ET21 STRANGERS ON A TRAIN, A GARDEN OF FREUD
Sigmund Freud has long been a controversial thinker. When he introduced his theory of consciousness, it was met with both fascination and skepticism, and debates about its validity continue today. Regardless of criticism, his theories have profoundly influenced psychology, sociology, and art—including the work of legendary filmmaker Alfred Hitchcock.
Hitchcock, best known for psychological thrillers and suspense, frequently incorporated themes that align with Freudian theory, such as repression, guilt, and the unconscious mind. His films often explore the complexities of human psychology, demonstrating how deeply intellectual ideas can shape cinema. Strangers on a Train (1951) exemplifies this, using psychological duality and subconscious motivations to drive its suspenseful narrative.
Sigmund Freud once compared the conscious mind to “a fountain playing in the sun and falling back into the great subterranean pool of the subconscious from which it rises.” This idea aligns with his psychoanalytic theory, which divides the human psyche into three parts: the id, ego, and superego.
Strangers on a Train is a masterclass in suspense, exploring themes of chance, fate, and psychological manipulation. The film follows a chance encounter between two men from vastly different backgrounds—tennis star Guy Haines (Farley Granger) and the enigmatic socialite Bruno Anthony (Robert Walker). However, according to Freud, nothing happens by mere coincidence; unconscious desires and motivations drive human actions. Bruno proposes a twisted pact: they should "swap murders," each eliminating someone the other wants dead. Yet, the agreement is one-sided—only Bruno intends to follow through with the plan, pulling Guy into a psychological nightmare.
Freudian influence is evident in Strangers on a Train from the very beginning. Guy embodies the role of the superego—rational and restrained—while Bruno represents the id, driven by impulse and unchecked desires. This dynamic becomes clear during their first meal together, where the flamboyant, charismatic Bruno fascinates Guy, whose troubled marriage leaves him vulnerable to Bruno’s influence.
A subtle homoerotic undertone runs through their relationship, reinforced by Bruno’s mannerisms, costume choices, and interactions. His floral-patterned tie, his lingering glances, and the way he invades Guy’s personal space all contribute to this subtext. The film employs close-up shots, slow motion, and editing techniques to enhance this homoerotic tension through imagery and symbolism. One notable example is the inscription on Guy’s lighter, “A to G” (Anne to Guy), which can also be interpreted as “Anthony to Guy,” further hinting at their connection. The crossed tennis racquets on the lighter serve as another visual motif reinforcing this duality.
While the film never explicitly depicts homosexuality—likely due to the censorship restrictions of the era—the characterization of Bruno, played by Robert Walker, suggests an intentional subtext. During Freud’s time, homosexuality was classified as a mental disorder, and Bruno’s increasingly erratic behavior—his desire to kill his father, his reckless blindfolded driving, and his obsessive attachment to Guy—positions him as a disturbing figure. He embodies Freud’s concept of the id: primal, impulsive, and unrestrained. In contrast, Guy’s id is deeply repressed, buried beneath his moral and social obligations. This is evident when Guy responds to Bruno’s murder plot by stating that killing is against the law, reinforcing his role as the superego. In a way, Bruno can be seen as an external manifestation of Guy’s suppressed desires—an alter ego acting on impulses Guy refuses to acknowledge.
“All pleasure is tension and release”- Mr. Rey
Tension in Strangers on a Train is masterfully built through anticipation. Guy Haines, a controlled and ambitious man, plans to marry a senator’s daughter, Anne Morton, as part of his aspiration to enter the political world. His desire to be involved in government aligns with the superego, which represents societal rules and moral authority. Washington, D.C., the seat of power, symbolizes this structured order—an environment that appeals to Guy’s sense of discipline and ambition.
Freud’s theory of personality applies not only to Guy and Bruno but also to the film’s female characters: Miriam Haines, Guy’s estranged wife, and Anne Morton, his fiancée. Anne embodies the superego; as a senator’s daughter, she adheres to societal expectations and serves as a moral compass. This is evident in her conversation with Guy outside the senator’s party, where she urges him to tell the police the truth. Miriam, on the other hand, mirrors Bruno’s id-driven nature. She openly indulges her desires without concern for consequences—seen in how she manipulates Guy into staying with her upon his return to Metcalf and in her shameless infidelity.
Ironically, it is Guy’s hatred for Miriam and her unchecked id that momentarily awakens his own suppressed id. In a rare loss of control, he physically shakes her in frustration and later confesses to Anne that he could strangle her. This moment marks the first glimpse of Guy’s repressed impulses surfacing, blurring the line between his carefully maintained morality and the darker instincts Bruno embodies.
The pleasure principle—“if it feels good, do it”—is central to Strangers on a Train. Bruno Anthony encapsulates this philosophy when he declares, “I have a theory that you should do everything before you die.”
The amusement park serves as the perfect setting for both tension and release. It is a place of pleasure, where people shed their inhibitions and exist in a space of equality and spontaneity. At the same time, it is a realm of unpredictability and mystery—an unsettling prospect for the superego, but a playground for the id. This duality is why carnivals are often depicted in films as both thrilling and sinister, much like the common fear of clowns. For Bruno, the amusement park is his natural habitat, a place where his impulses can run unchecked.
