Rear Window starts as it continues, with a bravura display of visual storytelling as the camera swoops round the courtyard visible from invalided James Stewart’s window, and through the windows of his neighbours. Each new view presents a tale, a vignette that’s somewhat heightened rather than purely naturalistic, bringing to mind the urban cartooning of New Yorker Will Eisner.

The core of the story is Stewart’s discovery of what he believes to be a murder, but it wouldn’t engage the viewer emotionally without seeing Stewart’s relationship with his girlfriend. Played by Grace Kelly, Lisa is a glamourous socialite who has become embroiled in the life of Stewart’s hardbitten photojournalist, L.B. Jeffries. Problem being, she’s just too perfect in his cynical eyes. He’s a worldweary hack who eats crocodile guts and goes without shaving for days at a time, she’s a fashion devotee who is forever draped in haute couture: they’ve been dating for a while, but now marriage is on the cards Stewart is getting cold feet.

That dynamic may be corny, but assisted by sharp dialogue it pulls the audience into the action, in a script by John Michael Hayes from a short story by Cornell Woolrich. To give one example of the tenor of what’s going on, I love the line “Think the rain would have cooled things off. All it did was make the heat wet.” And what heat. It’s 90 degrees plus, which is why everyone’s got their windows open for Stewart to peek through, each apartment’s occupants defined by their place in the relationship spectrum, from flirty ballet dancer Miss Torso and her numerous suitors, through to sad Miss Lonely Heart, an eager pair of newlyweds, and the salesman who kills his bedridden wife.

Casting James Stewart as the snapper was a shrewd move on Hitchcock’s part, his easy amiability making you forget the fact that he’s essentially a peeping tom. A modern remake would place Tom Hanks in the same role, but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that: Rear Window is just fine as it is, no need for an update. And the peeping tom element is central to the story’s structure, the stakes raised as Stewart goes from using his eyes to binoculars, and from them to the zoom lens of his camera, through which the first thing he sees is the killer wrapping up a set of knives, and I don’t mean giftwrapping.

Hitchcock’s command of viewpoint is masterful, the story unfolding image by image as the camera brings Stewart’s perspective to life. It’s so brilliantly realised that you hardly appreciate it’s happening, the camerawork and edits effortless and involving. Sound is spot-on too, the ambience of the neighbourhood playing a role in what’s happening, with a built-in soundtrack courtesy of a composer working on a new piece at the piano in his studio apartment.

The action of the story is also its emotional journey. Lisa does the skulking about that Jeff’s broken leg prevents him from, and in the process she enters his world of action and risk, and he comes to care about her more deeply when she’s in jeapordy. Putting yourself in danger as a result of your partner’s amateur sleuthing might not be advice you’d get from Relate, but it certainly works for Stewart and Kelly in this brilliantly realised thriller from 1954.