I’m somewhat interested in catching My Name is Alfred Hitchcock (Cohen Media Group, 10.25), a two-hour “virtual essay” fom director-writer Mark Cousins.

The reason for the “somewhat” is that I’ve been spooked by a portion of the trailer, specifically Cousins’ decision to use an image of a young, pale, rather plain-looking Asian woman early on. The instant she appeared I muttered to myself “who the hell is this, and what could she possibly have to do with the late Alfred or anything Hitchcockian or whatever?” Right away I sensed something was off, some kind loose screw.

Kevin Maher’s London Times review, posted last July, has also given me pause.

“Any new film from the whispering cineaste and critical savant Mark Cousins is worth celebrating,” Maher wrote. “And this deep dive into the complete 52-title oeuvre of Alfred Hitchcock is worth it alone for Cousins’s analysis of the first cut in Rope, the opening doors of Spellbound and Hitch’s penchant for omniscient overhead shots.

“The central storytelling device, however, is that it’s narrated by Hitchcock (actually the impressionist Alistair McGowan) from beyond the grave. This is amusing for at least five minutes, until McGowan’s impersonation slips into a phlegmy Admiral Ackbar from Return of the Jedi and you start to crave the comforting tones that Cousins normally brings to his material.

“He has one of the most singular, soothing and mellifluous voices in non-fiction filmmaking today; that he would sacrifice that for a cheap one-note gag from Saturday night telly, beaten to death over two hours, is baffling.”