So what are we to make of Patricia Hitchcock and her brief but memorable performances in three of her father's films? Hitchcock doesn't seem to have been motivated by nepotism: "How relieved we were," he wrote in The Woman Who Knows Too Much, a rather ominously titled 1956 magazine article about his devoted wife and script editor Alma, "when our daughter settled her movie career [sic] for one part in Strangers on a Train, then decided that being a mother of sticky-fingered children required all her creative attention."
Now 71, busy promoting the Hitchcock centenary, and writing a book about her mother's overlooked contribution to his oeuvre, Patricia Hitchcock O'Connell dismisses any suggestion of psychological motives on her father's part, remembering her acting career in brisk, no-nonsense terms. "I was at boarding school in England when I was eight, I did two school plays there and I just loved it, so I kept it up. I was 13 when I did my first play [John Van Druten's Solitaire, on Broadway], then I did another when I was 16, and then I came to RADA." It was while she was there that her father used the school as one of the settings for his 1950 film Stagefright, a distinctly minor thriller about a drama student (a very improbable Jane Wyman) who sets out to clear her ex-boyfriend of murder. Patricia's small role, as one of Wyman's friends, is notable only for her character's name, Chubby Bannister - perhaps not the kindest name a father ever gave a plump daughter.
Patricia credits screenwriter Whitfield Cook, whose play Violet had provided her second Broadway outing, with persuading her father to give her a more significant role in his next film, Strangers on a Train (re-released in the UK on 13 August). As Barbara Morton, who helps her elder sister's boyfriend Guy (Farley Granger) clear his name after he's been framed for the murder of his no-good wife, Patricia is unmistakably Hitchcock's daughter - not just physically, with her doughy face and slightly sagging jaw, but also temperamentally: Barbara has a morbid fascination with murder, gleefully reeling off information about motives, alibis and police methods. Fifth-billed, Patricia effortlessly steals every scene she's in from the nominal female lead, Ruth Roman (no doubt to the satisfaction of her father, who was unhappy about having Roman foisted on him by Warner Bros).
But in her key moment, all she has to do is watch. At a party, Barbara sees the real killer, Bruno (Robert Walker), pretending to strangle a society lady. As Barbara watches, horror-struck, Bruno catches sight of her; provoked by Barbara's glasses, a haunting reminder of the ones Guy's wife was wearing when he killed her, he starts strangling the society lady for real. By the very act of watching, Barbara involuntarily eggs him on. It's a moment that encapsulates one of Hitchcock's most deep-rooted themes - that simply by looking on, the viewer is somehow implicated (see Rear Window, for starters). And casting his very own daughter as the voyeur was surely no accident.
Marriage and the advent of "sticky-fingered children" didn't quite finish off Patricia's acting career. She continued to work on television, including episodes of Alfred Hitchcock Presents, before re-appearing almost a decade later in Psycho, a film which, partly because of its risky subject matter, Hitchcock shot on a low budget with many of his TV crew. Again, her role is small but crucial. In the early scene in the real-estate office where Janet Leigh's Marion works, Patricia plays the other secretary, Caroline, who confesses that she took tranquillisers on her wedding day and never told her husband - the first secret in a film where everyone has something to conceal. When a rich client flirts with Marion, thus setting the plot in motion (Marion is about to steal his $40,000 deposit), Caroline looks on, miffed at being left out ("I guess he must have noticed my wedding ring!"), but strangely titillated all the same.
"Chubby" in one film, voyeuristically fascinated by murder in another, and by sex in the third - in each of her three appearances, Patricia Hitchcock served in some sense as her father's surrogate. It might seem like stretching a point, but as someone who pre-planned his films down to the tiniest detail, and who exploited the potency of his own regular walk-on appearances - a way of winking at the audience, and making them sit up and pay attention - Hitchcock can hardly have been blind to the frisson he created by casting his own flesh and blood. If only all Hollywood nepotism was such a thoughtful business.
Honey, I Filmed the Kids
Film-making was always a family affair for John Huston. His father Walter appeared in John's directorial debut The Maltese Falcon (1941), before picking up a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948). John later cast his son Tony in The List of Adrian Messenger (1963), before launching his daughter Anjelica (above) in A Walk With Love and Death (1969), an unhappy experience which propelled her into a modelling career and 15 years of bit parts. In 1985 John gave her the role of venomous mafia daughter Maerose in Prizzi's Honor, which earned her a Best Supporting Actress Oscar, before rewarding her with the starring role in his swansong, The Dead - from a script by Tony.
Clint cast his son Kyle in his 1982 film Honkytonk Man (disorientatingly, he plays his father's nephew), since when Eastwood Junior has discovered a real-life role even closer to his father's heart - as a jazz musician. Clint later cast his daughter Alison as John Cusack's love interest in Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, one of the rare films he has directed without starring in (which at least meant that Alison, unlike most pretty young women in her father's recent films, didn't have to flirt with him).
Fittingly for the maker of The Godfather, Francis Ford Coppola takes "la famiglia" very seriously indeed. Most of his films have featured his relations in some capacity or other. After bit parts in Rumble Fish, The Cotton Club and Peggy Sue Got Married (not to mention an atrocious script for Life Without Zoe, her father's contribution to the 1989 portmanteau New York Stories), daughter Sofia (right) found herself way out of her depth as Michael Corleone's offspring in The Godfather Part III. But reports of Sofia's recent directorial debut, The Virgin Suicides - produced, needless to say, by Dad - suggest she may have found a worthwhile alternative career.
After inflicting untold horrors on his wife Daria Nicolodi in Creepers, Inferno and Tenebrae, cult Italian director Dario Argento turned his attention to their daughter Asia in more recent films like Trauma, The Phantom of the Opera and the wonderfully titled Stendhal Syndrome, which featured her as a policewoman who suffers from hallucinations when exposed to artistic masterpieces (not a problem as long as she continues to work for Dad). Asia's UK debut, as the star of Michael Radford's B Monkey, continues to languish on the shelf.
Money into Light, John Boorman's diary of the making of his 1984 eco- adventure The Emerald Forest, is very frank about the agonising he went through before giving the central role to his son Charley - a move which permanently alienated his screenwriter Rospo Pallenberg. Charley made brief appearances in two more of his father's films, Hope and Glory and Beyond Rangoon, while John collaborated with his daughter Telsche on the script for his 1990 comedy Where the Heart Is.
If you've ever wondered why it's Robert Downey Junior, it's because RD Senior had already made a name for himself as a director of underground (read soft-porn) comedies. Junior (above) made his debut aged five as a puppy in his father's dog-themed comedy Pound and, throughout his career, has remained loyal, appearing in half a dozen of Sr's films, including Rented Lips and Hugo Pool.