After the disaster that TOPAZ represented, Alfred Hitchcock took a three-year hiatus, did an about-face from the United States, and returned to his native England to produce this extremely graphic, violent film which not only made him return full circle to his cinematic origins, but also sent him back to square one -- THE LODGER -- in which a wrong man is accused of a crime he didn't commit. If he had not made FAMILY PLOT it would be a fitting close to a remarkable film career.
Despite the fact that FRENZY is a story about a rapist-murderer laying terror unto London, this is not a mystery by far. From the very beginning we're introduced to the man behind the murders, but also to the man who ultimately comes to be convicted for those very murders -- one of them his very own wife. Hitchcock, of course, loves the dark side of humanity and has expressed a need to tell stories about "the wrong man" as well as explore the natures of depravity hidden underneath a smiling surface, always with his trademark humor. That humor is as black as ever here, seen mainly in the scenes involving the inspector in charge of the investigation of the crimes and his wife (who can't cook to save her life), and especially in the grim sequence when the real killer goes through hell to retrieve his tie-pin which has remained within his latest victim's death grip.
By far the most graphic film in his career, Hitchcock manages to pull some clever camera stunts which service not only the plot, but the sense of voyeurism as an experience. In a great shot, he pulls back from the scene where the killer and his victim enter his apartment, down a flight of stairs, and onto the indifferent streets of London. He's made us witnesses and therefore, accomplices, because he knows we can't do a single thing to save that woman's life.
Despite the fact that FRENZY is a story about a rapist-murderer laying terror unto London, this is not a mystery by far. From the very beginning we're introduced to the man behind the murders, but also to the man who ultimately comes to be convicted for those very murders -- one of them his very own wife. Hitchcock, of course, loves the dark side of humanity and has expressed a need to tell stories about "the wrong man" as well as explore the natures of depravity hidden underneath a smiling surface, always with his trademark humor. That humor is as black as ever here, seen mainly in the scenes involving the inspector in charge of the investigation of the crimes and his wife (who can't cook to save her life), and especially in the grim sequence when the real killer goes through hell to retrieve his tie-pin which has remained within his latest victim's death grip.
By far the most graphic film in his career, Hitchcock manages to pull some clever camera stunts which service not only the plot, but the sense of voyeurism as an experience. In a great shot, he pulls back from the scene where the killer and his victim enter his apartment, down a flight of stairs, and onto the indifferent streets of London. He's made us witnesses and therefore, accomplices, because he knows we can't do a single thing to save that woman's life.