DAILY FILM DOSE: A Daily Film Appreciation and Review Blog: Alfred Hitchcock
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Showing posts with label Alfred Hitchcock. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alfred Hitchcock. Show all posts

Friday, 12 October 2012

Dial M for Murder

Murder was never more fun and exciting for Alfred Hitchcock than in 'Dial M for Murder', a delightful chamber-piece murder mystery of sorts, now restored in its original 3D state, with those old fashioned red/blue style glasses (though modernized slightly for more comfort). Though the trauma of poor Margot Wallace (Kelly) going through an attempted murder is cause for a brief pause for reflection, Hitchcock keeps the mood light and gamely, treating murder like an intellectual chess match.


Dial M for Murder (1953) dir. Alfred Hitchcock
Starring: Ray Milland, Grace Kelly, Robert Cummings, Anthony Dawson, John Williams

By Alan Bacchus

Historically Dial M always seems to have gotten the short shrift compared to Hitchcock's later and more revered pictures, such as Rear Window, Vertigo and Psycho. Dial M certainly demands less of its audience than the psychologically intricacies of other films, but it more than makes up for its psychological shortage by being one of Hitchcock's most focused and thus entertaining films.

Hitch confidently has us rooting for the charming but devious Tony Wendice (Milland), a former tennis pro, long since retired but married to the well-off socialite Margot Wendice. Tony’s back story is lightly touched upon, but upon closer examination it reveals his disdain for his wife and his personal insecurities, which have driven him to the point of first degree murder. On the surface it’s Margot’s infidelity with an American writer, Mark Halliday (Cummings), but we can’t help but postulate this scheme as a long con. Perhaps Tony quietly ignored Margot on purpose, which caused her to seek the company of another man, thus indirectly giving Tony permission in his own mind to plan a murder.

Tony’s plan and alibi are impressively elaborate. At first he sets up a former school mate of his, Anthony Swann, a man with a checkered past, with the ability and experience for killing but also naïve enough to be the fall guy if need be. This is all spelled out in one long carefully written and performed dialogue scene between Ray Milland and Anthony Dawson, Tony’s persuasion of Swann being utterly diabolical, nasty and Faustian in its manipulation.

With the plan set and details planned out and expounded to Swann, Hitchcock sets off the Rube Goldberg chain of events, with the audience placed as spectators to Tony’s game of murder. Hitch, of course, throws in a wicked twist when Margot survives the death, causing Tony to improvise a new plan. Hitchcock’s direction of Milland is precise. Every glance and gesture in the fallout of the attempted murder is carefully shot. Milland’s thought process and reaction to every detail of evidence oozes tension and suspense. Here Hitchcock is in full command of his audience: as Tony scrambles to put together a new plan, we desperately want him to get away with it!

Enter the fanciful police chief Inspector Hubbard (Williams), who has a different kind of disaffecting charm masquerading as ice cold intelligence. Hubbard’s dissection of the murder is as quietly surgical as Tony’s scheme. And in between the polite and polished game of mental chess between the Brits is the American mystery writer Halliday, who as a typical American is delightfully bullish with his methods. He backs into Tony’s alibi and accidentally unravels the case.

Stylistically, the film is controlled in the usual Hitchcock fashion. Hitch, like he did with Rope and Lifeboat, voluntarily sequesters himself into one location, the Wendice apartment, finding innumerable ways to shoot the same space over and over again without the feeling of staleness. Most of the film is shot with traditional coverage, thus enhancing the effect of his unusual dramatics angles, specifically his use of the high-angle shot when relaying the geographical details of the plans.

If anything, the 3D effect is underwhelming. For years watching the film in 2D I wondered how Hitch’s use of the seemingly omnipresent table lamp seen in the foreground of many of the shots would look in 3D. Sadly it’s minimal. But the greatest effect is the expansion of the depth of the space/set back into the screen. Thus, instead of objects jumping out at the audience, Hitch's 3D pushes them back into the screen. But this is now the modus operandi of today’s 3D filmmakers, once again proving Alfred Hitchcock’s position way ahead of the curve.

****

Sunday, 5 February 2012

Rebecca

Rebecca (1940) dir. Alfred Hitchcock
Starring: Joan Fontaine, Laurence Olivier, Judith Anderson, Florence Bates

****

By Alan Bacchus

This is one of the landmark films in Hollywood and Alfred Hitchcock’s first American picture after he was ‘brought over’ by David O Selznick, super producer of Gone with the Wind. Selznick’s deal with Hitch wasn’t exactly RKO’s carte blanche deal with Orson Welles, but it was significant nonetheless considering the tremendous body of work he created in Hollywood, which established an influential legacy of cinema.

Like Citizen Kane, Hitchcock's first work in Hollywood is an undisputed masterpiece and his only Best Picture winner. Ironically, it’s also the one picture on his resume with the least amount of cinematic authorship. The fact is, Rebecca is perceived as a Selznick picture in the same way as Gone with the Wind.

This perception should not temper the fact that Rebecca is a masterful slice of gothic mystery, a tragic romance and brooding tale of obsession and a terrific film.

Maxime De Winter (Olivier) is a widower aristocrat on vacation trying to get his mind off the tragic death of his wife, Rebecca. Joan Fontaine, whose character is unnamed, is introduced as a meek, paid companion to a snobby spinster, Edythe Van Hopper. When Edith finds out the famous Mr. De Winter is also staying at her hotel, she desperately tries to engage him on her level of upper-class snobbery. But it’s the shy naivety of Fontaine that captures De Winter’s attention, so much so that he proposes to her.

