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Takashi Fujimura's essay

"Hitchcock-Hawksism: Hitchcock cannot film 'Stagecoach' ～2014.12.26

★Chapter 2: Godard

As one watches Hitchcock’s films, the nature of their movement begins to appear quite different from that of John Ford or Howard Hawks. In the films of John Ford, Hawks, and many others, the fundamental movement is closely tied to the characters’ professions: a detective searching for someone, a cavalry unit defeating Native Americans, a gunslinger engaging in a duel, a police officer apprehending a criminal, or a pilot flying an airplane. These protagonists essentially advance their professional activities within the film by utilizing their professional skills; whether in Westerns, detective films, or period dramas, it is the norm that profession and action are fundamentally aligned. In John Ford’s *Stagecoach* (March 3, 1939), for example, people representing nine different professions ride together in the stagecoach, each continuing actions befitting their profession. The doctor performs the actions of a doctor, the sheriff those of a sheriff, and the gentleman those of a gentleman, each devoting themselves entirely to their respective roles. However, when Hitchcock tried to film these skill movements, he immediately made the film proactive (rigid), and was unable to capture the current movement.

★Godard wrote the following:

"In 'Breathless (A BOUT DE SOUFFLE)' (1959/1960.3.16), I established the principle that 'informers inform, conservatives conserve, and lovers love each other, without any intention whatsoever.' This is because film was originally about detective films." (History of Cinema I, p. 32)Informers inform. Jean Seberg in "A BOUT DE SOUFFLE" informs the police about her lover, the murderer Jean-Paul Belmondo. Informers inform. Detectives act as detectives, and police officers investigate murders. The movement and the attribute (occupation) match. "Informers inform, conservatives act as conservatives, and lovers love each other." If this equates to "film," then Hitchcockian films where the movement and occupation are completely separate—such as a Canadian tourist or advertising manager protecting state secrets, a cameraman investigating a murder, a playgirl being attacked by birds, a tennis player fighting on a merry-go-round, and a taxi driver acting as a detective—would not be considered "films."

 The phrase "Informers inform, conservatives act as conservatives, and lovers love each other" is followed by "and this is not done with any intention whatsoever." Informers inform. Normally, there would be reasons for informing, such as receiving a reward, hating someone, or fulfilling a civic duty. However, since this is described as "without any intention," the informant is informing without any reason, and when asked why he is informing, he can only answer, "Because I am an informant." The act of "informing" without reason becomes a tautology and self-referential.

★No Reason to movement - Part 1: "Psychological Authenticity"

Humans are narrative animals, and through narratives they are incorporated into institutions and integrated into economic systems as social beings. By proactively incorporating ourselves into society with "another origin" created by narratives as our roots, we are able to live as social animals. If humans were to lose their narratives, they would lose the "origin" that determined their identity, be thrown out of society, become atomized, lose their public sphere, and become animalistic. Commercial films must not allow such a terrifying thing to slip into their screens. Fundamentally, the human brain is designed to interpret the world causally, and people cannot feel relieved and say "I understand" unless cause and effect are connected. That is why humans inevitably seek reasons for their actions. And this seems to be a fundamental principle not only for humans but for all living things (Akira Tachibana, "Kakko Nipponjin: The Japanese," p. 68; Jesse Bering, "Why Do Humans Believe in God?", p. 174). Humans cannot help but crave narratives that follow the structure of introduction, development, turn, and conclusion. It is civilization that brings about this, and civilization is a mechanism to prevent people from feeling anxious. But when this is applied directly to the medium of movement that is film, a "psychological authenticity" of motivation becomes attached to the movement.

The concept of "authenticity," which is an institutional vulnerability that limits movement by giving it form through thought, levels out movement, which is the epitome of complexity, into something "convincing." Hitchcock's statement, "I think critics who only think about making the story make sense and get hung up on things like 'authenticity' are insensitive people lacking imagination" (Film Techniques 88), and Jean Renoir's statement, "I just can't accept the idea that artistic balance must be balance in the story" ("Authorism" p. 78), as well as Jean Cocteau's assertion, "I prefer 'I don't think, therefore I am.' All thought paralyzes action. Also, film is a series of actions. Thought holds back action and adorns it with a pretentious, arrogant style" ("On Cinema" p. 175), express frustration at how movement, which is rich precisely because of its complexity, descends into mediocrity through the stereotype of "authenticity." While accepting the narrative, filmmakers continue to fight against "psychological authenticity" in order to affirm and liberate the complex movements and dynamics of images that even the creators cannot control (for details, see the paper "Psychological Authenticity and Film History").

★②Acting

In the first chapter, we examined the relationship between the physicality of the characters and the proactive acting of the actors, but acting influences not only the proactivity of the actors but also the initiation of movement. ●When Hitchcock recalls "Torn Curtain," he says, "Paul Newman disliked acting that expressed nothing, with a neutral gaze," which means that the acting of Actors Studio actors attaches linguistic and psychological reasons to both ends of the chaos of movement, which is inherently impossible to express in words, and articulates it into "easy to understand." This is simply a response to the audience's weakness to seek reasons and their desire for understanding and empathy, and Godard says, "The essential job that actors who fabricate the psychology of characters should do is to re-adapt themselves ("Godard's Complete Statements II," 122)," and Lillian Gish on D.W. Griffith's theory of acting says, "Make expressions without distorting your face." As Lillian Gish says, "Don't make a frown, " ("Lillian Gish Autobiography," p. 120), the phrase "Don't act" has been commonly uttered by all kinds of filmmakers, from D.W. Griffith to Carl Dreyer, Jean Renoir, Howard Hawks, Robert Bresson, Godard, Yasujiro Ozu, Kenji Mizoguchi, and Mikio Naruse, and Hitchcock is just one of them. ● In "NORTH BY NORTHWEST," there is nothing "Psychological Authenticity" about Cary Grant's movements when he is thrown onto a farm road in a cornfield. Because Cary Grant, the advertising manager of an advertising company, gets caught up in a top-secret espionage operation and finds himself in an unfamiliar land where his sense of self is completely stripped away, he is able to become unsettled and suspicious at the slightest provocation, and is simply tossed around like a piece, reacting only to the slightest thing. There is not a trace of the Actors Studio-style "typical behavior" or "limitations" that exist in such situations; instead, a completely different kind of reflexive movement is aimed at. To unleash the dynamic events that are freed from psychology and motivation, and that are generated amorphously as absurd and formless riots, "psychological authenticity" must be eradicated from the beginning and end of the movement. This phenomenon can be easily observed in the protagonists of Godard's films. As Godard himself said, "Anna Karina does not act in a way that follows the psychology of the characters" (History of Cinema I, p. 171), characters in Godard's films such as Jean-Paul Belmondo, Anna Karina, and Jean-Pierre Léaud are stripped of their proactivity to the extreme, thereby shamelessly exposing a constantly changing, childish uncertainty.

★Recursive – No Reason for the Initiation of the Movement

Godard's discourse, which continues with "Informants inform, conservatives conserve, and lovers love each other, and this is not done with any intention," succinctly expresses that the act of an informant informing is "not done with any intention" = "the absence of psychological authenticity." An informant does not inform because they are an informant. In fact, there is no such thing as an "informant" before or after. If an informant informing because they are an informant, then that act is accompanied by the reason "because" they are an informant = "psychological authenticity." The metaphysical and unshakeable entity of "being" an informant gives a reason to the movement, and then it stalls the movement. Godard's statement, "What interests me is talking about the action rather than the person who does it, and only after that do I talk about the person who does it" ("Godard: Complete Essays and Statements III," p. 16), indicates that in film, "person" = "being" comes "after" the "doing." Shigehiko Hasumi wrote the following about Godard:

 "A BOUT DE SOUFFLE is neither a metaphysical question about what informing is, nor an ethical conclusion that informing is bad. People simply see the proposition that a murderer commits murder as a movement. People are not convinced that a murderer kills because they are a murderer. Nor are they convinced that having killed someone unavoidably makes one a murderer. One can only be bewildered by the abruptness of the fact that a situation that cannot be explained by reason or result is occurring."

 An informer does not inform because they are an informer, nor do they become an informer by informing. "Being an informer," which seems to come "afterward," does not come. Neither "before" nor "afterward," the informer never appears. What is visible, from beginning to end, is the raw movement of "informing." Therefore, instead of saying "an informer informs," ​​it would be more accurate to say "those who inform inform." Why do you inform? → It should be written not "Because I am an informer," but "Because I am an informing. This kind of circular, neurotic movement is a highly modern, self-contradictory phenomenon that can only be made possible by a movement filtered out of "Psychological Authenticity."

 Shinji Miyadai writes:

"As a result of the loss of self-evidence due to increasing fluidity and complexity, a society in which one is forced to accept that 'doing is a choice, and not doing is also a choice' is distinguished from modernity in general and called 'reflexive modernity'" (Difficulties of Japan 117)

"As self-evidence, which had previously existed as unshakeable things such as status, God, truth, and reason, has collapsed, and people who can no longer maintain 'being,' have no choice but to continue searching for the lost 'being' by constantly updating their 'doings = choices.' But in reflexive modernity, where self-evidence has been lost, there is no such thing as 'being,' and people continue to run neurotically, pursuing 'being that does not exist' by constantly updating their 'doings.'" ● Thomas Mitchell in "Stagecoach" (1939.3.3) did not attend Louise Platt's childbirth because he was a doctor. He is a doctor because he made the action and choice to attend the childbirth. However, the status of doctor, which he had supposedly attained as "being a doctor," slipped away before he could even reach it, and he could only affirm his identity as a doctor by continuing the movement of "doing medicine." Godard's discourse, "Informants inform, conservatives conserve, and lovers love each other," resonates with the reality that film is a modern medium. In a reflexive modernity that has lost its proactive, those who inform do not inform because they are "informants," nor do they become informants by informing; they are simply forced to endlessly run in search of "informer = self." This schadenfreude-like sense of going around in circles points to the nature of Godard's discourse. What is happening here is a preposterous situation shrouded in an extremely neurotic anxiety that the reason for movement exists only within the movement itself. The motive for movement is returning in a self-referential manner.

Shigehiko Hasumi's statement about Godard, "His extremely simple assertive propositions ('UNE FEMME EST UNE FEMME)(1961.7.1),' etc.) are always formed in the middle, without ever touching upon 'why' or 'because'" (Godard Revolution, p. 20), perfectly illustrates how Godard's films are self-returning as a movement of "the middle = in = doing," isolated from "psychological truth" = "the edge." With Godard's "Hello, Maria (JE VOUS SALUE, MARIE)" (January 23, 1985), who could possibly identify Miriam Roussel as "Maria" simply by looking at her still? Miriam Roussel, appearing as the daughter of a modern city gas station owner, can only be Maria through "doing" Maria. Recursive modernity is a recursive, bottomless era in which one can only confirm oneself by relentlessly chasing after one's own tail that keeps running away endlessly, and film has emerged as a medium that exposes the event of "movement" that was born in such an era. Shigehiko Hasumi's discourse, "Ozu seems to avoid depicting the beginning or end of events at every turn. In fact, the funeral at the end of 'Tokyo Story' (November 3, 1953) and the wedding reception at the beginning of 'Equinox Flower' (September 7, 1958) have already begun by the time people see them," succinctly points out the absence of "psychological authenticity" = "the edge" that attaches to the beginning and end of events in Ozu's films. Thus, a movement lacking an "edge" becomes trapped in an endless loop, relentlessly pursuing the cause of the movement within itself.

■ Start  the Involvement Movement

Godard's detective films were characterized by a recursive return of movement. So what about Hitchcock's involvement movement?

★MacGuffin

The term "MacGuffin" was first used in Truffaut's interview with Hitchcock in "Hitchcock Art," where it is understood as something like a trigger that starts a movement ("Hitchcock Art, p. 126, etc."). ● "THE 39 STEPS" ● "The Lady Vanishes" ● "Foreign Correspondent" ● "Saboteur" ● "Notorious" ● "NORTH BY NORTHWEST" etc. State secrets are typical examples of MacGuffins, in which case the state secret exists only as a trigger to involve the protagonist in the movement, and its content is irrelevant. "There is no more meaning to a MacGuffin than that." As Hitchcock said in an interview with Truffaut ("The Art of Film 126"), "Therefore, it is pointless for some overly argumentative person to try to unravel the truth or contents of the 'MacGuffin'," the MacGuffin has no meaning, so there is no point in examining its contents. In "The 39 Steps," the contents are merely meaningless data uttered by Mr. Memory in the final scene as if it has served its purpose, and in "North by Northwest," the contents of the state secret are never revealed until the very end. The MacGuffin is not something to be pursued in the first place, but rather a trigger to start a movement, and once the movement is started, it should disappear without a trace. Suppose a man mistakenly takes a gangster's bag on a train, and as a result, his life is threatened by the organization. If we read this as a story, it becomes "The man is targeted by the organization because he mistakenly took the bag containing ~." In this story, the "contents of the bag" become important, and the contents of the bag are what leads to him being targeted by the organization. However, the MacGuffin is merely a trigger for the movement, and the contents of the bag are meaningless; it could be a bag, shoes, a hat, anything that triggers the movement. The MacGuffin is merely a pretext for the man to be targeted by the organization, so the flow of the movement is not a relationship of contents of the bag → targeted by the organization, but rather targeted by the organization → contents of the bag, and the reason for being targeted by the organization is attached to the movement "after" rather than "before". "Causes should come after effects, not accompany or precede them" (Robert Bresson's statement in Cinematograph Notes 139 strikes a chord here, but since something that comes "afterward" cannot be a cause, there is no reason for the starting point of the movement being "targeted by an organization." By eliminating the reason, the movement escapes the limitations of thought and begins while maintaining its complexity, and the MacGuffin remains embedded within the movement, giving it recursiveness. The desire to attach reasons and motives to movement is a weakness of humanity that cannot help but crave narratives, which commonplaces and kills movement. A MacGuffin is a repulsive force that resists the temptation of narratives that assails us at every moment, an expression of vitality that can initiate movement without attaching a reason to it.

★The History of the MacGuffin - "THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH" (1934)

In Hitchcock's "getting caught up in" films, the MacGuffin first appeared as a tangible object in "THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH" (1934). There, Pierre Fresnay, a special agent for the English Foreign Office, is shot and entrusts Edna Best with a brush, telling her to "take this to the British consulate." This brush, with its shabby form, is a fittingly meaningless object for a "MacGuffin." However, upon disassembling the brush, it contains writings detailing the assassin's hideout and the shooting locations, giving meaning to the supposedly meaningless contents of the MacGuffin. ● "The Man Who Knew Too Much" (1934) is the origin of Hitchcock's signature "getting caught up in" films, and is an important work that prepared the way for Hitchcock's first "getting caught up in" film, "The 39 Steps," which was made the following year. However, at this point, the MacGuffin is still presented as incomplete.

★Misuse of the MacGuffin – "TORN CURTAIN"

American physicist Paul Newman defected to Germany as a double agent to solve the equation for an interceptor missile. He sets a trap for a German doctor and successfully extracts the contents of the equation. However, the interceptor missile equation is a MacGuffin that initiates Paul Newman's actions. Once he begins his actions, he should forget the MacGuffin and immerse himself in the process of his actions. But his mission is to find the interceptor missile equation, and his actions, which pursue the MacGuffin—an event that comes "later"—in advance, lead him not to the "actions" of the present, but to the intellectual and rational realm of the past. In war films, the outbreak of war is the MacGuffin that sets the film in motion, but war films as genre films abandon thinking about "why war is fought" and simply continue the movement of war, and as a result, the reasons for war become apparent "afterward" (in reality, they don't become apparent). However, films that do think about "why war is fought" are not war films as genre films, but rather melodramas like many left-wing films (more on melodramas later).

★The MacGuffin reveals the movement.

Since a MacGuffin is the trigger that starts a movement, in Hitchcock's "involved" films, the trigger that causes the protagonist to "get involved" can be extracted as a MacGuffin, such as the occurrence of a murder or being suspected, in addition to state secrets. And since the MacGuffin is meaningless, the "occurrence of a murder" itself is also meaningless. ● The female spy killed with a knife stabbed in the back in "THE 39 STEPS" ● The female corpse washed ashore on the beach in "Young and Innocent" ● The colleague who bursts into flames at the weapons factory in "Saboteur" ● The man who dies with a knife stabbed in the back at the UN building in "NORTH BY NORTHWEST" ● The unnamed naked body found floating in the Thames River with a tie around its neck in "FRENZY," followed by the murders of Barbara Lee-Hunt (the ex-wife) and Anna Massey (the waitress), and ● Janet Leigh who is attacked in the shower room in "SYCHO"... Their personalities never play a role in the story afterward. They are merely MacGuffins that exist solely to be killed, and that is why their deaths are so vividly depicted, revealing their existence "to be killed." The way the victims were killed and the state of their bodies are captured with unforgettable vividness is precisely because the act of killing is a "raw" thing stripped of meaning. It is as if the event of "rain" in Mikio Naruse's films, being a MacGuffin to drive a man and woman into a confined space, was exposed as a raw, gravitational eroticism from top to bottom. A phenomenon stripped of meaning is not allowed to escape into the invisible thought of "being = behind," and therefore is exposed as a naked "doing"

★Extracting the MacGuffin in Hitchcockian Involvement Movements

In "involvement" type works, the externally obvious involvement movement—being suspected of murder and pursued—is readily apparent, making it relatively easy to extract the MacGuffin. However, in other Hitchcockian involvement movements where the obvious involvement movement is not apparent, the MacGuffin becomes a more subtle detail and disappears, making its extraction difficult. Since the MacGuffin is the trigger that initiates the movement, it is inherently unreasonable to limit it to a single specific event. Here, we will examine how the involvement movement in Hitchcockian films is initiated by looking at the details of involvement works that at first glance appear to have been initiated by the protagonist's own active will or agency.

★"Revecca" and ●"Susption" - Women who get caught up in things without realizing it

In these films, Joan Fontaine, who gets married after the film begins, becomes "softer" and gets caught up in the incomprehensible behavior of men during her married life. This is because she had almost no prior courtship and got married without knowing the men at all. This means that not only the institution of marriage, but also the events that rushed her into marriage become MacGuffins into which she gets caught up. ●In "Revecca," the MacGuffin is that Joan Fontaine has to leave her hotel in the South of France immediately because the daughter of her landlady, Florence Bates, is getting married unexpectedly, Fontaine's weak-willed nature that makes her easily persuaded (her cardigan and sketchbook suggest frailty), and the difference in social status between her and Laurence Olivier. ●In "Suspension," the MacGuffin is that she is a woman who has missed her chance to marry, and Fontaine's glasses, tomboyish horseback riding, and education suggest this. In this way, she is forced to marry men she barely knows, and therefore, although it appears that Fontaine married of her own free will, she is actually being dragged into it. ●In "Revecca," when Fontaine initially refuses, saying, "We live in completely different worlds," Olivier asks, "Don't you love me?" The sequence goes like this: "What do you think?" → Fontaine: "I love you, from the bottom of my heart" → Olivier: "It's settled," and the proactively event of careful consideration regarding marriage is intentionally excluded. Similarly, in "Suspension," Fontaine is shocked when she overhears her parents talking about when she should get married, and Cary Grant suddenly appears before her, hugs her, kisses her, and they immediately get married. There is not a trace of her calmly thinking and proactively considering marriage. The details are arranged in such a way that Fontaine is simply swept up in the situation, with subtle MacGuffins in place. However, if this is written in a synopsis, in the case of "Revecca," it becomes "Despite the opposition of her husband Florence Bates, the two forcibly went ahead and registered their marriage," and in the case of "Suspension," it becomes "Because her parents strongly opposed the marriage, Lina eloped and married him" ("Reading Hitchcock," pp. 84, 102). Because plot summaries inevitably involve a search for cause and effect, the idea that a movement is initiated by a MacGuffin—a movement without a reason—is unbearable. This leads to fabricated reasons such as "forcibly pushing through" or "elopement because they were opposed," and the details of how they were caught up in the situation are buried deep within the narrative.

★"Shadow of a Doubt" - A Daughter Unknowingly Involved

This film captures the lonely struggles of a sensitive young girl who becomes suspicious that her beloved uncle, who has come to live with them in Santa Rosa, might actually be the perpetrator of a series of murders of widows. The story begins with Teresa Wright, a girl bored with life, going to the Santa Rosa post office to send a telegram to summon her beloved uncle, making it seem as though she is summoning him of her own free will. However, the film then subtly mitigates the idea that Teresa Wright is summoning her uncle of her own free will by having her telegram, which coincidentally arrives from her uncle saying "I'm coming to Santa Rosa," cross paths with another telegram at the post office. This suggests that the uncle and niece, who share the same name "Charlie," communicated telepathically, creating a delicate nuance that hints at her becoming entangled in the case.

★"Rear Window" - A Man Unknowingly Involved

At first glance, James Stewart in "Rear Window" seems to have actively started peeping on the residents of the apartment across the street of his own volition. However, the film, which begins with a shot of sweat pouring from James Stewart's forehead, is set in Greenwich Village, New York, in the middle of summer. The thermometer shows extremely humid and damp air, and there is no indication of air conditioning in the room. Stewart, a single man well past marriageable age, has fractured his left leg at work and is frustrated at being unable to move. While he appears to have started peeping proactively, he is actually drawn into the act of peeping by the accumulation of MacGuffins: high temperature and humidity, a fractured leg, and being a single man past marriageable age. However, when this is written in the synopsis, it is stated that Stewart started peeping "to relieve boredom" ("Reading Hitchcock," p. 170), and nothing is mentioned about the details of how he was drawn into it.

