The most recent previous reviewer, Robert_Maxwell wrote: "Any conclusion is left hanging, and I didn't get the impression this was intentional ambiguity." I agree with the first part of this remark, but must disagree entirely with the main point. The ambiguity is indeed intentional. Although the heroine is now seemingly free of any legal charge of murder, we know that she is certain to marry her detective boyfriend, who knows of her culpability in the death of the rapist. She will thus be living in a state of perpetual 'blackmail,' married to the one man who can expose her secret at his leisure.
Not a very pleasant thought - and this is not a very pleasant film. The whole story, after all, hinges on an implicit assumption - if she had not killed the rapist, and had the rape become known, the society in which she lives would have held her accountable for the rape - the crime for which the victim, rather than the perpetrator, was considered guilty (and still is, unfortunately, in many regions). This is, of course, the real reason she covers up the killing, since (she has good reason to believe) the authorities would not recognize a claim of self-defense against rape, and she would be held doubly responsible - for 'enticing' the man, then killing him for acting out his 'understandable' sexual urges that she 'aroused.'
So she remains in a state of unredeemable guilt - guilty of murder, guilty of having been the victim of rape, guilty of having been too beautiful, guilty of loving a man who could at any time betray her - indeed, guilty of being innocent. Guilty, in short - of being a woman.
While Hitchcock's film-making savvy is everywhere in evidence, and the pace is fairly swift, this is one of the master's heaviest, darkest, most depressing films. A good film, necessary to see at least once, but very troubling nonetheless.
Not a very pleasant thought - and this is not a very pleasant film. The whole story, after all, hinges on an implicit assumption - if she had not killed the rapist, and had the rape become known, the society in which she lives would have held her accountable for the rape - the crime for which the victim, rather than the perpetrator, was considered guilty (and still is, unfortunately, in many regions). This is, of course, the real reason she covers up the killing, since (she has good reason to believe) the authorities would not recognize a claim of self-defense against rape, and she would be held doubly responsible - for 'enticing' the man, then killing him for acting out his 'understandable' sexual urges that she 'aroused.'
So she remains in a state of unredeemable guilt - guilty of murder, guilty of having been the victim of rape, guilty of having been too beautiful, guilty of loving a man who could at any time betray her - indeed, guilty of being innocent. Guilty, in short - of being a woman.
While Hitchcock's film-making savvy is everywhere in evidence, and the pace is fairly swift, this is one of the master's heaviest, darkest, most depressing films. A good film, necessary to see at least once, but very troubling nonetheless.