Rear Window - I Seeeeee You!

Throughout my (young) life I've noticed for some directors the desire to nail a truly significant 4th wall breaking moment in a film is compulsive but simultaneously terrifying. Acknowledging this almost sacred rule of law established between the audience and the screen can make or break a film-going experience. If it's too heavy-handed then it comes across as insulting stupid, if it's too subtle it won't be noticed at all, if the build-up isn't established then once it happens it doesn't feel properly earned, and if the 4th wall is used too many times it begins to feel like a cheap gimmick. Most directors go through their careers not acknowledging the 4th wall at all, content to not disturb that sanctified barrier. However, when done correctly, a shot that breaks the 4th wall can leave the viewer so viscerally vulnerable no matter how many times they've seen it.

Here is Hitchcock's such shot in Rear Window.

With almost Pavlovian conditioning, Hitchcock has established that whatever the protagonist Jeff sees, the audience sees too. This renders the camera lens non-omniscient. When Jeff expresses frustration that he can't tell what a person is doing because they've moved behind a wall, the audience does too. When Jeff wheels himself into the shadows to not be seen, the audience is right there with him while sitting in a dark theatre. But most importantly is the voyeuristic desire. Jeff is a mirror held up to the movie-goers. We pay the film industry to create stories to let us be peeping toms on people's lives. While watching films we witness people's saddest moments, happiest moments, scariest moments and darkest moments with shameless fascination. Our only form of salvation comes in the form of lights turning on in the theatre to remind us that those people we watched were acting. There's no need to feel guilty about being a privacy-invading monster, those characters aren't real, we're safe. 

This shot of a character looking into the camera at the audience is not new. In cinema history, this can be traced back to The Great Train Robbery made 1903 where the final shot is the leader of the bandits looking straight into the camera, aiming his gun and firing at the audience. While game-changing for its time, the scene itself is extremely artificial. It's a man sitting in a chair in front of a camera with a stone face firing a gun. 

In Rear Window, Jeff is our avatar. He represents what would happen if our film-going voyeurism had consequences. In the scene, Jeff watches from afar as the police rescue Lisa from Mr. Thorwald after breaking into his apartment to find evidence. Just like Jeff, we felt the anxiety when we realized Mr. Thorwald was entering his apartment. We felt relief when the police arrived just in time. We cheered with him when he saw that Lisa was able to secure the wedding ring. 

And we felt the intrusive anger from Mr. Thorwald when he looked directly back at us. Finally realizing he'd been watched all along. Hitchcock was able to capture that brief moment of visceral fear at the possibility where all the characters we've watched in movies suddenly turned around and acknowledged that could actually see us right back.