While Alfred Hitchcock was famous for stretching tension and plot twists to their absolute limit, that hardly meant that the old boy didn’t like to blow off some steam every now and then with the odd holiday. In fact, I strongly believe that the entire genesis behind To Catch A Thief was that Hitch fancied hanging out on the French Rivera for a bit and catch a bit of sun after the darkness of Dial M For Murder and the confined nature of Rear Window. In fact, this tale of jewel thieves and romance counts among one of the lighter and frothier offerings that the usually spiteful director has ever given us.
Was this a sign that Hitch was starting to mellow in his old age? Hardly, the mischevious sod still had such vicious classics in him as Psycho and The Birds, but it’s still nice to witness a move overtly softer side to him as we witness Cary Grant and Grace Kelly flirt around France like humanity depended on it.
Despite being allegedly retired, French police still think that former jewel thief John Robie is their number one suspect after a string of robberies strike some rich folk living the life of Reilly on the French Rivera. Such a talented burglar was Robie, he even managed to earn himself the nickname of “The Cat”, due to his lithe agility and ability to bypass any security measures you could name, and while he now lives his life as a debonair bachelor, he’s still clued up enough to know he needs to be elsewhere when the cops arrive.
However, when he arrives at the restaurant of his friend, Bertani, he finds that the staff (who used to be his old gang) are bristling with anger that he’s seemingly gone off the straight and narrow and threatened their hard-earned parole. Finding no safety there, Robie reasons that the best way to clear his name is to catch this Cat-copying copycat himself by putting all of his old skills into effect. First enlisting the help of Danielle, the flirty daughter of the restaurant’s wine steward, to further escape the police, and then seeking aid from insurance agent H.H. Hughson, who reluctantly provides a list of the owners of the most expensive jewelry in the area, John is ready to try and nab the thief.
However, one thing he didn’t count on was the presence of Frances, the forceful daughter of loaded, nouveau riche widow, Jessie Stevens. Having put them at the top of his most-likely-to-be-robbed list, he strikes up a friendship with the pair, only to discover that things with Frances are moving in a somewhat more romantic direction. Matters are made even more complex when Frances reveals that she’s also rumbled Robie’s game and figured out he’s a jewel thief – but while she’s initially thrilled with the excitement of it all (judging at how she drives, our Frances is something of a thrill seeker), when her mother’s diamond necklace is the latest victory of the copycat, her attitudes understandably cool. With everyone closing in on Robie, can he finally point out the real thief and clear his tarnished name?
While it’s true that anyone expecting a tightly plotted thriller that defies expectations will be rather surprised that cinema’s Master Of Suspense has made something so cheerful and bouncy (it even makes North By Northwest look like Se7en in comparison), there’s something oddly sweet about Hitch taking time out from traumatising blondes in order to let his hair down. He’s certainly made light films before, but even by those standards, To Catch A Thief feels like the director at his most consequence free. There’s no deep-seated, soon-to-be-triggered mental mine field to be negotiated and no shadowy perversions guiding our cast – none that we can see, anyway. No, as it stands, Hitch’s third (out of four) collaboration with Cary Grant and his third pairing with Grace Kelly on the bounce (previous seen in Hitch’s last two features) is nothing more than an irrepressibly cheerful romantic/comedy/thriller that goes light on the darkness and heavy on the verbal zingers.
However, if you’re a fan of that period of cinema that simultaneously acted like a glorified travelogue while obscenely refined people trade immaculately scripted barbs, the team of Hitchcock, Grant and Kelly have certainly got you covered as they flirt on picturesque beaches, flirt while speeding down glorious country roads and flirt within lavish mansions. The thriller aspect of the story gets mostly left in the dust in favour of the effortless chemistry between the leads while their surroundings drench them in sunshine (when they’re not acting in front of rear projection screen on a sound stage, that is), but when you have a coupling as fun as this, it’s virtually impossible to complain.
Grant is as absurdly suave as ever and despite his rather extreme tan (he’s alarmingly the same shade as Roy Scheider in Jaws 2), he gives off rather wonderful James Bond-in-retirement vibes as he slinks from scene to scene. Conversely, Kelly is an absolute live-wire as she casually rockets around a mountain road like a Formula 1 driver, eagerly begs to plan a robbery with John and does it all while wreathed in breathtaking fashions. In fact, after decades of perfecting the “icy blonde” trope, it’s genuinely amusing that Hitchcock was self aware enough to ditch it and just let the actress continue to be an absolute fire cracker.
Conversely, there is unavoidable disappointment that the director wasn’t able to be a bit more fiendish with his set pieces as they’re positively playful compared to some of his others. A chase through a market filled with flowers is visually vibrant, but more played for laughs; as is that reckless joyride in the country that allows Frances’ superior driving skills lose a police tail without somehow causing an astronomical loss of life. Some of Hitch’s old tricks surface as he experiments with lighting for the night-set stealth sequences and curiously casts them in imposing, eerie greens, and a expansive, final act, bait ‘n switch at a costume ball adds to the lush scale. But the most striking bit of trickery employed by the director is amusingly the use of fireworks to be a rather blunt metaphor for John and Frances sleeping in together as they both could be interpreted as the popping butterflies of true love, and the “explosive” end of romanticised, cinematic lovemaking.
Whatever way you look at it, To Catch A Thief may be Hitckcock-lite, but it’s only that way because that’s what the director wanted, and it’s good to know he can still make a such an entertaining film when not constantly relying on various impish tricks and mischevious machinations.
Those turning up for some classic, tension-baiting thrills as they wait for Hitchcock to turn the screws will no doubt be confused that all involved are here mostly to have fun. But is this, the low energy stakes, and an easily guessable twist really that much of a problem when it’s all delivered with such charm, style and panache? This may be Hitch firmly in vacation mode, but the guy can still bang out the classics.
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