Filling one of my many Hitchcockian gaps. I don't think I could quite say that it didn't feel at all dated - but it did feel at once fast-paced and stylish, and I didn't feel much was lost in the translation from 1959 to today - except, maybe, in a certain suspension of disbelief required to accept Cary Grant's 50s-besuited and drolly dry advertising guy as the ladykiller that he is in the film. Also: the iconic Eva Marie Saint, and the iconic crop duster scene.
(plane viewing #2)
(plane viewing #2)