With his new bride in tow, Maxime returns to his extravagant home, 'Manderley', spoken about in grandiose terms as Xanadu is to Citizen Kane. The new Mrs. De Winter desperately tries to fit into privileged life, but she experiences the toughest opponent in Mrs. Danvers (Anderson), the grumpy housekeeper who idolizes Rebecca’s memory. As clues of the true cause of Rebecca’s death get revealed Maxime’s lustre as an innocent widower comes into question, information which would eventually lead Mrs. De Winter to deceit and corruption in order to save her marriage.

Dramatic reveals and story twists come fast and furious once the authorities become involved in superbly melodramatic fashion. It’s a momentum that leads to the fiery finale incited by the now completely deranged and maniacal Mrs. Danvers.

Rebecca is as handsome and controlled a film as Hitchcock has ever made. His B&W cinematography (by George Barnes) was never more breathtaking and elegant as it is here. But it’s the evolution of Joan Fontaine’s character that sets the film apart from most of Hitchcock’s other films. Specifically, De Winter’s courtship of Fontaine is particularly delightful, a triumph of the working class over the snobby upper-crust exemplified by Van Hopper. Through the period set in Manderley, the three lead anchors, Olivier, Fontaine and Anderson, give engaging and revelatory performances.

Other than the emblazoned finale, Rebecca is without Hitchcock’s familiar set pieces of suspense. But it’s the blanketed tone of mystery that hides the details of Rebecca’s sordid past. And few other filmmakers have made better use of a dead character never seen on screen. Even without the overt supernatural presence of Rebecca, both Danvers and De Winter’s memories of her carry the intrigue and suspense.

Rebecca is available on Blu-ray from MGM Home Entertainment.

Wednesday, 1 February 2012

Notorious

Notorious (1946) dir. Alfred Hitchcock
Starring: Cary Grant, Ingrid Bergman, Claude Rains

****

By Alan Bacchus

How can you pick a Hitchcock favourite from such an enormous body of work featuring such great pictures? Well, I can surely narrow it down and identify Notorious as one of his best, or at least one of my favourites.

It was part of the David O. Selznick contract, which brought Hitchcock to Hollywood in 1940. While the espionage plotting and set piece anchors are hallmarks of Hitch, there’s a seriousness and sense of emotional grandeur at play that points to Selznick. The love story in Notorious is a genuine romantic conflict, which resounds louder than the thriller spy games or the suspense set pieces. It’s an element that plays out as well here as in Hitchcock's later and more revered films (e.g., Vertigo).

It’s post-WWII, and Ingrid Bergman plays Alicia, the daughter of an American traitor who spied for the Nazis during the War. With her family name dishonoured she's ripe for recruitment by the handsome government agent, Devlin (Grant), to be a double-agent of her own. Her mission is to spy on a group of Nazi sympathizers plotting world domination in Brazil. Alicia accepts the challenge and travels to Brazil with Devlin to begin their elaborate spy games.

She ingratiates herself to Sebastien (Rains), one of the Nazi leaders, and seduces him into marrying her. Unfortunately, she’s also fallen in love with Devlin, which heightens the stakes for both characters to complete their mission safe and sound. But when Sebastien catches on that Alicia's working for the Americans, he turns the tables and conspires to murder her under cover of his even more diabolical and murderous Nazi compatriots.

The celebrated set pieces in this picture involve the tactics used by Alicia and Devlin to source out Sebastien’s evil scheme. A single key to his wine cellar becomes the object of desire – a frequent motif of Hitchcock's that is also used memorably in Dial M for Murder. The most famous shot in the picture, of course, is the monumental crane shot, which starts on a balcony at Sebastien’s party and pushes down into a close-up of the key clasped within Alicia’s hand. It’s one of Hitchcock’s great shots, not only for its superlative technical achievement, but also because of Hitch’s ability to place the drama of a scene in one inanimate but significant object, which, under normal circumstances, would be insignificant.

After the exchange of the key, Devlin’s search in the wine cellar for the smoking gun evidence continues the sequence. As he reaches for the logging sheets between the bottles of wine, Hitch cuts frequently to one of the bottles leaning precariously over the edge. As the tension mounts and the bottle falls we expect Devlin’s cover to be blown. Instead, the moment reverses and reveals the illegal uranium ore located inside the bottle. What a great sequence!

But Notorious is a masterpiece for equally weighing these great moments of tension and suspense with the agonizing love triangle between Alicia, Devlin and Sebastien. Despite being the antagonist, as played by Claude Rains, we sympathize deeply with Sebastien. Although he’s a Nazi, we recognize he’s genuinely in love with Alicia, and when he realizes she’s a spy the ramifications for their relationship are sad and tragic. And through his diabolical mother, we can see that the decision to attempt to murder Alicia is painful.

Cary Grant’s rescue of Alicia in the final act is the ideal climax, a masterpiece of composition and editing. After Devlin makes the decision to take the ill Alicia out of the house, he’s confronted by Sebastien, who can’t fight back for fear of blowing his own cover with his colleagues. Their journey down the curved gallery steps is drawn out magnificently by Hitchcock’s exclusive use of close-ups of his characters, amplifying the nail-biting tension of Devlin’s tense bluffing game.

The scene caps off one of Hitchcock’s most serious films, mostly devoid of his trademark British wit. The genuine three-way romance and the strong themes of patriotism and trust are as complex and memorable as the love triangle politics in Casablanca.

Tuesday, 31 January 2012

Spellbound


Spellbound (1945) dir. Alfred Hitchcock
Starring: Ingrid Bergman, Gregory Peck, Leo G. Carroll, Rhonda Fleming, Michael Chekhov

****

By Greg Klymkiw

Of the four official collaborations between producer David O. Selznick and director Alfred Hitchcock, I've always considered The Paradine Case the worst, Notorious the most romantic, Rebecca the best and Spellbound the most utterly insane. The latter description of the latter film is entirely appropriate since it's a murder mystery set in an asylum wherein psychoanalysis is utilized to discover deep meaning in a recurring dream (designed, no less, by surrealist Salvador Dali) in order to find out exactly whodunit.

