Walker, Michael.  Hitchcock's motifs: "Melodrama and Hitchcock's Motifs". Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2005.

In the chapter entitled “Melodrama and Hitchcock’s Motifs”, Walker addresses the relationship between mother and daughter, Marnie Edgar and Mrs. Edgar.  In the movie’s first bedroom scene, the heroine’s disturbing dream is signaled by a tapping on the window and by Marnie talking in her sleep.  She tells her mother that she doesn’t want to move: it’s cold.  Mrs. Edgar stands in the doorway, a shadowy, sinister presence, telling Marnie to wake up.  When Marnie wakes, she starts to tell her mother about the recurring dream but is interrupted when her mother says she does not want to know.  Despite her mother’s disinterest in what she has to say, Marnie does let her know that “it’s always when you come to the door; that’s when the cold starts”.  Though the viewer does not know why the mother elicits feelings of fear within her daughter, the disturbing dream is most definitely activated by Mrs. Edgar. Her coldness in response to her daughter’s wish to talk to her gives the viewer a sense of what the “cold” in the dream might represent.  

Marnie’s rejecting relationship with her mother is one factor contributing to some of the symptoms behind her psychological disturbance, specifically her compulsion to steal and her frigidity. On the one hand, she steals to get what has not been given to her and on the other, she goes frigid with men because she experienced her mother early in life as being cold and withholding.  It may also be that in her mind sex is associated with violence and therefore is something to be avoided. Walker discusses this scene within the context of the setting where Marnie is talking to her mother, in the bedroom. While Marnie’s childhood trauma occurred in and around a bedroom so do the dreams and free associations that become the gateway to uncovering the origin of Marnie’s disturbance later in life.

Determined to find the core of Marnie’s fears, Mark asks her to freely associate to a string of words, beginning with those with little charge to them like water and air. He gradually works up to words that he knows will resonate with Marnie.  Upon hearing the word “sex,” she angrily lashes out at him, “I’ll slap your filthy face,” (this word reminds her of intimacy and male contact).  When Mark says the word, “red,” Marnie yells back “White. White…Oh, help me!” Thoughts of sex, followed by the contrast of the color red with its association to blood and violence to the color “white” with its suggestion of purity and innocence seems to lead to her unraveling.  Repeating these words, Marnie climbs up the headboard to bury her face in the fabric behind it, hoping that in making herself invisible, she cannot be harmed by something she refuses to see.  Cardena’s analysis of free association and how it works becomes evident as Marnie encounters these words.  While she may have suppressed “the accident” to such an extent that it is forgotten, such triggers as “sex” and “red” muster up a fear totally unidentifiable. As Cardena explains, Marnie’s disavowal of what happened to her refers to an event external to her that created severe anxiety and that is why the defense mechanism she employs is dissociation rather than repression.

Freud’s analysis of dreams and the process of dreaming is extensively researched in his chapter, "The Scientific Literature on the Problems of the Dream".  Freud discusses the dream as an outlet for inner desires or sets of wishes that have yet to be explored in the waking state.  Because the dreamer is purposefully denying his or her wish, “the wish is unable to gain expression except in a disfigured state” (Freud 120).  One remembers the matter that appears in the dream content, but cannot recall the facts or time of the experience.  The dreamer is therefore in the dark as to the source from which the dream has been drawn, and is even tempted to believe an independently productive activity on the part of the dream, until, often long afterwards, a new episode brings back to recollection a former experience given up as lost, and thus reveals the source of the dream.  The dreamer must then admit that something has been known and remembered in the dream that has been withdrawn from memory during the waking state.  But does the dreamer recall such an event?  Freud concludes that he or she will, but in too fragmented or distorted of an idea to fully make out a comprehensive memory or desire.

