100 Books Like The Women Who Knew Too Much

First remarkable fact: This was written by a philosopher. Second remarkable fact: the study was published at a time when film studies had a strong political orientation, and therefore Cavell’s book was an odd one out, for it had a ‘light-hearted’ subject: seven screwball comedies, made between 1934 and 1949. Its relevance has only been acknowledged in retrospect.

Cavell’s style is colloquial and his aim was to set up a ‘dialogue’ with the films. Even though I am less enamored with his philosophical interventions, this work helped me to truly appreciate all seven ‘comedies of remarriage’ he had selected, and The Awful Truth (Leo McCarey, 1937) in particular has remained one of my all-time favorites ever since. Any analysis that encourages us to love a movie under discussion is worth recommending.

With the exception of the prefatory material, which one can skip, this is one of the very best books on Hitchcock.

It is beautifully written and attentive to cinematic details and larger themes. It offers rich interpretations of several central films, with the first half focused on close interpretation and the second half, written later in Wood’s career, more orientated toward Marx, Freud, and gay studies.

Though the book is uneven, it contains some of the best analyses one will ever read of Hitchcock’s major films.

Probably the #1 challenge for me as a mystery writer is holding the readers’ attention and keeping them engaged from Page One to The End. The answer is: create suspense. Keep the reader wondering What’s going to happen next. Ask unanswered questions. Not so much “Whodunnit?” but the more complex: “What’s going on here?”

This book contains interviews with Alfred Hitchcock, the premier master of suspense, talking to the great director Francois Truffaut and dissecting the how-to of creating suspense. His examples and explanations made me truly understand the choices I make when I structure a plot, a scene, or even a moment in the book. Do I want the reader to inhale or exhale or gasp, and why does it matter?  

This is the first book I read that confirmed my own intuition—that Hitchcock’s works are as rich and complex as great literary works.

Brill’s book was a relatively early work of Hitchcock criticism, but an enduring one, a humanistic study with considerable attention paid to the films’ aesthetic and religious dimensions. The latter is fitting because Hitchcock was a deeply Catholic director.

The book offers excellent analyses, with good attention to cinematic and artistic features.

Music is essential to the meaning of film, and I couldn’t get enough of this book.

Despite its narrower focus, it is a superior work, on a level with the best Hitchcock volumes. If music and film interest you, you will benefit from it. Moreover, Sullivan covers almost half of Hitchcock’s more than 50 films.

This is a ‘crazy endeavor’ from the earlier days of film studies. Inspired by Christian Metz’s ‘le grand syntagmatique’, so-called film semioticians tried to close-read films as meticulously as possible. This resulted in a number of fascinating shot-by-shot analyses, sometimes of a particular scene (Bellour’s well-known interpretation of 82 shots from The Birds) to full-length schemes (on Minnelli’s Gigi, e.g.).

Stephen Heath wrote a wonderfully detailed essay on Welles’s Touch of Evil, but this was even surpassed by Bellour’s North by Northwest, which, like the earlier mentioned essays, is included in this volume, a translation of articles originally published in French, most of them in 1979 and 1980. Though the laborious method has not been without its flaws (there is an inclination to over-interpretation), Bellour’s efforts nonetheless gave evidence of an unprecedented passionate cinephilia. 

This study was published during my student years, and I was instantly attracted to Žižek’s unorthodox approach and his idiosyncratic rhetoric. The idea that (Lacanian) theory and (Hegelian) philosophy only make sense insofar as one can explain it to two ‘idiots’ by using examples from ‘popular’ culture, and film in particular, struck a chord with me.

The way Žižek can discuss within only a few pages a Stephen King adaptation, a spaghetti western, and a Fritz Lang film has confused several of his critics, but it has been mind-blowing to me to the present day. Bold and thought-provoking as his works are, he is the Tadej Pogačar within the academic world. The Slovenian cyclist Pogačar could become world champion even after a crazy attack; Žižek can bring crazy associations to a proper end.

Jean-Luc Gordard famously said that film criticism died with the premature demise of Serge Daney, at the age of 48, in 1992. Daney wrote an incredible number of essays and reviews, and his eloquence is astounding. Daney seems to have undergone something of a breakthrough in the Anglo-Saxon world more than thirty years after his death with some new translations, such as The Cinema House.

I consider him the most original reviewer that has ever lived, for I can never foretell his opinion of a certain film: he is constantly oscillating between cinephilic passion and political commitment, between enthusiasm and derision, and for him, moral issues are determined by a filmmaker’s formal approach rather than content: one can ruin a film by making an inappropriate tracking shot.

These stories were picked out by the master of suspense, himself, Alfred Hitchcock. These stories are both horrific and suspenseful. With tales involving a flesh-eating troll, something creepy lurking about in the woods that kills anything that comes into its path, and an uninvited odd boy that comes to a party with evil intentions, one will not be able to put this book down. It might even make you want to leave the lights on during the night.

Sheila Kohler, a mentor of mine whose work is featured in this thrilling collection, is fond of saying that suspense arises from putting a vulnerable character in a dangerous situation. A literary writer of the highest caliber, Sheila knows how to generate the suspense that keeps the page turning. Crime fiction has a long history going back to Dostoevsky and beyond, to the great tragedians—the commission of a crime entails motive, means, and is inherently dramatic. This eclectic selection of mystery and female noir, edited by Joyce Carol Oates, features superstar writers like Edwidge Danticat, Margaret Atwood, Sheila Kohler, Elizabeth McCracken, and Joyce Carol Oates herself. The writing is luminous, the themes are varied—from domestic horror to the erotic to dark fairy tales—and the tales keep the reader turning the page.