If this isn't insane, then I don't know what is.

Spellbound also has the distinction of being wildly, deliciously melodramatic, almost crazily romantic and when it needs to be, thanks to the genius of the Master himself, nail-bitingly suspenseful.

Selznick was responsible for bringing Hitchcock to America and signing him to a longterm talent contract. For much of their association, Hitchcock was lent out to other studios, which suited him just fine as he was able to do his own thing without having to tolerate (what Hitchcock perceived to be) the constant interference of the famous auteur producer of Gone With The Wind. Of the four aforementioned collaborations, Notorious was eventually sold outright to RKO in the midst of production while the other three proved to be one of the most dynamic producer-director battlefields in movie history.

Hitchcock and Selznick detested each other. Hitch thought of Selznick as a meddling vulgarian whilst Selznick viewed the portly Brit as a mad genius who needed his sure and steady hand (or psychoanalysis, if you will). To this day, Rebecca, a virtually flawless film that more than ably sets the stage for Hitchcock's extremely mature latter work (notably Rear Window and Vertigo) is casually (and sadly) dismissed by the Master of Suspense in the famous interviews with Francois Truffaut as not really being "a Hitchcock film", but rather, "a David O. Selznick film".

In many ways, it seems to me that Spellbound might well have been the most ideal collaboration between the two men. Selznick wanted desperately to make a film that extolled the virtues of psychoanalysis (which he felt had been an enormous help to himself - though there appears to be no proof he ever really "got better" as Selznick's maniacal megalomania followed him to the grave). Hitchcock wanted to make a great suspense film and was certainly drawn to the notion of psychoanalysis being used to unravel a mystery.

Add to this mix, the magnificent talent of Hollywood's best screenwriter Ben Hecht (The Twentieth Century, Nothing Sacred, Gunga Din, The Front Page, Scarface and among many others Wuthering Heights) and Salvador Dali to design the dream sequences and you've got a picture that guaranteed success. (And yes, it was a multi-Oscar-nominee/winner and a huge hit at the box office.)

Hitchcock, purportedly refused to have anything to do with Dali's dream sequences (other than adhering to their imagery as scripted for purposes of the plot) and they were ultimately directed by the ace production designer/director William Cameron Menzies (Gone With The Wind, Things to Come). The hearty cinematic stew that is Spellbound also features a most flavourful ingredient, a great over-the-top score by the legendary Miklos Rozsa - replete with plenty o' theremin usage.

What this ultimately yielded was a wonky, intense, romantic and thoroughly engaging murder mystery wherein the director of an asylum in Vermont, Dr. Murchison (Leo G. Carroll), is being forced into an early retirement to make way for a younger, more vibrant head head-shrinker Dr. Anthony Edwardes (the handsome, sexy, stalwart Gregory Peck). The asylum's ace psychoanalyst, Dr. Constance Peterson (the mouth-wateringly gorgeous Ingrid Bergman) is so committed to her work, that most of her colleagues view her as an impenetrable Ice Goddess. This chilly demeanour, however, stands her in good stead in the results department and she's probably the only person who can adequately handle the asylum's most over-the-top nymphomaniac (Rhonda - "hubba hubba" - Fleming).

But even ice is susceptible to eventually melting and soon, Constance gets definitely hot and bothered and drippingly wet as she succumbs to the rugged, manly charms of Dr. Edwardes. Even more tempting is that on the surface, this stiff rod of manhood is the sort of gentle pansy-boy Constance needs.

Deep down, he is sensitive and most importantly, he is… wait for it - in pain.

Yes, pain!

He needs a good woman for more than amorous attention, he needs her to PSYCHOANALYZE him.

When it becomes plain he's not all he's cracked up to be and might, in fact, be a murderer and impostor, it's up to the head-over-heels healer of heads to solve the mystery lodged in Dr. Edwardes's mind.

This is all, of course handled with Hitchcock's trademark semi-expressionistic aplomb and untouchable knack for rendering suspense of the highest order. There isn't a single performance in the film that isn't spot-on (Leo G. Carroll is suitably and alternately sympathetic and malevolent, whilst Peck acquits himself admirably as the troubled leading man), but it's Ingrid Bergman who really carries the picture. Her transformation from Ice Queen to a sex-drenched psychiatrist with a delightful blend of matronly and whorish qualities is phenomenal. She's mother, lover and doctor - all rolled into one magnificently package. And she's never looked more beautiful. Selznick knew this better than anyone and Hitchcock himself knew all too well how to compose and light for beauty.

In one of Selznick's delightful memos from when he first brought Ingrid Bergman to America he wrote:
"...the difference between a great photographic beauty and an ordinary girl with Miss Bergman lies in proper photography of her – and that this in turn depends not simply on avoiding the bad side of her face; keeping her head down as much as possible; giving her the proper hairdress, giving her the proper mouth make-up, avoiding long shots, so as not to make her look too big, and, even more importantly, but for the same reason, avoiding low cameras on her...but most important of all, on shading her face and invariably going for effect lightings on her."
Damn!

They don't make movies like this anymore!

How Bergman was nominated the same year for an Oscar for her luminous, but limp-in-comparison performance in The Bells of St. Mary's over Spellbound is yet another mystery of the Oscars we all must put up with.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but Spellbound is, indeed, spellbinding and it's easily one of the great pictures by both Masters - Selznick and Hitchcock.