Freud’s analysis is pertinent to the many dream sequences in Marnie, ultimately leading to her final flashback of “the accident” in which the details of that night are fully revealed.  In a specific scene, Mark hears Marnie screaming in her sleep, “Please don’t hurt my mama!”  When Mark tries to awaken her, she says she would rather go back to sleep to which Mark replies, “Why? Your sleep seems even less agreeable than your waking hours”.  This dialogue supports Freud’s argument that the dreamer’s inability to identify a memory during the waking state can be restimulated by a new “episode” which finally brings into focus a former experience given up for lost.  As Freud writes, the dreamer knows not the source of a nighttime terror, but knows at the core of this distorted set of visions, lies a very real fear-provoking incident.  For Marnie, her dreams crystallize an overlapping set of sounds, memories, and images that all merge to explain the origin of her disturbed behavior.  Without her abundance of nightmares, the meaning behind her phobias would be defended against by dissociation from the events leading up to her killing the man.  Dreams, therefore, give reference to “the accident” and ultimately shed light on an event indecipherable to the conscious mind.

Freud’s disinterest did not dissuade Goldwyn from pushing forward in his resolve to find a scriptwriter for an analytically based screenplay. One of Freud’s disciples, Karl Abraham, was willing to work with Goldwyn’s studio, resulting in a silent film called The Secret History of a Soul. This was one of the first Hollywood movies made with a narrative based on the theory of psychoanalysis. Hitchcock followed in the tradition of many Hollywood directors who were also influenced by Freud’s work. Several of Hitchcock’s films including Marnie, Spellbound and Psycho reflect a well developed understand of psychologically sophisticated material.  His 1945 film Spellbound was written by his producer David O. Selznick, who was himself in psychoanalysis. Spellbound, not regarded as one of Hitchcock’s best movies, stayed true to the psychoanalytic methodology using surreal dream sequences, to help move along the narrative. The director’s interest in the subject manner of Marnie seems to be a natural progression of his continuing interest in the psychoanalytically based storyline.

According to Pomerance, popular film plots in the 1960s were obsessed with rationalizing idealized heterosexual unions.  But Hitchcock turned the romance genre on its head. As Mark and Marnie walk away from Mrs. Edgar’s home at the film’s end, we understand that this is not an ending where the couple lives “happily ever after.” Instead it seems that Marnie is the girl for Mark because he will never quite succeed in taming her. The war he will have to fight against this rebellious woman, in the bathroom, the boardroom, and the boudoir, will never altogether be won.  Marnie says, “I don’t want to go to jail.  I’d rather stay with you.”  And now, Mark replies, “Had you, love?”  making any attentive member of Hitchcock’s audience sit up; “For the romantic viewer convinced her marriage will now bring an eternity of daylight, Marnie’s “I’d rather” is a clear contraction of “I would rather.”  But Mark has a grammatical fluency that stumps the viewer.  His response is a clue that she meant—or that he interpreted her to mean “I’d” that is past tense.  Not “I would rather tomorrow and eternally; but “I had rather,” meaning in the past.  He says, “Had you, love?” She is saying bluntly that previously it had been her desire to remain with him but now desire is not her primary motivation.  The pure romance of that earlier attraction, Mark knows, has been diminished by the fact, now very evident, that he is the one who will keep her out of jail—that for Marnie he represents only the better of two alternatives, the other being an unthinkable option. Mark, and the viewer, must wonder, does she truly desire to go anywhere with him?”

The ambiguous ending of Hitchcock’s Marnie raises the ultimate question: if jail were not one of the looming possibilities, would Marnie be wanting to stay at Mark’s side?  Is a life with Mark simply the lesser of two evils or is her desire to “stay” with him something of genuine love.  The marriage between Mark and Marnie is anything but romantic, with a relationship that can be seen as that of doctor and patient rather than husband and wife and a relationship between two people that do not necessarily trust one another. Hitchcock makes it unclear whether Mark has actually cured Marnie—is he the only male with whom she can feel comfortable, or has he simply been deceived by Marnie in falling for her disguised “need” as love? 

