Hitchcock’s self-renewing bag of tricks includes an ingenious scene of vehicular wizardry—in effect, a one-car chase—as well as some brazenly on-the-nose scheming: the investigators nearly come to grief through a street-side argument about their love life, and the dramatic climax offers proof of the practical virtue of faking it.
A marvelously fluid light comedy with scarcely a slack moment, it blithely omits murder entirely, and its only death — of a secondary villain — pointedly occurs off-screen. In striking contrast to the sour distaste expressed for food, sex, and practically all the characters in Frenzy, the mood could hardly be more benign; and with explicitness systematically transposed from a visual to a verbal plane, practically every relationship in the film carries a pronounced erotic undercurrent.
Alfred Hitchcock's final film is also one of his lightest: Hitchcock himself said he wanted it to feel like Ernst Lubitsch directing a mystery thriller. But like most of the master's lightest films, the surface tone masks a rather serious investigation of the artist's favorite subjects... The film is an ideal final testament for Hitchcock, not only in its crystallization of the marriage theme but also in the off-handed joy with which it plays with the mechanics of suspense.