"Spellbound" is now available on Blu-Ray via 20th Century Fox/MGM. The copious extras are a mixed bag. A commentary with film historians Thomas Schatz and Charles Ramirez Berg is a real disappointment compared to the great Marian Keane commentary on the Criterion DVD. These guys are all over the place with spotty info and critical analysis bordering on the, shall we be charitable and say, rudimentary. There are a series of docs including one on the film's place as the first to deal with psychoanalysis, a backgrounder on the Salvador Dali sequences, a cool interview with Hitchcock conducted by Peter Bogdanovich and a really delightful doc on Rhonda Fleming. There's a Lux Radio play version of the movie with Joseph Cotten and Alida Valli and a trailer. The movie looks wonderful on Blu-ray, but I have to admit to preferring the care taken with the Criterion DVD transfer which ultimately has a better grain structure and seems closer to 35mm without all the over-crisp qualities that high definition adds/detracts when it comes to older films.

Saturday, 24 December 2011

The Lady Vanishes

The Lady Vanishes (1938) dir. Alfred Hitchcock
Starring: Margaret Lockwood, Michael Redgrave, Paul Lukas, Dame May Whitty

***1/2

By Alan Bacchus

A delicious early Hitchcock classic featuring all the familiar Hitchcock tropes – contained and precise choreographed action aboard a train, an ordinary female heroine inadvertently caught in a world of international espionage, a mysterious but high-priced maguffin and that dry British wit to ensure the film never takes itself too seriously.

Hitch places us conspicuously in a fake European country with the continent on the brink of war. A varied group of travellers includes a couple of British fops desperately trying to get updates on the cricket scores back home, an Italian magician, a suave British folk singer, a trio of sexually charged gals, and a host of inept locals. Before anyone steps on a train or anyone 'vanishes', we're introduced to our ensemble of characters stranded in a small town with only one hotel while snow is being cleared from the tracks. We're not even sure who the hero will be. Perhaps it’s the affable cricket fans, the musician, the old British Governess or the betrothed young woman at the end of her world tour of sowing her wild oats (Hitch is very coy but clear about this). This opening act is nothing but comedy, completely disarming us to where the journey will ultimately take us.

Once aboard the train, Hitch spends more time with Mrs. Froy, the Governess, and the bride-to-be, Iris. The shoe for this picture drops when Iris falls asleep in her train car only to wake up and find Froy missing, gone, vanished into thin air. The magician, who now sits across from her, claims he's never seen Froy. It’s the same with everyone else on the train. Is Iris crazy? The conveniently placed psychoanalyst on board thinks so. But just as she's about to accept her own insanity she finds an ally in Gilbert, the folk singer, who after finding a shred of evidence that Froy is real, becomes Iris’s sleuthing partner.

The entire second act plays out aboard the train, a frequent motif for Hitchcock and a device that serves to create claustrophobia and containment of the characters, as well as a metaphor for the intensity of the chase that ensues. Hitchcock remarkably shot all these train sequences within a 90-foot space with only one replica train car, meticulously storyboarding his shots, of course, to create an efficient production.

The film's most famous and celebrated scene comes midway in - a confrontation between Iris and Gilbert and one of the kidnapping suspects, during which the suspect attempts to poison the duo with drinks. Hitchcock squeezes out every drop of tension from the exchange by shooting the scene through the wine glasses placed mere inches away from the camera.

The film arguably loses its edge once the train comes to a stop and a gunfight ensues between the heroes at the clandestine political enemy faction. The Lady Vanishes works best in motion in the moments of confusion and mystery from Iris's point of view. Hitch not-so-subtly drops hints about the mystery along the way, unbeknownst to Iris, but very clear to the audience. We know that Froy's dropped eyeglasses, which are given a bold close-up, will pay off somewhere down the line, same with the Governess' handwritten name on the foggy window, or the very specific herbal tea she requests on the train, fun clues to trace back later on to prove Iris' sanity.

The Lady Vanishes, which was extremely popular in its day, was one of Hitchcock's last British films before he moved to Hollywood, and it marks the end of this pre-war espionage pictures, such as The 39 Steps and The Man Who Knew Too Much. His move to Hollywood and his work under David O. Selznick would be marked by significantly higher budgets and production values. But there's something more inspiring and vivacious in the production constraints through which Hitchcock crafted some of his best works. The Lady Vanishes exemplifies this unique period of his career.

The Lady Vanishes is available on Blu-ray from The Criterion Collection.

Tuesday, 10 November 2009

North By Northwest

North By Northwest (1959) dir. Alfred Hitchcock
Starring: Cary Grant, Eve Marie Saint, James Mason, Martin Landau

***½

By Alan Bacchus

Despite its sterling reputation, Hitch’s sprawling cross country epic adventure was never one of my favourites. Perhaps it was the overly-preposterous maguffin plotting, or the extensive and often distracting overuse of his rear projection process shots, or its over length (it was Hitchcock’s longest running time, clocking in at 2:15mins) but on Blu-Ray, it’s a completely different experience, a pristine and stunning high definition presentation which makes the entire picture larger than life and close as ever to the big screen immersive theatrical experience.

The story behind the making of the film which is revealed to us in the beautifully designed Warner Bros liner notes indeed stemmed from Hitchcock’s desire simply to make his biggest movie to date - a disposable action picture bereft of the psychological layers he previously dug himself into in ‘Vertigo’ or would go on to do in his subsequent effort, ‘Psycho’.

‘North By Northwest’ is breezy entertainment to say the least. The plotting is as fantastical and paper-thin at best. Cary Grant plays Roger Thornhill, a NYC Ad exec (think Don Draper with a sense of humour) who randomly gets pulled into a cab by a couple thugs carrying guns who claim he's a CIA spy named George Kaplan. When Thornhill escapes the clutches of the baddies he finds himself on the run, a journey which would take him by plane, train, and automobile from NYC to Chicago to Indiana to South Dakota trying to clear his name.

