In the middle of the last century, suspense cinema replaced the detective novel. Just as in literature, the British led the field in film as well. Names such as the fictional detective Sherlock Holmes and writer Agatha Christie became globally renowned, and then, in cinema, emerged the most famous director of them all: Alfred Hitchcock. Hitchcock’s name overshadowed everyone else’s, eventually becoming a school of filmmaking that survived long after his death and continues to influence cinema today.
Hitchcock’s astonishing and thrilling craft was built on taking one’s breath away—or holding it hostage; there was little difference. He was a master at disorienting the viewer, immersing them in layers of suspicion before finally delivering the ultimate surprise. Yet throughout those ninety minutes, he would leave his admirers wandering in suspense, breathless and tense. Eventually, the term “Hitchcockian” came to describe similar situations in politics and society: a state of collective suspense while awaiting an uncertain outcome.
For months now—or perhaps for ages—we have been living through a doubled Hitchcockian condition. War or no war. Ceasefire or no ceasefire. Hormuz or no Hormuz. Agreement or no agreement. Pakistan or Oman. Nuclear or non-nuclear. Is President Donald Trump serious in the first half of the sentence or the last? Is the aircraft carrier “New Jersey” heading out or coming back? And what about its counterpart, the “Gerald Ford”?
The whole world is sitting in a “Hitchcock state.” Gold traders, flour merchants, and speculators betting on the citrus season in Florida—all asking the same questions: buy or sell? Rise or fall? Taxi fares have doubled. Unemployment around the world has doubled as well, because Trump may strike—or may not. Iran may agree—or may refuse. Alfred Hitchcock knows and does not know, waiting to decide which ending he himself should choose.
In a similar mood, Ziad Rahbani once wrote a play titled “A Long American Film”—that is, a film with no ending. But the problem is that this global tragedy is neither cinema nor entertainment. It is fear and devastation.
Originally published in Asharq Al-Awsat
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