Sadly, with the recent death of Eva Marie Saint, she and Tippi Hendren are the last living classic Hitchcock blondes. Frankly, Kim Novak probably remains the most iconic of them all, thanks to Hitchcock’s classic 1958 psychological thriller, even though she only has 34 IMDb acting credits. Nevertheless, her early semi-retirement was very likely a healthy life-choice. She largely sees it that way herself, as she explains at length to Alexandre O. Philippe in his documentary profile Kim Novak’s Vertigo, which releases this Tuesday on DVD.
Having appeared in previous Vertigo documentaries, Novak duly expresses almost entirely positive sentiments regarding her signature film throughout “Her Vertigo.” The only possible exception being her admission the dual role held awkward personal resonance for her. However, her warm affection for her co-star Jimmy Stewart (with whom she also starred opposite in Bell, Book, and Candle) will make any classic film buff smile.
She is less nostalgic regarding other aspects of the industry, particularly the early years of her career, when she was exclusively contracted to Columbia Pictures and under the thumb of studio boss Harry Cohn. Given the title, and Philippe’s previous films (including 78/52, a documentary devoted entirely to the shower scene in Psycho), most viewers will logically expect a deep dive into Vertigo. Yet, that doesn’t really happen. Instead, the film consists entirely of long sit-down interviews Philippe conducted with Novak, in which he lets the star discuss whatever she so desires.
Essentially, the film is an audio autobiography, touching on her Great Depression-hardened childhood and her struggles with her studio-crafted identity as a “sex symbol,” and her admiration for Greta Garbo, whose own retirement possibly served as an inspiration for Novak. After Vertigo, her breakout hit Picnic probably gets the most attention, followed by Jeanne Eagels, a fictionalized biography of the silent-era star, again perhaps for its ironically apt commentary on Hollywood exploitation.
Throughout the film, Philippe accompanies her reminiscences with brief clips from her film oeuvre, which best illustrate her themes. However, he weirdly overlooked Novak’s second Hitchcockian role in the remake of “The Man from the South,” produced for the 1985 reboot of Alfred Hitchcock Presents.
Many of Philippe’s previous films deserve criticism for their lack of competing viewpoints. Films like Lynch/Oz and The Taking largely feature a small cast of commentators making the exact same points, over and over. In Kim Novak’s Vertigo, there is only one perspective: Novak’s. That is fine in this case, because Philippe makes it clear he and the film are devoted to her.
Still, there is no avoiding the fact the film is essentially an interview with visual aids. Even with all the brief “fair use” excerpts Philippe incorporates, the film is quite a modest affair. It is all very pleasant and it is nice to know Philippe preserved Novak’s oral history of Hollywood, but it is not very cinematic. Recommended for seriously dedicated fans, Kim Novak’s Vertigo releases this Tuesday (10/13) on DVD.

