Ok, so it's Hitchcockian. Enough already.
The story of this film is wonderful. Sure, while everybody gets distracted by watching Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn cavorting happily through Paris (and very distracting they are), the story of this film really deserves more credit than it gets. The location of the hidden money is very clever, all the more so for being right under everyone's nose all along (including the audience). In addition to an intriguing story filled with colorful characters, this film is also packed with terrific dialogue of the "witty banter" variety. This contributes enormously to the film's charm, which, other than its stars, is its most bankable asset. No wonder it is so well-regarded.
I'm frankly puzzled by people who seem to resent the fact that this film is compared to Hitchcock. As though anyone attempting to imitate Hitchcock must be, by definition, a fawning little hack. Stanley Donen is no hack, and he wasn't fawning. He realized that Hitchcock was monopolizing a genre he didn't invent, and thought "Why should he be the only person allowed to make such films?" Now, Donen doesn't have the reputation Hitchcock has, which is understandable enough. When compared to films like "Rear Window" or "Vertigo", "Charade" looks rather slight and unimportant. But it stands toe-to-toe with a film like "North by Northwest", and is stronger, I'd say, than "Notorious" or "Strangers on a Train", just to pick out a few examples. The blending of comedy, romance, and suspense is a difficult one to pull off, and Hitchcock didn't always get it right. "Charade" does.
The only complaint I have is a small plot detail. Granted that Cruikshank must adopt a false identity for the purpose of a) deceiving the "Marx brothers" and b) finding out whether or not Reggie is involved, he gives Reggie one or two more false identities than he has to. He tells her he's Peter Joshua, then that he's Alexander Dyle, fine. But by the time his Dyle persona is blown apart, she already trusts him for the most part (as evidenced by the ease with which she accepts his rather thin story about being a thief), so why not just tell her the truth?
But it's a small flaw, and it doesn't do anything at all to undermine the enjoyment one takes in this lovely and endlessly watchable film.
The story of this film is wonderful. Sure, while everybody gets distracted by watching Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn cavorting happily through Paris (and very distracting they are), the story of this film really deserves more credit than it gets. The location of the hidden money is very clever, all the more so for being right under everyone's nose all along (including the audience). In addition to an intriguing story filled with colorful characters, this film is also packed with terrific dialogue of the "witty banter" variety. This contributes enormously to the film's charm, which, other than its stars, is its most bankable asset. No wonder it is so well-regarded.
I'm frankly puzzled by people who seem to resent the fact that this film is compared to Hitchcock. As though anyone attempting to imitate Hitchcock must be, by definition, a fawning little hack. Stanley Donen is no hack, and he wasn't fawning. He realized that Hitchcock was monopolizing a genre he didn't invent, and thought "Why should he be the only person allowed to make such films?" Now, Donen doesn't have the reputation Hitchcock has, which is understandable enough. When compared to films like "Rear Window" or "Vertigo", "Charade" looks rather slight and unimportant. But it stands toe-to-toe with a film like "North by Northwest", and is stronger, I'd say, than "Notorious" or "Strangers on a Train", just to pick out a few examples. The blending of comedy, romance, and suspense is a difficult one to pull off, and Hitchcock didn't always get it right. "Charade" does.
The only complaint I have is a small plot detail. Granted that Cruikshank must adopt a false identity for the purpose of a) deceiving the "Marx brothers" and b) finding out whether or not Reggie is involved, he gives Reggie one or two more false identities than he has to. He tells her he's Peter Joshua, then that he's Alexander Dyle, fine. But by the time his Dyle persona is blown apart, she already trusts him for the most part (as evidenced by the ease with which she accepts his rather thin story about being a thief), so why not just tell her the truth?
But it's a small flaw, and it doesn't do anything at all to undermine the enjoyment one takes in this lovely and endlessly watchable film.