★"VERTIGO" - The Man Who Gets Involved Without Knowing It - Part 2

In this film, James Stewart, a former detective, is asked by his college friend Tom Helmore, whom he hasn't seen in a long time, to tail Helmore's wife (Kim Novak), and as he tracks her, he becomes captivated by her charm. In this film as well, James Stewart is given a choice when he takes on the task of tailing her, and the synopsis in "Reading Hitchcock" says, "Scottie (Stewart's character's name) took on this job" ("Reading Hitchcock," page 202), making it seem as if Stewart actively took on the task of tailing Kim Novak. However, he had refused Tom Helmore's request, saying, "But tailing and being a detective are not my specialty (line). I've quit that. I don't want any trouble." Yet Tom Helmore said, "I'm going to the opera today. I'm having dinner at Ernie's." When he persistently urges Stewart to "go and see my wife," Stewart simply replies with an unenthusiastic "Arnie, huh..." There is no shot of him showing any proactive will, dialogue, or expression to accept the mission. In fact, the next shot after James Stewart sees Kim Novak in Arnie begins the following morning, with him already starting the tailing in his car. The shots showing Stewart's motivation for deciding to take on the tailing are intentionally omitted. Stewart didn't make the decision himself; he was thrown into the middle of the incident. Unlike works that depict the protagonist being "involved," the series we are examining here could be called "hiddenly involved." "VERTIGO," which begins with Kim Novak's eyes spinning around like a vortex, features incredibly delicate details in its depiction of the protagonist's entanglement. While placing a "MacGuffin" in which the soul of her great-grandmother, who committed suicide, possesses Kim Novak, the film thoroughly separates the attributes of places such as a flower shop, a cemetery, a museum, and the sea from their original functions. James Stewart is gradually "softened" by the portrait of her great-grandmother and the circular shape of the swirling hair depicted in it, and the film portrays him as being "dragged in without realizing it." It is precisely because James Stewart is involved that he experiences "vertigo," and for that reason, incredibly delicate details are scattered throughout the film.

★"SYCHO" - The Woman Who Gets Involved Without Knowing It, Part 2

In this film, the incident begins when Janet Leigh willingly and proactively absconds with the company's money, so the synopsis would never describe her as being "involved." However, the moment Janet Leigh decides to abscond with the company's money is never filmed. Her embezzlement is filmed from the point where Janet Leigh has already finished packing most of her belongings into her bag in her apartment, and there are no shots of her deciding to embezzle or the initial shots of her packing. The "beginning of the events" is once again not filmed, erasing the motives behind her embezzlement and making it seem as if she was "involved" in the embezzlement due to her desire for marriage or poverty. Then, in the real estate office, customer Simon Oakland says, "It's a steam bath. Turn on the air conditioner." The film portrays Janet Leigh being overwhelmed and manipulated by a series of details—MacGuffins—such as the hot, humid, and muggy climate, police checkpoints and surveillance at the used car center, and poor visibility due to rain and dazzling headlights at night. Suddenly, she finds herself lost on a back street and has arrived at the Bates Motel. She didn't go to the Bates Motel; she was dragged there.

★"FAMILY PLOT" - A man and woman unknowingly caught up in a crime

In this film, Barbara Harris, a (fraudulent?) fortune teller and séance practitioner, and her boyfriend, Bruce Dern, a taxi driver, are tasked with finding the missing heir of a wealthy family. The two men proactively take on the mission. Having used a séance to secure a $10,000 fee from the elderly wealthy woman to find the heir, Barbara Harris seems to believe her fortune telling and séances are genuine, or at least that she believes them to be genuine. Bruce Dern, an aspiring actor who casually smokes a pipe and poses as a lawyer and detective, both believe they are proactively searching for the heir, completely unaware that they are tracking down a serial kidnapper. The film is shot with a dual structure, where the protagonists' proactive actions and the objective actions actually taking place are out of sync, making them appear to be proactive while actually being caught up in the crime. In fact, even in the works we've seen so far, there's a "gap" between what the protagonist thinks they're doing proactively and the way they're actually being dragged into a murder case: ●"Rear Window" where the protagonist starts peeping on a whim and gets involved in a murder case, ●"VERTIGO" where the protagonist gets involved in criminal activity while working as a detective, and ●"SYCHO" where the protagonist becomes the victim of a gruesome murder while on the run after embezzling. In each case, there's a "gap" between what the protagonist thinks they're doing proactively and the way they're actually being dragged into things. This "gap" is what sets the story apart from typical "getting dragged into things" stories, creating a flexible movement where the protagonist is "dragged into things without realizing it." This "gap" reaches its peak in ●"FAMILY PLOT," where Barbara Harris, who breaks into the garage of kidnapper William Devane's house, has "found the heir," not "found a dangerous criminal." Using the spirit of a wealthy old woman's deceased sister as the "mastermind MacGuffin," the film portrays anti-Hitchcockian characters—lovers—as a couple with zero social credibility. Their movements, stripped down to their "soft" state, become a weighty movement where the more they try to be proactive, the more they feel "involved." Hitchcock's final film, "FAMILY PLOT," is filmed as the ultimate example of the "hidden involvement" type, where those involved are unaware that they are being involved.

Looking at it this way, in addition to typical "involved" type works such as ●"THE 39 STEPS", ●"Young and Innocent", ●"Saboteur", and ●"NORTH BY NORTHWEST", works such as ●"The Lady Vanishes", ●"Foreign Correspondent", ●"STRANGERS ON A TRAIN", ●"THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH" (1956), ●"THE WRONG MAN", and ●"THE BIRDS" and ●"FRENZY" are easy to extract the sense of being involved in the plot because the characters physically encounter the events. On the other hand, ●"Revecca", ●"Susption", ●"Notorious", ●"Shadow of a doubt", ●"Rear Window", ●"VERTIGO", ●"SYCHO", ●"FAMILY PLOT",、 Unlike so-called "caught-up" movies,  the protagonists appear to initiate their actions proactively, at least subjectively. As a result, the fact that they are actually caught up in events disappears from the story's progression and is left to the revelation of details. This is why the synopsis cannot explicitly state the motivation for their actions, and it even ends up being written as "He accepted," as in the synopsis of "VERTIGO." However, in reality, a wealth of details (MacGuffins) are placed to erase the motivation for their actions—the Psychological Authenticity of their actions.

★How to make a film that makes the character feel "involved"

As we examine works that could be called "hidden involvement" type, we see that in film, the protagonist being "involved" means being forced to start an action as if swept along by the surrounding environment, without their own will. When filming this, a MacGuffin is placed in order to eliminate the subjective motivation that initiates the action. Hitchcock frequently uses the term MacGuffin because it is an essential detail when filming a Hitchcockian sense of being "involved."

★The movement begins after the film starts.

Therefore, the Hitchcockian involvement movement is only activated when the protagonist, who has been doing nothing until then, is propelled by the MacGuffin. It is not possible from a movement theory perspective for the main hunter's mission to have already begun at the start of the film, as in Howard Hawks' "Hatari!" (1961/1962.6.19). ●While it is physically possible to start "The 39 Steps" abruptly with Robert Donat running away from the police, from a movement theory perspective, his action of "running away" is only activated by the MacGuffin of "state secrets," whereas the movement in Howard Hawks' works is not activated by a MacGuffin. Therefore, it is natural from a movement theory perspective that the protagonists' mission has already begun at the start of the film (see Chapter 3, Examination of Howard Hawks, for details). In any case, the Hitchcockian involvement movement remains a movement that begins when propelled by the MacGuffin.

★Starting Hitchcockian Skill Movements

Next, let's examine the activation aspects of Hitchcock's skill movements. ● In "Secret Agent," John Gielgud, who is made dead through a fake funeral, actively accepts the mission out of patriotism, and Madeline Carroll also takes on the mission very proactively, saying, "I've come this far despite opposition from those around me." ● In "Spellbound," Bergman pursues Gregory Peck of her own volition and uses psychoanalysis to help solve the case. ● In "Manie," Sean Connery marries Tippi Hedren somewhat under duress and proactively uses his psychoanalytic skills to lead to the resolution of the case. Even in films where criminals commit crimes, such as "ROPE" and "DIAL M FOR MURDER," they actively commit crimes with clear motives, one being "to achieve the perfect crime" and the other "to kill his cheating wife and inherit the money." Similarly, in films where actors play roles, Jane Wyman in "STAGE FRIGHT" rationally decides of her own free will to help her drama school classmate Richard Todd, who is suspected of murder, and takes action; Gregory Peck in "THE PARADINE CASE" actively takes on the defense out of love; in "I Confess," he willingly maintains confidentiality as part of his duty as a priest; and in "TO CATCH A THIEF," he tries to eliminate copycat criminals. In "TORN CURTAIN," physicist Paul Newman actively infiltrates Germany as a double agent to solve his own unsolvable mathematical equations, and in "TOPAZ," Frederick Stafford actively travels to Cuba of his own volition to save Cuba from crisis. In these skill-based operations, the motivation for undertaking the mission is clear, and they are not "forced" to accept the mission by a MacGuffin. The mission begins with its complexity limited by psychological plausibility, and they are given meticulous planning and preparation time, and proceed with great intelligence while receiving the proactive cooperation of highly skilled collaborators. ●Cary Grant in "TO CATCH A THIEF" is pursued by the police and forced to search for his own copycat killer, and ●Montgomery Clift in "I Confess" begins his mission out of a duty of "confidentiality." While it may seem that he is "forced" to begin the mission, as we have already discussed, ●Cary Grant in "TO CATCH A THIEF" is far too intelligent to be caught up in the pursuit of a copycat killer, and ●in "I Confess," the obedience to confidentiality is a moral duty, and even if violated, there is no legal punishment. Montgomery Clift's choice to deliberately choose this path is not one of being caught up in the situation, but rather one enveloped in moral and intellectual agency. If a MacGuffin is what erases the initial motivation of an action, then Hitchcockian skill-based action is initiated subjectively by intrinsic motivation based on the judgment of intelligence emanating from within the protagonist, without a MacGuffin.

★"Notorious"

① Skills

Here, I would like to consider "Notorious." This film is formally a skill-based spy story, but it is qualitatively different from other Hitchcockian skill-based stories. The film begins with the scene where Bergman's father, who betrayed America and became a German spy, is found guilty in court. Cary Grant of the FBI, who is keeping an eye on the Rio spy organization that had ties to her father, recruits Bergman as a spy. Cary Grant is an FBI agent and a civil servant with skills related to intelligence and other missions, but Bergman, as Cary Grant tells his superiors, "She has no experience, she'll see through it immediately." Although she was recruited and became a civil servant, in reality she is nothing more than a civilian with few skills. In addition, her alcoholism and doubts about her love for Cary Grant make her "soft" (easily Easily get involved in), so formally Bergman is a civil servant, but in reality she approaches the physicality of being drawn in.

② Starting "Notorious"

When Cary Grant asks Bergman if she'd like to become a spy, Bergman is given the freedom to choose whether or not to accept the mission. Unlike the "caught up" type, where she is falsely accused of a crime she didn't commit and forced to flee against her will, Bergman in "Notorious" is given the choice of whether or not to accept the spy work. After a late-night drive with Cary Grant, Bergman wakes up in bed hungover and is asked by FBI agent Cary Grant, "You have patriotism, don't you?" to take on the spy job, but Bergman replies, "Just hearing the word patriotism makes me sick. No thank you," and even after hearing her own words, "I do have patriotism," recorded on a wiretapped conversation with her father, she still refuses to accept the mission, saying, "I'm not going to be a police informant." However, shortly after, she is invited on a cruise by guests from the previous night's party, and immediately afterwards Grant asks her, "What do you want to do?" When asked, she replies, "Okay," and in the next sequence, she's already on a jet bound for Rio. Here, she certainly accepts the mission with an "Okay," but her motivation is carefully erased. The very reason why she suddenly changes her tune and accepts the mission after having stubbornly refused it until then is not shown. Instead, the acceptance of the mission is triggered by an unrelated event—she accepts a cruise invitation she made with partygoers the previous night—and there is absolutely no "psychological authenticity" to it. To clear her father's name, or for her to turn her life around after being a drunkard, or because of the love that has begun to blossom for Cary Grant, these various motivations, though not exactly motivations, are placed with a certain degree of playfulness, so that there is no firm motivation at the beginning of her "acceptance of the mission." In the Hitchcock skill-based　films we've examined so far, the motivation—the agency—of accepting or initiating the task is clear. In contrast, Bergman in "Notorious" accepts the task, but her motivation is unclear. However, when this is written as a synopsis, it would say, "At first Alicia didn't take it seriously, but she finally gave in to Devlin's persistent persuasion" ("Reading Hitchcock," p. 127). But in the film, there is no line of dialogue or expression from Bergman indicating that she "gave in"; it is simply an unmotivated movement where she agrees (without reason). In addition, in this film, FBI agents Cary Grant and Bergman fall in love during their waiting period after arriving in Rio following their assignment. Later, they are finally told that their specific mission is to "seduce an enemy spy who was once in love with Bergman and infiltrate his mansion." At this point, Bergman is faced with a second choice: whether or not to accept the mission. However, Cary Grant did not object to the mission to his superiors, and because he was beginning to have doubts (jealousy) about the relationship between Bergman and the enemy spy, he did not tell her to "quit the mission." So, Bergman pours him a drink, which she had been abstaining from for a while, and asks, "When do we start?" Grant replies, "Tomorrow morning," and with that, Bergman's infiltration mission begins. Here again, Bergman's proactive act of accepting the mission is carefully excluded, and neither does Cary Grant proactively affirm the mission. The two are drawn into the mission while torn between suspicion and love for each other, and in a Hitchcock film that is focused on skills, this work moves with remarkable subtlety through the protagonists becoming "softer" and thus becoming entangled in the skill-based action.

■ "Stagecoach" (March 3, 1939)

John Ford's "Stagecoach" features a diverse cast of characters with various "professions"—gentlemen (gamblers), ladies, prostitutes, doctors, sheriffs, salesmen, coachmen, bankers, gunmen, and more—all riding in a stagecoach. The film depicts their skills in their respective professions: doctors acting as doctors, gentlemen behaving like gentlemen, gunmen dueling, and so on.

★ Activating "Stagecoach"

Hitchcock uses the meaningless MacGuffin to remove "psychological realism" from the starting point of the entanglement movement. Because the MacGuffin is meaningless, it can Start the movement without providing any motivation. The MacGuffin has been understood as Hitchcock's exclusive domain, but what about John Ford? Here, let's actually activate the movement in "Stagecoach." This section examines whether there is any "psychological authenticity" attached to the initial movement of people boarding the empty stagecoach after passengers disembark upon its arrival in Tonto, Arizona, at the beginning of the film.

★Claire Trevor Thomas Mitchell

Claire Trevor, a prostitute, is forced to leave town by stagecoach after being driven out by the town's women's reform society for disrupting public order. Thomas Mitchell, a drunken doctor, is also forced to leave town by stagecoach after being evicted from his clinic by his landlord for failing to pay rent. Due to the MacGuffins of the reform society and unpaid rent, free will—"psychological authenticity"—is absent from the initial motivations of both "boarding the stagecoach" movements.

★Andy Devine and Donald Meek

Andy Devine, the coachman, hears news of the Apache Geronimo's appearance and, terrified, refuses to ride, but Sheriff Victor McLaglen won't listen and forces him onto the stagecoach. Donald Meek, a liquor salesman, also tries to get off the stagecoach out of fear of the Apache, but is persuaded by Thomas Mitchell, a drunken doctor who is after his liquor, and misses his chance to refuse. In both of these instances of "riding the stagecoach," free will—or "Psychological Authenticity"—is absent from the starting point of the movement.

★Burton Churchill

Burton Churchill, a banker who boards the stagecoach midway, is forced to ride it in order to escape after embezzling money from the bank. In his instance of "riding the stagecoach," free will is absent due to the MacGuffin of "embezzlement."

★Victor McLaglen

Sheriff Victor McLaglen had already received information that John Wayne, the son of a former cowboy friend, had escaped from prison to avenge his brother's death. However, information from the stagecoach driver, Andy Devine, who arrived on the scene, indicated that those who killed John Wayne's brother were in Roseburg, the stagecoach's destination, so he boarded the stagecoach. Here, his duty as a sheriff to "arrest a wanted man" and his friendship with John Wayne—his desire to "help John Wayne avoid committing murder"—become intertwined, driving him to "get on the stagecoach." The impetus for his "getting on the stagecoach" movement is not entirely driven by his own initiative, but rather by a conflict between duty and friendship, influenced by MacGuffins such as "John Wayne's escape from prison."

★John Wayne

John Wayne, a wanted man, was on his way to Roseburg, where the Plummer brothers, who had killed his brothers, were located, when his horse became injured. He tried to get a ride on a passing stagecoach, and it was the horse's injury that forced him to board the stagecoach. Furthermore, when he stopped the stagecoach, Sheriff George Bancroft, sitting next to the driver Andy Devine, pointed a gun at him and said, "I'm arresting you." Then the cavalry guards also appeared, and John Wayne, resigned to his fate, got into the stagecoach and was "imprisoned." Here again, John Wayne's action of "getting into the stagecoach" is carefully devoid of free will through MacGuffins such as "the horse's injury" and "the presence of the sheriff."

★Louise Platt and John Carradine

Lady Louise Platt boards a carriage to follow her husband, a cavalry captain, and gentleman John Carradine, seeing her board, boards a carriage to escort her. The two men's actions of "boarding a carriage" are driven by MacGuffins, which are the duties of gentlemen and ladies: "following the husband" and "escorting the lady." While their actions may appear to be of free will, we will examine later that they are not driven by such psychological factors.

Thus, examining the origins of the characters' actions in "STAGECOACH"—the act of "riding in a stagecoach"—we find that every character lacks active free will to board the stagecoach, with details—MacGuffins—placed within their narratives. Characters like Claire Trevor, Thomas Mitchell, Andy Devine, Donald Meek, and Burton Churchill are clearly constructed to lack free will, and even Sheriff George Bancroft, who at first glance seems to act of free will, has significantly more controlled free will than, for example, someone who "goes to the town of Roseburg to do some shopping." In this way, all nine characters in "STAGECOACH" begin their actions by being "forced" or nearly so to board the stagecoach, and free will—"psychological authenticity"—is excluded from the very beginning of their actions. The placement of a MacGuffin at the initiation point of movement means that the character is "forced" to move by the external force of the MacGuffin, or "involved" in it, and in that respect, "STAGECOACH" shares a common thread with Hitchcockian “caught-up type“ in movement at the initiation point of the movement.

★The Execution of the Movement

Having examined the nature of the characters in "STAGECOACH" and the starting point of the movement, let's now consider the execution of the movement once it has been launched. ●The movement in "STAGECOACH" is directed towards each character's "profession." Coachman Andy Devine drives the carriage, Sheriff George Bancroft arrests John Wayne, John Wayne fulfills his duty as a gunman—revenge—gentleman and lady John Carradine and Louise Platt continue to renew their roles as gentleman and lady, and doctor Thomas Mitchell delivers Louise Platt's baby. Prostitute Claire Trevor does not actively "work as a prostitute," but passively "works" as one by constantly being subjected to negative treatment that makes her aware of her profession.

★Stagnation of Execution

However, No one in "STAGECOACH" continues to live their "profession" with enthusiasm. They all seem subtly stifled. Thomas Mitchell's medical assistance is limited to a single birth; John Wayne tries to escape, abandoning his "profession" (revenge as a gunman); Andy Devine reluctantly drives the cart; and George Bancroft ultimately abandons his duties as sheriff to let the suspect escape. John Carradine's gentlemanly conduct is not accomplished because he is killed midway through, and Louise Platt's ladylike behavior seems stifling.

★Photographing the space between eras

"STAGECOACH" is set in Arizona and New Mexico in 1885. In the film, Geronimo, who attacks the stagecoach, surrenders the following year, 1886, and the declaration of the end of the frontier is issued in 1890, so  "STAGECOACH" is set towards the end of the frontier. Many of those who board the stagecoach are people who were at their peak during the frontier era, and they supported and led the frontier. However, as the frontier nears its end, they become unable to adapt to the times, and are relics of a bygone era, now being driven onto the stagecoach by the new rulers of the town. The drunken doctor Thomas Mitchell is seen as a doctor only because he happened to perform his medical duty of caring for Louise Pratt, who was on the stagecoach at the time, during childbirth, and not because of his title as a doctor. Constantly having his very existence as a doctor questioned by others, the only way for him to remain a doctor is to simply "do the work of a doctor." However, living in an era where the very definition of "being a doctor" is uncertain, no matter how many times he repeats the act of "doing the work of a doctor," he cannot grasp the very definition of "being" a doctor, and his actions become shrouded in a kind of internal conflict. By setting the story in the "space between" eras and featuring an "old one" who supports the previous era but cannot adapt to the new one as the protagonist, the concept of "being" is transformed from an unshakeable "being" to "being something that doesn't exist," and the film captures the movement of people who relentlessly repeat the act of "doing" in pursuit of this "being something that doesn't exist." (This point will be explored in more detail in the section on Michael Mann's work).

