1001 films you must see before you die- Part VI: 1950-1954

A rare example of mainstream animation being used to tell a highly political story, Animal Farm retains its value as a vivid adaptation of George Orwell's classic novel. Characters were eliminated, certain elements of plot were simplified, and the book's gloomy ending was softened to offer a glimmer of hope, but Orwell's parable of the Russian revolution--retold as a revolt among not-so-equal barnyard animals--remains potently intact. As produced by the famous British animation studio run by John Halas and Joy Batchelor, this still-important 1954 film is anything but kiddie fare; it steadfastly avoids sentiment, and despite its slightly more upbeat ending this is still a story that involves exploitation, death, betrayal, and an inevitable uprising that goes a step beyond Orwell's pessimistic conclusion. With British actor Maurice Denham supplying all the voices and Gordon Heath providing newsreel-like narration, this economical, documentary-like telling of Orwell's tale was criticized for its "Disneyfied" style, but the animation is actually quite striking in its European influence and bold use of symbolism. It has aged, and some of its impact has been lost to the course of history, but it's an essential addition to any serious animation collection. Excellent commentary and a 30-minute "making of" featurette place this extraordinary milestone of British animation in proper historical context.

Like the Greenwich Village courtyard view from its titular portal, Alfred Hitchcock's classic Rear Window is both confined and multileveled: both its story and visual perspective are dictated by its protagonist's imprisonment in his apartment, convalescing in a wheelchair, from which both he and the audience observe the lives of his neighbors. Cheerful voyeurism, as well as the behavior glimpsed among the various tenants, affords a droll comic atmosphere that gradually darkens when he sees clues to what may be a murder.
Photographer L.B. "Jeff" Jeffries (James Stewart) is, in fact, a voyeur by trade, a professional photographer sidelined by an accident while on assignment. His immersion in the human drama (and comedy) visible from his window is a by-product of boredom, underlined by the disapproval of his girlfriend, Lisa (Grace Kelly), and a wisecracking visiting nurse (Thelma Ritter). Yet when the invalid wife of Lars Thorwald (Raymond Burr) disappears, Jeff enlists the two women to help him to determine whether she's really left town, as Thorwald insists, or been murdered.
Hitchcock scholar Donald Spoto convincingly argues that the crime at the center of this mystery is the MacGuffin--a mere pretext--in a film that's more interested in the implications of Jeff's sentinel perspective. We actually learn more about the lives of the other neighbors (given generic names by Jeff, even as he's drawn into their lives) he, and we, watch undetected than we do the putative murderer and his victim. Jeff's evident fear of intimacy and commitment with the elegant, adoring Lisa provides the other vital thread to the script, one woven not only into the couple's own relationship, but reflected and even commented upon through the various neighbors' lives.
At minimum, Hitchcock's skill at making us accomplices to Jeff's spying, coupled with an ingenious escalation of suspense as the teasingly vague evidence coalesces into ominous proof, deliver a superb thriller spiked with droll humor, right up to its nail-biting, nightmarish climax. At deeper levels, however, Rear Window plumbs issues of moral responsibility and emotional honesty, while offering further proof (were any needed) of the director's brilliance as a visual storyteller.