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Alfred Hitchcock is noted as one of the greatest filmmakers of all time, and rightfully so — his body of work, comprised of over 60 films, is skillfully composed, highly dramatic, and eclectic from beginning to end. So pulling back the curtain on the legend in his own medium was only a matter of time, a how'd-he-do-it biopic that could pay respects to the collected works while revealing the master's process. Hitchcock, directed by Sacha Gervasi (Anvil: The Story of Anvil) pays its respects, but also reveals another unexpected quality of the auteur's behind-the-scenes life: it wasn't all that dramatic.

Anthony Hopkins slides into the silhouette of the recognizable director, and does a reasonable job nailing his cadence and posture. Side by side with his wife Alma (Helen Mirren), who, as the movie reveals, was the director's close collaborator, Hitchcock strides confidently into the world of independent cinema for the first time, balking at studio heads who demand something more audience-friendly than the gruesome Psycho. Investing his own money into the film, Hitchcock risks everything to turn the story of murderer Ed Gein into a high art horror picture. He finds a leading lady in Janet Leigh (Scarlett Johansson), a script in a screenwriter with mommy problems, and a closeted actor to portray the sexually exploratory Gein.

And that's about it. Hitchcock disguises the usual stresses of moviemaking as major hurdles, even representing Gein as a specter who haunts Hitchcock's every decision. Aside from the brief suspicion that Alma abandons him mid-production for charming writer Whitfield Cook (Danny Huston), which feels stuffed in and meandering rather than intrinsic to the making of Psycho, there's little explanation for Hitchcock's anxiety and downward spiral. The film even dabbles in Hitch's well-known infatuation with his leading ladies — explored to a terrifying degree in last month's The Girl — but places the director on too high a pedestal to ever dig deep.

The real star of the show — and, perhaps, one who would have made a better subject for feature film — is Alma, a complex second fiddle overshadowed by the greatness of Hitchcock. Mirren once again delivers a lively performance as a woman desperate to live her own life; the scene when she lets loose on Hitchcock is easily the high point of the movie. But like the audience who unknowingly appreciated her work behind-the-camera, Hitchcock is too obsessed with the man at the center of it all to open up and give the character or Mirren the spotlight.

Hitchcock's time period flourishes and camera work are presented simply (Gervasi keeps hat tipping to the auteur's oeuvre to a minimum), while Danny Elfman whips up a score that riffs appropriately on longtime Hitchcock collaborator Bernhard Hermann's works. But there's no hook to elevate the film from a puff piece, and even the biggest Alfred Hitchcock fan will be grasping for something more. rated this film 2 stars.