Mark Shanahan as Richard Hannay in The 39 Steps.

My thanks to our leading lady for letting me chime in with a blog entry.

As we near closing, it seems a good time to let you know just what a unique experience Dialing M at the Fulton has been for me. Like many in our audience, I know the film version of Knott's play well, and the chance to step inside of it has not only been a pleasure, but an eye opening reminder of the difference between the demands of film and stage.

On Mondays, when the theatre is dark, I teach a course at Fordham University on the films of Alfred Hitchcock. Last Monday, I added Dial "M" for Murder to the syllabus and spent my day off once more at the Wendices' flat, albeit introducing the film to a group of college juniors and seniors rather than plotting Margot's demise for a Fulton crowd. After a lively discussion of camera angles, the 3-D history of the film's original release, and a detailed discussion of Knott's script, one student asked, "if the film is practically unchanged from the play, what makes this a Hitchcock movie and not a Frederick Knott movie?" A complicated question, to be sure. The director was constantly looking for source material he could transform into a "Hitchcock" picture, and Dial M fit the bill.

Mark Shanahan and James Black as Hitchcock in Hitchcock Blonde at The Alley Theatre. Directed by Gregory Boyd.

When asked about Dial M, Hitchcock famously stated, "When the batteries are running low, take a hit play and film it." Interestingly, in recent years, the theatre has taken Hitchcock's philosophy and turned it on its head. In fact, Hitchcock, one of our towering cinematic legends, has become somewhat of a creative inspiration for theatre artists, with various scripts and productions ruminating on his life and works. I've been lucky enough to explore some of these works first hand, as an actor. But more on that later.

Of course, Hitchcock had a history in adapting stage plays and novels as a young filmmaker. The Lodger, the silent-era thriller which the director himself considered the first "Hitchcock" picture, was adapted from a novel and play, as was 1929's Blackmail, the first British talkie. Both, however, bore the singular stamp of the director, wildly diverging from their stage versions. Alternatively, 1930 saw Hitchcock take on Juno and The Paycock, the O'Casey masterpiece. Although Hitchcock was celebrated for his filmed version, he claimed " it had nothing to do with cinema," as he simply trained his camera on the play. Rope, a reworked, Americanized version of Patrick Hamilton's hit play, kept Hitchcock's camera confined on a stage set, restlessly roaming its various corners in what appears to the audience to be one long, brilliant take. Hitchcock loved the theatricality of confined spaces, similar to those of a stage set. In Rear Window, Lifeboat and The Lady Vanishes, the characters are practically defined by their enclosed environments.

Many of his masterpieces were altered so greatly from their source material, particularly novels, that one can barely recognize them. The script he developed with screenwriter Charles Bennett for The 39 Steps, based on John Buchan's adventure story, added various love interests and villains, and only tangentially retains the structure of the Buchan's work. In fact, in the middle of writing the screenplay, it is said that Bennett asked Hitchcock, "wait a minute, what are the 39 Steps?" Hitchcock answered, "we'll figure that out later." (In the novel, the steps are a location and in Hitchcock's scenario it is the name of a spy ring.) The Man Who Knew Too Much, which Hitchcock filmed twice, retains only the title of G.K. Chesterton's novel. Daphne Du Maurier's Rebecca gave Hitchcock an opportunity to shoot a Gothic romance complete with his trademark suspenseful flourishes, and DuMaurier's The Birds, a European World War II parable, became an early 60's masterpiece addressing a changing American culture. Psycho, of course, is much more than the elements laid out in Robert Bloch's novel and deserves a blog for another day.

Hitchcock's pictures often use the settings of the theatre itself. The 39 Steps opens and closes in a theatre. Saboteur finds the villain stepping off Radio City's stage, pursued by the hero. The Man Who Knew Too Much virtually climaxes at The Royal Albert Hall (Dial M gives it a shout out!). Stage Fright literally delves into the world of footlights and greasepaint.

But, it is North By Northwest which references Hitchcock's fascination with the theatre with the most finesse. When Cary Grant is mistaken for a spy named George Kaplan, a villainous James Mason scoffs at his denials, stating "With such expert playacting, you make this very room a theater... Has anyone ever told you that you overplay your various roles rather severely, Mr. Kaplan?" In a great bit of world weary Cary Grant-ishness, our hero answers, "Apparently the only performance that will satisfy you is when I play dead." Says Mason, "Your very next role, and you'll be quite convincing, I assure you." Indeed, many of Hitchcock's characters seem to be fueled by the art of acting and the need to create themselves in performance. Sometimes, taking on a character can have terrible consequences, of course. I'm looking at you, Norman Bates!

Which brings us to Dial M. Filmed in thirty-six days on a sound stage, the picture was often dismissed by Hitchcock as a minor effort. "There isn't very much we can say about that one, is there?" he said to Francois Truffaut. I'm not so sure about that.

