome, charming uncle borders on incestuous desire, a kind of transference of her Electra complex from her father to her uncle. Indeed, she beams at her Uncle Charlie, with a grin from ear to ear, thinking he’s “wonderful.”
So she’s transferring her idealization from the parental imago to her uncle. The idealized parental imago is one of two poles of the self, as Heinz Kohut conceived it, a self rooted in narcissism. Since the Oedipus complex is a narcissistic trauma, and she’s transferring hers to her uncle, then her love of him is really a narcissistic projection from herself to him. When she realizes his murderous nature, her heart is broken, and now she must split off and project what’s really her Shadow self onto him, hence, “Shadow of a doubt.”
So, on a symbolic level, both Charlies can be seen as two halves of one person, the good and bad sides of Two-Face‘s coin, if you will. Uncle Charlie’s being pursued by the two detectives at the beginning of the film causes us to sympathize with him for the moment, since we don’t yet know of his crimes, and so we believe, as his niece does, in how “wonderful” he is, until that shadow of a doubt comes with her growing suspicions of him.
A paralleling of the good outer Persona vs the dark, inner Shadow can also be seen in her father, Joseph, having ongoing discussions with a neighbour, Herbie Hawkins (Cronyn), of how one might commit the perfect murder. This little bit of black comedy between them is a light subplot for the dark main one, yet it also reminds us of how the dark sides in us, however seemingly slight, are on a continuum with those who commit actual crimes. The real difference is in how the hell of the real world has a way of pushing people over the edge to commit criminal acts…an issue I’ll deal with in more detail later.
Young Charlie’s suspicions of her uncle begin upon having received the gift of a valuable emerald ring from him…one that has the initials of another owner on it. He also gets upset to find a newspaper article about the pursuit of him as a suspect in the murder of the wealthy widows, and even Young Charlie’s naming of Lehár‘s Merry Widow Waltz must be interrupted by him at dinner. Indeed, the theme of this waltz is given numerous, often dark and eerie, variations by the composer of the film-score, Dimitri Tiomkin.
I’ll now give a political interpretation of the film as an allegory, one that some readers will no doubt find controversial, but please, hear me out. While Hitchcock was no friend to fascism, as can be seen in films like The Lady Vanishes and Notorious, and while he promoted progressive ideas in a subtle fashion in his stretching of the limits of movie censorship over the years, as well as in the gay subtext in Rope, he was also a reactionary in other ways, as I’ll go into soon in Shadow of a Doubt.
Indeed, Hitchcock can in some ways be compared to George Orwell, who on the one hand, as he said in Homage to Catalonia, went to Spain in the mid-1930s to fight fascism and was impressed with the revolutionary achievements, however short-lived, of the anarchists there, yet on the other hand, he was so bitterly opposed to the ‘totalitarian’ communists (whom he caricatured in his two famous fictional allegories) that he had a snitch list of ‘crypto-communists’ that he used to thwart the careers of those on the list. Hitchcock, as a bourgeois who was making quite a name for himself (and a lot of money, no doubt) in Hollywood as of the early-1940s, when this film was made, would have had his own class interests to protect.
At the beginning of 1943, when the film was released, the Tehran Conference–with the origins of the Cold War associated with it–was far away from happening, as was the Second Red Scare of 1947. The tide turning against the Nazis in the Battle of Stalingrad was still a month away from happening, too. There seems to have been little fear of communist revolution in January 1943.
The hardships that the working class had suffered during the Great Depression, however, caused them to rise up in an unprecedented way, forcing FDR’s hand in the legislation of the National Labor Relations Act and the New Deal. Many on the political right see little if any difference between the moderate and hard left, and between propagandistic nonsense, like the ‘Holodomor,’ and the truth of the killing of the Tsar’s family, there would already have been much bourgeois fear of leftists idealizing communism.
To get back to the film, and to tie all of these historical digressions to it, there is a crucial scene in which Uncle Charlie discusses what is actually his motive for strangling the rich widows. He refers, with a scowl, to how their husbands worked hard to make all that wealth and then died, leaving all their money to their “silly wives…these useless women”, whom he doubts are even human. In a later discussion with Young Charlie, her uncle describes the world as “a hell.” Given the neoliberal reality we’ve been in for the past forty years, I’d say it’s even more of a hell now.