★Conflict

"STAGECOACH" captures the era "between" "being" and "doing." Because the memory of "being" lingers, albeit vaguely, "doing" is not purified and becomes enveloped in a conflict between returning to "being" and "doing." This prevents the "professional" movement from becoming a smooth repetition, while simultaneously revealing the emotions caused by the conflict (this is the difference between John Ford and Howard Hawks, which will be examined later).

■Simply Affirming – John Carradine and Louise Pratt

Here, we examine two very interesting characters: John Carradine and Louise Pratt. These two were a class above the other passengers, a "gentleman and lady," and perhaps because of this, they consistently treated the other passengers with a cold attitude. In particular, they refused to let the prostitute Claire Trevor sit with them at the rest stop table and refused to lend her a glass when she drank from her water bottle. If we interpret the film narratively, it wouldn't be surprising if we saw that Louise Pratt regretted her actions and apologized to Claire Trevor at the end, while John Carradine met his end as divine retribution. If that were the case, then naturally John Ford's portrayal of them should also be negative, befitting villains.

★However... In the opening scene, Louise Pratt, having boarded a carriage in the town of Tonto, Arizona, pops her head out the window. A soft, lustrous light casts a graceful shadow on her face, which is clad in a hat, making her appear vibrant. Next, the screen cuts back to John Carradine playing poker in a bar through the windowpane, and the two exchange a cinematic gaze. Then, the screen cuts back to a close-up of Louise Pratt in the carriage window, and she disappears into the distance of the carriage, blinking thoughtfully several times. This cut, devoid of any dialogue, negates the segmentation of the screen through its linguistic absence, while the graceful light projected onto it affirms movement itself and evokes emotion. Whether that emotion is love or separation is not important. What is important is that the image displayed by the cut between Louise Pratt and John Carradine is succinctly affirmed by the absence of language and the graceful light. This screen has no meaning. All it has is pure affirmation. Then, Louise Pratt pops her head out of the window of the carriage as it departs Dryford, the first stop, and looks back. The screen cuts back to Tim Holt of the cavalry, who has stopped his horse at a fork in the wilderness, and is also looking back, taking off his hat and smiling as he bids farewell to Louise Pratt. The screen then cuts back to Louise Pratt, still looking back with a beaming smile, waving a pure white handkerchief, and finally cuts back to Tim Holt once more. Tim Holt's pure white neckerchief and Louise Pratt's pure white handkerchief and the flower on her hat resonate with each other in their swaying in the wind, their turning around, and their cheerful smiles. Again, there is not a single line of dialogue. The very act of movement is affirmed by the way the screen, devoid of any dialogue, cuts back and forth between the two of them. First of all, Louise Pratt and Tim Holt were not in a romantic relationship, and Holt, being a cavalryman, essentially abandoned them to their fate and turned back, so if you "read" the screen narratively, it is clearly strange for such a beautiful scene to appear here. Furthermore, Louise Pratt and John Carradine are "villains" who continue to look down on the other passengers, so why are such beautiful moments captured so many times? Is this John Ford's whim? John Carradine is also strange. At the moment he is shot by an Native American and dies, Thomas Mitchell, who in the story was never friendly with him, embraces him without hesitation, and then the screen cuts back to John Wayne outside the carriage. Here, John Wayne stares intently at John Carradine's final moments without moving a muscle. For eight seconds, he does not say a word, he just stares at John Carradine's last moments. ● "STAGECOACH" has approximately 650 shots in 90 minutes, which works out to a little over 8 seconds per shot. This means that John Ford has filmed an entire shot of a man standing still and not saying a word. From a narrative perspective, this is clearly an unusual situation for filming the end of a "villain." As the camera slowly dolly in on Louise Pratt and John Carradine sitting at a table in Dryford Fort, the first resting place in the film, a lyrical melody begins to play. Just moments before, the two had refused to sit with the prostitute Claire Trevor and moved to a window seat, and this melody is far too beautiful to play in the background of a conversation between people who are exhibiting such discriminatory behavior. Here, Louise Pratt asks, "Why are you being so kind to me?" to which Carradine replies, "Because it's rare for me to meet a lady."

★The Old Ones(Old-fashioned person)

In an era when the frontier was drawing to a close and industrial production was about to surpass agricultural production, the idyllic Southern gentlemen and ladies were being pushed to the fringes of the times, just like the gunmen played by John Wayne and the drunken doctors played by Thomas Mitchell. Similarly, in John Ford's film "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance" (April 22, 1962), the "old ones" and the "new ones" are clearly distinguished, with journalists and doctors of the old era all being drunkards, while journalists of the new era are all sober and sophisticated, indicating that for John Ford in this film, "being a drunkard" is a sign of being "the old ones.

The film of the "old one" is a film that imprints on film the emotions of those who, while retaining the memory of "being," desperately try to dedicate themselves to "doing" in search of it, and is a movement of "doing" directed toward "being that does not exist" (this is John Ford's true forte). John Carradine's line in "STAGECOACH," "It's rare to see a lady," suggests that the lady Louise Platt is an "old one" living "between" eras. Pregnant and in a stagecoach where an Apache attack is anticipated, Louise Platt "shares the danger with her husband," and while she acts like a lady by following her husband, her strained expression as she utters these words seems somehow suffocating. Louise Pratt, an "old one" who is already unable to "be" a lady, faces setbacks in her ability to maintain that image due to pregnancy, childbirth, and the arrival of Geronimo. Yet, she desperately continues to renew her "doing" as a lady, and her efforts are constantly enveloped in beautiful light and melody. John Carradine, who publicly declares that he will ride in her carriage to escort her, is always by her side, pulling out chairs for her to sit in and offering her a cup when she drinks from her water bottle. As seen in the opening scene at the teahouse in Tonto, when Louise Pratt asks, "Who is that gentleman?", the captain and his wife, who happen to be there, reply, "He's not a gentleman," and "He's a notorious gambler." Now a gambler and far removed from "being" a gentleman, John Carradine can only renew his "gentlemanly" act each time by continuing to escort Louise Pratt as a lady. At the first rest stop, when the cavalry's support runs out, and when the vote on whether to continue the stagecoach's operation is called, John Carradine draws the ominous ace of spades in a tarot reading, already aware of his fading fate as a "gentleman." When the stagecoach is attacked by Apaches and the men fight back but run out of ammunition and are left helpless, he points his gun at Louise Pratt's head and tries to shoot her. This is nothing more than the gentlemanly behavior repeated in films by D.W. Griffith, the father of cinema and John Ford's mentor, such as "The Battle at Elderbush Gulch" (1913/March 8, 1914) and "The Birth of a Nation" (February 8, 1915). In these films, men, surrounded by Native Americans in their home and with no other options, attempt to prevent the women from being attacked by the Native Americans by shooting or beating young women like Mae Marsh and Miriam Cooper with their own guns as a gentlemanly act. A rescue team arrives at the last moment, saving the women, but D.W. Griffith repeats this as a duty ingrained in the very being of a gentleman. However, in "Stagecoach," John Carradine is shot by an Native American while attempting to shoot Louise Pratt, thus failing to fulfill his gentlemanly duty. Apparently the son of a renowned judge, he was probably disowned. On his deathbed, he entrusted a message for his father to Louise Platt.

"Tell my father, when you see him, that your son..."

John Carradine breathes his last here. These words likely continue:

"That your son remained a gentleman to the very end..."

Here Thomas Mitchell embraces him tightly, followed by John Wayne's "eight-second shot." This scene marks a moment in film history where a select few witness the end of the "old ones," driven to their demise by a relentless pursuit of something that doesn't exist, and secretly carry on their spirit. Louise Pratt and John Carradine's "old ones" boarded the carriage "as if driven," and it goes without saying that free will was not involved (this will be further examined in Chapter Three).

★Affirmation

"STAGECOACH" is a film that depicts the "old ones" who live in the "space" between the end of "being" and the beginning of "doing." Not only gentlemen, ladies, gunmen, sheriffs, and drunken doctors, but also the prostitute Claire Trevor is an "old one" who is driven out of town by the newly emerging moral movement of the Temperance Society, which is made up of the town's women. In an era where "being" has been lost, "STAGECOACH" simply affirms the movement of the "old ones" who continue to "do" in pursuit of "being that does not exist," a movement with no beginning and no end. There is neither good nor evil, and only the colorless and transparent emotion of "doing" is exposed.

★The Banker and the Salesman

Among the nine characters on board "STAGECOACH," banker Burton Churchill and salesman Donald Meek do nothing. Burton Churchill doesn't do any of the work of a banker, and Donald Meek doesn't try to sell alcohol at all, only letting Thomas Mitchell drink free drinks for him. Coachman Andy Devine drives the carriage, Sheriff George Bancroft arrests John Wayne, John Wayne fulfills his duty as a gunman = revenge, the gentleman and lady John Carradine and Louise Pratt continue to be gentleman and lady, and doctor Thomas Mitchell delivers Louise Pratt's baby. Prostitute Claire Trevor doesn't actively "do the work of a prostitute," but she is constantly subjected to negative treatment that makes her aware of her profession as a "prostitute," and she passively "does" it in the conflict between not showing any resistance to it. In contrast, Burton Churchill and Donald Meek are not particularly conscious of their professions. At best, Donald Meek has his liquor drunk by Thomas Mitchell, and Burton Churchill, meanwhile, is simply hoarding the money he ran off with without performing any of his duties as a banker, nor does he experience any conflict related to his work. Rather, it makes more sense to view Donald Meek as a MacGuffin, used to justify him being shot with an arrow by an Native American or having his liquor drunk by Thomas Mitchell.

★The "New Ones" Don't "Do"

"STAGECOACH" is a film that depicts the movement "between" eras. Since the very temporality of time is the greatest factor tearing apart the proactivity of the "old ones," the emotions evoked by this movement "between" are limited to the movements of the "old ones" who have lost their sense of "being" in a temporal sense. In contrast, Burton Churchill's banker and Donald Meek's salesman, named "Peacock," represent new professions full of temporal hope. As "new ones," they have a firm sense of "being," and therefore cannot evoke the emotion of relentlessly pursuing a "non-existent being" through "doing," leaving them in a state of temporal abruptness. That is why they don't "do." Burton Churchill doesn't perform any of the duties of a banker, and Donald Meek never tries to sell alcohol, even once.

→ "THE MAN WHO SHOT LIBERTY VALANCE"

This film directed by John Ford clearly distinguishes between the  "old ones" and  "new ones" ," telling the story of John Wayne, the "old one," who secretly helps James Stewart, the "new one," become a hero, and then quietly departs. Here, John Wayne, the gunman, teaches James Stewart how to shoot, and stares down his enemy Lee Marvin in a restaurant before finally shooting him, repeating the actions of a gunman. Edmond O'Brien, the drunken journalist, continues his journalistic activities while constantly drinking. In contrast, James Stewart, the "new one," the lawyer, washes dishes, serves, becomes a teacher, shoots guns in an apron, and runs for senator, but does not practice law at all. Although he rents Edmond O'Brien's office and puts up a law firm sign, he never actually practices law. James Stewart, the "new one" who exists in the realm of "being," can think but cannot move, and his professional activities—lawyer, dishwasher, gunman, teacher, politician—are inconsistent and inevitably lack asceticism. The "new one" James Stewart never reveals the emotion that the "old one" exudes, such as "You're a fool, but you'll never come across someone like you again."

★Discrimination Issues

The reason Louise Pratt and John Carradine in "STAGECOACH" behaved "discriminatoryly" towards others, especially Claire Trevor, is simply because they were "doing" something that "doesn't exist." What they were doing wasn't "discrimination," but rather "doing" in pursuit of a lost "being," and even if it resulted in discrimination against someone, it was a consequence of "doing" gentlemanly or ladylike behavior—an event that came "afterward," not something they desired. These are seemingly similar but completely different events.

"Informers inform, conservatives conservatize, and lovers love each other. And it's not by any intention."

Godard's discourse is beginning to resonate. John Ford affirms not an ideology, but a movement. John Ford is able to affirm a movement "without any intention" and imprint it on film. Godard's statement, "I have always tried to tell the truth, but rather than the truth of what was said, I have tried to make it seem as if the moment it was said was true" (Histoire(s) du cinéma II, p. 254), is nothing more than a simple affirmation of the movement, a different way of saying, "Informants inform, conservatives conserve, and lovers love each other, and it is not done with any intention whatsoever."

★Apache

At Apache Wells, the second fort in "STAGECOACH," a Native American woman, a member of Geronimo's family who has married into the innkeeper's family, suddenly begins to sing at night. Accompanied by the innkeepers, and with her cheeks flushed in the faint moonlight, she sings with a trembling voice about the man she loves back home. After finishing her song, she leaves her husband behind and runs back to Geronimo. This abrupt and seemingly random movement is beautifully captured as a leap without beginning or end. ●"STAGECOACH" is set in 1885. Geronimo surrenders the following year, 1886. The frontier ends in 1900. It's not just the white people who are living through the final moments on the stagecoach. The Apache are also living through the final moments. The absurd movement of the Apache women, who suddenly start singing and then suddenly run away, is no different from the white people's movement, which lacks a beginning and an end, and is simply affirmed by "doing" the "non-existent Apache. The stories that emerge "after" a movement inevitably appear absurd and nonsensical.

▲By the way

In "STAGECOACH," only Donald Meek and Burton Churchill made discriminatory remarks against Native Americans. Donald Meek, upon seeing that the innkeeper's wife in Apache Wells was an Apache, cursed her, "She's a savage!", while Burton Churchill, beside him, yelled, "Something's wrong, that woman's an Apache!" Only the "new ones," Donald Meek and Burton Churchill, intentionally discriminated against Apaches, while John Carradine, the "old one" present, was wandering around the back, worried about Louise Pratt's condition, and did not participate in the conversation at all.

Later, when Claire Trevor was about to board the carriage, it was the wife of the Temperance Society, not Louise Platt, who said to Louise Platt's friend, "Are you going to let that beast (Claire Trevor) go with you?" Louise Platt and John Carradine were surprised when Claire Trevor sat near them at a table in Dryfork Fort, their first resting place, but they did not utter a single discriminatory remark towards her. John Carradine simply acted like a gentleman, prompting Louise Platt to move to a window seat, and the two moved together. If they had expressed the sentiment, "We cannot sit with savages like you!" before moving to the window, then there would have been an intention to discriminate, and the movement would have been a result of that intention, making the movement a discriminatory act veiled in "Psychological Authenticity." However, John Carradine and Louise Pratt are doing what they "do" in pursuit of "something that doesn't exist," so the movement = "doing" comes first, and the ideology = "being" comes "later." But since "being" doesn't "exist," it only appears to come "later," and even if it "reads" as discrimination as a result, their "doing" is "not based on any intention," so if we consider them "evil," it is a misreading that forcibly reads "something that doesn't exist" "first." That is why, after Louise Pratt gave birth, John Carradine joins the beautiful circle of men surrounding Claire Trevor as she emerges from the room with her baby in a magnificent light, and Burton Churchill is excluded. Donald Meek is shot with an arrow and disappears without a trace, and Burton Churchill is also arrested and disappears without a trace.For the "new ones," "being" is an absolute reality, so "being" comes first and "doing" comes later. As a result, "doing" is limited by "being," and if it is filled with discriminatory attitudes, it manifests as discriminatory behavior.

★Moving Away from Good and Evil

The "doing" of the "old ones" who pursue "things that don't exist" are aimed at the realm of "psychological authenticity" such as good and evil, motives and intentions = "being," but because it "doesn't exist," the movement becomes transparent to "doing" that are free from good and evil, and is simply affirmed as such. They are not acting with the intention of "doing good" or "doing bad." They are merely acting with the aim of "being things that don't exist." Criticism dominated by narrative "readings" is unable to "see" the movement and makes the fatal mistake of reading in the "discrimination" that comes "after" the movement of Louise Pratt and John Carradine in "STAGECOACH" and deciding the superiority or inferiority of the film based on that "pre-emptively." Intellectuals who do not "see" will inevitably make this mistake, and it is completely wrong to give intellectuals the qualifications to be critics.

★Differences and resonances with Hitchcock in the execution of movement.

"STAGECOACH" is a skill-based movement, and unlike Hitchcock's films where only "doing" exists and there is no "being that doesn't exist," this movement is different. However, "STAGECOACH" is initiated by an external force, the MacGuffin, for many characters, so the movement is not of their own will but is "forced to begin" = they are caught up in it, which is similar to Hitchcock's films where characters are caught up in it. Furthermore, the way the protagonists of the skill-based movement are filmed as if they are "caught up" resonates with "Notorious."

■Michael Mann

Michael Mann is a director who carries on a movement similar to "STAGECOACH." Michael Mann's characters continue to carry out their duties with asceticism. Marathon runners just keep running ("The Jericho Mile" (1979.3.18)), thieves just keep stealing ("The Thief" (1981.3.27) "Heat" (1995.12.15). TV producers just keep keeping promises made to informants ( "The Insider" (1999)), boxers just keep fighting ("Ali" (2001.12.12)), hitmen just keep killing people ( "Collateral" (2004.8.6)), robbers just keep attacking banks ( "Public Enemies" (PUBLIC) ENEMIES) (2009.7.1). "Informants inform, conservatives conservative, and lovers love each other." They are thoroughly ascetic when it comes to their duties, and no one gets drunk and interferes with their work like Thomas Mitchell in "Stagecoach," or performs their duties uncomfortablely. Highly skilled, they plan ahead and carry out their duties ascetically while dealing with all possibilities. Like James Caan in "Thief" telling his boss Robert Prosky that it takes "four to eight weeks to prepare" for a safe-cracking, or like Robert De Niro stealing an ambulance from a hospital the day before the crime in the opening sequence of "HEAT," or like Will Smith in "ALI" who goes through all the training before a match, or like "PUBLIC ENEMIES" who prepares well-maintained weapons and breaks out his comrades from prison with the efficiency of a rehearsal, or like Christian Bale of the FBI who tells reporters that "forensic science is our weapon" and relentlessly pursues Johnny Depp like a hound, their actions are extremely planned, scientific, and meticulous, and they proceed without stagnation. Their planned movements, which would immediately hinder a Hitchcockian skill-based movement, proceed without ever becoming intellectually stagnant.

★Starting Michael Mann – The Difference from Hitchcock

We cannot see the moment when the protagonist's movement (mission) is activated in a Michael Mann film. By the time we imprint their movement on our minds, their movement has already begun. ● "THE JERICHO MILE" begins with runner Peter Strauss running in the prison yard,  "Thief" begins with thief James Caan getting into his car to go on a heist,  "THE KEEP" (1983.12.16) begins with German Wehrmacht soldiers heading out on a mission to guard a mountain road at their base in Romania, "HEAT" begins with robbery gang boss Robert De Niro heading out to steal an ambulance for a cash transport heist the next day,  "THE INSIDER" begins with TV producer Al Pacino heading out for a secret interview with an Islamic fundamentalist elder, "ALI" begins with boxer Will Smith doing roadwork, "COLLATERAL" begins with hitman Tom Cruise receiving a bag containing target information from his client's messenger Jason Statham at the LA airport, "Miami Vice (2006.7.20) starts with detectives Colin Farrell and Jamie Foxx staking out a prostitution ring in a disco,  "PUBLIC ENEMIES" starts with robber Johnny Depp entering a prison to help his accomplices escape, the period drama "The Last of the Mohicans" (1992.8.26) starts with Mohican Daniel Day-Lewis running through the woods to hunt deer (deer hunting is a sacred ritual for the Mohicans), and "MANHUNTER" (1986.8.15) begins in the middle of a murder committed by serial killer Tom Noonan. The only film in Michael Mann's films that doesn't begin with the execution of a mission is "Made in L.A." (1989.8.27 TVM), which starts with a morning bed scene between Detective Scott Plank and his wife. In its remake, "Heat," the first sequence is changed to Robert De Niro going to steal an ambulance to use in a robbery, and the next sequence is newly added to show Val Kilmer, a member of the robbery gang, going to buy gunpowder. Al Pacino's bed scene, which is unrelated to the mission, is deliberately moved to the third sequence. In essence, the movement in Michael Mann's films is already in motion at the start of 11 out of 12 films. Michael Mann's missions, which could be called the pinnacle of skill-based movement, differ from Hitchcock's skill-based movement, which is initiated by proactive decision-making, and also differ from Hitchcock's involvement-based movement, which is only activated when a MacGuffin such as "state secret" or "wanted" is applied. Instead, Mann's missions begin from a point where they are already underway. In Hitchcock's case, the instances where the protagonist has already started the mission are the sabotage in "Sabotage," the murder in "Rope," the escape in "Stage Flight," and the psychic medium in "Family Plat" (although the main mission in this film is to find the old woman's heir, not to perform psychic acts). In contrast, Michael Mann aligns his profession with his mission and thoroughly hones his skills, thereby physically eliminating the starting point of the movement and enabling it to be activated without a MacGuffin.

★Execution

Once a Michael Mann character is set in motion, as we have already discussed, the process continues without stagnation. Runners keep running ("THE JERICHO MILE"), hitmen keep killing ("COLLATERAL"). Thieves keep stealing ("Thief"), robbers keep robbing ("HEAT", "PUBLIC ENEMIES"), detectives keep chasing them ("HEAT"), boxers keep fighting ("ALI"), and television producers keep their promises to informants ("THE INSIDER"). None of Michael Mann's characters are "lazy" like Thomas Mitchell in "STAGECOACH" who only complete their mission once.

