Alfred Hitchcock was the master of suspense, the man who turned showers into death traps and birds into nightmares. But in 1955, he did something nobody expected. He made a movie about a corpse that just won’t stay buried, and he decided it should be a comedy. The Trouble with Harry is a bizarre, colorful, and deeply English piece of filmmaking set in the middle of a Vermont autumn. It’s the kind of movie that shouldn't work. Honestly, on paper, it sounds like a disaster. A man named Harry Worp is dead in the woods, and instead of screaming, the local townspeople mostly just find him an inconvenience.
It's a weird vibe.
If you’ve seen Psycho or North by Northwest, this movie feels like it was directed by a completely different human being. There are no spies. There are no frantic chases across national monuments. Instead, you get Shirley MacLaine in her film debut, looking incredibly young and acting like finding a dead body is about as stressful as losing a library book. The film is a tonal tightrope walk. It’s macabre but strangely sunny. It’s about a dead guy, yet it’s probably the most relaxing movie Hitchcock ever filmed.
Why The Trouble with Harry Fails (and Succeeds) at the Same Time
The "trouble" isn't just with the character of Harry. It’s with the audience's expectations. Back in the mid-fifties, people went to a Hitchcock film to be terrified. They wanted their hearts to race. When they sat down for this one, they got a dry, whimsical farce about a community of eccentric weirdos who keep digging up and re-burying the same body.
Hitchcock loved it. He famously called it one of his favorite projects. But the American public? They were confused. The film was a bit of a flop in the States, though it did much better in Europe, where the dark, understated humor landed with a bit more "oomph."
The plot is basically a comedy of errors. Captain Wiles (played by Edmund Gwenn) thinks he shot Harry while hunting rabbits. Jennifer Rogers (MacLaine) is Harry’s estranged wife, and she’s mostly just relieved he’s gone. Then there’s an abstract artist and a nearsighted doctor. Nobody is particularly sad. That’s the joke. The humor comes from the juxtaposition of the gruesome reality of a corpse and the mundane, polite conversation of the people surrounding it.
The Vermont Color Palette
One thing you can’t ignore is how the movie looks. Hitchcock and his cinematographer, Robert Burks, captured the New England fall in a way that feels almost hyper-real. The oranges and reds are so vibrant they practically bleed off the screen. It’s beautiful. It’s also a deliberate choice. Hitchcock wanted the beauty of the landscape to contrast with the "ugliness" of the dead body.
He didn't want shadows. He wanted clarity.
Most directors would shoot a mystery in the dark, with rain and fog. Hitchcock did the opposite. He put the "trouble" right out in the open, under a bright sun, surrounded by golden maple leaves. It makes the whole thing feel like a surreal dream.
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Shirley MacLaine and the Birth of a Star
We have to talk about Shirley MacLaine. She was discovered while understudying for Carol Haney in the Broadway musical The Pajama Game. Hitchcock saw her, liked her "pixie" energy, and cast her as Jennifer Rogers. She’s the heart of the film. Without her specific brand of detached, quirky charm, the movie would probably fall flat.
She treats Harry’s death with such casual indifference that it sets the tone for the rest of the cast. When she tells the Captain, "I'm so glad you shot him," it’s not delivered with malice. It’s delivered like she’s thanking a neighbor for picking up her mail. It’s brilliant.
MacLaine’s performance broke the mold for "Hitchcock Blondes." Usually, his leading ladies were icy, sophisticated, and impeccably dressed—think Grace Kelly or Vera Miles. MacLaine was different. She was approachable. She was funny. She felt real, even in this absurdly unreal situation.
The Bernard Herrmann Connection
This was also the first time Hitchcock worked with composer Bernard Herrmann. This is huge. If you know film history, you know that the Hitchcock-Herrmann duo is basically the GOAT (Greatest of All Time) of director-composer pairings.
Herrmann wrote a score that was whimsical and "sneaky." It doesn't use the stabbing violins of Psycho. Instead, it uses bassoons and woodwinds to create a playful, rhythmic poking-fun at the characters. It’s a "macabre waltz." This partnership would go on to define the sound of suspense for the next decade, but it started here, with a dead guy in the leaves.
A Masterclass in Understatement
The dialogue in the film is incredibly dry. It’s based on a novel by Jack Trevor Story, and Hitchcock kept that British "stiff upper lip" sensibility even though the setting moved to America.
Consider the scene where the doctor trips over Harry's body while reading a book. He doesn't scream. He doesn't run for help. He just adjusts his glasses, looks at the body, and goes about his business. It’s peak "dark comedy."
Some people find this boring. I get it. If you’re looking for a fast-paced thriller, The Trouble with Harry will feel like watching paint dry. But if you appreciate the rhythm of human awkwardness, it’s a goldmine. It’s a movie about the secrets we keep and the strange ways we bond over shared problems—even if that problem is a corpse that needs a new hiding spot.
