There's almost nothing I hate more than great movies being remade for modern A.D.D. riddled audiences. Almost. What I hate more is when a remake tries to disguise itself as original. With the recent release of Disturbia, I decided to review the far superior movie it was obviously based upon: Rear Window.

Hitchcock. None need more be said. He is the master of suspense. Movies today tend to focus more on surprise. That's why all of his movies stand the test of time. In Rear Window, we meet a photographer named Jeff (Jimmy Stewart) who is confined to his apartment due to an accident that leaves him practically immobilized in a wheelchair with a broken leg. He spends his days gazing out of his window into the courtyard of his apartment complex. He begins to get to know the people living there, peering into their private lives and caricaturizing them. Miss Lonelyhearts, Miss Torso, the newlyweds, a struggling composer, and the couple who sleeps on the fire escape and lowers their dog into the yard by a pulley and a basket. Then there's Thorvald, a salesman whose wife is confined to her bed. Her needs for constant care and attention wear away at Thorvald, making his life miserable. One night, Jeff sees Thorvald leave his apartment carrying a small briefcase. He returns later in the night, and leaves again carrying the same briefcase. The next morning, his wife is gone.

He begins to use a telephoto lens from his camera to get a closer look into his apartment. Part of the genius of this film is that the accusation is never spoken. He gets the idea in his mind. We get the idea in our mind. We get the clues as Jeff does. A saw that Thorvald cleans. A packed suitcase. A newly dug area in his garden. We piece the clues together along with him. We get just as wrapped up in the inner-workings of the apartment complex as Jeff, and we cling to any little movement or excitement. The only difference is that we still doubt the guilt of Thorvald. Jeff does not.

Jeff is frequently visited by two women. One is his visiting nurse, Stella (Thelma Ritter) who stops by every day. She warns Jeff of the danger he is getting himself into by spying on his neighbors. The other woman is Lisa (Grace Kelly) who is Jeff's beautiful, socialite girlfriend whom he insists on keeping at an arm's length. Jeff begins to get these two women involved in his amateur sleuthing, and Hitchcock brilliantly plays on old notions of feminine intuition, as the women become Jeff’s only allies in discovering the truth. Once Lisa begins to get as involved as Jeff does, he begins to let her closer in. He starts the show her the commitment that she longed for. Lisa even goes so far as to sneaking into the Thorvald's empty apartment to try to find clues.

The most amazing part of this film is that we, as a viewer, are stuck in the same situation as Jeff. The camera is confined to his apartment. The audience never leaves Jeff's side. Even though we are trapped in this cramped room, we are never bored. We are just as interested as Jeff is. We know that peeping is wrong, but we all participate in voyeurism when we walk into a theatre. The screen is our rear window that we can't peel our eyes from. For this film, you'll be glad you couldn't.