PEEPING TOM (1960)

Psychological horror hit the jackpot in 1960, with two of the most well-known entries in the genre, Psycho and Peeping Tom, releasing within months of each other. But while Hitchcock’s most well-known film was a soaring box office success, amassing $50M despite sporting a budget of less than $1M, Michael Powell’s Peeping Tom didn’t even break even. Powell, who had earned great acclaim for his previous filmmaking partnership with Emeric Pressburger, didn’t just face career setbacks for this film about a disturbed serial killer, he even had the value of his prior filmmaking efforts retroactively put into question.

The controversy that eclipsed this voyeuristic and unsettling movie seems totally unwarranted now; its depictions of murder are all very restrained, tame even, for modern sensibilities. What incensed critics and scandalised audiences is now simply a fundamental aspect of this genre of filmmaking, which Peeping Tom helped to influence. Protagonist and serial killer Mark Lewis (Karlheinz Böhm) is unlikely to be remembered by film lovers as a horror icon, since his acts of murder were cleverly conveyed onscreen so as to show as little violence as possible. But there’s enough of a sinister presence lurking in this tale of a voyeuristic killer who films his victims while he kills them to still prove highly entertaining more than half a century since the film’s release.

The most memorable aspect of Peeping Tom is easily its use of colour. Its opening scene may be unsettling —we watch Mark approach sex worker Dora (Brenda Bruce), follow her to her brothel, and kill her, all shot through this protagonist’s camera —but it’s also gorgeous to watch unfold, with an opening shot that makes this environment look like the cover art for David Bowie’s 1972 album The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars come to life. The colour palette is consistently expressive, never letting the absence of joy and humanity in Mark’s life and personality infect these external environments. Internally his psyche is as pitch-black as the night sky, having suffered at the hands of his camera-obsessed father, who obsessively filmed him as a young boy, including young Mark’s reaction to seeing his mother’s body for the first time after she passed away.

This explanation is delivered by Mark to his tenant Helen Stephens (Anna Massey) when she convinces him to show her more about his filmmaking passion. Unbeknownst to Helen, this house is Mark’s father’s, where he pretends as if he is just another tenant, even skulking away in embarrassment when Helen invites him to her 21st birthday party downstairs. Mark is so averse to socialising that he has even become an anxiety-ridden stranger in his own home. It is only in the room devoted to his disturbed pursuits that this fear-obsessed individual can feel alive, achieving supreme satisfaction by watching the recordings of his victims’ final moments again and again.

Bizarrely, Böhm, a German-born Austrian actor, portrays a character who appears to possess a purely English background. The actor’s distinctive accent is very odd in this case, and when paired with his over-acting in moments of deep embarrassment and anxiety it makes for a distracting mash-up, repelling intrigue instead of encouraging it. As for Massey, she appears significantly older —though not necessarily wiser — than Helen’s stated age of 21. Although she eventually comes into her own as an unlikely love interest for Mark, who appeared as if he would never be able to love —or gain—an admirer, Helen starts off as a frivolous, annoying character. When Mark plays her video recordings from his childhood that were filmed by his father, her insipid commentary bounces from one inane comment to another, a wholly insincere bit of narration that does a terrible job of convincing the viewer that she cares about what she’s witnessing.

Her mother, Mrs Stephens (Maxine Audley), has developed heightened senses to the point of clairvoyance from being blind, allowing her to recognise that Mark is a disturbed individual who had best stay away from her daughter until he gets help for whatever ails him. It’s a very silly notion, though there is some worthy gallows humour present in seeing her come so close in uncovering Mark’s secret, as a video of one of his killings silently plays just beside Mrs Stephens when she sneaks into Mark’s room.

For all of this protagonist’s disturbing qualities, the most intriguing element of Mark’s characterisation is that he is rather easy to pity. It doesn’t take long to recognise just how tortured this protagonist is, especially when he is confronted with the possibility of happiness with Helen. As he takes her for a meal one evening, he has to tear himself away from the murder opportunities that spring forth right in front of him. He refuses to squander his satisfaction with Helen by allowing it to be unleashed through violence, a wild beast straining to stay within his cage after the bars have been melted down.

While Böhm’s acting is distractingly pronounced in its theatricality whenever Mark feels trapped in social situations, it is near-perfect in conveying this protagonist’s inner conflict and deep despair. When Mark appears fatalistic about his life, he does not come across as a depraved, snivelling coward, but a haunted young man who ruined his chances of contentment by becoming just like his father. The film isn’t just psychologically tantalising, as even the most tortured of sequences are beautiful to look at. One particular scene, set at night in a studio after Mark convinces a stand-in actress to film something with him when everyone has left, is a joy to watch, with this movie set practically bursting with bright colours.

While the film’s plotting isn’t always gripping, the handsome cinematography and intriguing blend of wayward morals and deep empathy make it all too easy (and rewarding) to be a voyeur to this psychological thriller. Its technical brilliance and emotive love story justify the gradual critical reappraisal the film has received in the decades since its release, where now Peeping Tom isn’t just regarded as one of Powell’s best films, but as a staple of the horror genre.

UK | 1960 | 101 MINUTES • 86 MINUTES (US CUT) | 1.75:1 • 1.66:1 (EUROPEAN THEATRICAL) | COLOUR | ENGLISH

Cast & Crew

director: Michael Powell.
writer: Leo Marks.
starring: Karlheinz Böhm, Anna Massey, Moira Shearer, Maxine Audley, Brenda Bruce, Martin Miller, Esmond Knight & Jack Watson.