When he inadvertently gets a murder rap pinned on him, he’s made a fugitive from the law as well as the suited heavies. With no one to trust he finds himself helped by a mysteriously femme fatal blondie, Eve Kendell (Eve Marie Saint) who uses her sexual powers to seduce Roger then double-cross him back into the clutches of the spies. Thornhill finds trouble and adventure in a number of wild situations including the UN building, Grand Central Station, the streets of Chicago, the prairies of Indiana and finally and most famous Mount Rushmore.

Despite the danger Hitchcock never lets Thornhill take the situation too seriously. His ability to take the piss out of anyone and any tense situation adds a typically Hitchcockian and British wry comedic tone.

All the other hallmarks of Hitchcock’s style is heightened. The film works best as series of set pieces, all of which are impeccably choreographed to maximum suspense. The crop dusting scene is still one of his best ever directed sequences. As Thornhill stands along at the desolate crossroads, even before the plane strikes Hitch teases us with the sound of the bi-plane humming in the background. He misdirects us away from the plane by having Thornhill converse with waiting bus passenger on the road. And when Hitchcock decides to have the plane strike at him his use of composition and editing creates teeth shattering tension and danger.

Though the scene takes place in the wide open, and in bright day light, this scene is made frightening by the isolation of Thornhill in the expansiveness of the environment. This is a consistent theme throughout. In every scene Hitchcock is conscious of the placement of his characters in space and architecture. The UN scene is a good example, his wideshots frame in the high ceilings and lengthy staircases of the interior design and the final magnificent exterior overhead shot of the building, which shows Thornhill leaving in a cab is framed to shrink the character against his surroundings. This is the entire purpose of the Rushmore sequence, his character having their final confrontation on a mountain sculpted into by four massive heads into the rock.

“North By Northwest” is not perfect either. The third act resolution in South Dakota is long and takes too much time trying to explain the narrative jumps it took to tease us for the previous two acts. We’re also left without much to resonate with. The final phallic train shot entering the tunnel is subliminally clever and cheeky but is also as eye rolling as James Bond double-entendres as well.

I used to have a major problems with Hitchcock’s insistence on cheating studio interiors for exteriors, even into the late 50’s when on location shooting was common in Hollywood. Hitchcock even places his characters on hideous studio-confining treadmills against prerecorded backdrops to do exterior walk and talks. But under the high definition Blu-Ray treatment these scenes blend in better than they ever looked on VHS or DVD.

As usual Warner Bros’ respectful packaging, design and special features are worthy of this great film.

Wednesday, 8 April 2009

SHADOW OF A DOUBT


Shadow of a Doubt (1943) dir. Alfred Hitchcock
Starring: Joseph Cotton, Teresa Wright, Macdonald Carey, Hume Cronyn

****

New to DVD this week is John Patrick Shanley's "Doubt" (see review below). Another even better film about doubt is "Shadow of a Doubt", a mid-career Alfred Hitchcock classic about a small town teenage girl's discovery of her Uncle's heinous past of crime and corruption.

I’ve always thought Hitchcock’s B&W films were his best, and this early Hollywood crime mystery is certainly one of my favourites. “Shadow of a Doubt” fits in the Hitchcock oeuvre as one his small scale ventures, like “Psycho” or “Lifeboat”, or “The Lady Vanishes”.

In the quaint Californian town of Santa Rosa lives the Newton family – mother Emma, father Joseph, two young kids Ann and Roger and their teenage daughter Charlie (Teresa Wright). Charlie is named after Emma’s brother Uncle Charlie with whom the younger Charlie seems to have a special connection. When we meet Uncle Charlie (Joseph Cotton), he's a shifty citydweller wanted by the police for some unidentified nefarious activity. On the run he decides to escape to Santa Rosa for a surprise visit to the Newtons'.

Immediately the young Charlie is smitten with her handsome and big city exotic Uncle who arrives with lavish gifts. But as she attempts to get to know him, her prying questions are met with diverting white lies. Uncle Charlie can’t pull the wool over young Charlie’s eyes as she quickly reads through his deceptions. She thinks nothing of it, other than humble privacy, until two investigators come snooping around the town looking for a wanted murderer. With this ‘shadow of doubt’ in her mind, her idealized love for Uncle Charlie comes crashing down, especially when she finds herself the next target for his violent nature.

Uncle Charlie is one of Joseph Cotton’s great performances. Cotton is perfectly cast according to his likeable warm qualities he established in his two Welles performances ("Citizen Kane" and the "Magnificent Ambersons"). And so, even when Uncle Charlie is at his worst the ‘shadow of doubt’ that he is innocent always remains. We barely get to know Uncle Charlie’s motivations, only partially revealed in Cotton’s great dinner table speech – an angry rant which reveals his latent misogynistic disgust of widowers. It suggests a complex backstory of pain which corrupted a once optimistic and gentle man.

Of course, it’s never all-too serious in a Hitchcock picture. His trademark black wit is provided by the wonderful performance of Hume Cronyn as Herbie Hawkins, the crime novel enthusiast who banters with father Newton about the best ways to bump someone off and get away with it.

It’s one of Hitch’s pulpiest films as well. The actors express themselves with exaggerated performances. Cotton’s mysterious shiftiness, Patricia Collinge’s nave matriarch and Teresa Wright’s dramatic emotional shifting hit home the story beats as forcefully as Hitch has ever had them hit.

But the larger-than-life performances aid in Hitchcock’s theme of suburban Americana. Much is made of investor Graham’s subterfuge as a journalist doing a story on ‘the typical American family.’ Uncle Charlie represents the poisonous influence of big city crime into the wholesomeness of young Charlie's utopia. Of course, the film was made during WWII, and before the suburban post-war sprawl which we would see in the 50’s. So, in many ways, this story is a decade ahead of its time.