★Origins

The protagonists in Michael Mann's films have lost their "origins" far more than those in "STAGECOACH." The motivations behind their missions are never explained. In "STAGECOACH," John Wayne becomes a gunman seeking revenge because his parents and siblings were killed, and Claire Trevor becomes a prostitute because her parents were killed by Native Americans when she was a child, leaving her impoverished. Thus, the protagonists of "STAGECOACH" vaguely remember their own "being" = "origins," which are gradually being lost, whereas Michael Mann's protagonists have fundamentally lost their "origins." Their movements, which are already in motion without even a MacGuffin, proceed without any motivation from beginning to end and then simply end. In "THE KEEP," the German Wehrmacht and the Nazi SS are annihilated by a demon that emerges from underground. Jürgen Prochnow of the German Wehrmacht accuses the Nazi SS members of "the corrupted spirit of Germany has unleashed a monster within the walls," but the film does not show at all why the demon was created in the first place, nor does it mention why Germany is at war. Scott Glenn, who plays a savior-like role and perishes with the monster, answers Alberta Watson's question "Who are you?" with "A traveler," and to the question "Where are you from?" he replies "From everywhere" and "I came to destroy him," but he does not explain at all why he destroys the monster. In "Thief," James Caan takes on his final job as a thief for his wife and child, but the reason why he steals in the first place is never shown.  In "ALI," when his wife asks, "Why is my devout Muslim husband going to be crucified for them (Don King, etc.)?", Ali (Will Smith) doesn't answer at all, and there is no mention of why Ali is fighting.  In "HEAT" and "MIAMI VICE," the reason why they are detectives is never explained. I see.  In "THE JERICHO MILE," the runner Peter Strauss is asked by prison warden Jeffrey Lewis, "Do you run because it makes you feel good?" to which he replies, "Yes." However, since the release of any desire can make one feel good, this answer is not really an answer. Also, Peter Strauss is a life convict for patricide, and while it is possible to imagine that this drove him to "run," in common societal terms, "parricide" and "running" are not psychologically linked. This is far removed from the common causal relationships seen in "STAGECOACH," such as revenge → gunman, poverty → prostitute. In "The Insider," a TV producer creates a show exposing the corruption of tobacco companies, there is a scene in a Japanese restaurant where producer Al Pacino and whistleblower Russell Crowe are talking face-to-face. Pacino says that he studied under Marcuse and was influenced by the New Left, but when Russell Crowe asks if that's why he became a journalist, he doesn't answer. When pressed further with "Do you only ask questions?", Pacino retorts with "Don't you like it?" and deflects by saying "Let's get back to the topic." Michael Mann uses very subtle direction to avoid the protagonist mentioning his "origins." Tom Cruise, the hitman in "Collateral," also confesses to taxi driver Jamie Foxx, "My father hated me, he would beat me when he was drunk, and I was sent to foster care many times. I killed my father when I was 12," but immediately after, he laughs and says it was a joke and that his father died of liver disease. This series of vague confessions is too weak to causally connect to the ruthless "hitman" he is. Daniel Day-Lewis in "The Last of the Mohicans" even mentions that he doesn't remember his "origins," saying, "My parents and sisters were killed when I was little, and I was raised by the Chingachek Mohicans. I don't remember anything, though."  In "Manhunter," it is explained that the serial killer Tom Noonan was driven to commit murder because he was beaten by his father during his childhood. However, this explanation is given by the protagonist William Petersen, not Tom Noonan himself, and Tom Noonan continues his activism without ever having found his "origins." In Michael Mann's works, the "origins" are shown in detail only in the case of William Petersen, the protagonist of "MANHUNTER," where his "origin"—his mental illness stemming from the horrific experience of Dr. Lecter's arrest—is described as an important detail. With such exceptions, Michael Mann's characters are strictly forbidden from recalling their "origins"—the past that defines their identity. In Hitchcock's "involvement movement," there is no concept of "being" from the very beginning, so it is natural that his protagonists do not mention "origins," which are in the realm of "being." However, as we have already examined, in Hitchcock's skill-based movements, the motivation for starting the "profession" (including crime) is always filmed.In contrast, in Michael Mann's professional movements, the recollection and mention of the motivation ("origins") for engaging in that professional movement are strictly prohibited.

★Remake

In "MADE IN L.A.", after seeing the body of a prostitute on the street, Detective Scott Plank returns home and tells his wife, Eli Pouget, "I want to do something, anything, to make this town a better place." Later, in a bar, he punches a man who mocks his wife, calling her a "prostitute," and then, during an argument with his wife on the street, he says, "A 16-year-old girl is being raped. She's being used and then killed, that's the problem. You've been with me all this time, so you must know what kind of terrible things are happening in the world!" Both of these can be seen as expressions of the "origins" that, in a socially accepted sense, would follow the unspoken part of "That's why I became a detective." "I want to do something, anything, to make this town a better place." → "That's why I became a detective." "Terrible things are happening in the world." → "That's why I became a detective." In addition, this motivation is attached to the "public" realm of doing something for the good of society and humanity. However, in the self-remake of this film, "HEAT," these two lines are completely omitted. Instead, there is a scene where Al Pacino retorts to his wife, who is pressuring him, "Why don't you talk about work at home?", with "Should I tell you the story of a father who microwaved his crying baby?" Neither Al Pacino as the detective nor Robert De Niro as the gangster mentions at all in the film why they became detectives or gangsters, and these changes made in the remake are by no means accidental.

★Based on a True Story

"PUBLIC ENEMIES" is a film about the real-life bank robber Dillinger, and Johnny Depp, who played him, tells Marion Cotillard, the woman he meets for the first time, about his background and preferences, saying, "My mother died when I was three and I grew up being beaten by my father. I like baseball, movies, fancy clothes, fast cars, whiskey, and you. I keep my promises. I'll take care of you." ●Similar to the confession of Detective Scott Plank in "MADE IN L.A.", these words can be seen as an outpouring of the "origins" that could, according to common sense, continue with "My mother died when I was three and I grew up being beaten by my father" → "That's why I became a bank robber." In the realm of "true stories," it is not unrelated that details such as the "origins" and other aspects that would be weak points from a kinetic perspective are filmed, given that it is based on "facts."

★"MIAMI VICE" and Fragmentation -

In this film adaptation of a television series, the two detectives played by Colin Farrell and Jamie Foxx are never told why they became detectives or why they carry out their duties. The film ends with the target drug lord still on the run, and it feels like it's shot as if it's the "10th episode" of a continuing series, with a nonchalant attitude that seems to say, "I'm sure I explained my motivations for taking on the job in the first episode," focusing instead on the action itself. As I wrote in my paper "Psychological Authenticity and Film History", shooting a film in fragments is an effective way to eliminate "authenticity." Robert Bresson said, "Fragmentation is essential if you do not want to fall into representation. To see existence and things in their separable parts. To separate those parts one by one." The phrase "In order to establish a new dependency between them, first make them independent of each other (Cinematograph Notes, 126)" is an attempt to "fragment" movement A and movement B, thereby eliminating the causal relationship between A and B = "psychological authenticity," and freeing each movement from reason to move as it pleases. "First, set up three lavish and spectacular scenes or scenes with surprising mechanisms. Never follow the movements of the main character and develop the plot... I will not do that. The characters' personalities and the plot can wait. After that, the plot and character settings connect the highlights, and even if the story doesn't quite make sense, it's fine as long as the highlights are interesting and the plot keeps you on the edge of your seat (Eureka Suzuki Seijun 115). This statement by Suzuki Seijun also succinctly describes how there are several fragmentary movements at the beginning, and the reasons that connect these movements come "later." Simply put, Howard Hawks  "Rio Bravo (RIO In "BRAVO" (1958/March 8, 1959), Dean Martin, Ricky Nelson, Walter Brennan, and John Wayne surrounding them conceived about five impressive scenes resembling a jam session, and then figured out how to connect those five scenes "afterward." This approach ultimately leads to Howard Hawks' statement, "If you have five good scenes and they don't annoy the audience, that's good enough" ("Howard Hawks Talks About Film," p. 61). Bresson's assertion that "cause should come after effect, not accompany or precede it," or Godard's statement that "what interests me is talking about the action rather than the person who does it, and only afterward do we talk about the person who does it," perfectly illustrates this point.The reasons for connecting the fragments come from "afterward," and they appear as something different and awkward compared to the reasons that come from "before." What is born from this is a "new dependency (between parts)" as described by Bresson, which is exposed beyond causality and becomes a naked relationship far removed from psychological causal relationships such as "essence," motivation, and reason. Shigehiko Hasumi ("The Memory Device of Cinema" 31) writes that "the unbelievably low evaluation of Howard Hawks in Japan is due to the illusion of mistaking complexity for vulgarity " but the reason Hawks' films appear complex is that the relationships between sequences and parts come "afterward," and the "new dependency" that is created there is different from the psychological causality we are familiar with, and if we read that difference as "vulgarity," we will be denying motion pictures themselves. Hitchcock said of "The 39 Steps" that he wrote the script with the intention that "each scene would be substantial enough to be a small film in itself" ("The Art of Cinema" 82). However, movement, by its very nature, begins to be eroded by "psychological authenticity" as it continues, and there is always the danger that reasons that should come "later" become "first" and psychologically influence the movement. To avoid this, movement must always be reactivated, and for this reason, the method of "fragmentation," alongside the MacGuffin, is an extremely important cinematic event, just as the phenomenon of "sequence" exists in film. "Miami Vice" is filmed by taking one fragment from a chain of series and further fragmenting it into a film sequence. This work, which is filmed by further fragmenting the original fragment, decisively banishes "psychological truthfulness."

★Loss of Origin and Asceticism

In Michael Mann's films, the temporality of "between" eras as seen in "STAGECOACH" is becoming increasingly diluted. In "STAGECOACH," the "between" of "being" and "doing," such as "the end of the frontier" and "Geronimo's surrender," is clearly drawn, and the characters continue to struggle to fulfill their "being," sometimes with faces clouded with pain. In contrast, in Michael Mann's films, "being" a newspaper reporter, detective, or bank robber is buried in the distant past and pushed into the realm of the unconscious, and people's consciousness is purified more towards "doing." There are no characters like Thomas Mitchell in "STAGECOACH" who get drunk and interfere with their duties, no characters like John Wayne who give up being a gunman and return to being a cowboy, and no characters like George Bancroft who abandon their duties as sheriff and let the suspect escape. They faithfully carry out their duties with utmost asceticism and purposefulness, and their movement never stagnates unless they are killed. Michael Mann's movement, having lost its "origin" of "being" in the distant past, is driven more intensely by pushing the conscious pursuit of its "origin" into the unconscious. Whether a detective is being a detective or a thief is stealing, the "act" no longer requires even a MacGuffin as a trigger, gaining a stronger recursiveness and being carried out with asceticism and purposeful rationality.

★Assurance of Salvation and Ascetic Labor

Michael Mann's movement is similar to the spirit of capitalism as described by Max Weber in "The Spirit of Protestantism and Capitalism." Humans are God's creations, and as creations, they cannot possibly know which humans God will specifically save at the Last Judgment (predestination). Those who desire assurance of salvation work ascetically, seeking to obtain assurance of salvation by realizing God's rationality on earth. However, no matter how much humans seek assurance of salvation, as mere creations, they cannot possibly understand God's choices, and the labor of those seeking assurance of salvation becomes increasingly ascetic and purposeful. This becomes the spirit of capitalism, and Max Weber's view is that capitalism began with this spirit. "The spirit of capitalism is the spirit that regards labor as evidence of salvation. Therefore, labor itself is noble, not because it provides the means of livelihood." As Naoki Komuro states in "The Collapse of Korea 134," the spirit of capitalism lies in the "becoming an end in itself of labor." The purpose of labor is in the labor itself, and doing labor becomes the reason for labor. If we were to constantly think about the reasons for each labor, capitalism would not function. By stripping away the reasons from labor and making it an end in itself, and throwing it into the crucible of dynamic recursive movement, labor continues to rotate relentlessly. I work because I am working. This spirit of capitalism is very similar to the film's theory of movement, which states that "the purpose of movement is in movement," and it also resonates with reflexive modernity. It is now widely said that the spirit of Protestantism did not lead to the spirit of capitalism, but what is interesting is that by entrusting the "assurance of salvation" to an absolute being, "God," beyond human reach, labor is carried out ascetically and smoothly. If we replace "assurance of salvation" with "being" and "ascetic labor" with "doing" and look at Michael Mann's movement, the Michael Mann movement, which starts abruptly in the middle of carrying out a task and never once talks about or expresses its own "origins" throughout the film, is precisely the  becoming an end in itself of the movement. It approaches the "spirit of capitalism." The more they ascetically pursue the unattainable "being," the more their movement becomes an end in itself, becoming refined and self-serving in the act of "doing," creating a paradox. Their movement, which ascetically pursues "being," appears rational and proactive at first glance, but because "being" "does not exist," it becomes detached from subjectivity and is tossed about by the act of "doing. The more they hone their skills, the more ascetic they become, the more systematic they become, the more their pursuit of "being something that doesn't exist" becomes pathologically intense, and this manifests as the Reflexivity in Michael Mann's films. Michael Mann's movement, having lost its "origin," is a skill-filled, active, ascetic, and planned movement directed towards "being something that doesn't exist," while Hitchcock's involved movement, in which there is absolutely no "being," becomes a passive, irrational, and unplanned rampage, stripped of all skill. Michael Mann pursues, and Hitchcock is involved. Even when initiating a movement, one must not forget that the quality of the movement is completely different depending on whether or not there is a "being" as a target area, even if it is virtual.

★No flashbacks

Of Michael Mann's 12 films, there is only one flashback sequence. ●In the opening of "ALI," there are brief glimpses of Will Smith (Muhammad Ali) as a child and recent footage, shown abruptly for just a few seconds each, without any overlap or special camera techniques. The only time it's clear that this is a flashback is in the recent boxing match, when Will Smith gets into the ring and glares at his opponent. The childhood footage doesn't definitively identify him as Will Smith, and Michael Mann has filmed his only flashback scene in an extremely vague way. It is only natural that for a Michael Mann protagonist—who has lost his "origin"—there is no return to that origin through reminiscence; whether it is Gong Li murmuring "Time is luck" as she parts ways with Colin Farrell in the final scene of *Miami Vice*, Johnny Depp declaring "If today is great, I don't think about tomorrow" in *Public Enemies*, or the gang boss Alec McCowen in *Made in L.A.* replying "There's no point in digging into the past" when Laura Harrington asks "Where are you from?"—in the Michael Mann-esque mode of movement, the present is the stage upon which action unfolds, a quality that shares a fundamental affinity with the Hitchcockian dynamic of being swept into events, where the experience is distilled into pure "doing."However, the only film among them that includes flashbacks is "ALI," a film about a real person, and like "PUBLIC ENEMIES," which talks about "origins," the tendency to go back to the past, to reminisce and "origins," is exposed as a weakness in the movement theory that appears in the realm of "true stories."

 ■Michael Mann vs. Hitchcock

●"Lifeboat" (1943/January 28, 1944)

This film, shot by Hitchcock during the war, depicts the survival of the crew of a transport ship destroyed by a German U-boat attack during World War II, along with the U-boat's captain, who are rescued in a single lifeboat. It presents a showdown between a German captain, brimming with Michael Mann-esque skills, and an Allied force, a group of individuals seemingly lacking Hitchcockian skills. The lifeboat crew consists of the following (★→Female ■→Male):

① Allied side - 8 people.

★Talulah Bankhead (Journalist)

■William Bendix (Sailor)

★Mary Anderson (Nurse)

■John Bodock (Engineer)

■Henry Hull (Shipyard Owner)

★Heather Angel (Mother)

■Hume Cronin (Communications Engineer)

■Canada Lee (Cook/Former Pickpocket)

②German Side - 1 person

Walter Schlesag (Captain)

Looking at the occupations of the "Allied side," there are engineers, radio operators, cooks, millionaires, nurses, and journalists, but they lack someone with the crucial skill of a captain, essential for keeping the ship afloat and surviving. Henry Hull, the millionaire who acts like captain and gives orders, is untrustworthy due to his lack of skills, and John Bodorak, who is appointed captain by majority vote, has no captain's skills whatsoever, and his arrogant personality and womanizing frivolousness make him untrustworthy to everyone. Furthermore, Talulah Bankhead, who has the skills of a journalist and could indirectly contribute to the voyage by recording events, drops his camera and typewriter into the sea, so Hitchcock thoroughly prevents the "Allied side" from utilizing their skills. The only skills they managed to utilize were that of former pickpocket Canada Lee, who stole a compass from the pocket of German Walter Schlesak, and nurse Mary Anderson, who tended to William Bendix's injured leg. However, the subsequent amputation of the leg was left entirely to Walter Schlesak, a former doctor with medical skills. In the end, the "Allied" side, unable to do anything, spent their time playing cards, exploiting the German, and acting as if they were the sovereign power. However, when a storm hit, their lack of skills became an insurmountable deficiency, and at that moment, Walter Schlesak, the German U-boat captain who had been taken prisoner, shouted orders and managed to weather the storm, finally being put in charge of steering. In a development that perfectly illustrates Carl Schmitt's idea that "sovereignty is only revealed in times of emergency," Schlesak loudly sang Beethoven and used the compass to guide the "Allied" side to a German supply ship, plotting to capture them. Furthermore, the Allied forces, insulted by Michael Mann-esque words such as "I secured water before the storm just in case," "You should be grateful for my ability to foresee the future," and "It's all about planning," become enraged and lynch Shrezark, killing him and throwing his body into the sea. But at that moment, Henry Hull realizes they have lost their captain and hangs his head, saying, "There is no one to replace him as a rower," while Talulah Bankhead falls into a state of despair, saying, "If the 'superman' is gone, all that's left is to die." This film apparently greatly angered American critics, but the Allied forces are portrayed as Hitchcockian, easily-involved, weaklings, while the German are portrayed as Michael Mann-esque, skilled individuals. In fact, this film points to a typical example of the relationship between the protagonist and the villain in a Hitchcockian film where the protagonist is caught up in events.

★Charm

Truffaut, speaking of charismatic villains in Hitchcock films, said, "I think Claude Rains (in *Notorious*), along with Robert Walker (*Strangers on a Train*) and Joseph Cotten (*Shadow of a Doubt*), is perhaps the most Hitchcockian 'villain.' In other words, he is an extremely human villain" (*The Art of Film*, p. 164). They all carry out their duties ascetically, are gentlemen yet pathological, and have weak motives for committing crimes. Although they each seem to have reasons—to protect the country, to kill his father, or because widows are parasites—Claude Rains never says anything like "to protect the country," Robert Walker is so pathological that he doesn't seem to have a firm motive for committing crimes in terms of his ability to take responsibility for his actions, and Joseph Cotten's motive for the crime, "because widows are parasites," is also largely pathological and not based on his reason. All of Hitchcock's most captivating villains are pathological, which Truffaut considers "human," but other memorable villains include: ● Anthony Perkins in "SYCHO" is a mama's boy with a mental illness; ● George Curson, the "blinking man" in "Young and Innocent," who treats his facial neuralgia attacks with medication; ● Barry Foster in "FRENZY" is a perverted tie-killing maniac who exposes his schizophrenia, and both Hitchcock and Truffaut praise him as "a good actor" ("The Art of Cinema" 135); and ● Norman Lloyd in "Saboteur" also exudes the aura of a paranoid perfectionist. This lineage of mentally ill Hitchcockian villains can be traced back to ● Esme Percy in "MURDER!", who commits murder to conceal his sexual impotence, and even to Miles Munder in his debut silent film "THE PLEASURE GARDEN," who nearly kills his wife after being afflicted with a fever. These individuals, afflicted with mental illness, have lost (or forgotten) the "origin" of their movement—the very act of "being"—and are therefore driven by an almost obsessive asceticism of "doing" directed toward "being something that doesn't exist," thus drawing them closer to Michael Mann-esque protagonists. These pathological criminals lack the psychological conflict of why they are criminals or why they commit crimes.

