The Art of Suggestion in Cinema

Film, despite being a medium rooted in visual storytelling, often thrives on the unspoken - the space between frames, the gaps in dialogue, and the nuances that cannot be easily captured by the camera. It is, paradoxically, more about imagination than about the things we can actually see. For all its technological advancements - like CGI and visual effects - the most powerful moments in film often come from what is implied rather than shown. The best cinema allows the viewer to complete the story in their own mind, filling in the blanks with their own experiences and emotions. I have often found that, despite the mesmerizing images on screen, much of the world depicted in a movie cannot be truly reproduced, not even by the most advanced CGI. It is in these moments of suggestion that cinema truly captivates the soul.

A key example of this can be found in the work of Alfred Hitchcock. His films, though technically groundbreaking, are often far more concerned with what is withheld than what is directly presented. Hitchcock was a master of suspense, not by showing the most shocking images, but by leaving things to the imagination. In Rear Window, for instance, we spend the entire film confined to a single apartment, looking out at a seemingly ordinary courtyard. Yet, through careful suggestion, Hitchcock manages to make the world feel vast, dangerous, and full of unseen secrets. We are never fully certain of what is happening behind closed doors, and that uncertainty, that space left unspoken, keeps us on edge. Similarly, in Psycho, the infamous shower scene is not about the violent imagery itself, but about what the audience fills in between the cuts - the shock, the fear, the horror of the unseen. Hitchcock, more than anyone, understood that what we imagine is often more terrifying than anything that can be shown.

Stanley Kubrick, despite his penchant for powerful imagery, was a master of suggestion as well. His films, particularly 2001: A Space Odyssey, invite the viewer to engage on a cerebral level, to decode the film as much as watch it. Kubrick’s ability to suggest meaning without ever fully explaining it makes his work both intellectually stimulating and endlessly rewatchable. In 2001, the vastness of space and the eerie silence evoke a sense of the unknown, of something far larger than the characters. The monolith itself - an object that defies explanation - remains a symbol of this ambiguity. Kubrick knew that mystery and suggestion could create an experience far more profound than simply laying everything out in front of the viewer. Similarly, in The Shining, Kubrick’s deliberate pacing and use of haunting visuals create a sense of unease and dread that builds slowly over time. The terror in the film doesn’t come from jump scares but from a feeling that something is deeply wrong, even though the precise cause remains elusive.

Orson Welles, too, was a master of suggestion, though in a different way. His groundbreaking work in Citizen Kane is often cited as one of the greatest examples of this technique. The fragmented, non-linear structure of the film leaves much to interpretation. We learn about Charles Foster Kane not through a straightforward narrative, but through conflicting accounts of his life - each one offering a different perspective on who he was. The word “Rosebud” remains an enigma, a symbol of Kane’s lost innocence, but the film refuses to offer a definitive answer. This ambiguity encourages viewers to engage deeply with the narrative, to piece together the puzzle of Kane’s life. Welles trusted his audience to fill in the gaps, to draw meaning from the spaces between the lines. In doing so, he created a work of art that continues to provoke thought and analysis decades after its release.

These directors - Hitchcock, Kubrick, and Welles - understood that cinema is not just about what is shown, but about what is left unsaid. They respected their audiences, trusting them to bring their own interpretations and imagination into play. Cinema is at its most powerful when it suggests more than it reveals, when it challenges the viewer to think, feel, and imagine beyond what is visible. Their works are not just films; they are experiences - ones that engage the mind and stir the soul.

Unfortunately, I feel that this kind of filmmaking has become rare in the modern era. In an age dominated by spectacle and visual effects, there is often a tendency to over-explain, to show everything, to leave no room for ambiguity or personal interpretation. Films today, especially those in the action or superhero genres, often rely heavily on CGI and flashy visuals, but they sometimes lack the subtlety and suggestion that made older films so enduring. The beauty of cinema, however, lies in its ability to leave us with questions, to spark our imagination and let us create the world within the world. The mystery, the ambiguity, the spaces between words and images - these are the things that make a film last, long after the credits roll. In the hands of great filmmakers like Hitchcock, Kubrick, and Welles, suggestion becomes not just a technique but a way of engaging with the audience in a deeper, more meaningful way.

In reflecting on all this, I find that Columbo serves as another perfect example of this art of suggestion. The character of Mrs. Columbo, though never seen, is one of the most brilliant examples of how a film or show can evoke a world without ever fully revealing it. By never showing her, Columbo invites us into the imagination of the viewer, creating a character that is real to us precisely because we fill in the gaps. The charm of the show lies not in the final revelation of the murderer but in the psychological duel between Columbo and the suspect. Like the best films, Columbo works through suggestion and psychological engagement rather than through mere exposition. Even in a series where the ending is predictable, the journey - based on subtle cues, tiny contradictions, and small moments of vulnerability - keeps us engaged.

Ultimately, film is more than just a visual experience; it is an invitation to use our imaginations, to bring our own thoughts and emotions into the story. The best films do not just show us a world; they create one for us to inhabit and explore. It is in the spaces left open, in the things unsaid and unseen, that cinema achieves its greatest power. And that, to me, is what makes it such a compelling and eternal art form.