Hitchcock’s daughter Patricia has said “Shadow of a Doubt” was her father’s favourite film. It’s definitely one of his most complete. We all know he is a master of the dramatic set piece, and indeed there are some great individual scenes, but the strength  is an underlying tension which is sustained throughout the entire film and the emotional destruction we witness of young Charlie’s idyllic and sheltered optimism of the typical American family. Enjoy.




Tuesday, 24 March 2009

TO CATCH A THIEF


To Catch a Thief (1955) dir. Alfred Hitchcock
Starring: Grace Kelly, Cary Grant, Jesse Royce Landis, John Williams

**

Alfred Hitchcock made over 60 films, so there’s bound to be a dud or two in there. “To Catch a Thief” is arguably one of his weaker and most disappointing. Hitch making a heist film, in 1955 – in the middle of his greatest decade of work – should have been a knock out of the park, instead it’s one of his most sanitized unHitchcocklike films.


Cary Grant plays John Robie, a suave playboy and former cat burglar living in the French Riviera under an assumed name. When another burglar starts knocking off rich ladies' jewellery in his neck of the woods Robie becomes the chief suspect. By necessity and, in part, a gamely challenge, Robie comes out of retirement and puts himself in the line of fire in order to catch the imposter thief.

Robie decides to case the jewelry collection of an older American woman and her daughter vacationing. The younger gal, Frances (Grace Kelly) develops a close relationship with Robie, first as innocent flirting then revealing an attraction to his criminal burgling skills.  With the help of Frances and her Lloyds of London insurance agent Robie tracks down the elusive cat burglar in order to clear his name.

Of course, this radical two-star rating is in context of the other Hitchcock classics, as the film is not without merit. Grace Kelly and Cary Grant create major sparks, so much so Hitch shot their great seduction scene with a grand fireworks display in the background. Grace Kelly is stunning and obviously caught the eye of Prince Ranier of Monaco who would soon take her away from Hollywood and into European royalty.

A couple of car chase sequences are staged through the Cannes countryside, creatively shot entirely from a helicopter’s view. And every exterior location, shot in brilliant and bold widescreen technicolor, are stunningly beautiful.

But it’s the lack of effort Hitch shows with his heist scenes which disappoint most. A heist scene should be a showcase for Hitchcock’s best skills – stand-alone set pieces, focusing on action and suspense. The burglaries are shot with minimal if any tension with rudimentary shot selection.

1955 was also the year of "Rififi", Jules Dassin’s masterpiece, featuring the immaculately conceived and executed heist scene shot entirely in silence. Sadly both films were at the same time, we thus missed out on some creative one-upmanship.

"To Catch a Thief" is available on DVD in a new reissued Special Edition from Paramount Pictures Home Entertainment


Tuesday, 5 August 2008

THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH (1956)


The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956) dir. Alfred Hitchcock
Starring: Jimmy Stewart, Doris Day

****

“The Man Who Knew Too Much” is one of my favourite Hitchcock films and I don’t think it gets the respect it deserves certainly compared to his more famous films. Maybe because it’s a remake of his own 1934 British version – an early acclaimed classic which helped him garner international attention. I confess not having seen the original, so I can’t compare the two, but all skills from the master of suspense are on display in this riveting thriller about a man whose son is kidnapped by a group of international terrorists.

Jimmy Stewart and Doris Day play Ben and Jo McKenna on vacation in Morocco with their young son Hank. They meet a kind Moroccan-French stranger named Louis Bernard who shows them around town. But Bernard is not who he says he is, and Ben uncovers an international assassination plot involving Bernard. With this knowledge Ben becomes a target and finds his own son Hank kidnapped and ransomed in exchange for his silence. Ben and Jo are forced to conduct their own investigation which takes them to London for a climatic cinematic showdown at the Royal Albert Hall.

Like so many of Hitchcock’s films location play an important role in the action. The film starts out in Morocco where the McKenna family are cultural outsiders and victim of their own naiveté and friendliness. Hitchcock expertly uses foreign and exotic Marrakech to establish his shady characters. The second half takes place in London, a place more familiar to Ben and Jo but still a foreign land without the safety net of familiarity.

The Royal Albert Hall sequence is one Hitchcock’s finest set pieces of suspense. Hitch, aware of his own brilliance, even sets up the scene in the opening title credit sequence. But a number of slow brewing tense situations lead up to the Albert Hall sequence. One of the best is the preparation Ben takes before revealing to Jo that their son has been kidnapped. The build-up starts with the phone call Ben takes at the Moroccan police station. Ben is scared but knows he can’t assume the worst yet. A hysterical wife would not help the situation. He makes the difficult choice to hold the information from Jo until he has all facts. And when he gets to his hotel room and realizes its true he’s even more careful to spill the beans. All of this is implied by Stewart’s reactions, mannerisms and facial expressions. When Ben eventually does tell Jo, Doris Day plays the scene perfectly. It’s arguably one of Day’s finest moments as an actor.

Another classic sequence is Ben and Jo’s visit to the Ambrose Chapel, when they hide at the back of the service scouting out the scene for the Draytons. In each of these sequences Hitchcock uses controlled pacing and reaction shots to build his tension.

As always comedy plays a vital role as counterpoint to the seriousness of the situations. There are only two comic sequences and both are placed at key moments in the story. The first is Ben’s misdirected visit to meet Ambrose Chappell, a scene which starts with a classic sequence of Hitchcockian suspense but ends with a slapstick fight. And the second key scene is the running gag with the snobby British guests of the McKennas who stay at their house and drink tea while Ben and Jo rescue their boy from the kidnappers.