It is here that the film takes a turning point—not just narratively but psychologically. As Bruno strangles Miriam, we, the audience, are no longer mere voyeurs; we become complicit. But is it truly only Bruno who kills her? His act of murder fulfills not just his own dark desires, but also Guy’s—and, in a disturbing way, ours. The scene intertwines sex and death, portraying the murder as an almost seductive act. Miriam does not struggle; the scene is intimate, even sensual. Unlike shooting or poisoning, strangulation is the only form of murder that relies solely on the sense of touch, making it deeply personal. The film’s cinematography reinforces this unsettling connection: as Miriam’s eyes stare up, it is as if our hands are around her throat. In that moment, we, too, become murderers, linked to Bruno—and, by extension, to Guy, whose unspoken wish for Miriam’s death has now been realized.
This scene exemplifies one of cinema’s most fascinating powers: the ability to let audiences vicariously experience forbidden desires. Great filmmakers tap into the subconscious, allowing us to confront aspects of human nature we might never act upon in reality. This is why audiences remain captivated by themes of bloodlust, vampires, and society’s enduring obsession with serial killers—stories that allow us to flirt with the darkest corners of our psyche from a safe distance.
“I still think it would be wonderful to have a man love you so much he’d kill for you.”
This statement underscores the dynamic between Bruno and Guy, where Bruno’s obsessive attachment to Guy manifests in his willingness to kill for him. This further reinforces the idea that Bruno represents a suppressed part of Guy’s psyche—his repressed desires and hidden guilt. Even though Guy does not physically commit the murder, he subconsciously carries the burden of responsibility. Bruno also symbolizes something else Guy longs for: social status. Coming from a privileged background, Bruno effortlessly navigates the high-society world that Guy aspires to join. In many ways, Guy envies what Bruno has, even as he recoils from Bruno’s dark impulses.
“If a man has been his mother’s undisputed darling he retains throughout life the triumphant feeling, the confidence in success, which not seldom brings actual success along with it.” -Sigmund Freud
At the senator’s party, we are introduced to a woman who bears a striking resemblance to Bruno’s mother, drawing attention to another psychological theme in the film: the Oedipus complex. The concept in Freud’s psychosexual development theory, describes a boy’s unconscious desire for his mother and his jealousy toward his father, whom he views as a rival. This complex is evident in Bruno’s relationship with his parents. He is intensely attached to his mother, wearing a tie she made for him and responding to her affectionate pet names, such as “naughty boy.” Meanwhile, his hatred for his father is absolute, leading to his desire to kill him. Since Bruno embodies the id—the seat of primal urges and desires—his lack of control over his murderous impulses makes sense within Freud’s framework. His fixation on his mother and his resentment toward his father serve as a psychological justification for his violent tendencies.
“There is always someone you want to put out of the way”
At this point in the film, Bruno begins transferring his murderous desires onto another target. However, a psychological transference also occurs between Barbara and Miriam—both women are linked in his subconscious mind. After Bruno’s earlier crime, Guy angrily drags him into another room, and when Bruno responds with a coy, “But I like you, Guy,” he receives a punch to the jaw. This moment is pivotal—Bruno turns on Guy, and their relationship shifts dramatically. Yet, despite the blow, Guy instinctively fixes Bruno’s tie as if nothing happened. The gesture is intimate, almost like a lover’s quarrel. This moment marks the symbolic death of the superego. From the moment Guy accepted a drink from Bruno, a connection was forged between them—a love-hate relationship in which Guy’s conscious mind resists Bruno, while his unconscious is drawn toward him.
As Bruno returns to the scene of the crime, he accidentally drops Guy’s lighter into a storm drain. Panicked, he sprawls on the ground, desperately reaching for it. This scene is skillfully edited, cutting back and forth between Bruno’s struggle and Guy’s intense tennis match at the country club. The contrast between Guy’s rapid horizontal movements and Bruno’s slow, downward reach is visually striking—symbolizing the ongoing battle between good and evil, between control and chaos. The imagery of Bruno reaching into the gutter carries deeper psychological meaning—it suggests that he is plunging into the depths of his own subconscious, grasping at his darkest thoughts. This moment represents the ultimate power struggle between the id and the superego, each fighting for dominance.
The film’s climax returns us to the amusement park, where Guy and Bruno engage in a violent struggle on a spinning carousel. The ride becomes a symbol of pure chaos—figures blur together in a frantic whirl, making it impossible to distinguish the two men. Ironically, this scene also marks the moment where Guy and Bruno are physically torn apart. It is the final battle between the id and the superego, each locked in a desperate fight for control. The shrieks of the crowd, the relentless pounding of the carousel horses, and the frenzied movements of the two men heighten the intensity, creating a scene where love and death collide.
As the fight reaches its peak, Guy dangles precariously from the edge of the carousel, while Bruno attempts to kick him off—an act that metaphorically represents the id and the superego attempting to sever their connection. When the carousel finally collapses, it is accompanied by the terrified screams of onlookers—parents and children alike. This moment marks the final, irreversible split between the id and the superego. The psychological struggle that has defined the film reaches its breaking point, and with Bruno’s death, Guy is finally free.
Bibliography
Cherry, K. (n.d.). Psychology. Retrieved from About.com: http://psychology.about.com/od/oindex/g/def_oedipuscomp.htm
Ormonde, R. C. (n.d.). STRANGERS ON A TRAIN SCRIPT. Retrieved from http://www.dailyscript.com/scripts/Strangers_On_A_Train.pdf
(n.d.). Out of the Shadows. In G. D. Phillips, Expanding the Canon of Classic Film Noir.
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