■Habitual Offenders vs. First-Time Offenders

In Hitchcockian involvement movements, the pathological criminals are often habitual offenders who have committed crimes many times. Starting with Peter Lorre in "The Man Who Knew Too Much" (1934), Joseph Cotten in "Shadow of a Doubt," Herbert Marshall in "Foreign Correspondent," Claude Rains in "Notorious," James Mason in "North by Northwest," Anthony Perkins in "Sycho," and Barry Foster in "Frenzy," they are all habitual offenders who have committed crimes on a regular basis. Having started their crimes long ago, they have lost the motivation = "origin (why they commit crimes)" at the beginning of their criminal acts, so they do it skillfully and effortlessly without having to trace back to their motivation each time. In contrast, first-time offenders are those about to commit their very first crime, and therefore have a motive for the crime. They are accompanied by a greater or lesser conflict with good and evil, morality, and anxiety and fear about the success or failure of the crime due to their lack of skills. As a result, their actions are awkward, constantly referencing these "origins." However, as their criminal actions are repeated a second and third time, they become more skilled, active, and self-serving as they move further away from their "origins," good and evil, and morality. Just as there is a world of difference in the smoothness of a coin insertion between a pachinko novice and a "habitual offender," habitual offenders have lost their "origin," allowing them to carry out crimes without being tormented by conflicts with good and evil or their skills. Yamato Mitachi, who is currently serving time for two murders, says, "People should have psychological resistance to the act of murder, but the second time, that resistance is significantly lower than the first time" ("Absolute Affirmation of the Death Penalty"). Shigeki Okamoto, a clinical educator, introduces the story of an inmate who says, "The first time, I made up my mind and went through with the murder. I thought I would never kill anyone again, but the second time it was easier (to kill). I don't even know why myself" ("If You Make Them Reflect, They Become Criminals," p. 89). However, among the Hitchcockian villains and habitual offenders mentioned above, not a single one reveals the reason why they became criminals, nor are any of them tormented by guilt over the crimes they have committed. This habitual offender tendency is fundamentally pathological, and habitual offenders overlap with criminals with pathological illnesses in that they have lost their "origin." Both the movements of criminals afflicted with mental illness and the movements of habitual offenders, due to their pathological nature, forget their "origin" and become pathologically and ascetically concentrated solely on the present movement. ● In "Shadow of a Doubt," Joseph Cotton gets angry when his sister Patricia Collinge tells him that he has changed because of a bicycle accident he had in the past, and he retorts, "I have no nostalgia. I live each day to the fullest. That's my philosophy," which is evidence that his pathological inclination is directed towards the present.

→ "THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH" (1934) - Peter Lorre

This film, in which a couple (Leslie Banks and Edna Best) whose daughter (Nova Pilbeam) is kidnapped after they accidentally learn of a plot to assassinate a high-ranking official while on vacation in Switzerland, and who then struggle to get their daughter back, was later remade by Hitchcock himself as "THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH" (1956). In this film, Peter Lorre plays the boss of the assassination group, portraying an assassin who is an obsessive perfectionist. He slaps Leslie Banks across the face when he resists him, then apologizes with a polite but disrespectful "I'm sorry, please forgive me," showing no internal conflict or guilt whatsoever regarding the killing of Leslie Banks and her daughter, Nova Pilbeam, yet he also unashamedly displays a split personality, such as when he embraces his own female companion when she dies. Thus, Peter Lorre, a perfectionist who is intoxicated by the aesthetics of murder and driven to his own destruction, is none other than the first example in Hitchcock's films of the ascetic criminal who is detached from psychological motivations and driven from within, developing his actions through internal force. Having unconsciously concealed the origins of "being an assassin" through his pathological nature and habitual behavior, he repeats his  Autotelic actions without ever once explaining the "origins" of why he became an assassin in the film. The reason why seemingly habitual offenders such as Godfrey Thiard (the man with the missing little finger) in "The 39 Steps," Dr. Paul Lucas, the enemy doctor in "The Lady Vanishes," and Otto Kruger, the enemy boss in "Saboteur," lack a certain appeal is that they are too proactive and intellectual, and therefore lack the pathological nature characteristic of habitual offenders. ● Godfrey Thiard, who played the enemy spy in "The 39 Steps," is a habitual spy, yet he is an intelligent criminal who uses an extremely roundabout method of having Mr. Memory recite information and then taking it outside. ●Even William Devane in "FAMILY PLOT" is a habitual kidnapper and suffers from a pathological obsession with jewels, but his crimes are not simple jewel thefts; they are convoluted and intelligent, involving kidnapping, imprisonment, taking jewels as ransom, and then releasing the hostages. It is this intellect that prevents them from being remembered in the history of Hitchcock films.

★From Habitual Offender to "Habitual Offender" From First Offender to "First Offender"

Habitual offenders and first offenders are not limited to criminals. Those who exercise far removed from their "origins" are all "habitual offenders," and those who act in the realm of good and evil in a way that overlaps with their "origins" are "first offenders." Whether they are robbers, runners, detectives, boxers, or journalists, Michael Mann's protagonists are already "habitual offenders" who have repeatedly carried out their professional exercises at the start of the film, and they continue to repeat their duties relentlessly thereafter. ●The fact that the film "ALI" starts not at Ali's debut fight but at a point where he has already fought many matches is one detail of the fact that the protagonists Michael Mann films are "habitual offenders," and the fact that all of his films start "in the middle" of an exercise is not unrelated to this habitual nature. Michael Mann's protagonists, who completely exclude any mention of their "origins" and relentlessly repeat their professional exercises as if driven by an irresistible force, are the epitome of "habitual offenders."

→ How to film a "habitual offender" - film it like the lane change in "HEAT"

● In the final act of "HEAT," Robert De Niro is driving to the airfield to escape when he receives a call from his accomplice Jon Voight saying, "I know where the traitor is." Voight wants De Niro to continue his escape and emphasizes, "It doesn't matter anymore (that traitor) does it?" De Niro replies, "That's right," and continues driving. The camera then continues to film De Niro from the front for a while, but suddenly De Niro changes lanes and heads back towards town. At this moment, Michael Mann films the movement not as if De Niro is turning the steering wheel of his own free will, but as if he is suddenly compelled to turn the steering wheel by something lurking inside him. ●The same scene was filmed in the original "MADE IN L.A.", the basis for "HEAT," but in that film, Alex MacArthur, who played Robert De Niro's role, receives a call from a friend while driving and is told, "Get on a plane," to which he replies, "Of course." He then snaps his fingers with a faint smile, makes a U-turn, and heads back. Here, he is portrayed as a typical "habitual offender" who acts without thinking. In contrast, in the remake "HEAT," Michael Mann has Robert De Niro's girlfriend, Amy Brenneman, still in the passenger seat (in "MADE IN L.A.", the woman Laura Harrington has already left Alex MacArthur at this point), further emphasizing the situation of the two of them fleeing without getting rid of the traitor. Then, in a sudden, impulsive movement as if from within, he makes De Niro turn the wheel and head towards the hotel where the traitor is, further highlighting his "habitual offender" nature. Even in the case of Detective Al Pacino, when his wife Diane Venora tells him "You can go to work" in the hospital lobby after his daughter Natalie Portman has cut her wrists, he impulsively runs off and sprints down the hospital stairs. Those who have lost their "origins" appear proactive but are actually pathological. The "being" they should refer to comes from the unconscious realm where "nothing" exists, forcing them to act impulsively before they can think proactively. This is what makes their movements both flexible and ascetic, leading them towards an end in themselves.

★Sense of Guilt

Criminals ("habitual offenders"), having committed crimes repeatedly, become detached from the "origin" of "being" and lose it unconsciously. This makes their actions a Autotelic,"doing" movement, and at the same time free them from the psychological value judgments of their "origin" = "first offense," such as guilt, good and evil, and morality. In Michael Mann's TV movie "THE JERICHO MILE," Peter Strauss, who is serving time for killing his father, asserts to the warden of the selection committee, "If I were in the same situation again, I would do the same thing (kill) again." In "HEAT," Robert De Niro feels no guilt whatsoever about a shootout that involves civilians. Even Al Pacino, as a detective, despite his stepdaughter Natalie Portman attempting suicide in the bathroom of his apartment due to marital discord, is asked by his wife Diane Venora on a sofa in the hospital waiting room, "Can't we repair our relationship?" to which he replies, "I'm a man obsessed with his work. I'm not the man you want me to be." He replies, "Yes," and then his pager beeps and Diane Venora tells him, "You can go," and he smoothly runs down the hospital stairs, leaving his daughter behind, without a trace of guilt in his actions. ● Muhammad Ali in "ALI" feels no guilt about fighting. ● In "PUBLIC ENEMIES," Johnny Depp, a bank robber, casually introduces himself to the first woman he meets (Marion Cotillard) who asks, "What are you doing?" by saying, "I'm Dillinger. I'm a bank robber." This casual self-introduction is only possible because he has lost his "origins" and lives far removed from the sense of good and evil—he is a "habitual offender." A first-time criminal who starts acting based on an intelligent judgment of good and evil could never make such a bold and fearless self-introduction. The ultimate example of this is Tom Cruise as a hitman in "Collateral," who kills multiple targets in quick succession without showing a trace of guilt, making him the quintessential example of a memory-loss-type "habitual offender" who has completely lost their "origin." ●In "Thief," there is a scene where James Caan goes to the government office for an adoption interview and is rejected because he has a criminal record, which enrages him. However, he is not angry at a society that is cold towards ex-offenders. At this point, he is a full-fledged "habitual thief." Despite this, he feels no guilt whatsoever. Here, Michael Mann portrays the government official as the "bad guy" and James Caan, the habitual thief, as the "good guy," in order to point out that the actions of "habitual offenders" are far removed from good and evil. The reason why "habitual offenders" have no sense of guilt is simply because their actions themselves are unrelated to good and evil = "origin." ●In "THE KEEP," Jürgen Prochnow of the German Army criticizes and regrets the war, while Gabriel Byrne of the Nazi SS continues his movement in a completely ascetic manner without a trace of guilt. This stems from the fact that the former is a "first offender" while the latter is a "habitual offender," the former is intellectual while the latter is pathological, and the former has an "origin" while the latter has lost it. When filming a "habitual offender," the basic approach is to film a habitual offender who has already repeated the crime, but even if you film a first-time offender committing a crime, if you make him psychopathic or tear him apart in relationships and make him pathological, he becomes a "habitual offender," and his movement becomes an end in itself and flexible.

★Psychoanalysis brings "habitual offenders" back to "first offenders" - "MANIE" and "SPELLBOUND"

●Tippi Hedren in "MANIE" loses her memories of the past due to childhood trauma and is driven to commit crimes as if by some force. She is a "habitual offender," and therefore also "sick." Hired as a typist in Sean Connery's office, she hides in the office restroom after working hours on weekends and takes a large sum of money from the safe in the empty office. Her movements, which are meticulously planned and effortlessly open the safe, create a supple suspense by dividing the space of the cleaning lady (Edith Evanson) and the space of the safe, even though she drops her high heels, providing an unforgettable scene for Hitchcock fans. However, her husband, Sean Connery, treated Tippi Hedren, a "habitual offender," through psychoanalysis, returning her to being a "first-time offender." Psychoanalysis is an attempt to treat "habitual offenders" with pathological tendencies by using wordplay and other means to recall their "origins" and bring them back to being "first-time offenders." When Tippi Hedren committed her second theft after falling off her horse and euthanizing it, her movement, which was recovering its "origins" through Sean Connery's psychoanalysis, was psychologically stagnant due to a conflict with her sense of guilt. Having lost her pathological asceticism after undergoing psychoanalysis, she reverted to being a "first-time offender." That is why her movement constantly refers to its "origins"—a sense of guilt, good and evil—and becomes subjectively stagnant, psychological, wiping sweat from her forehead, frowning, and stalled. Comparing the first theft ("habitual offender") with the second theft ("first offender"), the second theft leaves a weaker impression because the second theft is dominated not by the action ("doing") but by the "origin" ("being") ("psychological authenticity"). In "SPELLBOUND," which begins with the caption "This is a psychoanalytic story," Gregory Peck suffers from a mental illness and has lost his "origin," but early in the film he reacts to the white lines on the tablecloth and gown, which immediately makes him aware of his "origin" and causes him to faint. From then on, he is forced to confront his "origin" every time he undergoes psychoanalysis with Bergman or reacts to the white lines, his steps becoming heavy like a zombie's, his face showing pain as he clutches his head, and at times he loses consciousness and comes down the stairs like a sleepwalker with a razor in his hand, continuing his psychological stagnation. When a "habitual offender" traces back to his "origin," his action stagnates. ● In "Shadow of a Doubt," the pathological criminal Joseph Cotton, according to his sister Patricia Collinge, "began exhibiting abnormal behavior after fracturing his skull in a bicycle accident as a child," but these words were spoken when Joseph Cotton was not present, and he himself never recalls this "origin." On the contrary, as he states that his motto is "make the most of today," he is a man who lives in the present and never goes back to the past, and in this respect, unlike patients undergoing psychoanalysis, his movement never stagnates.

 ★Recalling the "origin" causes fainting

"Habitual offenders," too, are shaken by guilt when they recall their "origin," recalling good and evil and becoming subjective. Exercise becomes psychological, they sweat, they frown, the exercise stops, and they faint. ●Like "SPELLBOUND," Compton Bennett's "The Seventh Veil" (October 18, 1945) is considered a pioneering work of psychoanalytic newrotic cinema. In this film, pianist Ann Todd, traumatized by being whipped on the hands as punishment by a teacher in her childhood and subsequently failing a piano exam, faints at the end of her piano performance when the classmate who caused the punishment visits her at her concert. Similarly, in Viktor Sjöström's silent film "THE SCARLET LETTER" (August 9, 1926), Reverend Lars Hanson, who fathered a child with a married woman (Lillian Gish), is tormented by guilt over his adultery. After confessing the truth to his parishioners, he faints and dies on Lillian Gish's lap. Thus, the recollection of "origin" and "fainting (cessation of movement)" are directly linked in terms of kinetic theory. ● In "Strangers on a Train," the criminal Robert Walker faints after demonstrating how to strangle a woman at a party because seeing Patricia Hitchcock's glasses, who was standing in front of him, reminded him of his first murder, his "origin." ● In "Young and Innocent," the blinking man George Curson faints at the end of the film while performing at a club because seeing the man who gave him the incriminating coat reminded him of his "origin"—the murder of his wife (even though they are first-time offenders, they have lost their "origin" due to a pathological illness, so one crime already makes them "habitual offenders").Like in Max Ophüls' "Lola Montès" (December 23, 1955), where Lola Montez (Martine Carol) recounts her life through dance on stage in flashbacks, and then, after finishing all her recollections, falls from a great height and is placed in a cage-like device, where she is publicly displayed by men as the film ends; or like in Robert Siodmak's "Phantom Lady" (January 28, 1944), when Detective Thomas Gomez lists examples of abnormal murderers such as Bluebeard, Jack the Ripper, and Dillinger, the murderer Franchot Tone becomes dizzy and faints upon hearing them; or like Nicholas Ray's "Bigger Than Life(August 2, 1956), James Mason, who self-deprecatingly confesses to his son that he was a third-rate, perpetually substitute footballer in high school, becomes mentally unstable and arrogant due to the side effects of a new drug he was given for an illness. He trains his son relentlessly in football and tries to kill him, but his son shows him an American football and says, "Your father was a substitute," forcing Mason to confront his "origins." At that moment, the screen turns red, and Mason is shown in agony, unable to move. Thus, the history of films that evoke "origins" is directly linked to the cessation of movement. That's why Tippi Hedren in "MANIE," Gregory Peck in "SPELLBOUND," and even Ann Todd in "The Seventh Veil" have lost the ability to act on their own and are powerless without a "guardian." They lie in bed or sink deep into the sofa for psychoanalysis, always accompanied by guardians like Sean Connery and Bergman. But even these guardians, by approaching their "origins," are forced to become more subjective, and the films increasingly become psychological, emphasizing the theme of "first offenses." ● In "Strangers on a Train," Robert Walker is able to continue his actions as a "habitual offender" even after recalling his "origin" and fainting, because he subsequently loses his "origin" again, which is why, even on his deathbed, he shows not a trace of guilt and continues to try to frame Farley Granger (he is so insane that he seems to genuinely believe Farley Granger is the culprit). ● In the case of George Curson, the blinking man in "Young and Innocent," after recalling his "origin" and fainting, he not only fails to revert to his "first offense" but goes insane and reverts to being a "habitual offender." ● In contrast, in "Manie" and ● "Spellbound," the stagnation of movement due to reaching the "origin" lasts for a long period, and this rebounds as a stagnation of movement in the entire film. The act of psychoanalysis is nothing more than fulfilling "accountability" by tracing back to its "origins," and what lies beyond is the "single unshakeable truth" unique to mystery films, and the complexity of the movement is inevitably resolved as it aims for a point where everything falls into place. In this respect, the psychoanalysis performed in the final scene of "SYCHO" does not diminish the value of the work because the criminal Anthony Perkins himself was not "recovered = reverted to a first offense" through psychoanalysis; on the contrary, like Peter Breck in Samuel Fuller's "SHOCK CORRIDOR" (1963.9.11), he reached the height of pathology and a world of madness, so the psychoanalysis performed here does not stagnate his movement.

★ "CITIZEN KANE" (May 1, 1941) - A Return from "Habitual Offender" to "First Offender"

Here, we examine "CITIZEN KANE," which has been labeled as "the greatest masterpiece in film history." This film, told in flashback form, follows the editor-in-chief of a newsreel production company (William Alland) as he interviews acquaintances of Charles Foster Kane (Orson Welles), the newspaper magnate, in an attempt to uncover the meaning of the word "Rosebud," which Kane left behind on his deathbed. The film reveals that "Rosebud" was actually written on a sled Kane owned as a child, and since it also includes a scene of Kane being adopted as a child, it seems as if the film traces back to Kane's "origins." However, while films that trace back to their "origins" typically involve the protagonist undergoing psychoanalysis to trace back to their "origins," in this film, it is not Kane himself who traces back to his "origins," but rather his acquaintances who reminisce about his past. Even these acquaintances ultimately fail to reach the "origin" of Rosebud,. Charles Foster Kane's relentless pursuit of success is free from any hesitation or hesitation. He marries and divorces the niece of a political heavyweight, poaches all the reporters from rival newspapers, frames his political opponents, and expels his only close friend from the newspaper, yet he never shows the slightest hint of guilt. His actions are those of a typical "habitual offender." This "addictiveness" intensifies when he tries to promote his mistress, Dorothy Cummingore, who says, "My mother's dream was to make me an opera singer." Kane completely ignores the opposition around him, even building an opera house, hiring vocal specialists, and heavily promoting her as an opera singer, which earns him public ridicule and even causes him to lose his close journalist friend (Joseph Cotten). Yet, he remains completely unfazed and pathologically obsessive in promoting his mistress as an opera singer. Just before his first encounter with Dorothy Cummingore on the street, Kane has just come from a warehouse where his deceased mother's belongings are kept, and he tells Dorothy Cummingore that it's a "sentimental journey." His "addictive" and pathological personality seems to be largely dominated by his somewhat disjointed love for his mother (Agnes Moorehead), who gave him up for adoption when he was a child. Having become incredibly wealthy through the gold mine deeds she received as collateral for lodging expenses, Kane's mother decided she couldn't afford to give him a proper education and sent him up for adoption to be educated in New York. In a sequence of Kane's childhood shots taken through the recollections of his estate manager, a close-up of his mother calmly signing the adoption contract inside the house and a long shot of Kane playing alone on a sled outside in the falling snow are both captured in a vertical, pan-focus composition separated by a window. This pan-focus suggests that Kane likely repeated this "playing alone" scene many times afterward, but here we find the odd fact that the gold mine deeds were in his mother's name, not his parents'. It is not his father but his mother who controls Kane's fate, and the lonely life and personality that Kane recounts several times throughout the film are largely driven by a complex love for the mother who gave him up for adoption in his childhood. However, in the memories of the grown-up Kane, only the part of his life where his kind mother entrusted his dreams to him—a false past—remains. Having completely lost his "origins" to the depths of his memory, his movement becomes that of a "habitual offender," carrying out a pathologically ascetic exercise without a trace of guilt.But the event that triggers his return to the memory of his mother—his "origin"—is his encounter with Dorothy Comingore on a rainy pavement, at which point she says, "I just came back from the warehouse where my mother's belongings are kept, looking for memories." When Kane says, "It's a sentimental journey, so to speak," and Dorothy Comingore self-deprecatingly replies, "It was my mother's dream to make me an opera singer, but with a voice like this, it's impossible," Orson Welles replies, "I see," and the camera, which had been shot from a wide angle up to that point, suddenly switches to a close-up. As the subtle shadows cast on the same part of the right cheek of each of their faces are shown through several cuts of the composition—and then the reverse composition—it is as if the dreams of the two mothers have become one, and Kane proceeds to promote Dorothy Comingore as an opera singer. Ultimately, Kane fails to fulfill her mother's dream, and after she leaves home, he rages, scattering things around the room. Suddenly, a glass marble appears before him, reminiscent of the sled scene in the snow in his memory. He picks it up, and it is here, chronologically, that he first utters the words "Rosebud." At that moment, his movements lose their suppleness, his gaze wanders aimlessly, his steps heavy, and he walks slowly like a sleepwalker. In the next shot, he splits and disappears into a multifaceted mirror. "Rosebud" is his very "origin," the word of death that halts his movement, and at that moment he returns to his "First-Time Offenders" and meets his death. Charles Foster Kane dies cinematically at this moment, not when he actually dies at the beginning of the film. Orson Welles placed Kane in the opening of the film, capturing three shots of the moment when he, already physically dead, dies narratively: the words "Rosebud" uttered from his lips, the hand dropping a glass marble, and the silhouette of his corpse being covered with a sheet by a nurse. If we consider Orson Welles a genius, it lies in the fact that, in his debut film at the tender age of 25, he already knew how to connect the kinetic death in "Rosebud" directly to the narrative death of a human being. Orson Welles frames both ends of his films with the cessation of movement upon reaching the "origin," while continuously filling the space in between with the relentless movement of a "habitual offender" directed toward "something that doesn't exist." In "CITIZEN KANE," a film renowned for its flashbacks, the flashback portion, which makes up the majority of the movement, is chronologically in the past, but kinetically it is the present, and the opening scene, which should be the present, is dominated by the "past" to which the "origin" has returned—a masterful structure. Furthermore, even regarding its "origin," the only clues are the words "Rosebud" carved on the sled and a flashback, leaving it unclear whether it specifically refers to a "cruel mother," a "kind mother," or an "abusing father." The avoidance of presenting a clear "origin" that is obvious to anyone, as seen in "SPELLBOUND" and "MANIE," is simply because "Rosebud" itself, as the "origin," is a MacGuffin. A MacGuffin has no inherent meaning. Thus, Orson Welles' protagonists, like Michael Mann's protagonists, fundamentally exhibit tendencies toward being "habitual offenders," which is clearly evident in the anecdote about a scorpion and a frog uttered by Orson Welles, disguised as the mysterious Mr. Arkadin, in "MR. ARKADIN" (June 27, 1955).

