Amazon Prime Video original movie Rear Window was released September 1st, 1954.
#RearWindow made $37.9M at the international box office.
rottentomatoes: 99%
metacritic: 100
imdb: 8.4
oscars: 4 nominations
L.B. Jeffries
L.B. Jeffries is a photographer living in Greenwich Village, New York.
“Jeffries. For what? Who said I was getting rid of it? Gunnison, how did you ever get to be such a big editor with such a small memory? No. No, wrong week. Next Wednesday I emerge from this… plaster cocoon.” — L.B. Jeffries
“Yeah, I sure feel sorry for you, Gunnison. Must be rough on you thinking of me wearing this cast for another whole week. Where? Oh, come on, come on, where? What did I tell you? Didn’t I tell you that’s the next place to watch? Okay, when do I leave? Half hour, hour? Oh, stop sounding stuffy.” — L.B. Jeffries
“I can take pictures from a jeep or a water buffalo if necessary. Morgan or Lambert. That’s fine. I get myself half-killed for you, and you reward me by stealing my assignments. You asked for something dramatically different. You got it. Now, wait a minute, Gunnison. Now, you’ve got to get me out of here. Six weeks sitting in a two-room apartment with nothing to do but look out the window at neighbors. No, Gunnison, I…” — L.B. Jeffries
“If you don’t pull me out of this swamp of boredom, I’m gonna do something drastic. ‘Like what?’ I’m gonna get married. Then I’ll never be able to go anywhere. Yeah, can’t you just see me? Rushing home to a hot apartment to listen to the automatic laundry and the electric dishwasher and the garbage disposal and the nagging wife. Is that so, is that so? Well, maybe in the high-rent district they discuss. In my neighborhood, they still nag.” — L.B. Jeffries
“Yeah, have some good news the next time, huh? Oh, hello, Stella. ‘Reader’s digest,’ April 1939. Yeah. You don’t have to take my temperature this morning. Oh, just how did you do that, Stella? You know, Stella, in economics, a kidney ailment has no relation to the stock market. None whatsoever.” — L.B. Jeffries
“Yeah, right now, I’d welcome trouble, you know. How can you tell from a thermometer? Here we go. One more week. I think you’re right. I think there is gonna be trouble around here. Ooh! Do you ever heat that stuff? Oh, I see. Lisa Fremont. She expects me to marry her. I don’t want to. I’m just not ready for marriage. She’s all right. No. What? Please, Stella.” — L.B. Jeffries
“No, she’s just not the girl for me. She’s too perfect, she’s too talented, she’s too beautiful, she’s too sophisticated. She’s too everything, but what I want. What? Well, it’s very simple, Stella. She belongs to that rarefied atmosphere of Park Avenue. You know, expensive restaurants and literary cocktail parties. Can you imagine her tramping around the world with a camera bum who never has more than a week’s salary in the bank? If she was only ordinary.” — L.B. Jeffries
“I’ll probably get married one of these days, but when I do, it’s gonna be to someone who thinks of life not just– not just as a new dress and a lobster dinner and the latest scandal. I need a woman who’s willing to… hold it. Who’s willing to go anywhere and do anything and love it. So the honest thing for me to do is just call the whole thing off. Let her find somebody else.” — L.B. Jeffries
“There’s an intelligent way to approach marriage. No, we’ve progressed emotionally. People have different emotional levels. Well, that’s fine, Stella. Now, would you fix me a sandwich, please? She pay you much?” — L.B. Jeffries
“It hurts a little. Empty as a football. Not too active. Mm-hmm. Who are you? Is this the Lisa Fremont who never wears the same dress twice? Well, that depends on the quote. Let’s see now. There’s the airplane ticket over and import duties, hidden taxes, profit markup. $1,100? They ought to list that dress on the stock exchange. Who buys them, tax collectors? Why, is something big going on somewhere? Well, it’s just an old run-of-the-mill Wednesday. The calendar’s full of them.” — L.B. Jeffries
“Well, I haven’t noticed a big demand for tickets or anything. Oh, I picked that up in Shanghai, which has also seen better days. That’s no way to spend your hard-earned money. You have, perhaps, an ambulance downstairs? Carl. All right. A great big glassful. There’s a corkscrew right over there. Here, I’ll do it. Yeah, fine. All right. Yeah, I want to get this thing off and get moving. Fine, thanks. All right, good night.” — L.B. Jeffries
“Are you tired?” — L.B. Jeffries
Lisa Fremont
“How’s your leg? And your stomach? And your love life? Anything else bothering you? Reading from top to bottom: Lisa… … Carol… … Fremont. Only because it’s expected of her. It’s right off the Paris plane. You think it’ll sell? A steal at $1,100. Why, we sell a dozen a day in this price range. Even if I had to pay, it would be worth it. Just for the occasion. It’s going on right here. It’s a big night.”
“It’s opening night of the last depressing week of L.B. Jeffries in a cast. That’s because I bought out the house. You know, this cigarette box has seen better days. It’s cracked and you never use it. It’s too ornate. I’m sending up a plain, flat, silver one with just your initials engraved. But I wanted to. Ooh! What would you think of starting off with dinner at 21? No, better than that. 21. Thank you for waiting, Carl. The kitchen’s right there on the left. Oh, I’ll take the wine.”