If there’s a fault with Hitchcock it’s his rather flat and uncreative use of rear projection – something which stands out even worse in technicolour. The entire opening bus ride and then the following rickshaw ride are played against ugly and obvious rear projection. It was the technology of the time, but considering Hitch was so ahead of the curve in other aspects of his storytelling, his stubbornness with studio shooting has always irked me.

Jimmy Stewart is my all time favourite of Hitch’s everymen actors. I much prefer the innocent intelligence to Cary Grant’s playboy suaveness. The role of Ben serves the talents of Stewart better anyways. “The Man Who Knew Too Much” is one of Hitchcock’s most involving and tense films because the so-called Maguffin is a tangible person – a child of the protagonist. The adventure and stakes are taken to another level of intensity and intrigue, resulting in a thoroughly enjoyable Hitchcock masterpiece. Enjoy.

Wednesday, 28 November 2007

LIFEBOAT


Lifeboat (1944) dir. Alfred Hitchcock
Starring: Tallulah Bankhead, William Bendix, Walter Slezak, Mary Anderson, Hume Cronyn

****

An interesting companion piece to yesterday’s review (“Titanic”) is one of Alfred Hitchcock’s earliest and best films – “Lifeboat”. Hitchcock likely took on the project as a creative challenge to himself - a film told entirely on a lifeboat of people rescued from a sunken ship during WWII. Hitchcock’s talents are put to the test to make 90mins in a small contained boat on the water, exciting and believable. It’s an amazing achievement which further supports the greatness of the Master.

The film begins on the water (of course) as the camera shows the trail of debris left by a sunken civilian ship. It’s 1944 Atlantic, which was a hotbed of naval activity. An upper class gossip columnist journalist Connie Porter (Tallulah Bankhead) climbs aboard the lifeboat to safety. In these opening moments one-by-one more survivors swim their way to the boat. Willy (Walter Slezak) who has the natural leadership qualities butts heads with the snobby Porter who insists on documenting the adventure on her portable typewriter. Minor squabbles are pushed aside when the last survivor climbs aboard, a German naval officer (William Yetter)

Should the civilians toss the German overboard, or save his life like everyone else? This becomes the major point of conflict. The German is kept aboard, and he proves his worth by navigating the ship in the right direction toward land. Or is he? Beneath his congenial demeanor he appears to slyly subvert their cause for rescue. Who will survive the small scale battle of wills?

The film could have easily been just a ‘novelty’ film, but the studio took project seriously, hired famed author John Steinbeck to write the story, hire dthe hot talent of Hitchcock to direct and cast popular star Tallulah Bankhead. Getting Bankhead (perhaps the Paris Hilton of her day) to be in a film where she gets wet and thrown around a boat in the middle of an ocean was a major coup. The casting worked perfectly because Bankhead’s real life snooty personality shows through in her character. The unique and varied personalities of Bendix, Slezak, Cronyn and Yetters round out a perfect ensemble cast.

But the big challenge for Hitchcock was how to keep the audience interested without boring them by staying in the same dull claustrophobic location the entire film. Hitchcock sought to use a different camera angle for every shot in the film. Usually dialogue and conversation are cut together using overlapping camera angles. Of course, Hitchcock meticulously storyboarded the film and as a result accomplished a miracle of mise-en-scene. It truly is remarkable.

For ‘high concept” films, few films top can “Lifeboat” for successfully executing its self-imposed restraints. “Hitchcock would do it again a few years later with “Rope” – an 80 min film made to look like one continuous shot. Other attempts at doing this type of high concept have mixed results – Robert Zemeckis' “Castaway” failed because he took Hanks off the island in the third act, “Speed” was a success, but Jan De Bont took the audience off the bus in the third act as well. Alfred Hitchcock never leaves the boat. He created his rules, stuck to them and executed it to perfection. Enjoy.

Buy Lifeboat (Special Edition)


Wednesday, 18 July 2007

VERTIGO


Vertigo (1958) dir. Alfred Hitchcock
Starring: Jimmy Stewart, Kim Novak

***1/2

Alfred Hitchcock’s “Vertigo” is a legendary film, a film that most dramatically put Hitchcock’s own obsessions on the screen to analyze and dissect. And a tad too much I think. To me “Vertigo” is a simple film about a desperate man who is manipulated by his fears and lustful obsessiveness of the ultimate woman into committing murder.

Scottie (James Stewart) is a police detective forced to leave his job due to his fear of heights. He receives solace from his good friend Midge, a former girlfriend who strangely seems to hang around and not take no for an answer. One day a former college friend Gavin shows up and offers Scottie a private investigation job of following his wife Madeleine (Kim Novak) around. Scottie, desperate to regain his pride, takes the job and follows her through various locales around San Francisco. Scottie saves Madeleine from a suicide attempt and then falls in love with her. On her second suicide attempt atop a church bell tower she succeeds to taking her own life. Scottie's life returns to despair in the aftermath, until one day when he miraculously finds her doppelganger working as a department store clerk. Her name is Judy, and apart from the brown hair, she’s a spitting image of Madeleine.

Scottie tries desperately to woo Judy as an obsessive attempt to rekindle his love for Madeleine. Scottie succeeds in catching Judy and makes the ultimate request to change her hair colour and clothing to exactly resemble Madeleine. Just as Scottie has recreated her back from the dead, his world comes crashing down again when he discovers the truth about Gavin, Madeleine and Judy.

Hitchcock and Stewart enter a different realm of mind games in the second half of the film. Stewart’s character moves from the typical everyman character he portrayed in “Rope”, or “The Man Who Knew Too Much” to an obsessively dangerous stalker. Hitchcock wounds Scottie more badly than any of his protagonists and builds him back up with mixed up pieces of himself. The Scottie at the beginning of the film is not the Scottie at the end. It’s a disturbing transformation and one in which only the audience and not the characters in the film fully acknowledge.