 Scorpion: "Frog, will you let me ride on your back and cross the river?"

Frog: "No. You'll sting me. Then I'll die."

Scorpion: "Don't be ridiculous. If I sting you, I'll drown and die too."

Frog: "Right... Okay, I understand. Come on, get on." ...After swimming across the river with the scorpion on his back for a while, the frog felt a sharp pain in his back. The frog died, and the scorpion drowned. The scorpion would probably say: "Oh well... that's just my character."

● In "HEAT," Robert De Niro could have run away with the woman, but he deliberately turns back to eliminate the traitor, and this backfires, leading to him being hunted down by Al Pacino. This is strikingly similar to the scorpion's behavior, portraying a tragic yet noble character of a "habitual offender" driven by his own character.

■Guilt and "Origin" - Hitchcockian Criminals

Crime is defined as a human movement aimed at "being," as it is governed by human motives such as love, hate, and material desires, and its legal interests include life, body, liberty, honor, property, currency, and the state, which are all extremely human. Below, we list criminals from Hitchcock films who are "first-time offenders" (those who commit their first crime in the film are included here, but this is not complete as some works do not clearly state whether or not they have a criminal record) and "habitual offenders" (even first-time offenders who are psychopathic lose their "origin," so they are included as "habitual offenders" and their names are written in blue. For example, Robert Walker in "Strangers on a Train" is pathological, so he is written as "Robert Walker") in a separate table → See Hitchcock Criminal Table.

★ "First-time offenders" vs. "Habitual offenders"

Of the 26 first-time offenders (or groups) filmed, 19 showed a sense of guilt, whereas of the 31 repeat offenders (or groups), only 6 showed a sense of guilt. Characteristics of first-time offenders include a clear "origin" (such as poverty, resentment, or infidelity) in the film, the crime being intellectual, roundabout, and clumsy, the offender's repentance, and the stagnation of their movement due to guilt. ● In "BLACKMAIL," Annie Ondra, who killed the painter who tried to rape her, is a "first-time offender," and the vivid resurfaces of her "origin" (memory of the murder), preventing her from escaping guilt and causing her movement to stagnate. She is merely bewildered and under the protection of Detective John Longden, and even when the blackmailer is arrested, she is dazed at home. ● In "Revecca," Laurence Olivier confesses his "origin" at a beach house, and tormented by guilt over his wife's death, his movement stagnates abruptly, and he is placed under the protection of Joan Fontaine. ● In "UNDER CAPRICORN," Bergman feels guilty that her husband, Joseph Cotten, once went to prison in her place, and her drowning in alcohol causes her movement to stagnate. A "first offense" is an assimilation of the "origin," and the "origin" is the realm of "being," so the movement of a "first-time offender" is examined each time by reason, good and evil, the past, etc., and instead of acting before thinking, they think before acting, and their movement becomes limited to intellect and stagnates. ● Janet Leigh in "SYCHO" is a first-time embezzler, and in the film, poverty, a desire to get married, etc., are depicted as the "origins" of her crime. She feels the guilt typical of a "first offender," but the reason she doesn't cause stagnation in the film's movement is that her crime is merely a MacGuffin that draws her into the Bates Motel, and as a MacGuffin, it has no meaning, so her crime cannot become psychological. Moreover, her very existence is a MacGuffin that triggers the crimes of Anthony Perkins, a pathological "habitual offender," so it is impossible for her "meaningless" existence to become psychological, and once she has fulfilled her role as a MacGuffin, she is quickly killed off and disappears. Only a few first-time offenders were able to continue their activism without any sense of guilt: the passengers who exchanged fire with enemy soldiers in "The Lady Vanishes," Leo G. Carroll in "SPELLBOUND," Ray Milland in "DIAL M FOR MURDER," Raymond Burr in "Rear Window," and Tom Helmore in "VERTIGO." However, with the exception of Raymond Burr in "Rear Window," the motives for their crimes were clearly stated. Their "first-time offender" activism, like Tom Helmore's in "VERTIGO," involved planning a crime dominated by an extremely roundabout and convoluted intellectual approach, such as using a friend's vertigo to murder his wife. Lacking the morbid charm of characters like Peter Lorre in "THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH" (1934) or Robert Walker in "STRANGERS ON A TRAIN," their crimes themselves will not be remembered in the history of Hitchcock films. Nevertheless, Tom Helmore's intellectual crime does not cause stagnation in the movement of "VERTIGO" because his crime of "using his friend's vertigo to kill his wife" is merely a MacGuffin to create suspense, and therefore he is never investigated for the crime in the film, and his murdered wife is only shown falling for a moment and is not shown or mentioned at all, unlike "SPELLBOUND" and "MANIE," which are made with the purpose of tracing back to the "origin." As we have already discussed, "Rear Window" is a film of "seeing," and it is made in a way that makes it unclear from "seeing" alone whether Raymond Burr, the alleged culprit, actually killed his wife, so it is completely unclear whether he is a first-time offender or a repeat offender. However, his movement, which is pathological, shows no trace of guilt, and whose motive for the crime is not revealed, possesses the characteristics of a " Habitual Offenders."

★"SPELLBOUND" - Leo G. Carroll

Leo G. Carroll shoots and kills his successor as hospital director, and just as he is about to shoot and kill Bergman, who has discovered his crime, Bergman threatens him, saying, "You may have been acquitted because you were undergoing medical treatment for your first murder and lacked criminal responsibility, but now that you're back to normal, if you kill me, you'll be sentenced to death." This shows that Leo G. Carroll committed murder while ill, a state of being a "habitual offender," but after recovering, he reverted to being a "first-time offender." This is why he is always accompanied by an intelligence that makes Bergman say, "A smart person like you wouldn't commit murder," and when cornered, he rationally decides that "there's no escape" and takes his own life. He is an intellectual criminal who lacks the eerie, motiveless charm of a "habitual offender."

★ "ROPE" and "DIAL M FOR MURDER"

Whenever Hitchcock films a movie with a villain (criminal) as the protagonist, he always films a "first offense." ● The protagonist of "ROPE" is a current university student, and as John Dole says, their crime is a first offense. ● In "DIAL M FOR MURDER," the protagonist Ray Milland, who tries to kill his wife Grace Kelly, is a recently retired former tennis player, and this is also his first offense. Because they are first offenders, ● In "ROPE," it proves that "the superior have the right to kill the weak through a perfect crime." ● "DIAL M FOR In "MURDER," the motive for becoming a criminal—the "origin"—such as "killing a cheating wife to inherit her estate," is clearly remembered. Also, in "ROPE," Farley Granger is tormented by guilt, his face contorted in a constant frown. Upon seeing the face of Dick Hogan's father, Cedric Hardwicke, the man he killed, he not only clenches a glass and shatters it, leaving his hands covered in blood, but he also becomes distraught over a story about slaughtering a chicken, and in the end, in a fit of delirium, tries to shoot his mentor James Stewart but fails, revealing the immaturity typical of a first offender. Furthermore, John Dole is seen through by James Stewart, who arrives and says, "You've always had a habit of stuttering when you get excited," and the maid Edith Evanson also sees through him, saying, "They've been acting strangely since this morning." Moreover, James Stewart, who exposed their crime, is a university professor and an extremely intelligent "first-time offender" when it comes to criminal investigation. Not only does he condemn their crime from the perspective of good and evil, but his pursuit of the crime, even though he is not a victim himself, approaches the "public" aspect of a "first-time offender." ● In "DIAL M FOR MURDER," Ray Milland devises an extremely meticulous (and roundabout) plan for a contract murder, but repeatedly makes the clumsy mistakes typical of a first-time offender, such as failing to notice that the clock has stopped or finding the phone booth occupied when he tries to make a call. Detective John Williams tells him, "I'm not fooled by amateurs," and in the end, Milland's own plan is turned against him, leading to his own downfall. In addition, Grace Kelly, who kills Anthony Dawson in self-defense in this work, is also a first-time offender. With the intellectual collaborator Robert Cummings, the intelligent detective John Williams, and the screen of "reading" already discussed, this work is filled with the characteristics of "first offenses," and it moves towards the intellectual truth unique to "first offenses"—"being." What these "first-time offenders" are doing is an intellectual game of perfect crime, but it is not a pathological movement, and even though it is proactive, it is not ascetic, and one cannot find in their movements the eerie, inexplicable nature that only those who have lost their "origin" possess.

→ "THE MAN WHO SHOT LIBERTY VALANCE" - A Sense of Guilt

John Ford's "THE MAN WHO SHOT LIBERTY VALANCE" is the story of James Stewart, a lawyer who is a "newcomer" and a "first-time offender," and John Wayne, an "oldcomer" and a gunman who is a "habitual offender." There is a scene in this film where James Stewart and the gunman Lee Marvin duel. Here, John Wayne, playing the "old one," shoots and kills Lee Marvin from the shadows of an alleyway without being noticed by James Stewart, playing the "new one" who is not proficient with a gun, and leaves, making Stewart the hero. However, John Wayne later confesses to James Stewart that he was actually the one who shot Lee Marvin. This is because James Stewart, a lawyer and a "first-time offender" who has never killed anyone, tried to get Stewart to retract his decision to abandon his candidacy for Congress due to guilt over believing he killed Lee Marvin. To this, John Wayne, a "habitual offender," says, "You always talk too much and think too much," and adds, "I don't regret killing him." Stewart, the "new one" = "first-time offender," is intellectual and uses "good and evil" as the standard for his actions, deciding whether or not to run for office based on the "truth" of whether or not he committed murder. ● "New ones" like Donald Meek and Burton Churchill in "STAGECOACH" are "first-time offenders," so their movements are easily influenced intellectually and psychologically, and therefore they treat Native Americans discriminately from a good and evil perspective. In contrast, the movements of the "old ones" = "habitual offenders" exist beyond good and evil, so good and evil are not revealed in their movements. When Hitchcock casts criminals in supporting roles, he often portrays them as charismatic "habitual offenders," but when he makes a criminal the protagonist, he repeatedly portrays them as intelligent and first-time offenders, as seen in John Dall in "ROPE" and Ray Milland in "DIAL M FOR MURDER."

★Habitual Offenders and Guilt

With the exception of Tippi Hedren in "MANIE," who recalled her "origins" through psychoanalysis and returned to her "first offense," the phenomenon of a "habitual offender" confronting guilt is basically impossible from a kinetic perspective. Even on their deathbed, they usually try to shift the blame by committing perjury, like Robert Walker in "STRANGERS ON A TRAIN," or they flaunt their crimes with laughter, like George Curson, the blinking man in "Young and Innocent." When a "habitual offender" does confront guilt, it often overlaps with their "first offense," rather than being a "habitual offender." The person marked in red as a "habitual offender" on the “criminal list” is one such example. Herbert Marshall from "Foreign Correspondent" is likely a "habitual offender" as a German spy, yet he seeks his motivation for becoming a spy in his German "origins" (unlike other enemy spies such as Claude Rains from "Notorious" and James Mason from "NORTH BY NORTHWEST," who make no mention of their ethnic "origins"). He confesses his crimes to his daughter, Laraine Day, on an airplane, swallowing his pride, and ultimately throws himself into the sea, ending his own life. The phenomenon of "criminals taking their own lives" is limited to Esme Percy in "MURDER!" (hanging from a trapeze platform), Charles Laughton in "JAMAICA INN" (jumping from a ship's mast), the bird seller in "SABOTAGE" (detonating a bomb), and Leo G. Carroll in "SPELLBOUND" (shooting himself). Of these, Esme Percy in "MURDER!", Charles Laughton in "JAMAICA INN", the bird seller in "Sabotage", and Leo G. Carroll in "SPELLBOUND" all committed suicide not out of guilt, but due to mental illness or desperation. The only habitual offender in Hitchcock's works who clearly showed guilt before committing suicide is Herbert Marshall in "Foreign Correspondent". While Herbert Marshall's suicide certainly had a significant element of love for his daughter, stemming from his desire to protect her from the sinking of the ship due to overweighting, ultimately he should be seen as a "first-time offender" who had not reached the level of a "habitual offender." Compared to Claude Rains in "Notorious" and James Mason in "NORTH BY NORTHWEST," who show not a shred of guilt for poisoning their wives or murdering their lovers, Herbert Marshall, while perhaps making for a melodramatic story, is too intellectual and less appealing as a criminal. Richard Todd in "STAGE FRIGHT," with his quick temper and two murders, appears to be a "habitual offender," yet he is a remarkably intelligent criminal who knows all the requirements to become one, as evidenced by his pressuring Jane Wyman that "we need to kill one more person for no reason to make it look like an illness." It is precisely because of this that he reveals his guilt as a "first offender" when he apologizes to Wyman with a sweaty, scowling face for lying to her. This is similar to what happens with Leslie Banks in "JAMAICA INN"; when someone who is formally a "habitual offender" shows remorse due to guilt, it becomes a weakness in the film.

→ "The Killing" (May 19, 1956) - Kubrick

In this film, which depicts a plan to rob a racetrack of its earnings, the five men who commit the crime are a man who served five years in prison for a petty crime (Sterling Hayden), a bookkeeper (Jay C. Flippen), a police officer (Ted de Corcia), a bartender at the racetrack (Joe Sawyer), and a ticket clerk at the racetrack (Elisha Cook Jr.). Except for the ringleader Sterling Hayden, all of them are employed, suggesting that this is their first robbery. Hayden himself mentions having served five years in prison for a petty crime, so it is presumed that this is his first major crime like robbing cash. That's why the ringleader Sterling Hayden is shown to have a motive for the crime—to pull off a big heist—while the police officer Ted de Corsia is shown to be in debt, the bartender Joe Sawyer is shown to be in need of money because his wife (Dorothy Adams) is ill, and the teller Elisha Cook Jr. is shown to be in need of money because he wants to hold onto the love of his wife, Marie Windsor—their motives are all depicted as their "origins." The method of the crime itself was highly elaborate and intelligent, involving a bartender at a racetrack hiding a rifle in a locker, staging a fight in the bar to lure out security, having a ticket counter employee open the door to allow the ringleader to enter the locker and steal cash, throwing the bag of money out the window to police officers waiting in a patrol car, shooting at a horse to create confusion and escape, and then delivering the money to a hotel room. The fact that the ringleader, Haydon, made a very clumsy mistake by getting caught at airport baggage check at the end is related to the fact that this criminal group was a group of "first-time offenders." Despite this, the fact that none of them were tormented by guilt, except for Elisha Cook Jr. who hesitated to commit the crime, is unbalanced from a  kinetic standpoint.

★ "THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH"

While various settings have been changed between the original and the remake, regarding the boss of the assassins, ● In the original, Peter Lorre is the ultimate "habitual offender," whereas Bernard Miles in the remake has the characteristics of an intelligent "first-time offender." Kidnapping is a crime that is inherently highly intelligent, including the negotiation of ransom and the exchange of hostages, and the method of "masking gunshots with the sound of cymbals and then assassinating" is also highly intelligent and roundabout, like a game. If that intelligence is to be compensated for by an ultra-"habitual offender" like Peter Lorre (even in that case, the contradiction of a "habitual offender" committing an intelligent crime cannot be resolved), In the remake, Bernard Miles, while seemingly a "habitual offender," is reprimanded by the ambassador at the embassy for his failed assassination attempt and is terrified. In the end, he is pushed down the stairs by the amateur James Stewart, causing his gun to accidentally discharge and kill him—a "first-time offender" type of death, intelligent and roundabout end. Similarly, his wife, Brenda de Banzi, is a "first-time offender" who is unable to kill her child and is overcome with guilt, leading to a "repentance" and tears. Furthermore, the sniper Ralph Truman, who fails the assassination and falls to his death while trying to escape, is dismissed by the ambassador with the words, "He's not a professional." In short, the assassins in the remake are a group of far too kind "first-time offenders" compared to the original, and are erased from the memory of the Hitchcockian villains that are remembered for their unsettling nature.

★The "Habitual Offender" Criminal in the Skill Movement

Looking at the "habitual offenders" in Hitchcock films, they are all "villains," and all of them are villains in the context of the "involved" movement. In contrast, in the Skill Movement, Brigitte Aubert, the thief in "To Catch a Thief," is a habitual offender who apparently steals many times in the film, but the act of "stealing" is never actually filmed. Moreover, in order to maintain the format of a mystery film, her crimes are not filmed at all, so she does not come close to the unsettling terror emanating from the "habitual offender" villains in the "involved" movement. This phenomenon of being a habitual offender but not being a "habitual offender" also applies to Wolfgang Keeling, the hitman in "Torn Curtain." He is supposed to be a habitual enemy spy, but he is an intellectual who can decipher mathematical symbols and see through Paul Newman's deception. Even when he is killed in a fight with Paul Newman, he is killed in a very roundabout way, with his head placed in an open container and the gas valve turned on, causing him to be poisoned. This film shows an intellectual proactivity that permeates every detail, pursuing the contents of the MacGuffin, which is a mathematical formula. This is also true of "Topaz," another spy film that features skill movements. When Hitchcock films skill movements, the phenomenon of every detail permeating proactivity is reflected not only in the protagonist but also in the villains, who are habitual offenders but not "habitual offenders." The same is true for the other villains in these films, but I will omit the details. The "getting caught up" movement is basically a movement in which an animalistic protagonist, who has lost his skills, gets caught up in the mysterious, "habitual offender" criminal acts of a villain, and Hitchcock is able to portray only such villains as fascinating "habitual offenders."
★The Absence of a "Habitual Offender" Protagonist
Here, let's list the following ①-④ for Hitchcock's works in which he portrays skill-based movements (Hitchcock Skill-Based Protagonist Chart). (The works are limited to those from ●"MURDER!" onwards, where the "task = movement" distinction began to be established. Also, ●"MURDER!" and ●"STAGE FRIGHT," which actually have different "occupations" and movements, can be seen as "professional movements" due to the abundance of skills and the actors playing their roles, so they are included here.)

① Task (the movement actually performed)

② Occupation

③ Origin (the motivation for taking up this occupation)

④ Guilt related to the task

■First Offense
When Hitchcock films a skill-based protagonist focused on "being," very often the answer to ③ and ④ is "yes." This means that the majority of Hitchcockian skill-based protagonists are "first offenders," and the proactivity in Hitchcockian skill-based individuals examined in Chapter 1 is synonymous with this "first offense" nature, suggesting that Hitchcock has been unable to film protagonists who are "habitual offenders" in most skill-based activities. ● In "SECRET AGENT," John Gielgud, who plays the lead spy, is a newly appointed spy from an Air Force captain, and his partner Madeline Carroll is also likely on her first mission and first offense, which is why they carry a strong sense of guilt until the very end for accidentally killing an innocent person (Percy Marmont) during their mission. ● In "THE PARADINE CASE," lawyer Gregory Peck, despite being a seasoned lawyer, feels guilty for driving witness Louis Jourdan to suicide through his defense work, and he sweats and frowns as he abandons his duties. ● In "STAGE FRIGHT," Jane Wyman deceives her employer, Dietrich, by playing a role, and after revealing the truth, she breaks down in tears with a frown on her face, precisely because she herself says, "I'm a newcomer and I've only done the stage once," making it her "first offense." ● In "I Confess," Montgomery Clift's duty to "maintain confidentiality" is probably the first time he has ever maintained it to the point of being suspected of murder, and he maintains the "frown" characteristic of a "first offender" throughout. ● In "TOPAZ," Frederick Stafford does nothing but leave information gathering and enemy reconnaissance to others, and far from becoming a "habitual offender" who simply carries out his duties ascetically, he feels guilty for causing his lover's death by carrying out his duties. ● In "TORN CURTAIN," Paul Newman also feels guilty about his actions of infiltrating the East without telling his lover, and unable to bear it any longer, he confesses the truth to Julie Andrews. Those who possess a sense of guilt are "first-time offender" moral people who approach "being," and for that reason, there is not a single "frivolous womanizer" among them who can only appear in the realm of "doing" that is separate from "being." Instead, the leading roles are often played by proactive and serious actors such as John Gielgud, Gregory Peck, Sean Connery, Paul Newman, Montgomery Clift, and Frederick Stafford. Even in "Notorious," where the proactivity of the movement is stripped away by numerous delicate details, the protagonist (and collaborator) Cary Grant appears as a straitlaced workaholic who says, "I've always been afraid of women," and is portrayed as a rigid character completely different from the womanizing, frivolous, and unskilled Cary Grant in "NORTH BY NORTHWEST" (we will examine "Notorious" further after examining John Ford).

