As a child, I had immense respect for Alfred Hitchcock. It is hard to say precisely what I liked about him so much. His name was synonymous with fear, yet he seemed a comical figure himself. I don't know where I got it from, but I had the idea that he had innovated the concept of terrifying his audience by allowing their own imaginations to run wild. The fear of the unknown is the greatest of them all.
Conversely, I never really could stand horror movies or even horror books. I sometimes forced myself. I guess at these times, I resorted to the masochism that would become more and more prominent in my life. I would be horrified by blood and at the same time absorbed by it.
So many things I just want to hide from, run away from, not think about.
How did Alfred do it, I wonder. He seemed so jolly in the little introductions I saw by him. It is always easier to see a fat man as being happy for some reason. It might have been more appropriate for him to be gaunt and reminiscent of Edgar Allen Poe. But, I always thought Poe was kind of dumb by allowing himself to be overtaken by his own horror. Didn't the man know to ask better questions of that dumb raven?
Will I suffer? Nevermore. Will I be alone? Nevermore. Will I tremble in the dark? Nevermore. Will the sounds of bombs keep me up? Nevermore. Will I lie silently in bed, knowing that I could die at any moment? Nevermore. Will the sirens scream in my ears as I try to sleep? Nevermore. Will I wake up in a pool of blood? Nevermore.
I had profound respect for Alfred Hitchcock as a child. He was a master of fear, not its prisoner. I would dream of being like Houdini or some such escape artist, real or imagined. I would have elaborate fantasies of fleeing from everything or at least hiding in a place I would not be disturbed. I still do that. I have elaborate fantasies about escaping everything that binds me. So much binds me. So many financial bonds. So many emotional fetters. So many physical limitations.
Alfred Hitchcock did not run. He inserted himself into his own tales of horror as an extra. As if he were watching the show. all the while he was orchestrating it. He was Phobos, the god of fear. He created it, he was not created by it. He was before any fear and he would live forever, superior to the fear he created. When the Bogey Man sleeps, he has nightmares of Alfred Hitchcock.
What I didn't have as a child was an appreciation for my respect towards Alfred Hitchcock. The fact was that I had been consumed by fear. Fear was the most central of emotions, and Alfred Hitchcock was my Superman. When little kids would look towards comic book heroes, aspiring to one day conquer all, I would look at Alfred. It seemed to me that he was not only supernatural, but intensely real. He was a human being.
