Towers and Bell Towers in the Movies

The other night, J and one of his long-time friends were watching the first Batman movie (1989) at our house. I didn't watch the movie with them, but I could hear their commentary from the next room. During the scene when Batman and the Joker have their final showdown in Gotham Cathedral (see above), K commented something like, "I wonder how other shows there are that have scenes with towers. It seems like there are a lot."

I thought this was an interesting comment, and I've been thinking about it lately. I can think of lots of movies that include tower scenes (often as part of the film climax), bell towers, and tower/bell tower imagery. When K made his passing remark, I immediately thought of Hitchcock's movie Vertigo (1958, see below), which culminates in a bell tower scene (see here and here).

And what about the clock tower scene in Back to the Future? ("Save the clock tower, save the clock tower!") As a kid, I also remember feeling anxious during the clock tower scene (in Big Ben) of The Great Mouse Detective (see below).

Side note: Interestingly, towers aren't always the location for climaxes, but their imagery is often incorporated into films. Big Ben is probably the best example. Tonight I came across this blog post which is a compilation of films in which Big Ben makes a cameo appears in the movies.

So here's my question: Why the obsession in film with towers, bell towers, and clock towers? What makes this setting so appropriate for the climax in a story? Is it because the height (climax) of the plot is visually emphasized through the height of the tower? Or, in a less metaphorical way, is it because of the physical height that is involved (to make the acrophobic in the audience nervous)? Or perhaps because towers usually only have one entrance/escape route (to make the agoraphobic in the audience nervous?) Or maybe the threat of lightning striking the tall structure? Or does it have something to do with what clocks and bells represent (i.e. the passing of time, the death knell, etc.). Perhaps towers embody all of these things, and I've answered my own question?

What do others think? Are there other reasons why towers are appropriate for climax scenes? And what other movies (or books!) do you know that include "showdown scenes" or climaxes located in towers? At present, the closest book scene I can think of is the "Lightning Struck Tower" chapter in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, the scene in which Snape kills Dumbledore. There is also a scene in the film made from the book, too.

Oh, there also is a great rooftop scene described at the end of Jane Eyre, after the insane Mrs. Rochester set the house on fire. But that's not a tower scene. I just felt like writing about it. Interestingly, though, Mrs. Rochester is locked away in the attic in the actual novel, but the Masterpiece Theatre film version elected to place the crazy woman in the North Tower.¹ Perhaps the director felt that towers better embody mystery and doom?

What is the earliest example of a "tower showdown scene" can you think of? The historian in me wants to trace a historical trajectory for this trend. Could Hitchcock have been a trendsetter for this type of scene with Vertigo, at least when it comes to film? It seems like there must be earlier examples, though!

1 Since I mentioned the attic in Jane Eyre, I thought I should mention that a few years ago a secret cell was discovered at Norton Conyers, the 16th century home thought to be the the location for Bronte's "Thornfield Hall." This has nothing to do with towers, obviously, but I think it's interesting.

my wrestle with a root

Many of you know that we moved into a new house about two weeks ago. We love our new house. After we get a few more things (and to swap out some of our non-matching furniture), I might end up posting some pictures on here.

For now, though, I'll give you a small preview of our side yard (see below, but pay no attention to our dilapidated shed in the background). Our house was vacant for several months before we purchased it, and I've been trying to clean up the yard when the weather is decent. (And, miraculously, all of the snow and ice has melted since our Snowpocalpyse/Snowmageddon last week.) Today I tackled some of the dead grass and prickly vines in our side yard. There was one prickly vine whose root would not give way, no matter what I did. I pulled on that root (and dug a huge hole, trying to loosen the root) for a good thirty minutes. My legs and arms were trembling from exertion. And finally, finally, the root gave way to reveal my largest uprooting achievement. Ever. I was so proud, I made Sam hold the root (to give a sense of scale) and I took a picture:

This root was even larger than what is shown above; a couple of parts snapped off in the uprooting process. And yes, my son is wearing a Jack Sparrow hat, sweat pants, and puffy coat. Fashion does not suffer when we do yard work.