WASHINGTON — Alfred Hitchcock was a bit of a sadist.
Certainly, the master of the dark side had "a murderous fascination with blondes," as the British Film Institute once noted in a tribute.
And now comes Hollywood's murderous fascination with Hitchcock's murderous fascination.
HBO's "The Girl" depicts the making of "The Birds" and "Marnie," with Toby Jones playing Hitch and Sienna Miller playing Tippi Hedren, fighting off rapacious birds and rapacious director at the same time. In theaters, "Hitchcock," with Anthony Hopkins as the auteur and Helen Mirren as his wife and collaborator, Alma Reville, depicts the making of "Psycho," with Scarlett Johansson taking Janet Leigh's place in the shower to be stabbed by that crazed mama's boy Norman Bates.
Next spring, A&E will run "Bates Motel," a prequel series to "Psycho," featuring a young, creepy Norman, with Vera Farmiga as his (blond) mother.
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Why the fresh fascination with the man with the famous profile? Perhaps the more Hollywood churns out rancid movies, the more it appreciates Hitch, who never got an Oscar.
When he was asked about plot construction, the martini-dry director would echo the advice of the 19th-century playwright Victorien Sardou: "Torture the women!" And the Brit would slyly observe: "Blondes make the best victims."
It's illuminating to consider Hitchcock's obsession with luminous blondes because Americans are obsessed with a pair of them at the moment.
One is Carrie Mathison, the bipolar CIA agent on "Homeland," played by Claire Danes. "Homeland" exerts the same hypnotic pull as "The Godfather" or "The Sopranos," a violent, sexual netherworld with casual immorality but its own code of honor.
In the upcoming Kathryn Bigelow-Mark Boal movie "Zero Dark Thirty," about the hunt for Osama bin Laden, Jessica Chastain portrays a driven CIA analyst named Maya. Like Carrie, Maya is a tough, attractive woman, haunted by 9/11 and determined to protect America from terrorists. Despite her gingery beauty, her sex is largely irrelevant. Maya is monomaniacally consumed with capturing bin Laden, not hooking up with agents or sources.
Maybe America's other blond obsession, however, could qualify as a Hitchcock leading lady. Hillary Clinton is quick-witted and cool, and we never know exactly what she's plotting as speculation froths about 2016.
While Republicans continue their full-cry pursuit of Susan Rice, the actual secretary of state has eluded blame, even though Benghazi is her responsibility. The assault happened on Hillary's watch, at her consulate, with her ambassador. Given that we figured out a while ago that the Arab Spring could be perilous as well as promising, why hadn't the State Department developed new norms for security in that part of the world?
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In the best tradition of "The Lady Vanishes," Hillary sagely dodged the Sunday talk shows that September morning. She knew it would get messy, given that those killed included an ambassador who had written in his diary about being on an al-Qaida hit list and two former Navy SEALs who worked for the CIA.
There are suspicions in political circles that negative press about Rice might also be coming from Clintonworld, where some still resent her. Rice was an assistant secretary of state in the Clinton administration but defected to Obama's 2008 campaign, accusing Hillary of getting "critical judgments" about Iraq and Iran wrong.
It took Hillary a month to defend Rice on Benghazi, and it took until Wednesday — more than two months after the attacks on Rice began — for Hillary to utter the tepid endorsement: "Susan Rice has done a great job as our ambassador to the United Nations."
Washington mandarins marvel at the cool blonde of Foggy Bottom and wonder whether she's enjoying watching Rice walk the plank. As one put it, comparing the smooth Hillary and the rough-elbowed Rice: "Hillary's smart enough to know not to jump on board a damaged vessel. It's a good contrast between a woman who knows how to navigate the power structure of Washington and someone who's not quite there."
A blonde who's a canny survivor, cool under pressure. Hitchcock would approve.
Maureen Dowd writes for The New York Times.