It has long been my pet contention that Vertigo (1958) and the 14th century Middle English poem Sir Gawain and the Green Knight have the same plot, so you can imagine my delight at this passing comment.
In Vertigo, one woman seems as if she is three women—Madeleine, Carlotta and Judy. Scottie, the protagonist, is on a quest to figure out what is really going on. He witnesses false deaths, follows false leads, quests under illusions. A shocking revelation starkly divides the film into two sections: the first section is radically, retrospectively realigned by the second. The girl was not the girl, the death was not the death. Every moment in which Judy/Madeleine establish their “identities” or shift between them is consistently coloured green. Green dresses, green jewellery, green lighting—even Madeleine’s car is green. The performed death (which seems as if it is real) takes place in a chapel.
In Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, one man seems as if he is two men—the Green Knight and Bertilak. Gawain, the protagonist, is on a quest to figure out what is really going on. He witnesses false deaths, follows false leads, quests under illusions. A shocking revelation starkly divides the poem into two sections: the first section is radically, retrospectively realigned by the second. The girl was not the girl, the death was not the death. Every moment in which identities are established or shifted features the Green Knight—who is, as you might expect, coloured green. Green skin, green hair: even his horse is green. The performed death (which seems as if it is real) takes place in a chapel.