Aha! Your SDMB username seemed familiar to me in a nagging way, and this post just made me realize where it’s from…
You probably know that Hitchcock had him called Roger O. Thornhill (where the O stood for nothing) as a in-joke at the expense of David O. Selznick, whose O also stood for nothing.
Well, acording to Number Six:
Bolding mine. What if the Texan had plopped a bunch of jewels or diamonds on Marion’s desk and she had stolen that? She still would have ended up at the Bates motel. She still would have decided to give it back. She still would have taken that shower, glad to have done the right thing.
The movie isn’t about the money. It’s not even about Marion. It’s about Norman Bates. The money (or whatever it could have been) helped get Marion to the Bates motel, and thus into the story of Norman Bates.
Seeing this thread and seeing that the last poster was Roger Thornhill was pretty amusing, given that is Cary Grant’s character’s name in NxNW.
And I agree, Roger - it is my understanding that Hitch took particular pride in NxNW’s MacGuffin because it was the most tenuous. When the older government spy czar explains things to Cary Grant and Grant asks what the bad guy (James Mason - in a delightly slimy role) might have, all we get is a cryptic “hmmmm - government secrets, perhaps?” and that is about the extent of it…and the movie works.
…and btw, how Hitchcock got the dialogue between Grant and Eva Marie Saint over dinner past the movie review board is beyond. They basically have verbal sex discussing the menu.
I disagree, she was going to use cash which is for all intents and purposes untracable [I really dont think the texan recorded the serial numbers of the bills…] but she would have to change anything else into cash, and unless you are hooked into an underworld, disposing of gold or gems can be problematic, when I sold off some baht jewelry that my grandmother left me the jeweler I sold the stuff to had paperwork, I had tax issues, and I did have to explain where I got the gold inthe first place…If I had known a fence, I might have been able to avoid the papewrwork, but I would have also only gotten a fractionof the true worth of the gold…
It had to be cash, it couldnt realistically be anything else. Look at the tizzy she had when she tried to trade cars, she was so nervous she almost blew it, and did make herself memorable enough that Arbolast the PI could track her fairly easily…imagine her trying to dispose of gold or jewels?
He didn’t; it was cleaned up in looping. You should hear the original dialogue. Yow.
It’s such a brilliant film for me because it combines excitement and lashings of humour and wit, much of it aimed at itself. The preposterous murder attempts (in the car screeching on the coastal road - well the studio backdrop but you get the picture - and the classic cropduster scene) are in perfect synch with the whole tenor of the film. When you hear directors and actors droning on these days about authenticity, I want to show them NBNW to remind them that there’s more to film-making than accuracy. Like acting and dialogue for starters.
Here’s some of the raunchy dialogue between R.O.T. and Eve Kendall (Eva Marie Saint), all of it on a train:
Eve: I never discuss love on an empty stomach. [She actually says, “I never make love on an empty stomach,” but the line was dubbed over.]
Eve: This is going to be a long night…and I don’t particularly like the book I’ve started.
Eve: Incidentally, I wouldn’t order any dessert if I were you.
Roger: I get the message.
Eve: That isn’t exactly what I meant. This train seems to be making an unscheduled stop, and I just saw two men get out of a police car as we pulled into the station. They weren’t smiling.
Eve: I’m a big girl.
Roger: Yeah, and in all the right places too.
Eve: You’ve got taste in clothes, taste in food…
Roger: …and taste in women. I like your flavor.
Eve: You’re very clever with words. You can probably make them do anything for you. Sell people things they don’t need. Make women who don’t know you fall in love with you.
Roger: I’m beginning to think I’m underpaid.
Roger: Only one bed.
Eve: Yes.
Roger: That’s a good omen, don’t you think?
Eve: Wonderful.
Roger: You know what that means?
Eve: Hmmm.
Roger: What? Tell me.
Eve: It means you’re going to sleep on the floor.
The last line was put in for the censors, but as you suggest, the damage had already been done.
Obviously, I disagree. There is essentially no difference between the Red October and the McGuffin in The 38 Steps, other than the fact that one was a sub and the other an airplane. Red October could have been any secret weapon that was put onto a sub (e.g., a new missile, poison gas, etc.)
In 12 Monkeys, it was clear that Willis wasn’t expected to find the sample and that it was purely a red herring. So they could have substituted anything instead.
The Hunt for Red October is a movie about submarine warfare. You can’t have a movie about submarine warfare without a submarine. Change the sub into an airplane, and it’s no longer the same movie. If you want to claim that the stealth technology was a MacGuffin, I can see that, but I still have to disagree, as too much of the plot revolves around the stealth technology.
I think it’s pretty clear that the Willis character is sent back with the hope that he’d find the source of the virus. The final scene confirms this. That said, I suppose it’s possible to substitute some other doomsday device and retain much of the plot, but I still think too much of the plot revolves around the specific threat of an out of control virus for it to qualify as a true MacGuffin.
Here’s what I think.
There’s three kinds of MacGuffins.
The first type is the classic type – a mysterious, little explained, and rarely if ever seen artifact a la the various Hitchcock devices already mentioned, the contents of Marsellius Wallace’s suitcase in Pulp Fiction, or 2001’s Monolith.
The second kind of MacGuffin is an painfully mundane object, introduced to the ongoing plot, that gets the ball rolling to motivate the prinicipal players at a major turning point, like the money Potter stole from the Savings and Loan that got poor George Bailey so suicidal, or the spelling bee medal little Rhoda Penmark killed for and ultimately died for in The Bad Seed.
The third category of MacGuffin is an object that is imbued with so much history, lore, importance, detail and specificity, that it is integrated into every aspect of the movie plot. It is obsessed after by every major movie character, to either obtain it, escape it, or destroy it. I think the fact that it is typically so complex, so important and so successfully integrated into to the plot, that many moviegoers fail to see it as a MacGuffin.
The Cube is a MacGuffin, albiet a big one. The Genesis device is a MacGuffin. Every heist movie ever made has a MacGuffin. The One Ring To Rule Them All is a MacGuffin, maybe the most obvious one classic literature, so much so it spanned three movies in the recent trilogy and four Tolkien books. The Red October is a submarine warfare flick that just happens to infuse its plot with a MacGuffin – a specific kind of utterly desirable submarine, and the Russian defector at its helm. The Red Ryder BB gun is a MacGuffin because of all of little Ralphie’s fervent wishes, deceits and conniving to obtain it. The leg lamp doesn’t even rank: it was an unexpected prize Mr. Parker didn’t even know he’d won, then it got broken. Like Kris Kringle’s cane, or Jules Winnifred’s Bad Motherfucker wallet, it’s Just a memorable prop.
It’s been too long since I’ve seen 12 Monkeys to comment on whether or not the virus sample is a red herring or a MacGuffin or a prop or whatever… but I say if Willis he was sent back in time to specifically find it, it’s a MacGuffin.
The papers in The Road To Rio What are they? The world must never know.