When British director Michael Powell and screenwriter Leo Marks collaborated on the 1960 film "Peeping Tom," the two really thought they had something special. The movie about a mentally unstable young man caught in the clutches of his father's psychological experiments horrified audiences and critics alike. Obscene, depraved, wildly inappropriate--these were only a few of the milder labels attached to the film. The movie played less than a week in cinema houses throughout Britain before disappearing. Powell, come to find out, was so devastated by the response to his movie that he promptly left England for Australia, never to return. In our crazy modern world, what people thought horribly twisted yesterday has an allure beyond reckoning for today's cranks. Thus, "Peeping Tom" has now become a movie lionized by modern filmmakers, students of film history, and critics. The Criterion Collection's release of the movie goes so far as to call Powell's film a "British 'Psycho.'" Well, I wouldn't go that far, but the movie is intriguing considering the date of its release (1960) and the subject matter it fearlessly tackles.
Mark Lewis (Carl Boehm) spends his days working the cameras at a film studio and his nights moonlighting as pin-up photographer and documentarian. He always carries a camera wherever he goes, photographing seemingly mundane objects as buildings and people. Lewis seems like a harmless sort of chap, but the dark secrets swirling in his mind would give the stoutest soul pause. He is a Peeping Tom, always gazing into windows or using his camera to spy on the intimate details of other people's lives. His illness seems to come from his childhood, when his famous psychologist father used Mark as a test subject in his work on human fears. Father would set up a camera in different rooms of the house, along with a tape recorder, and proceed to torment his son in various ways in order to monitor the boy's reaction. At some point in the proceedings, young Mark equated women with his terror fits, and as a full grown man he has decided to conduct his own amateur experiments. With camera and tripod firmly in tow, Lewis tricks women into situations where he can murder them and record their fear on celluloid. His first victim is a woman of the night, the next a would be actress at the studio. Mark initially gets away with his crimes because he blends easily into the background. He's polite to a fault, quiet in manner and movement, and solitary. He spends most of his time in the huge dark room at his house, endlessly replaying his sordid film footage and anguishing over his painful childhood.
Enter Helen Stephens (Anna Massey), an aspiring author and tenant in Lewis's house. Young Stephens notices Mark when she sees him staring into her apartment during her birthday party. Intrigued, Helen follows Lewis up to his apartment, discovers he owns the house and acts as its landlord, and witnesses some of his bizarre behavior. Despite the uneasiness of their first meeting, Mark and Helen become fast friends. In fact, Lewis takes such a shine to Helen that the mere idea of "photographing" her--code for committing another murder--shocks him to the very marrow of his being. Helen really likes this man even though her blind, alcoholic mother despises young Lewis because she has an intuition that he is up to no good. Things begin to turn south for Mark when the police launch an investigation into the murders, Helen's mother confronts him about his activities, and he learns that his little problem will take years of therapy to overcome. Lewis loses his cool as the authorities close in but discovers a peace of sorts during the film's conclusion.
Modern audiences will scratch their heads as they try to figure out why "Peeping Tom" was so controversial when it first came out. I think the primary reason this movie shocked British moviegoers and critics concerns how the movie presents such an appalling criminal as a figure worthy of sympathy and outright pity. No one wants to feel for a murderer of young women, but Powell's movie often gives Boehm's character endearing traits. When Helen comes to Mark requesting his aid with the photographs in her soon to be published book, Lewis visibly enthuses that anyone would honor him with such a request. The guy is genuinely happy about Helen's success, and further confounds audience perceptions by buying her a very nice brooch for her birthday. He gives her this gift not as a means for tricking her into a situation where he can victimize her, but because he likes her, respects her, and wants her to be happy. There are a few other reasons why "Peeping Tom" scandalized the British film industry, probably reasons best left unelaborated on here, but the film's refusal to judge Mark Lewis's behavior is probably the biggest reason for the insults heaped on this picture.
I liked the film even though it is a relatively bloodless affair. Carl Boehm's performance as the tortured Mark Lewis provides the primary impetus for viewing this film. He captures perfectly the concept of a scared, tormented little boy wrapped in a man's body. Hats off to Criterion as well; they did a grand job with the widescreen picture transfer and the heap of extras included on the disc. There's a stills gallery, a trailer for the film, a lengthy documentary about screenwriter Leo Marks, and a commentary by one of those hoity-toity film historians. Don't go into this movie looking for a gory thriller. What you will find is a colorful, quiet movie about a very disturbed young man looking for a way out of his personal darkness.