→ "TO CATCH A THIEF"

The protagonist of this film, Cary Grant, is a former thief, and in the process of catching his copycat, he feels not a trace of guilt. He is a different kind of character from the serious and psychological protagonists of other skill-based movements that focus on "being." However, he has a clear memory of his "origins"—he was an acrobat in an American circus, but it went bankrupt, so he used his talent to become a thief, was arrested and imprisoned, but escaped when the prison was bombed, and joined an underground organization to atone for his sins and became a hero. Moreover, as we have already examined, his actions are governed by extremely intellectual reason, and the meaningless strangeness that surges from within, which is characteristic of "habitual offenders," is not evident in his actions. Therefore, he cannot be considered the "habitual offender" protagonist in Hitchcockian skill-based movements.

→ Protagonist Becomes Villain – Laurence Olivier and Cary Grant

●Besides Cary Grant and Bergman in "Notorious," Hitchcock also depicts a movement of involvement in two other films, ●"Revecca" and ●"Suspension," where "habitual offenders" such as the aristocratic Laurence Olivier and the playboy Cary Grant manipulate the other protagonist, Joan Fontaine. Basically, a Hitchcockian involvement film is a movement in which "villainous" "habitual offenders" manipulate the animalistic protagonist who has lost his skills, like the German captain and American crew in ●"LIFEBOAT." In this movement, characters like Laurence Olivier and Cary Grant, who continue to manipulate the protagonist Fontaine, play a role equivalent to the "villains" in an involvement film. However, while Laurence Olivier in "Revecca" is forced to confront the "origin" of his wife's murder towards the end of the film and reverts to his "first offense," thus losing his nature as a "habitual offender" who toys with Fontaine, Cary Grant in "Suspension" continues to exhibit his elusive "habitual nature" as a playboy until the very end, toying with Fontaine. ● "Suspension" is the only film in Hitchcock's "Getting Involved" series where the protagonist is a "habitual villain."

→Peter Lorre – The Bad Boy

While we've examined how habitual villains exist in Hitchcockian skill movements, they are often very weak as "habitual offenders." The pioneer of "habitual offenders" other than villains is Peter Lorre, who played the supporting role of a spy in "SECRET AGENT." Because he's hairy and not Mexican, he's called "the hairless Mexican." His character is extremely vague and ambiguous, and his "origins" are completely shrouded in mystery. Despite being a frivolous womanizer, his actions are calm and utterly detached, never letting good and evil judgments interfere with his work. Even when he mistakenly lures an innocent man, Percy Marmont, into the mountains and kills him, while the main characters, John Gielgud and Madeline Carroll, are tormented by the guilt typical of first offenses, hindering their work, Peter Lorre shows not the slightest trace of guilt, even sporting a faint smile, and pathologically carries out his mission to the end. He continues to act with a presence that permeates the entire film, and he has risen beyond being merely a "collaborator" to a position that should be considered that of a co-lead. Having already established the "habitual offender" villain archetype in Hitchcock films with "The Man Who Knew Too Much" (1934), Peter Lorre once again pioneers the Hitchcockian "habitual offender" archetype by playing a protagonist (or quasi-habitual offender) here as well. Peter Lorre, who prides himself on being a "first-class professional" and doesn't hesitate to say, "They (John Gielgud and Madeline Carroll) are amateurs. There are plenty of replacements," carries out the murder in the mountains without any hesitation or internal conflict, even though Madeline Carroll does not accompany him and John Gielgud escapes to the observation deck and does not participate in the murder. As the endearing two-shot of John Gielgud and Madeleine Carroll in the final scene suggests, whenever Hitchcock films a protagonist focused on "being," he invariably portrays a morally upright and honest person. Peter Lorre exists as the "dirty work" to keep them from getting their hands dirty, which is why, once his role is complete, Peter Lorre is swiftly killed off with a pistol placed in front of the enemy spy and disappears. Hitchcock was able to portray Peter Lorre as a "habitual offender" precisely because he wasn't the main character. Otherwise, when Hitchcock films a protagonist focused on "being," he would portray an intelligent, redeemable good person existing in the realm of good and evil. A "first-time offender" is an proactive individual with an "origin," who is morally conscious, knows right from wrong, trusts or distrusts people based on good and evil, and is a good person who is tormented by a sense of guilt and capable of repentance or rebirth. It seems that Hitchcock had an unwritten rule that the protagonist in a movement focused on "being" had to be a morally good person, and while he was able to film a fascinating villainous "habitual offender" in the movement of getting caught up in things, when it came to the skill movement, he suddenly became unable to film a "habitual offender," whether the protagonist or the villain.

★ "Habitual Offenders" and Violent Crimes

If the actions of a "first-time offender" are those of an intelligent and roundabout intellectual criminal, a good person who is constantly grappling with a sense of guilt, then the actions of a "habitual offender," whether it be a crime or detective work, are simple, straightforward, and brutal violent crimes compared to the rational actions of a "first-time offender." ● In "Shadow of a doubt," Joseph Cotten tries to push Teresa Wright off a train. ● In "Notorious," there's poisoned coffee. ● In "Strangers on a Train," there's strangulation at an amusement park and a fight on a merry-go-round. ● In "Rear Window," Raymond Burr pushes James Stewart out of a second-floor window. ● In "North by Northwest," enemy spies shoot at Cary Grant from a plane on a farm road and try to push him off Mount Rushmore. ● In "Sycho," a man stabs a woman with a kitchen knife held in a reverse grip. ● In "The Birds," birds relentlessly attack. ● In "Frenzy," a man rapes and strangles a woman with a necktie. Michael Mann is known for his gruesome murders in "Manhunter," gun violence in "Thief," robberies and shootouts in "Heat" and "Public Enemies," and murders in "Collateral." Howard Hawks, whether playing John Wayne in "Rio Bravo" or Bogart in "The Big Sleep," shoots and kills or causes the death of their enemies without hesitation or guilt. Their movements, having lost their "origins," become free from reason and morality, simple and straightforward, and brutal without regret or hesitation. Conversely, when the movements of "habitual offenders" are filled with intellect, it becomes a contradiction in terms of  kinetic theory.

■Melodrama

If we define melodrama as Mikio Kato writes, "a naive dualistic treatment of good and evil as win or lose, and therefore a reflection on polarized morality" ("Film Genre Theory 189"), then since there is no good or evil in "habitual offenders," melodrama would be a film about "first offenders" living in the realm of good and evil. In the case of Mikio Naruse, a tendency often seen during wartime was films about "first offenders" = melodramas, in which we frequently see characters who undergo personality changes such as repentance, rehabilitation, or rebirth through a sense of guilt, from the perspective of good and evil. For a character to approach being a "first offender" means that the action becomes psychological and approaches good and evil, and that the action takes place entirely in the realm of "being.

→From "MADE IN L.A." to "HEAT"

In Michael Mann's TV movie "MADE IN L.A.", there is a scene towards the end where Alex MacArthur, whose gangster background has been revealed, tells his girlfriend Laura Harrington, "I've changed since meeting you." It's an unremarkable line, but "a person changing" is basically something that can only happen with a "first offense," and in Michael Mann's movement of making films about "habitual offenders," this part could be a fatal flaw. In his self-remake of this work, "HEAT," Michael Mann removed this line, "I've changed since meeting you," from the dialogue of Robert De Niro, who plays the same role. We examined how "MADE IN L.A." mentions the "origins" of why the detective became a detective, and how this was removed in the remake "HEAT," but Michael Mann re-shot the "habitual offense" of the TV movie "MADE IN L.A." in the "theatrical version" "HEAT" with even greater emphasis.

★ What is "animal" crime?

In Hitchcockian involved movements, the protagonists are "animals" who only "doing" things, without even the "being something that doesn't exist." of "habitual offenders." Therefore, their crimes should be animalistic and childish, lacking any skill. ● Limiting to works after "THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH" (1934), except for minor crimes such as burglary and escape, they either don't commit any crimes at all (● "THE 39 STEPS" ● "Young and Innocent" ● "Revecca" ● "Foreign Correspondent" ● "Susption" ● "Saboteur" ● "Rear Window" ● "VERTIGO"), or in many cases, crime occurs as an unavoidable or reflexive action. Even if someone is killed as a result, the scenes are staged in such a way that they don't end up being crimes at all. For example, in "NORTH BY NORTHWEST," an enemy spy falls from Mount Rushmore while the advertising manager of an advertising company is fighting, in "SABOTAGE," a husband approaches his wife who is holding a knife and gets stabbed to death, in "Shadow of a doubt," an uncle loses his balance and falls to his death while struggling to kill his daughter, and in "STRANGERS ON A TRAIN," a tennis player fights the culprit on a merry-go-round and the culprit falls to his death. These are merely animalistic reflexes or acts of self-defense (animals also possess a defensive instinct), and there is neither the intelligence typical of a "first offender," nor the skillful violence (such as gunfire) typical of a "habitual offender," nor the brutality of a violent criminal. Conversely, in "The Man Who Knew Too Much" (1934), Edna Best, a skilled rifleman, shoots and kills an enemy assassin with her rifle; in "The Lady Vanishes," the passengers (including Norton Wayne, a skilled gunman) shoot and kill enemy soldiers with their guns; in "Lifeboat," the crew members all throw the German captain into the sea and kill him; and in "The Man Who Knew Too Much" (1956), a father pushes a kidnapper down the stairs to protect his son are too proactive and contradict the passivity of the involved movement.

★ "Doing" and Guilt - "LIFEBOAT"

Unlike "habitual offenders" who, even in a fictional sense, have a  "being," the protagonists of Hitchcockian films where characters are caught up in events are, by definition, "animals" who only "doing" things. Therefore, "animals" cannot have a "public" sense of good and evil, and consequently, they are not troubled by guilt, nor do they repent or change. The reason they show no guilt whatsoever regarding the event of someone's death is not because they are victims, but simply because the system does not evoke a sense of guilt.

★Early Works and Guilt

●In "BLACKMAIL," Annie Ondra is a criminal who killed a painter who tried to rape her, and we considered that she has a sense of guilt as a "first-time offender." However, as the daughter of a newspaper delivery person, her act of murder, which she had no skills or abilities to perform, was an act of "getting caught up" in the situation, an act of self-defense carried out on impulse, and not a skill-based movement directed towards "being" a criminal. Afterwards, when a man blackmails her using this as leverage, her actions, which are nothing but bewilderment, are not a "professional" movement based on skills, but rather an act of "doing" that is carried out by getting caught up in the situation, and that is precisely why the events in which she is tormented by guilt become a weakness of the film. ●In "Blackmail," Annie Ondra's face is psychologically strained, and towards the end, the shadow of the gallows falls over her neck, followed by a highly moral shot of her voluntarily turning herself in. However, in early Hitchcock films such as ●"Easy Virtue," ●"The Ring," ●"The Manxman," and ●"The Skin Game" (February 26, 1931), themes of adultery, infidelity, divorce, and scandal are prominently featured, and the protagonists, who are skilled in the movement, are invariably portrayed as "first-time offenders" who are forced to confront their sense of guilt. It was the involvement movement that followed in ●"The Man Who Knew Too Much" (1934) → ●"The 39 Steps" that broke through this pattern, and it was only with this skill-loss type of involvement movement that Hitchcock became free from the realm of morality, the realm of "being."

★The Difference Between Michael Mann and "STAGECOACH"

While Michael Mann's protagonists and the protagonists of "STAGECOACH" share the commonality of being "habitual offenders" who aspire to "something that doesn't exist" and whose actions are impulsively initiated as if propelled from within, they differ subtly in their distance from their "origins." Living in the "space between" eras, the protagonists of "STAGECOACH" vaguely remember the heyday of the frontier = their "origins," and their movement to acquire the lost "origins" creates a conflict with "doing," sometimes causing their movement to stagnate. In contrast, the movement of Michael Mann's protagonists, who have unconsciously lost their "origins," is liberated from conflict, becoming extremely self-directed, increasing in flexibility and repetition. In contrast to Michael Mann's protagonists, such as those in "ALI" who repeatedly step into the ring to fight, and in "COLLATERAL" where a hitman continues to kill multiple targets, the protagonists of "STAGECOACH" do not necessarily engage in extreme repetition, much like the one-time exercise in Thomas Mitchell's "Doctor," highlighting the difference in their "addictiveness." Regarding the nature of the protagonists, while the protagonists of "STAGECOACH" are sometimes tormented by memories of their "origins," making them somewhat weak and human characters, the ascetic Michael Mann type, who has long since resolved their conflict with their "origins," becomes a cool and fearless professional. If a Michael Mann-esque protagonist is someone with "10 prior convictions," then the protagonists in "STAGECOACH" are more like rookie "habitual offenders" with around "4 prior convictions. " While the former's actions are Autotelic and automatically initiated, the latter sometimes need a MacGuffin to get going. The presence of many MacGuffins in the initiation process of "STAGECOACH" indicates that their actions have not yet reached the level of "10 prior convictions" becoming Autotelic. In Michael Mann's films, there are several characters who, having never reached the point of having "10 prior convictions," experience internal conflict that hinders their ability to perform their duties. ①● In "THE KEEP," Wehrmacht Captain Jürgen Prochnow evaluates Germany's war as "evil" and requests a change of assignment after his unit is attacked and annihilated by monsters, thus depicting "not performing his duties." ②● In "MANHUNTER," FBI psychologist William Petersen's "origin" is told as he suffers from a mental illness after the horrific experience of arresting Dr. Lecter, and he is depicted not only "taking a break from his duties" by resigning from the FBI and then returning, but also struggling with the conflict of his job as his family is put in danger. ③● As we have already considered, in "Made in L.A.," Detective Scott Plank's "origin" as he becomes a detective is told, and his conflict with his family is depicted. ④● In "THE INSIDER," whistleblower and physicist Russell Crowe also struggles with the dilemma of whether or not to expose the truth due to his deteriorating relationship with his family, and continues to suffer from conflict and guilt. Thus, there are works that depict "origins," "good and evil," "guilt," "conflict," and "taking a break from duties." However, ① is not the main character, ③ was also revised in the remake "HEAT", and even ② and ④ are portrayed as "habitual offenders" with "4 prior convictions" rather than the intelligence of a "first offender" (I will omit the details here, but whether or not they are "habitual offenders" with "4 prior convictions" can be determined by examining whether the movement is initiated "involved" in them, and whether there is a MacGuffin for that purpose).

■Heroes - "The Old Ones" - John Ford

●While "Stagecoach" captures the "in-between" era of the end of the frontier, Michael Mann's protagonists, who mostly rely on contemporary dramas, seem to lack the concept of "the old ones." However, in the period dramas that Michael Mann occasionally films, ●such as "The Last of the Mohicans," which depicts the last of the Mohicans, and ●Johnny Depp in "Public Enemies," who commits a spectacular bank robbery and boasts of "not taking the customers' money," is also an "old one" who adheres to the old code. His presence is now an obstacle to the new mafia, which moves money with just a phone call, and in fact, he has been shut out of the mafia syndicate. Similarly, in the contemporary drama "HEAT," which depicts habitual bank robbers, they engage in gunfights in broad daylight like Prohibition-era gangsters, firing machine guns in the streets, and even though they could escape, they turn back to eliminate traitors, their actions governed by an astonishing asceticism that, despite being robbers, does not act based on calculations of profit and loss. Similarly, in "THE INSIDER," Al Pacino, who boasts that he "keeps his promises," ultimately leaves by resigning, and in "ALI," who continues to fight relentlessly despite being used by many, there is an air of nobility emanating from the "old ones" destined to depart, as they faithfully carry out "things that don't exist." Ridley Scott: ● In "Blade Runner" (June 25, 1982), despite the brutal murders committed by the replicants, there is a certain emotion in their movement because their movement is aimed at the "non-existent" thing that is the "origin" of humanity, and dignity is the emotion, nobility, and heroism that is exuded by this ascetic movement directed toward this "non-existent thing." ● In "The Insider," in the final scene, during a phone conversation between Russell Crowe in a hotel and Al Pacino on the beach, when Al Pacino says, "Heroes are scarce," Russell Crowe replies, "Neither are you," indicating that only those who ascetically continue to seek "non-existent things" can be heroes. ●If we reinterpret Tom Cruise's role as a hitman in "Collateral" not as "a man who keeps killing people" but as "a man who keeps keeping his contracts," a certain kind of melancholy begins to permeate the image. He is a foolish man who keeps his contracts to an almost idiotic degree— ""old ones"—and Michael Mann seems to portray him as a noble. If ""old ones" are defined as those who relentlessly pursue "something that doesn't exist," then it seems that this is a movement that can only be undertaken by reflexive modern people who have lost their social status. However, even in a pre-modern class society, if the protagonist is made to pursue "something that doesn't exist," then by capturing on film those who are driven to pursue it precisely because it "doesn't exist," it is possible to capture the emotions of "o old ones" regardless of the era. Consequently, Michael Mann, who has continued to film "habitual offenders," has made films about "old men" without exception from his debut to the present day. Even in that case, Michael Mann's "habitual offenders" have a greater degree of loss of "origin" compared to the protagonist in "STAGECOACH," and because "being something that doesn't exist" is so "non-existent," they are dominated by purely motor-driven = "doing" emotions, and therefore do not directly convey the emotions of the "old ones" resulting from the conflict between "origin" and "doing" on screen. However, "THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS" and "PUBLIC ENEMIES" are works (period dramas) that depict the "in-between" periods, and the "in-between" is a time that retains strong memories of the "origin" of the previous era, so these two works are filmed with less "habitualness" compared to Michael Mann's other works.

★"THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS" - The Young Face of Jody May

This Michael Mann film, set against the backdrop of the French and Indian War of 1757 between Britain and France, depicts the moment when Daniel Day-Lewis (the White Son), a white man raised by a Mohican man, confronts hostile Native Americans while protecting Madeleine Stowe, the daughter of a British commander, along the way. The film ends with Russell Means, the sole surviving Mohican, saying, "All Indians will eventually perish. White Son, the frontier belongs to people like you. But when the settlement is over, you too will meet the same fate as the Mohicans. New people will live, work, and suffer, and only a few will succeed. But we once truly existed." It is a film about the "old ones"(there is also an alternative version of the film's ending scene ). However, this film is not just about the last Mohicans. If you take a closer look at Jodie May, who plays the second daughter of British commander Maurice Loebs Munro (the one with gray hair) in this film, you'll notice her face is very innocent and childlike. Born in England in 1975, she was 17 years old at the time of filming, more than double the age of her co-star, Madeleine Stowe, who was born in 1958 and was 34 years old. She was arguably too young to play sisters. Despite this, she accompanies the group without a word of complaint, and in the end, she is taken away by Wes Studi of the Huron tribe, forced to become his wife, and driven to a cliff where she throws herself into the valley below. ● Just like Robert De Niro's movement in "HEAT" where he changes lanes to eliminate a traitor, Jodie May throws herself off the cliff as if driven by some inner force. The movement, devoid of frowns, tears, or profuse sweat, is somewhat slow-motion, but it echoes the movement of Mae Mahesh in D.W. Griffith's "The Birth of a Nation" (February 8, 1915), who, cornered by Black man, threw herself off a cliff without hesitation. What is there is neither determination, conflict, nor hesitation. They are driven by something lost to initiate the movement of falling. In the middle of "The Last of the Mohicans," there is a very strange event. After reaching the fort where her father, a British commander, is holed up, Jodie May is lying in bed feeling unwell when British soldier Stephen Waddington enters her room and approaches Madeleine Stowe, who is nursing her sister, saying, "I want to talk to you." He only said "I want to talk" to Madeleine Stowe, he didn't say "I want to talk to you alone." However, upon hearing this, Jodie May, without any hesitation, gets out of bed and says, "I'll leave," and leaves the room as if she hadn't heard her sister calling out to her from behind. Though seemingly unremarkable, this inner, urge to leave, free from any conflict, hesitation, or stagnation, exudes the very dignity of the person who has left. This film doesn't just film the last of the Mohicans; it films the last of the ladies. The graceful, almost habitual, instinctive withdrawal of a lady from the private space of others is not something that becomes possible with age. That is why Jodie May's face is so innocent, and why she is suddenly ill and lying in bed. The younger she is, and the worse her health, the more that graceful, inner urge to leave becomes filled with an inherent dignity. This sequence was largely shot to capture Jodie May's movement, and her youthful face demonstrates how details can directly contribute to the movement of a film. ● The fact that Mae Mahesh, who threw himself into the ravine in "The Birth of a Nation," was the youngest of five siblings born into the prestigious Cameron family and was doted on like a pet by his older siblings, is certainly not unrelated to the fact that Jodie May in "The Last of the Mohicans" is a much younger sister and has a youthful face. Her innocence and the fact that she's a younger sister serve as MacGuffins to activate the movements that are ingrained in her, and Jodie May's movements are inherited as part of the film history of "habitual offenders" that began with "THE BIRTH OF A NATHION" (D.W. Griffith will be discussed later).