“Just put everything in the oven, Carl, on low. Let’s open the wine now. It’s a Montrachet. Big enough? I can’t think of anything more boring or tiresome than what you’ve been through, and the last week must be the hardest. Well, I’m going to make this a week you’ll never forget. Oh, just a minute, Carl. This will take care of the taxi as well. Good night.”
“What a day I’ve had. Not a bit. I was all morning in a sales meeting, then I had to dash to the Waldorf for a quick drink with Madam Dufresne, who’s just over from Paris with some spy reports. And then I had to go to 21 and have lunch with the ‘Harper’s Bazaar’ people, and that’s when I ordered dinner. Then I had two fall showings 20 blocks apart. Then I had to have a cocktail with Leland and Slim Hayward.”
Stella
“The New York State sentence for a Peeping Tom is six months in the workhouse. They got no windows in the workhouse. You know, in the old days, they used to put your eyes out with a red-hot poker. Any of those bikini bombshells you’re always watching worth a red-hot poker? Oh, dear. We’ve become a race of peeping toms.”
“What people ought to do is get outside their own house and look in for a change. Yes, sir. How’s that for a bit of homespun philosophy? Well, I only quote from the best. Quiet. See if you can break 100. You know, I should have been a gypsy fortune-teller instead of an insurance company nurse. I got a nose for trouble. Can smell it ten miles away. You heard of that market crash in ’29? I predicted that.”
“Oh, simple. I was nursing a director of General Motors. ‘Kidney ailment,’ they said. ‘Nerves,’ I said. Then I asked myself, ‘what’s General Motors got to be nervous about?’ ‘Overproduction,’ I says. ‘Collapse.’ When General Motors has to go to the bathroom ten times a day, the whole country’s ready to let go. Crashed, didn’t it? I can smell trouble right here in this apartment.”
“First you smash your leg, then you get to looking out the window, see things you shouldn’t see. Trouble. I can see you in court now surrounded by a bunch of lawyers in double-breasted suits. You’re pleading. You say, ‘judge, it was only a little bit of innocent fun. I love my neighbors, like a father.’ And the judge says, ‘well, congratulations. You’ve just given birth to three years in Dannemora.'”
“You’ve got a hormone deficiency. Those bathing beauties you’ve been watching haven’t raised your temperature one degree in a month. I knew it. Gives your circulation something to fight. What kind of trouble? You kidding? She’s a beautiful, young girl, and you’re a… reasonably healthy young man. That’s normal. That’s abnormal.”
“Every man’s ready for marriage when the right girl comes along. Lisa Fremont is the right girl for any man with half a brain who can get one eye open. What did you do, have a fight? Father loading the shotgun? It’s happened before, you know. Some of the world’s happiest marriages have started ‘under the gun,’ as you might say.”
“Yeah, she’s only perfect. Is what you want something you can discuss? People with sense belong wherever they’re put. You never gonna get married? Yeah, I can hear you now. ‘Get out of my life, you perfectly wonderful woman, you’re too good for me.’ Look, Mr. Jeffries, I’m not an educated woman, but I can tell you one thing. When a man and a woman see each other and like each other, they ought to come together– wham. Like a couple of taxis on Broadway, not sit around analyzing each other like two specimens in a bottle.”
“Intelligence. Nothing has caused the human race so much trouble as intelligence. Modern marriage. Baloney. Once it was see somebody, get excited, get married. Now, it’s read a lot of books, fence with a lot of four-syllable words, psychoanalyze each other, until you can’t tell the difference between a petting party and a civil service exam. When I married Myles, we were both a couple of maladjusted misfits. We are still maladjusted misfits, and we have loved every minute of it. Yes, I will. And I’ll spread a little common sense on the bread. Lisa’s loaded to her fingertips with love for you. I got two words of advice for you: marry her. Oh.”
“Window-shopper.”
Greenwich Village
“Come on, let’s get up.”
“Congratulations, Jeff. For getting rid of that cast. This is Wednesday. Seven weeks from the day you broke your leg. Yes or no? By thrift, industry and hard work. And catching the publisher with his secretary. Did I get the wrong day? Oh, that’s too bad, Jeff. Well, I guess I can’t be lucky every day. Forget I called.”
“Well, that one week is gonna cost me my best photographer and you a big assignment. There’s no point in even talking about it. Kashmir. Got a code tip from the bureau chief this morning. The place is about to go up in smoke. You did. With that cast on? You don’t.”
“You’re too valuable to the magazine for us to play around with. I’ll send Morgan or Lambert. I didn’t ask you to stand in the middle of that automobile racetrack. So did you. Good-bye, Jeff. Bye, Jeff. Like what? It’s about time you got married, before you turn into a lonesome and bitter old man. Jeff, wives don’t nag any more, they discuss. Yeah? Well, you know best. I’ll call you later, Jeff.”
“Good morning. I said, good morning! Oh, good morning. Say, I wouldn’t dig so deep if I were you. You’re giving them far too much water. I never saw nearly so much water. Oh, why don’t you shut up? Well! I do declare.”
“There you are. Here’s the key. Thank you. Well, if you want anything, just ring. Honey. Come on. Got to carry you over the threshold.”
“Good evening, Mr. Jefferies. Yes, madam. Let me, sir. Thank you, Miss Fremont. Have a pleasant dinner, Mr. Jefferies.”