Unlike so many of his other films, Hitchcock barely altered the script from the stage play, hiring Knott himself for screenwriting duties. The director noted that a great play relies on recognizing its very theatricality. To open up Dial M for scenes in courtrooms and the streets of London, or with flashbacks, would rob the play of its excellence. "The basic quality of any play is precisely its confinement within the proscenium," he said. Even though the film was to be released in 3-D, the director doesn't seem to make many concessions to the 3-D fad. Outside of the celebrated scissors shot, Hitchcock once again places his camera in furtive places, peering around lamps and desks, in keeping with his interests in voyeurism.

And Knott's play seems entirely well suited to all of the hallmarks of a Hitchcock picture. We have a sociopathic villain disguised as a gentleman (Suspicion, 39 Steps, Frenzy, North By Northwest), various metaphors and complications with keys and handbags (Marnie, Notorious), the shadowy doppelgangers that are Tony and Lesgate (Strangers On A Train, Shadow of a Doubt), the wrongly accused innocent person (The Wrong Man and...well, take your pick!) and of course, the icy cool Hitchcock Blonde, the centerpiece of so many of Hitchcock's pictures. Is she simply a victim, or the strong survivor who defies the evil men in her life?

Notice how Hitchcock opens his film, with Kelly in white, happily eating breakfast with her husband. Her eyes glance at a newspaper announcement that the Queen Mary is arriving in London. Cut to Kelly, dressed in scarlet red, secretly meeting her lover. Before a word is uttered, Hitchcock has told us an entire story, expertly cutting these images together. The play opens with an equally skilled first moment. We discover Margot alone with Max, her boyfriend. She turns off the radio and says "For a minute I thought that was Tony. I'm sorry, what were you saying?" And we're off to the races, with secrets, lies and passion bubbling just below the surface.

At the Fulton, we have spent the past few weeks delving into Knott's great play. Every night, we seem to find something new about these people. Although it is fun to wear tuxes and drink highballs and speak witty lines in British accents, these people are pretty brutal characters. All of them are up to no good, to some extent. Of course, some more so than others. After an entire act laying out the proposed murder of my wife, I love the opening line of Act Two. We find our characters talking about a tennis match and I remark on a particular player, "after that he lost his concentration and he didn't win another game." And of course, I don't win another game either, as everything comes undone. Knott basically states that all of those great plans from Act One are about to go downhill rapidly. And isn't that the fun of watching what transpires?

The audience at the Fulton seems to love the fact that Knott's play demands justice be done. The Inspector always gets a great response, as does Margot's boyfriend Max, as they put two and two together to uncover the truth of Tony Wendice's deception. But can they catch him at it? Knott knew how to play on his audience's emotions as though he were playing a pipe organ, much as Hitchcock described his role as a director. There are times where I feel the audience rooting for me to get away with murder, so to speak, and times where I know they want me thrown into jail! Only a great writer can lead you through those emotions.

Now, a few words about what it means for me to step into this world. Our own director, Bill Roudebush, has given me a great gift in inviting me to play Tony. He has demanded that we throw away any preconceived notions about the play and make these characters our own, with all due respect to Ray Milland, Grace Kelly and company. He has encouraged us to try and always stay a step ahead, and batter the audience around, not to be afraid to drop the polite veneer of these characters and show them for what they are.

And it's great fun to actually be in Tony and Margot's house. To actually play in the Hitchcock universe a bit, which has become something of a habit for me. I mentioned up top that whereas Hitchcock took a hit play and filmed it, the theatre has looked to him for inspiration. I was fortunate enough to be a member of the original Broadway company of the hit comedy The 39 Steps. Although that play lovingly spoofs Hitchcock's film, it is a fantastic tribute to the theatre itself. It was great fun to play Hannay and shout "What ARE the 39 Steps!?" Equally, I found myself in the curious position a few years ago of performing Terry Johnson's Hitchcock Blonde at the Alley Theatre in Houston. In that piece, I played a Hitchcock film professor, of all things. In the opening scene I was to be seen grading a student's paper. One night, I couldn't help myself and actually brought a real student's paper onstage with me! Johnson's play is fascinating, pondering our own obsessions with a filmmaker who was preoccupied with obsession himself. More recently, I've come across a fantastic stage version of Vertigo by Jonathan Holloway, based not on Hitchcock's film but rather on the novel which inspired it. I hope I get a crack at that one day, too! Hitchcock, it seems, is alive and well not only on our screens, but on our stages as well.

Being at the Fulton has been a joy. I've loved working with the cast and staff and meeting the audience members, so many of whom stop us in the street to talk about the play. If you want to do a time honored, well oiled play like Dial M, you want to do it right. The Fulton is the place to come, if that's the case. I hope you thought we were up to the task, as we have loved every minute of it.

Hitchcock said of murder (or cutting together films?), "the best way to do it is with scissors." What a joy to be at the Fulton to take a . . . stab at this great play. (Sorry, I couldn't resist.)