★"The Cinematic History of Exiting": From Howard Hawks to Eastwood -

One of the "origins" of the flexible exit movement is Howard Hawks' "A Girl in Every Port" (1927/February 26, 1928). Victor McLaglen and Robert Montgomery, rough sailors who leave women behind at every port they visit, go to meet a woman in the port they have docked at. They find a small child playing alone in a cramped apartment, seemingly without a father. After a while, the woman returns home looking exhausted, and the child asks, "Have you found work?" The men quickly indicate their intention to leave, saying, "We shouldn't have been here," and shake her hand and bow. While the woman disappears into the back room, they entrust all their money to the child, paying their respects to the fact that the woman is now a resident of a private space, completely different from her former playmates, through the ingrained movement of "quickly leaving." In Hawks' "Only Angels Have Wings" (May 15, 1939), pilot Thomas Mitchell, lying in bed with a broken neck after a condor smashes through his window and flies in during flight, asks Cary Grant, "I don't want to be seen. Let them leave." Grant urges his onlookers to leave, saying, "Now, please leave," but before he can even finish speaking, they quickly leave the room. In Hawks' "Land of the Pharaohs" (June 24, 1954/June 24, 1955), early on, when Queen Kerima enters the palace of King Jack Hawkins after his return from an expedition, Archbishop Alexis Minotis, who was sitting with her, immediately leaves, and by the time the remaining two notice, he has already left the room. When the king exclaims in surprise that he has "gone," the queen praises him, saying, "The Archbishop is the wisest man in the kingdom," to which the king responds, "He has now proven it." Hawks succinctly affirms the graceful movement of instinctively withdrawing from a private space. Going back further, in Hawks' silent film "Fazil" (1927/1928.6.4), when Prince Charles Farrell, who is critically injured, is about to meet his last moments with Queen Greta Nissen, his subordinates hesitate slightly when urged to leave, but quickly depart the scene. While it's true that some characters, like Dale Fuller, the maid in "Twentieth Century" (May 3, 1934), reluctantly leave when John Barrymore asks them to, such scenes are never seen with the protagonists in Hawks' films. This suggests that Hawks has consistently depicted the "ingrained" movements of "habitual offender" protagonists since the silent film era. This is brilliantly embodied in the final scene of "Ball of Fire" (December 2, 1941), where Gary Cooper and Barbara Stanwyck share a happy kiss, and the professor leave, bringing the film to an end. Like Michael Mann's "habitual offenders," Hawks succinctly affirms these "ingrained" movements that surge from within, finding some kind of emotion in them. Clint Eastwood's "Changeling" (May 20, 2008), which inherits this movement of ascetic professional men like Howard Hawks, shows a scene towards the end where, as the boy is being questioned in an interrogation room after being kidnapped and held captive for a long time, his parents rush to him and embrace him. At that moment, Detective Michael Kelly immediately leaves the room and walks out. One of the "originators" of this "history of exits in cinema" is D.W. Griffith, considered the father of cinema. ● In "Orphans of the Storm" (December 28, 1921), at the end of the film, when Lillian Gish is embracing Danton (Monte Blue), a French Revolutionary fighter, Gish's lover Joseph Schildkraut steps aside. Later, when Lillian Gish is reunited with her sister Dorothy Gish and they embrace, Monte Blue also steps aside. ● In "Sally of the Sawdust" (August 2, 1925), at the end of the film, as the orphan Carol Dempster begins to embrace her family in court, her adoptive father W.C. Fields quietly leaves the courtroom alone. ● In "Struggle" (1931), when the protagonist Hal Skelly approaches his girlfriend's table in the early part of the film, her female friend immediately leaves. Going back further, "The Battle at Elderbush Gulch" (1913/March 8, 1914), in the final scene, when the landlord tries to hit Mae Mahesh with a gun for breaking the rule of "not letting the dog in the house," he sees her embracing her dog and baby, and as if to say "Ah, I give up," he throws the gun away and puts his arms around the shoulders of the others, urging them to leave. D.W. Griffith has filmed many "ingrained" movements in the "film history of exit. Just as in the final scene of Boris Barnet's "DYEVUSHKA S KOROBKOI" (1927), when Anna Sten and Ivan Koval Sampolsky begin to kiss, Ilya Snegirev, who was standing nearby, immediately turns his back, and in the final scene of Jean Vigo's "(L'ATALANTE)" (April 25, 1934), Michel Simon brings Dita Parlo, who has been left behind in the city, back to her husband Jean Dasté's cabin, but closes the door without entering the cabin himself, leaving the couple alone, the "history of exit" in cinema has continued to mark indispensable moments in the cinematic history of "habitual offenders" around the world, not only in America but also in Russia, France, and other countries.

★ "Love Streams" (August 24, 1984) - John Cassavetes - The ultimate example of "A History of Cinematic Exits"

In John Cassavetes's "Love Streams," the protagonist, writer John Cassavetes, lives in his mansion with many rootless women. One day, his divorced wife arrives at the mansion with their son, saying, "This is your child, please look after him for just one day." However, the young son, perhaps embarrassed to be surrounded by the women in the mansion, runs away. After finally catching him in his car (the scene on the hill is wonderful), in the next sequence, the women receive a check from Cassavetes, kiss him, and laugh cheerfully as they hop into a taxi without any hesitation or complaint. Judging from Cassavetes' words and actions here, it seems they are going to leave the house permanently. The reason it seems "likely" is that their departure is so fluid and seamless that it's hard to believe they'll just leave the house and never come back. Yet, these women, who have lived together for so long, calling each other by name and practically living there, casually leave the next moment. The fact that this farewell scene, one of the film's highlights, is filmed so easily is because their departure is driven by a "habitual offender" impulse, and in doing so, Cassavetes imbues their seemingly self-indulgent actions with a certain elegance. He affirms these women simply by filming them, women who are ingrained with the fluidity to instantly withdraw from the private spaces of others. What exactly is their "professional origin" directed toward their ""being something that doesn't exist." ? Is it "ladyhood," "companions," or "rootlessness"? The specific extraction of that is not important. What directors like Hawks, Eastwood, Cassavetes, Mann, and D.W. Griffith show us in their "A History of Cinematic Exits" is the realm of the movement of "habitual offenders" that emerges beyond good and evil, and the dignity exuded by those who have "ingrained in them" the movement of "doing" directed toward "being something that does not exist." "A History of Cinematic Exits" is a movement that reinterprets the movement directed at specific professions such as detectives, gunmen, and hunters, but instead delves into impulses that spring from the very "ingrained" humanity itself, such as the scenes found in all John Ford films where hats are taken in private spaces, or men stand up at a table to meet women, or like in "Seven Women" (1965/1966.1.7) where Dr. Anne Bancroft sacrifices her own life to allow the other women to escape (whether her actions are "public" or not depends on whether that "public" aspect comes "first" or "later" = whether it is ingrained or not), or Griffith's "Sally of the In "SAWDUS," Carol Dempster casually shakes hands with the two maids who took care of her as she leaves the mansion after visiting as a dancer, and in "ALI," Muhammad Ali (Will Smith), who was found guilty for refusing to serve his sentence, shakes hands with the security guards in the corridor after leaving the courtroom.

These movements transcend specific occupations such as gunmen, soldiers, doctors, and prostitutes, and as Jean-Paul Belmondo mutters in Godard's "A BOUT DE SOUFFLE," "Informants inform, robbers rob, murderers kill, and lovers fall in love," they are impulses that emerge from within humanity itself, such as gentlemen, ladies, fathers, mothers, men, and women, and are human emotions that can only be seen in people who aspire to movements directed towards "being," such as taking off their hats when entering a house, standing up when a woman approaches, or one person simply loving another. "Habitual offenders" are those who habitually engage in actions that are "ingrained in them," and what is important is that the action itself arises as an inner impulse, with specific professions such as gunman, robber, or lawyer merely being events that follow as a result. They do not think about their profession before acting, nor do they think after acting. Their thoughts are added by someone "afterward," not thought about by them. When examining the actions of "habitual offenders," what is important is not the specific profession, but the distance from the "origin" of their "actions." Approaching it brings them closer to melodrama ("first offense"), while moving away brings them closer to "animals" ("ten-time convict"). The details that allow us to distinguish this are the "psychological authenticity" at the beginning of the action (the initiation stage), the approach to the "origin" (the target, the past such as recollections), the sense of guilt, the good and evil in the action, the presence or absence of repentance, ingrained actions such as "leaving" or "taking off one's hat," and the actor's performance.

★A Hitchcock Thriller That Won't Make You Cry

Film is a movement based on "doing," and that's where the emotion of film lies. However, we weak humans cannot cry at animalistic, action-packed thrillers like "THE 39 STEPS," "The Lady Vanishes," and "FRENZY," which are solely about "doing." Instead, we seek the human realm of "being" in addition to "doing." This has led to melodramas, a "first offense" in filmmaking, continuing to grace the top ten lists of weak critics. However, "STAGECOACH" is moving because, while set in an era of  "being something that doesn't exist."" the emotion resides in the struggle of those who have not yet completely lost their "origins"—"humans"—trying to "be." But as we move further away from our "origins," becoming like Michael Mann's "ten previous offenders," or like animals in a Hitchcockian involved movement that has completely lost its "origin," the likelihood of the viewer crying decreases. Those who cried at Fred Astaire's dancing, or at Michael Mann's "Collateral," are a rare breed capable of weeping at "habitual" movements, and those who cried at "THE 39 STEPS" are truly noble individuals who deserve to be called heroes.

★Hitchcock and "The Cinematic History of Exiting"

Even in Hitchcock's work—such as the scene in *The Lodger* where the innkeeper and his wife step aside as Ivor Novello and June kiss—we see movements that are awkward and labored; the wife, for instance, has to be nudged by her husband before she finally tears herself away from the scene she was intently watching. For the protagonist of a Hitchcockian "caught-up-in-it" scenario, there is no such thing as a natural, deeply ingrained human movement.In "Young and Innocent," Derrick De Marney enters his lover's (Nova Pilbeam) bedroom through the window without permission, which is child's play for him. ●In "The 39 Steps," Robert Donat walks into a train compartment and suddenly kisses a complete stranger, Madeleine Carroll. ●In "North by Northwest," Cary Grant stays in a hotel room despite Eva Marie Saint's insistence that he leave immediately. ●In "The Lady Vanishes," Michael Redgrave barges into a hotel room where a young woman he doesn't know, Margaret Lockwood, is sleeping alone. ●In "Foreign Correspondent," Joel McCrea and ●In "North by Northwest," Cary Grant rudely enter a woman's room by climbing up the hotel wall. ●In "Rear James Stewart in "Window" goes so far as to keep peeking into the apartment across the street. The Hitchcockian "doing" movement is not a humanistic "A History of Cinematic Exits" directed towards "being," but rather an animalistic "history of privacy intrusion" directed towards "doing," which can be summed up as a "history of intrusion" driven by survival instincts (defense instincts) and sexual animal instincts ("womanizing," "frivolity").Such animalistic figures lack "A History of Cinematic Exits" as ingrained movement of "habitual offenders," and since the protagonists of Hitchcock films, which are geared towards professional skill movements, are basically "first-time offenders," there is no way they could have "A History of Cinematic Exits" as a ingrained movement. In the end, there is no "cinematic history of exits" for Hitchcockian protagonists, who can only be portrayed as either "first-time offenders" or "animals." It simply cannot exist.

★Hitchcock Never Takes Off His Hat

Here, we will describe the hats in Hitchcock's works (Hitchcock Hat Chart). ●In the movement of getting involved in situations, which began with "The Man Who Knew Too Much" (1934), there are only three films that depict the "ingrained" movement of removing one's hat as a sign of respect for the other person or place (films with titles highlighted in blue). This may be because many of the female protagonists do not greet with their hats, but if that is the case, let's take a closer look at the hats worn by the protagonists in Hitchcock's movement of getting involved in situations.

● In "THE 39 STEPS," Robert Donat enters the music hall having already removed his hat. He removes it again upon returning to his apartment (it's his own apartment, so it's hard to say it's "ingrained" in him). He gives his hat to the milkman and wears the milkman's hat. Hats don't appear again after this.

● In "Young and Innocent," Derrick De Marney only puts on his hat when he goes to the lodging house disguised as a railroad worker. However, the next morning, the hat is gone.

● In "The Lady Vanishes,"
Michael Redgrave keeps his hat on until the very end when he rudely enters Margaret Lockwood's room. He also keeps his hat on when they meet again on the train, and when Margaret Lockwood becomes dizzy, he puts down his hat and rushes to her side, but this isn't a "ingrained" act of gentlemanly conduct. He also wears different hats when disguising himself as Sherlock Holmes, an English gentleman, and a school principal in the freight car. In the final scene on the train platform, he's only holding his hat.

● "Shadow of a Doubt": Teresa Wright wears a hat in the middle of the film, when she comes out of the church, and again in front of the church in the final scene, but doesn't take it off.

● "Strangers on a Train": Farley Granger doesn't wear a hat.

● "Rear Window": Only Detective Wendell Corley wears one. James Stewart doesn't.

● "Vertigo": Former detective James Stewart never takes off his hat in front of women. He has already taken off his hat before entering the church. He only takes it off when he enters Barbara Bel Geddes' house (even then, he takes it off in a place where she can't see, so it's hard to say it's an "ingrained habit"). He doesn't take it off when he meets the hotel manager either. He doesn't take off his hat when he asks the woman in the car that Kim Novak was in, "Whose car is this?" In the hotel scene where he reunites with Kim Novak, he has already taken off his hat in the hallway before they meet again.

● "NORTH BY NORTHWEST": Cary Grant only wears a hat when he's escaping disguised as a porter, but never takes it off. James Mason takes his off (because he's a "habitual offender").

● "THE BIRDS": Rod Taylor has already taken off his hat before entering the bird shop upon their first meeting. He doesn't wear a hat otherwise. Tippi Hedren doesn't wear a hat.

● "FRENZY": John Finch doesn't wear a hat.

● "FAMILY PLOT": Bruce Dern only wears his taxi driver's hat on night shifts. He takes it off when he calls the police after the case is solved, but this has nothing to do with the "ingrained" movement that deserves respect.

 Hitchcockian protagonists who get caught up in events either don't take off their hats or don't wear them at all with surprising frequency. The act of "respectfully removing one's hat," which occurs in almost 100% of John Ford's films, is never performed by the protagonists of Hitchcock's entangled movements. The emotional scene in John Ford's "How Green Was My Valley" (October 28, 1941) where all the workers simultaneously remove their hats in response to Sarah Allgood's recovery from illness is something that would never be filmed in Hitchcock's involved movement. The protagonists of Hitchcock's thrillers are "animals," so they don't perform human-like, ingrained movements. Dogs and cats don't take off their hats. It's such a natural law.

●In "I Confess," the focus is on "being" a priest, so one might expect to see the emotion of an "old ones"—"an old, foolish priest who will forever uphold confidentiality"—exposed. However, Montgomery Clift's movement, with its firm "origin" of becoming a priest after being wounded by war, does not act before thinking like the women in "Love Streams" or the Hawks-esque/Michael Mann-esque professionals. Instead, he refers to his "origin" and thinks before acting, so there is never an ingrained movement revealed, and the dignity of an  "old ones"—a foolish man who relentlessly pursues "being something that doesn't exist"—is not revealed. What emerges from his actions, which are not ingrained, is not a colorless, transparent dignity but goodwill, and his movement is always narrowed and defined by "psychological truthfulness." Hitchcock is unable to capture the emotion of  "old ones" who cannot adapt to the new era, continuing their movement faithfully to their lost "being," and quietly fading away in the shadow of the next generation. Hitchcock can not make "Stagecoach".

■Differences between the three in the initiation of movement

The Hitchcockian "animal" in a movement of being drawn in and the "four-time convicted habitual offender" in "STAGECOACH" both share the commonality that "psychological authenticity" is excluded from the initiation of movement because they are forced to initiate movement = they are drawn in. However, the former is a movement of loss of skill, and the movement is only initiated when it is pushed out from the outside by a MacGuffin, whereas the latter is a "habitual offender" of skill movement, and its movement is initiated as if driven by its own internal "origin." Hitchcock is drawn in by external impulses, while John Ford is drawn in by internal impulses. However, John Ford, a "four-time convicted offender," is closer to his "origin" than Michael Mann, a "ten-time convicted offender," and is therefore inferior to Michael Mann in asceticism. As a result, his movement is often initiated by an external MacGuffin, as in "STAGECOACH," and the John Ford movement gives the impression of being drawn in from both the inside and the outside. In contrast, Michael Mann's "habitual offenders," due to their extremely strong "addictiveness," are able to initiate their actions solely through their own internal impulses, giving a strong impression that they are "caught up in their own actions." Although the three characters initiate their actions in different ways, they overlap perfectly in that they are compelled to act by being caught up in the situation, meaning that "psychological authenticity" is eliminated. Ultimately, narrative films can be said to be a genre that is built on the premise of filming the protagonist being caught up in the situation.

■Genre

In noir and gangster films, there are films with the title "Born" in them, such as John Ford's "Born Reckless" (May 11, 1930), Robert Wise's "Born to Kill" (May 3, 1947), and Nicholas Ray's "Born to Be Bad" (September 21, 1950), which means "born from birth" or "already from birth." However, genre films, whether Westerns, gangster films, noir, comedies, or musicals, are basically made with these "Born..." people—"habitual offenders"—as the protagonists. That's why the protagonists don't have to explain their motives or origins like a "first offender" and can focus on their current movement, which is why it's possible to mass-produce 60 or 70-minute B-movies and create genres. If the protagonist had to explain "why I dance" every time, musicals would never become a genre, and in that respect, Fred Astaire reigns as the greatest "habitual offender" in film history. A genre is a film about "doing" something that "doesn't exist," and a film that has to explain its motivations every time—"A-picture—may produce melodrama but never become a genre film. Science fiction films, as the name suggests, are closely intertwined with science and intellect, and therefore cannot resist the temptation to trace back to their "origins." While they appear to constitute a genre, they are often more narrative than action-oriented, and are often  "A-picture that are rational and lacking in movement, despite their cheap appearance.

★Let's look at Godard's words one more time.

"In 'Breathless,' I established the principle that 'informers inform, conservatives conserve, and lovers love each other, and this is not done with any intention.' Because film was originally a detective film." (History of Cinema I, p. 32)

After considering all of this, we can finally grasp the meaning of Godard's words. Godard is talking about films of "habitual offenders." Let's try replacing "informers, conservatives, and lovers" with "detectives, gangsters, dancers, and gunmen" for easier understanding. The film begins with the subtitle "Dedicated to Monogram Pictures," a B-movie company. ● "A BOUT DE In "SOUFFLE," Jean-Paul Belmondo plays a habitual car thief, and naturally, there is no mention of his "origins," no flashbacks, and he is portrayed as a character who, even after killing a police officer, shows no guilt whatsoever, and may not even remember killing him. If genre is a film history created by "habitual offenders," then Hitchcock, who can only film animalistic, entangled movements focused solely on "doing," without any detectives doing detective work, Westerns, gangster films, noir, or musicals, is not making genre films. In genre films, the "habitual offender" movement is directed towards a hypothetical "being," and the protagonist can simply aspire to a movement directed towards "being." In contrast, the Hitchcockian "doing" movement, which lacks a "being," presents difficulties because it is not at all clear what kind of movement it will entail. In the silent film era, when "doing" was the dominant genre, it was possible to make genre films that relied solely on "doing," such as the slapstick comedies of Mack Sennett, Roscoe Arbuckle, and Buster Keaton. However, in the talkies era, where narrative films are dominant and movies lean towards "being," making a film that relies solely on "doing" requires first setting up a vast number of MacGuffins to initiate the movement, and then carefully considering delicate details from the selection of actors to the structure of the story while wrapping "animals" in a narrative veneer. Such work is not suited to mass production, and therefore, Hitchcockian thrillers cannot constitute a genre. In that context, there is a genre called noir, which, unlike Westerns and musicals, lacks clear fundamental conventions regarding "what it means to be." Noir films range from skill-based works like "The Big Sleep," where a detective does his job, and "Laura" (1944.10.11), where a police officer does his job, to works like "The Woman in the Window" (1944) and "Double Indemnity" (1944.7.6), where professionals such as an assistant professor of murder psychology or an insurance salesman use their professional skills to deal with murder cases, but unknowingly become entangled in a conspiracy far beyond the scope of their skills due to the allure of a femme fatale—works that truly aim for a Hitchcockian "doing" approach. This is why the number of noir films produced is overwhelmingly smaller than that of Westerns and musicals, and while Westerns and musicals have managed to survive anachronistically, noir has quickly disappeared along with the changing times. However, while noir still involves the "being" of a detective or police officer, Hitchcockian thrillers, which must start from a more vague "doing" alone, are shrouded in a delicate difficulty that surpasses even noir. This is why there are so many "failures" among Hitchcock's films, and why it's impossible to mass-produce Hitchcockian thrillers as a genre, something even Hitchcock himself couldn't easily film. This is why film history is filled with the corpses of "self-proclaimed Hitchcockians."

★Criticism can not discuss "habitual offenders"

Intellectuals are intellectuals precisely because they excel in knowledge, intellect, reason, and the past in the realm of "being," and they constantly operate by "reading" "being." When such individuals write film criticism, they are inevitably susceptible to the tendency to discuss "habitual offenders" from the perspective of "first offenses," to intellectually describe the pathological, and to present "non-existent origins" as "the origin itself," thus exposing themselves to the danger of rewriting the movement of film—"doing"—into "being." Intellectuals are intellectuals in the realm of "being," and colorless, transparent theory of movement is not only unrelated to their skills, but their tendency to utilize accumulated knowledge actually dulls their exploration of "doing" that cannot be solved by knowledge alone. Intellectuals should be aware that they lack the aptitude for film criticism, and criticism is nothing more than a spirit that arises from honestly confronting the fear of realizing this.

To be continued in Part 3.