Joanne Fonatine is my quintessential Rebecca. She, in two hours of Hitchcock's wonderful screen adaptation of Daphne du Maurier's book, managed to convey the innermost fears of a person, who feels out-of-place and cowed down by the momentous turn his life has taken, and ends up harassing himself through various convoluted thoughts designed specifically to torment the soul at its most vulnerable.
Mind conjures images that exacerbate the situation and we plunge into the depths of self-pity and eventual destruction. The story goes like this: Hitchcock told Joanne that nobody on the sets liked her and they couldn't wait to see the back of her. The constant negative dose that Hitchcock administered Joanne finally began to yield results when she became trepid and introvert on the sets. The combination of negative inputs and self-distrust went on to contribute to one of the greatest cinematic performances, which rendered even the redoubtable Laurence Olivier's performance pale in comparison.
Though movies crunch the stories into a maximum three-hour fare, books retain the soul of the narrative, insofar as it gives more avenue for imaginative somersault. In a cinema, what we witness is a third-hand account of the narrative, wherein the idiosyncrasies and perception of the artiste gets involved. However, books afford us the leisure of delving deep into our own thoughts and create an alternative reality, much to our taste and fashion. While the medium of cinema is quite close to my heart, I suspect, I shall never see a movie that would be as moving as a book. However, both the media have their own merits and demerits. Given that we live in an age, where scientists of suspect lineage claim that the attention span is dwindling, it is good that we have movies.
Had a minor altercation with my senior on the use of 'spurned lover'. The story was that a man in a relationship with a woman landed at her place to seek answers to why he was overlooked when it came to marriage. Matters went out of hands soon and the man beat up the woman. He was later arrested. Now, here started the trouble. My immediate senior did not like use of 'spurned lover' in a headline I crafted. Her stance: it gives an impression that the woman was wrong. Instead of focussing on the immediate reason, which is the thrashing, the headline focussed on their past relationship. I countered that spurned meant rejected and joining it with lover conveyed a sense that they were in a relationship and her walking out was the immediate cause for the violent reaction, which by any stretch of imagination was not justified.
However, she embarked on a litany of rant about how women victims are devictimised. Sensing that the conversation was soon to take a gender discrimination turn, I smiled, said fine and started typing to suggest I was no longer interested in the conversation. I find it difficult to fathom how people find gender overtones in a work, where none was intended. Activism is all fine, but when it takes an argumentative turn owing to fertile imagination and surety of having being wronged against, it gets annoying. I have full sympathy for the girl, who exercised her right to say no to a person, and none for the boy. However, how can calling a spade a spade be of negative impact is something that beats me.
Knowing well that you cannot be right even when you are, I retire for the night. The headline appeared with a 'spurned lover' phrase and I have no intention to sanitise my language just because someone differs from me.