Marnie suffers from Phodophobia (fear of the color red) and Brontophobia (fear of thunder and lightning); both elements which played crucial roles in accentuating the fear that surrounded her accidental killing of a man.  None of these images spark terror when she thinks about them, only when she actually confronts them. For example, when placed in the presence of a red wall, red flowers, or blood, the most terrifying of triggers, or when witnessing thunder or a rainstorm, Marnie regresses to a childhood state of feeling flooded with panic and her tone of voice sounds like that of a little girl. Her internalized anguish cannot be contained in the face of these inexplicable triggers. Though she cannot pinpoint the reason for her crippling fear, it overwhelms her.  As Dr. Krugman notes, early trauma can also shatter a victim’s trust in others and Marnie, the perpetrator and victim of violence herself, does as expected, relying on emergency defenses to protect herself against unbearable memories and the fear of abandonment if her truth were revealed. She flees from any positive work environment or from home, rejecting stability, She is constantly on the run from herself, specifically, from the truth about her own criminal actions and is also on the run from others.  She tries her best to distance herself from any interpersonal closeness. Other aspects of Marnie’s behavior are also of interest.  Though she does not need the money, her obsessive stealing seems to satisfy a temporary need to fill some void in her life. Perhaps taking more than she is given or earns, reflects a longing to rid herself of the emptiness experienced from an unloving mother or home life. Marnie is a flawed protagonist; a highly complicated woman whose behavior has strong psychological roots.

Haskell’s interpretation of the dynamics surrounding this complex character reveals marriage as something a woman is forced into rather than something she wishes to be a part of.  The deep threat that Marnie poses for Rutland leaves him feeling out of control and emasculated so he gives her an ultimatum; marry him or go to jail.  He feels somehow responsible for curing his new wife, or perhaps from a more sinister perspective, controlling her life will counteract how easily manipulated he felt by her stealing from him.  Hitchcock makes it unclear whether Mark is more intent on curing Marnie out of genuine concern for her or for the reward of knowing that he actually has the capability to do so.  Either way, his interest in human behavior, coming from his background in zoology, clearly explains why Marnie is just another case study for him.

Hitchcock and the Making of Marnie serves as an extensive manual on the filming of this cinematic masterpiece. Tony Lee Moral analyzes the psychological thriller by recounting the details surrounding its production and by examining the final product.  Five main objectives are clearly outlined in his introduction, one in particular relevant to advancing the theme of Marnie as a feminist piece. Like Hitchcock’s other movies Rebecca, Notorious, and Under Capricorn, Marnie is another narrative that reflects Hitchcock’s thematic interest in the female psyche, his portrayal of a woman struggling to navigate life on her own, without the help of a man. By referencing several of Hitchcock’s movies, Moral explores the director’s progressive attempts to present the subject of child abuse (both sexual and psychological) as perhaps too radical a subject for an audience just on the brink of the women’s liberation movement. To underscore the director’s preoccupation with a woman’s position in society, both from an empathetic and psychologically curious standpoint, Moral contrasts Marnie’s appeal to the mid 1960’s audience at the time of its release with its contemporary counterpart. In so doing, he suggests that given the current frequent media exposure to topics of abuse and sexuality, the movie is likely to be more popular with an audience of today.

Hitchcock and the Making of Marnie serves as the core resource for analyzing Marnie as a feminist piece.  Though the book presents a broad analysis of the film, its detailed references to the inner workings of the script highlight Hitchcock’s desire to distinguish Marnie as a feminist.  For example, in a letter dated April 2nd, 1963, the film’s first screenwriter Evan Hunter wrote to Hitchcock that he had drafted two different scenes for the honeymoon of characters Marnie and Mark.  The first one, written according to Hitchcock’s demands, featured a frightened Marnie resistant to any of Mark’s affections, both emotional and physical.  Filled with fury, Connery’s character disrobes Hedren’s with the intent of rape, but quickly composes himself.  The next day Marnie tries to commit suicide.  Hunter’s second script, written unbeknownst to Hitchcock, features “a rather playful honeymoon night scene, showing Marnie in a gay and likeable mood, a bit giggly” (Moral 38).  On May 1st, Hitchcock replaced Hunter with a new screenwriter who shared his same vision in depicting Marnie as a woman deeply incapable of intimacy.  The same year that Marnie was released, American audiences watched Professor Henry Higgins literally shape Eliza Doolittle into the woman he wanted her to be.  In contrast to My Fair Lady, the academy award winning best picture of 1964, the character of Marnie does not represent a pre-feminist woman who is there to please her man.  She does not conform to her husband’s demands but rather becomes the subject of his interrogation. Hitchcock chooses to stay true to his subject matter, the devastating effect of early trauma on a woman.  He refuses to turn her into a playful sexual object to satisfy a man’s fantasy; rather he plays up the trauma by portraying her as frigid even on her honeymoon.