In these hard-working husbands, I see an allegory of the working class; in their wives, I see the ruling class who take the fruits of their workers’ labour and live in luxury after the men have died from overwork and hazardous accidents. Killing the widows, therefore, allegorizes socialist revolution, but an allegory from the point of view of the frightened bourgeoisie, who want to propagandize against such revolution and call it cruel and violent, hence the representation of the capitalist class as vulnerable, helpless women, to inspire the audience’s sympathy for them.
Young Charlie, too, is concerned–towards the beginning of the film–with the struggles of her family (there is a similar sense of her family’s struggles in McDonell’s treatment), including how her mother works like a dog. Life seems meaningless to her, just a lot of going along with everything, eating and sleeping and nothing else. There’s talking, but little real communication. She seems to sense modern-day alienation. These grey days immediately turn sunny on the arrival of her uncle (who in my allegory represents communist ideals), but she, being liberal-minded like Hitchcock, would never espouse the violent overthrow of capitalism that her uncle’s murders represent.
If my anti-capitalist interpretation seems far-fetched to you, Dear Reader, consider how odd Uncle Charlie’s motive for killing the widows sounds, taken at face value. Misogyny, directed at women merely for being rich and not working, building in a flame of hate strong enough to want to strangle several of them and risk being charged with murder? The world is a hell just because of the widows’ indulgence? Earle Nelson, on whom Uncle Charlie was based, recall, was a sex offender, with a motive straightforward enough to see, but one that for obvious reasons couldn’t be presented on the screen at the time.
That the screenwriters changed the murder victims from being, of all people, landladies to wealthy widows adds to my argument. Landlords, male or female, are capitalists, owning private property–the apartments they make money off of renting them to tenants. The screenwriters changed the victims from one kind of capitalist to another, one whose wealth, unmistakably associated with the exploitation of the poor, is all the more obvious.
A few other things about Uncle Charlie can be associated with communism. He’s come out west from the east. Now, by the east in the film, it’s meant to be the east coast of the US, of course–New Jersey, to be exact. But one can associate “the east” with Russia. There was a growing fear of communist ideas coming to the west–to Western Europe and North America, allegorically represented in the film as California.
One reason I find it useful to link Uncle Charlie’s murders with anti-capitalism, even though he is no communist, is how his story can be paralleled with that of Luigi Mangione, the man accused of shooting and killing Brian Thompson, the CEO of UnitedHealthcare. Mangione has right-leaning political sympathies, but they weren’t enough to stop his rage against an American health insurance system that gets rich off of denying coverage for people who desperately need it, and often die without it. Mangione is regarded as a kind of working-class hero (despite him being from a well-off family), and Thompson’s murder is dismissed by the masses as a case of someone who got what was coming to him.
As for Shadow of a Doubt, though, the bourgeois moviemakers would have us booing at anyone who dares to kill the wealthy. Uncle Charlie’s charm and good looks are meant to be seen as superficial and nothing more.
When Uncle Charlie gives gifts to all the family members, including Young Charlie’s emerald ring, we could see such largesse as representative of a socialist redistribution of wealth. Since this film is actually an anti-communist allegory (as I see it), though, we are reminded, through such things as the initials of the previous owner on the ring, that this redistribution is actually to be understood as a theft from the rightful owners, the capitalist class.
When Uncle Charlie cuts out of Joseph’s newspaper an article about the widow murders, and later gets mad at Young Charlie for inquiring too much about the missing article, we can see in this a representation of an anti-communist accusation of Soviet media censorship. Now, such censorship surely did happen, as with Orwell’s two polemical tales being banned in the USSR, but right-wing, anti-Soviet propaganda (such as I suspect this film to be, allegorically) was a real danger: the “Holodomor” myth, as mentioned above, was originally Nazi propaganda that has persisted to this day, and all such propaganda has led to the counterrevolution that Stalin not only warned against, but also correctly predicted the outcome of, the turning-back of social progress.
Another change from McDonell’s story treatment to the screenplay that I find interesting is that of Young Charlie’s love interest. McDonell had him as a “ne’er-do-well” that she is engaged to, someone who is assumed by all in her town to be guilty of any crime committed there, including a hold-up.
In the film, this love interest becomes one of the two detectives pursuing Uncle Charlie. He is Detective Jack Graham (Carey). Just as with the switch from landladies to wealthy widows as Uncle Charlie’s victims, the switch from a criminal ne’er-do-well to a cop as Uncle Charlie’s rival seems to confirm my anti-communist allegory. Let me explain.
