Alfred Hitchcock Apresenta

While the films of Alfred Hitchcock are still widely celebrated decades after the legendary director himself has been gone, many people often gloss over his work in television, which is a really big mistake. When this show hit the scene in the 1950s, tv was new, and everybody seemed to like the idea of Alfred's engaging, crime related dramas being condensed into a more easy to understand format. Each episode of this show is like its own, small Hitchcock movie, some good and some not so good. This is the price you pay for Hitchcock Presents being an anthology show, meaning the storylines for the episodes are all disconnected and have nothing to do with one another. This allowed the show to gather a truly impressive range of guest stars, some of them being among the all time best classic Hollywood had to offer, such as Bette Davis, Clint Eastwood, Cedric Hardwicke, Steve McQueen, Robert Duvall, Charles Bronson, Burt Reynolds, Vera Miles, John Cassavetes and Peter Lorre just to name a few. Before The Twilight Zone pushed the boundaries of fantastic stories that often couldn't be explained by anyone, this series was basically doing the same, minus some of the fantasy elements. Basically all the episodes of this show are grounded in reality and deal with events that can possibly take place, but they will usually contain strange coincidences or Hitchcock's signature use of suspense to keep the viewers guessing (not to mention interested). Just like any other show like this, people love to discuss their favorites and point out everything the series has to offer in great detail. Among the literal hundreds of episodes Hitchcock's female companion Joan Harrison produced (along with Norman Lloyd), I will never forget how creepy the one involving the car accident is. If you've seen it already, you'll know what I'm talking about, and Hitchcock is one of the few people to make an audience feel real fear through a tv screen. Not by using cheap jumpscares that you can't predict, but by taking advantage of the fact that everyone is afraid of being paralyzed. The only thing worse than an impossibly bad situation is not even being able to remove yourself from it. That being said, there are definitely way too many other great episodes of this show to mention here, and many of them are complicated, so you'll need to see them yourself to get the full effect. Overall, I would say that Alfred Hitchcock Presents is a classic show that still entertains decades later because it takes back the talent of telling interesting, crime related stories: something that is often left by the wayside in tv now.

I was introduced to Hitchcock as a kid at 11 in 1985 for the short-live colorized version back on NBC, five years after his passing. But I am kind of an old-fashioned person myself. And love it being in black & white. Even though the show was way ahead of its time and the scripts were good and the acting was superb. It made Alfred Hitchcock a star as he climbed from behind the scenes to center stage. He was the main reason for the show's success! Thanks to his jokes and puns. Hitchcock's wit and charm carried the show. And proved he wasn't just being "serious!" Hope that Nick At Night or TV Land will unleash this baby one day. In Black & White because I love the original. The original is the original.

When it premiered on CBS on October 2, 1955, Alfred Hitchcock Presents was an instant hit destined for long-term popularity. The series' original half-hour anthology format provided a perfect showcase for stories of mystery, suspense, and the macabre that reflected Hitchcock's established persona. Every Sunday at 9:30 p.m., the series began with the familiar theme of Gounod's "Funeral March of a Marionette" (which would thereafter be inextricably linked with Hitchcock), and as Hitchcock's trademark profile sketch was overshadowed by the familiar silhouette of Hitchcock himself, the weekly "play" opened and closed with the series' most popular feature: As a good-natured host whose inimitable presence made him a global celebrity, Hitchcock delivered droll, dryly sardonic introductions and epilogues to each week's episode, flawlessly written by James Allardyce and frequently taking polite pot-shots at CBS sponsors, or skirting around broadcast standards (which demanded that no crime could go unpunished) by humorously explaining how the show's killers and criminals were always brought to justice... though always with a nod and a wink to the viewer. This knowing complicity was Hitchcock's pact with his audience, and the secret to his (and the series') long-term success. It's also what attracted a stable of talented writers whose tele plays, both original and adapted, maintained a high standard of excellence. Hitchcock directed four of the first season's 39 episodes, including the premiere episode "Revenge" (a fan favorite, with future Psycho costar Vera Miles) and the season highlight "Breakdown," with Joseph Cotten as a car-accident victim, paralyzed and motionless, who's nearly left for dead; it's a perfect example of visual and narrative economy, executed with a master's touch. (The fourth episode, "Don't Come Back Alive," is also a popular favorite, with the kind of sinister twist that became a series trademark.) Robert Stevenson directed the majority of the remaining episodes with similar skill, serving tightly plotted tales (selected by associate producers Joan Harrison and Norman Lloyd) by such literary greats as Ray Bradbury, Robert Bloch, Cornell Woolrich, Dorothy L. Sayers, and John Collier. Adding to the series' prestige was a weekly roster of new and seasoned stars, with first-season appearances by Cloris Leachman, Darren McGavin, Everett Sloane, Peter Lawford, Charles Bronson, Barry Fitzgerald, John Cassavetes, Joanne Woodward, Thelma Ritter, and a host of Hollywood's best-known character players. With such stellar talent on weekly display, Alfred Hitchcock Presents paved the way for Thriller, The Twilight Zone, and other series that maximized the anthology format's storytelling potential.

