“Somehow both sprawling and focused.”

Great works of art never require supplementation or explanation, but it is also true that they are always worthy of the attempt to decipher and meditate on what qualities make them so great and timeless. In this collaboration between screen legend Kim Novak and filmmaker Alexandre O. Philippe, this concept seems to be understood by the two. Kim Novak’s Vertigo is titled to function as a double entendre that suggests both Kim Novak’s massive contribution to the legacy of what many consider Alfred Hitchcock’s magnum opus, and an impression of her felt state of the illusion of spinning, which is an insight that ultimately guides this autobiographical, diaristic documentary.

Kim Novak uses the opportunity to reflect on nearly seventy years’ worth of experiences in the film industry and living in the shadow of a film whose legacy is greater than her own, but also owes much of its greatness to how perfectly she embodies and breathes life into its central theme. The film opens with memories of her traumas – a lot of mommy and daddy issues, especially reconciling her dad’s disapproval of her going into the film industry with a sense that she is sure that he was eventually proud of her achievements. It then moves on to her reverence for icons like Greta Garbo (whose commitment to being herself inspired the kind of artist that Kim Novak wished to be) or Marilyn Monroe (whose tragic demise Kim resolved not to repeat). There are flashbacks to the hits, including many scenes from her star-making role in Joshua Logan’s Picnic, often picking lines of prophetic dialogue that speak to misogynistic beauty standards that would eventually typecast the kind of career available to Novak. There are deep cuts (reminders to check out some of her less remembered titles like Jeanne Eagels, Of Human Bondage, or The Amorous Adventures of Moll Flanders, among many others). But it isn’t too long before Kim Novak’s Vertigo arrives at our reason for being here. 

It is true that Vertigo is the first title that immediately comes to mind whenever Kim Novak’s name is mentioned, and Scottie Ferguson’s transformation of Judy Barton into his memory of her disguised as Madeleine Elster is widely understood to be the definitive simulacrum of not only Kim Novak’s career, but of how the Hollywood star system fabricated identities that would become roles which its female actors would be expected to fill as public figures. But Novak herself agrees, and even points out that this isn’t just a dual performance: she sees her function in Vertigo as a quadruple role, where it is Kim Novak playing Judy Barton, pretending to be Madeleine Elster, haunted by the ghost of Carlotta. Novak personally identifies with Judy in particular, whose resentment of her transformation has become deeply symbolic of the career pandering to the male gaze that she was never interested in having, but reluctantly forced into, despite feeling grateful for all that it gave her. Holding up the unmistakable grey blazer and skirt set from Vertigo, and running her hands across her singed copy of the screenplay that somehow survived two house fires, Novak reflects on all the mixed feelings and heartache attached to her involvement in this film, yet concludes that she has a heart full of love for it. 

Kim Novak’s Vertigo, running a briskly but appropriately paced 75 minutes, is somehow both sprawling and focused. Much of the material and insights operating are fairly expected or known quantities; but here, this becomes a prime example of how meeting expectations for reflection on such an imposing title as Vertigo can be enough and worthy of a watch, especially for fans of Novak or Vertigo (though anyone watching it is likely both). It comes as no surprise to see what a personal endeavour this has been for Novak. This reflection on who she is now (also an accomplished painter whose works are prominently featured, often leading to match cuts with shots from Vertigo, giving the film an approachably surrealist visual identity), and who she has been, appears to be a catharsis. The film seems to have given her a great deal of closure along with fond memories of this looming presence in her life and what it means in the context of the history of cinema.