Fascists are fanatical anti-communists known for using violence to achieve their ends. Now, neither Detective Graham nor his colleague, Detective Fred Saunders (Ford) show any violence in the film, but other detectives out east, when pursuing another suspect in the widow stranglings, cause the suspect, whom we’ll know to be innocent, to run into and be sliced to pieces by the propellor of an airplane. Fascists have also demonstrated a peculiar charm to inspire the sympathies of the masses, as Hitler did with his speeches about ‘saving Germany’ from the Jews and communists.
Detective Graham, smitten with Young Charlie as soon as he and Saunders arrive at her house to pretend to survey a typical American family (actually to get photos of her Uncle Charlie as a suspect in the stranglings), puts on the charm to win her heart. His actions to this end allegorically represent fascism trying to charm liberals (whom she represents) into joining the far-right.
What we actually have in this film is a kind of perverse love triangle of him, her, and Uncle Charlie (recall the incestuous, Oedipal transference I discussed above between the latter two). Ideologically, it represents how the left and right vie for the liberal centre (the petite bourgeoisie that we see in Young Charlie’s family) to join them. We’re meant to believe that she should go for the detective who represents the right.
That her initial attraction to her uncle is incestuous is meant to make us abominate the adoption of leftist ideas, however charming they may be about sympathizing with the poor. That the violence of the far right is more or less completely excised from the detectives (that propellor death mentioned merely in passing) is meant to make us believe that the right is harmless.
Graham and Saunders are very interested in getting a photo of Young Charlie’s bedroom (Since her uncle, as a guest, is sleeping there, the detectives hope to get closer to him.). Apart from the detectives’ continued pursuit of her uncle, this getting into her bedroom has obvious sexual overtones.
When Young Charlie learns that the two men are detectives and not surveyors of a typical American family, she’s furious with Graham for lying to her, and she’s even more upset with him when he claimed her “wonderful” uncle could be a murderer. Graham has to put on some extra charm to win her over to him.
My associating of the detectives with fascism, again, as far-fetched as it sounds on the surface, might begin to make sense to you, Dear Reader, when we consider this film as an anti-communist allegory. While liberals, of whom Hitchcock can be counted as one, may publicly abominate fascism, secretly they will feel drawn to it if their class interests feel in danger from crisis or an organized working class.
If there’s one thing fascists are useful for, it’s fighting communism: one need only look into Operation Paperclip, Gladio, and the underground activities of Ukrainian Nazi sympathizers during the Cold War years, among many other examples, to see my point. Their violence and subterfuge are typically hidden or downplayed by the liberal media, as has been the case with the years since the US/NATO-backed coup in 2014 that replaced democratically-elected Yanukovych with a Ukrainian government and military that includes neonazis.
Such a hiding of violence and conspiracy can be seen allegorically in the activities of Graham and Saunders. One must wonder how detectives chasing a suspect in the eastern US, as it turns out, an innocent suspect, escalates to him running into an airplane propellor and getting sliced up. How is this just an unfortunate accident? There must have been considerable aggression on the part of the detectives to have led to that bloody end.
Fearing that Young Charlie will inform on him sooner or later, her uncle makes several attempts on her life. First, he sabotages the porch steps so she’ll fall down them. Then, he leaves the family car idling in the garage–whose door is stuck, making it almost impossible to get out–so when she goes in to use the car that night, she almost dies from inhaling the exhaust fumes. Finally, on the train to leave Santa Rosa with her there, he tries to throw her off as it’s going; but in the struggle, he falls off and dies under the tracks of an oncoming train.
A funeral is given to honour Uncle Charlie, whose crimes will never be known for fear of the crushing disgrace it would do to her family, surely causing her mother Emma to die of a broken heart. Only Young Charlie and Graham, still wooing her, know the truth.
According to my allegory, the film seems to be saying that the ‘truth’ about socialism would be too hurtful for the working class to know if bluntly stated, hence the telling of that ‘truth’ in this indirect manner, to soften the pain of its revelation.
Graham and Young Charlie doubt her uncle’s characterization of the world as a hell. When one is a member of the petite bourgeoisie (as she is) or higher up, it is fairly easy to suppose that the world has more than enough good in it to offset the bad. The global proletariat–especially those in the global south, as well as so many of us experiencing the neoliberalism of the past forty years (even well-off Luigi)–tend to have a less rosy image of the world.











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