Watching the film from today’s eyes plot holes emerge with Judy’s motivation to comply with Scottie’s requests of her. Did Judy actually fall in love with Scottie and so freely transforms back into Madeleine so she can be with Scottie forever? Another curiously forgotten-about plot hole is the character of Midge who pines after Scottie over and over again. She is virtually dropped from the plot without resolution. This always bugged me. Perhaps it’s all part of Hitchcock’s fear of women. His shapeless and drab grey costume design of Madeleine’s is also part of his misogynist obsession and frequent humiliation of his leading ladies.

Technically Vertigo wrote the book on the building intriguing and suspense. It is the typical “Hitchcockian” film where the elements of psychoanalysis, manipulative femme fatales, obsessive haunting fears, mental and physical manipulation all come into play. Hitchcock’s use of colour, location, camera movement and light are all hallmarks of his style. Hitchcock uses the point of view of the camera effectively especially in the following sequences of Scottie and Madeleine. The film is most famous for its ‘dolly-zooms” which creates the effect of Scottie’s vertigo, but for me the piece-de-résistance is the circular shot around Judy and Scottie when they embrace and kiss. Brian De Palma stole that shot a number of times, but it’s “Vertigo” where it was first used. The shot is still effective today.

I know what you’re thinking… why not four stars? What happened to the other half star? Am I crazy? It’s one of the greatest films of all time. I do think “Vertigo” is a great film, but is it Hitchcock’s best? In my opinion, no. I can think of half a dozen films I enjoy more. The film’s locales, set pieces, music and obsessions are legendary, but for my tastes I’ll take “Psycho”, “Rear Window”, “Rebecca”, or “Shadow of a Doubt” any day. Did Hitchcock intend “Vertigo” to be the deep psychoanalytical complex story critics write about it as? Or did he intend it to be another piece of thrilling melodramatic entertainment? I think it succeeds supremely as the latter. But some people see it as the former. Either way it’s a great film. Ok fire away.

Buy it here: Vertigo (Collector's Edition)

One of the best title sequences ever:

Sunday, 22 April 2007

PSYCHO


Psycho (1960) dir. Alfred Hitchcock
Starring: Janet Leigh, Anthony Perkins, Vera Miles, John Gavin, Martin Balsam

****

"Psycho", Hitchcock’s most notorious film, was arguably cinema’s first modern horror film - a psychotic murderer brandishing a huge phallic knife slashing to death everyday visitors to his secluded motel. The general plotline befits virtually every slasher film ever made, and it's all due to Mr. Hitchcock.

The film has a peculiar structure to it, cleaved in two halves – the first, Marian Crane played by Janet Leigh, an attractive yet deceiving woman who’s having a torrid affair with a recently divorced man, Sam Loomis (John Gavin). The opening scene sets her character’s dilemma, they want to move away together but with Sam’s alimony payments they don’t have enough money to make a life for their own. Marian works for a bank and when she’s given $40,000 cash to make a deposit she makes a split-second decision to steal the cash for herself. This is the typical Hitchcock frailty – an innocent woman pulled into a crime by necessity. The first half continues as we experience Marian’s lengthy escape on the road through the desolate roads and small towns of Arizona.

Newcomers to the film will already know and be anticipating the famous shower scene and so these road scenes, if not for Bernard Herrman’s pulsating score, may seem dull and boring. But you have to view the film in the context of the 1960’s audience. These scenes were crucial in misdirecting the audience away from the shower scene and what the film will eventually become. Hitchcock sets up a scenario similar to his previous film “North By Northwest” – a road-adventure film of an ‘everyman’ on the run from his antagonists. And so, when Marian Crane steps into that shower and is slashed to death, the shock is amplified. I only wish I was able to see the film as audiences did in 1960. It must have been quite an experience.

And contrary to popular belief Janet Leigh’s character, Marian Crane actually survives through exactly half the film. Pundits frequently refer to Leigh’s death during the first act, first third or even first reel of the film, but I actually timed it and it comes at exactly the half way point of the film.

The second half of the film is Perkins’ film. After the shower scene we see Bates systematically go through the step-by-step details of disposing of the body. Perkins is so good as the demented mama’s boy, with the ability to express child-like innocence and then subtly switch to chilling maniac instantly. Hitchcock embellishes his scrawny birdlike mannerisms in keeping with the bird-theme he runs throughout the film. Perkins even waddles and bounces like a bird. And take special note of the conversation when Martin Balsam questions Perkins in the motel office, Hitchcock frames a shot of Perkins’s neck, as he leans over the camera to look at the guest registry. With Perkin’s eating a peanut, we see his neck and adam’s apple bob and quiver like a chicken. It’s really creepy and a remarkable performance.

Of course, the murder scenes are what make the film the masterpiece that it is. The shot of Bates opening the bathroom door in the foggy background as Marian showers can still induce shivers down my spine. And Bates’ sudden lunge at Martin Balsam at the top of the stairs always makes me jump. But be careful not to miss the most subtle and perhaps brilliant moment of the film - watch Bates’ teeth at the very end of the film. Before the picture dissolves to the car being pulled from the water, Hitchcock very briefly superimposes the skull of his mother over Bates’ face. It’s short and subtle but so devious.

Despite the success of the film, no other filmmaker attempted to recreate the experience of “Psycho” until the 70’s – notably “Black Christmas” and “Halloween”. Now the theatres are saturated with knife-wielding killers. But it’s the original that stands the test of time. Enjoy.

Buy it here: Psycho (Collector's Edition)