A perfect Peril example: Hitchcock's Rear Window

I watched Rear Window, the great Alfred Hitchcock movie in which Jimmy Stewart is confined to a wheelchair and watches the little world of nearby New York apartment buildings. It is a great way to show how this idea of Peril On Your Street plays out when done well.

A brief overview: Stewart is in a cast after an accident, and he sits in his wheelchair for hours. His only entertainment is watching those in surrounding apartments. There is the lovely young female dancer who practices her craft often, Miss Lonely Hearts who never has a man in her life, the newlyweds who rarely open the shades on their windows, the frustrated songwriter who tries to find the right melody, the older couple with their small dog, and Raymond Burr and his ailing wife. The tension heightens when Stewart notices Burr's wife is gone, and he begins to wonder whether she is the victim of a murder.

I won't go deeper into the plot because I want to concentrate on the obvious peril in the movie, and how it is built in an everyday setting. (Well, everyday if you live in New York City.) Let me take those first three basic lessons I posted and analyze Rear Window from those viewpoints.

First, setting. The entire movie plays out in Stewart's apartment. Not only that but Stewart's wheelchair-bound status forces him to use only part of that apartment, specifically the rear window. How beautiful is that? There is one simple setting, and a rather boring one at that. It's a small apartment. Wow, I don't see the obvious peril happening there.

Ah, next comes the protagonist. Stewart is a photographer who is accustomed to looking for the subjects of good images. He is a people watcher, which is a good trait for a photographer. Here he is confined to his room, but his skill takes him far beyond his little space. He is the cue ball in this marvelous story.

Third, the life-changing event. In this case, it's only the possibility of a life-changing event. Stewart watches Burr and his wife argue. Nothing extraordinary there, but the next time he looks he notices that the wife is gone. Okay, odd but not reason for great worry. But Burr brings out a suitcase and leaves with something in it. The blinds to the bedroom where his wife was are drawn, and Stewart's mind begins to piece together a murderous theory. Burr murdered his wife, and maybe those are body parts he is taking out of the apartment.

Is Stewart correct, or is he an invalid with an overactive mind? Ah, there's the stuff of great fiction.

I could use my current novel to illustrate my points, but I won't give away plot and I won't publish excerpts. I have my reasons. I am approaching literary agents with my idea, and I am quite happy to hold my cards close to the vest until I speak to one interested in my project. The only thing I will say is that my novel yields good examples of all three areas I've covered.

I believe writing a novel in everyday settings is tougher than world building as in Marvel comic or a sci-fi adventure. The everyday things provide stability to our lives, and maybe even a sense of peace. How can I invade that world with elements that challenge that peace? Ah, there's the stuff of great fiction.