Packed onto three double-sided DVDs, these 39 episodes hold up remarkably well, and while some prints show the wear and tear of syndication, they look and sound surprisingly good (although audio compression will cause many viewers to turn up the volume). The 15-minute bonus featurette, "Alfred Hitchcock Presents: A Look Back" is perfunctory at best, but it's nice to see new anecdotal interviews with Norman Lloyd, assistant director Hilton Green, and Hitchcock's daughter Pat (a frequent performer on these episodes), who survived to see their popular series benefit from the archival convenience of DVD.

Starring: Alred Hitchcock (Host) Director: Robert Stevens.

A delightful mix of suspense and humor, the serious and the absurd, Alfred Hitchcock Presents may be the best filmed anthology of all. The half-hour show ran seven seasons, the hour-longs lasted for three. I prefer the shorter shows, which have more punch and variety, and also seem more energetic and original. Aided by producers Joan Harrison and Norman Lloyd, Hitchcock owned the show through his production company, yet actually had little to do with the series, of which he directed only a small number of episodes. But Harrison and Lloyd knew Hitch and his tastes quite well, and the Hitchcock shows reflected his interests and preoccupations. He also delivered the droll introductions, which are still a joy to watch, becoming somewhat of a celebrity as a result. Drawing on such disparate sources as Ray Bradbury and John Collier, Ambrose Bierce and Guy de Maupassant, the show drew on some of the most gifted actors (if not biggest stars) in the business. They are best viewed without commercial interruption, one after the other. Their dry mood and subtle humor is still charming after all these years.

1950's television was pretty bland by almost any yardstick. That's not to say that certain series, such as the early Gunsmoke, were not daring and edgy in their own way. Or that the early I Love Lucy did not have its hilarious moments. However the governing concepts were unadventurous at best, or just plain dull, at worst. After all, no matter how good some of the episodes, bringing law and order to the Old West or following the humorous escapades of a zany housewife were not exactly novel concepts in TV programming.

Two series, however, did come along to challenge convention. The Twilight Zone, at decade's end, attacked frontally with huge doses of imagination and exotic story-lines that often overwhelmed viewers, thereby opening American living-rooms to the expanding world of unthought-of possibilities. It was, and remains, a classic appreciated by young and old alike. However, the other ground-breaking series did not attack frontally. Instead, in true stealthy fashion, it snuck past the guardians of Good Taste and Morality, otherwise known as the department of Standards and Practices. That's probably because each episode was introduced by a funny-looking fat guy with a British accent, who came out to crack a few bad jokes and abuse the sponsors. Who could suspect that what followed such a slow-talking Humpty-Dumpty would subtly undermine some of TV's most entrenched conventions.

Yet that's exactly what the Hitchcock half-hours did. Perhaps the most subversive change lay in the series's really sneaky treatment of wrong-doers. To that point, convention insisted that culprits be apprehended on screen, the better to teach the audience that Crime Doesn't Pay. And while that may have conveyed a comforting societal message, it also made for a very predictable and boring climax to even the best stories. What the Hitchcock show did that was slyly revolutionary was to transpose the comeuppance from the story to Hitchcock's often humorous epilogue. There the audience would learn that the culprit was duly punished and that justice had once again prevailed, apparently enough to keep the censors of the day at bay. So the story-line might end on screen with a grotesque murder, while only later would the audience be told by Hitchcock that justice had indeed caught up. Maybe that seems like just a minor change. But in fact, it was highly significant. For now the audience could follow plot developments, without knowing how the story itself would end, while the deadening element of predictability was transferred to the easily ignored epilogue. It was a truly ground-breaking event in the evolution of TV.

All in all, that element of uncertainty made for the kind of programming that continues to entertain, even into today's super-charged era of technicolor and relaxed censorship. It also accounts largely for why Hitchcock Presents remains one of the few series from that long-ago time to still be re-run. There were other sly subversive wrinkles such as the black humor that sometimes accompanied the most heinous crimes. Or the subtle insistence that murder often begins at home. In fact, the series as a whole managed to mirror much of Hitchcock's movie-making personality, which suggests the producers (Norman Lloyd and Joan Harrison) were very protective of what the Hitchcock brand name implied. Anyway, like any other series, some episodes were better than others, but only rarely did one really disappoint. In fact, the high quality remained surprisingly steady throughout the half-hour run, before dropping off noticeably during the over-stretched hour-long version.

Some of my favorites: "Mr. Pelham" (good semi sc-fi); "The Creeper" (suspense & fine acting); "The Glass Eye" ( well-done horror); "Back for Christmas" (typical Hitchcock irony); "Poison" (you'll sweat a bucket load); "Design for Loving" (off-beat premise well executed); "Human Interest Story" (Hitchcock meets the Twilight Zone); "Special Delivery" (truly spooky); "Specialty of the House" (It ain't Mc Donalds); "Breakdown" (Why don't they hear me?), and anything with the deliciously repulsive Robert Emhardt.

I'm sure there are many others not so fresh in my memory. Anyway, in my book, a big thanks is due Alfred Hitchcock for doing something no other movie heavy-weight of the time was willing to do. He risked his big league reputation by squeezing into millions of little black boxes once a week for seven years to bring the audience outstanding entertainment. His snooty peers may have sneered, but generations of grateful viewers have since proved him right.