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What Modern Viewers Often Get Wrong
A lot of people watch this today and think it’s a "failed" Hitchcock movie. That’s a mistake. It wasn't a failure of vision; it was a failure of marketing. Paramount didn't know how to sell a "funny" Hitchcock.
There’s also a misconception that the movie is a "whodunit." It’s not. We know who thinks they did it from the first ten minutes. The mystery isn't who killed Harry, but rather how these people are going to get away with being so nonchalant about it. It’s a character study masquerading as a mystery.
And then there's the "Harry" of it all. The actor playing the corpse, Philip Truex, had to lay still for hours in the cold Vermont dirt. Hitchcock, ever the perfectionist, made him do it over and over. Truex reportedly said it was the hardest work he’d ever done, which is hilarious considering he doesn't have a single line of dialogue.
The Legacy of the Macabre Comedy
You can see the DNA of this film in later works. Think about Weekend at Bernie’s. Think about the dark whimsy of Wes Anderson or the Coen Brothers. The idea that death can be absurd rather than just tragic is a very modern concept that Hitchcock was playing with way back in 1955.
He was ahead of his time.
The film also features John Forsythe (long before his Dynasty days) as the struggling artist Sam Marlowe. His chemistry with the rest of the cast is effortless. They feel like a real, albeit slightly insane, community.
Critical Nuance: Is It Actually Good?
Look, art is subjective. Some critics, like the legendary Pauline Kael, weren't huge fans of Hitchcock’s "English" humor when applied to American settings. They felt it was a bit precious. And yeah, sometimes the whimsy feels a little forced. The romance between the Captain and Miss Gravely (Mildred Natwick) is sweet, but it slows the pacing down even more in a movie that is already moving at the speed of a snail.
But if you look at the technical execution, it’s flawless. The framing, the use of color, and the editing are all top-tier Hitchcock. He was a man at the height of his powers, experimenting with a genre he wasn't known for. Even a "minor" Hitchcock is better than most directors' best work.
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The Real History of the Production
The shoot wasn't all autumn leaves and smiles. It rained. A lot.
Because the weather was so unpredictable in Vermont, the crew had to move into a high school gymnasium to finish several scenes. They actually brought in truckloads of real autumn leaves and stapled them to trees and scattered them on the floor to maintain the look. If you look closely at some of the outdoor scenes, you can tell the lighting changes because they were constantly chasing the sun.
Hitchcock also had to deal with the censors. The 1950s weren't exactly a time of "anything goes." Making light of a dead body was risky. He managed to get away with it by making the tone so lighthearted that it didn't feel "disrespectful" to the dead—it just felt silly.
How to Appreciate This Movie Today
If you’re going to sit down and watch The Trouble with Harry for the first time, you have to shift your brain. Don't look for the "Master of Suspense." Look for the "Master of Irony."
- Watch the backgrounds: The Vermont scenery is a character in itself.
- Listen to the silence: The gaps between the dialogue are where the humor lives.
- Focus on the props: The recurring blue shoes, the sketch of the body—these are the "MacGuffins" of the film.
- Ignore the logic: Don't ask why nobody calls the police. The movie exists in a bubble where the police don't matter as much as a good cup of tea.
Actionable Insights for Film Buffs
If you want to dive deeper into this specific era of cinema, there are a few things you should do to get the full picture of why this movie matters.
- Compare the Score: Listen to the soundtrack of The Trouble with Harry and then immediately listen to the score of Vertigo. Notice how Herrmann uses the same orchestra to create two completely different worlds. It’s a lesson in how music dictates emotion.
- Check the Source Material: Read Jack Trevor Story’s original novella. It’s short, punchy, and gives you an idea of what Hitchcock added (and what he took away) to make the story his own.
- Watch for the Cameo: Like all Hitchcock films, the man himself appears. Look for him about 20 minutes in, walking past a parked limousine while a man looks at paintings. It’s a quick one.
- Research the "VistaVision" Process: This was one of the early films to use Paramount’s wide-screen process. It’s why the landscapes look so expansive and sharp even sixty-plus years later.
The film serves as a reminder that even the most established artists need to break their own rules occasionally. Hitchcock didn't want to be a caricature of himself. He wanted to play. The Trouble with Harry is the sound of a genius having a bit of fun at the expense of a dead guy named Harry. It’s weird, it’s dry, and it’s perfectly autumnal.
Next time it’s a chilly October afternoon, skip the slasher flick. Put this on instead. It’s the most polite "horror" movie you’ll ever see.
Practical Steps for Your Next Watch Party:
To truly enjoy the film's unique atmosphere, pair it with a crisp apple cider and notice how the film's color palette matches the season outside. Pay close attention to the dialogue during the second "burial" scene; the absurdity peaks there, providing a perfect example of Hitchcock's often-overlooked dry wit. If you're a student of film, take notes on the "blocked" movement of the actors around the body; it's staged more like a theater play than a traditional movie, which contributes to its surreal, detached feeling.