It's hardly
surprising that a blind eye is turned, in general, to the gay subtext that is so clearly filling Train's gas tank, though a short appreciation of the film from M. Night Shyamalan (in his open -
collared raspberry shirt and his emo half - mohawk) comes frustratingly close (filing all of Bruno's eccentricities
under the umbrella heading of «insane» in a way that Hitchcock never succumbs to).