Virtù facile

In Alfred Hitchcock's Easy Virtue, a woman has some explaining to do when the family of her second husband finds out there was a first husband. That's because back in the day, divorced women were considered damaged goods, and upstanding families would steer well clear of such flighty harlots. Easy Virtue's tagline asks "Can she be blamed for a past she didn't create?" And the answer is yes, because she did create her past when she started making eyes at the man painting her portrait. But perhaps I am getting a little ahead of myself.

Larita Filton (Isabel Jeans) is married to an unnamed guy. Well, he probably has a name, but the movie doesn't tell us. Anyway, they're rich, and she's having her portrait done by a professional artist. One day the artist notices marks on Larita's wrist, and she mentions that her husband sometimes drinks too much. Thus a relationship is born, at least as far as they went in the 1920s, which meant it's possible Larita and the artist smooched once. Anyway, one fine day the husband comes home to find the two of them in an embrace. A gun is presented, and a shot is fired, and the artist dies. This is all told to us in flashback at the divorce trial, where the jury quite naturally finds in favor of the husband. Larita is shamed and shunned.

She finds herself chillaxing on the Mediterranean, and a chance encounter with a tennis ball leads Larita to meet John Whittaker (Robin Irvine), who's from a well-to-do family himself. They romance, yadda yadda, and soon they're wed. He brings her home to meet his parents and his two sisters for dinner. The stern matriarch is fairly sure she recognizes Larita, and eventually she pieces it together. Haughty hilarity ensues.

This is a silent film, obviously very early in The Master's career, and much more of a melodrama than a thriller with a twist. There's no twist, and because there are few sight gags one must rely on the intermittent title cards to follow the mouthed dialog. That's all well and good, but there was just too much predictability afoot, and the quality of the print did the movie no favors, either. That all makes Easy Virtue a curio in Hitch's long, long career, and little more.

This silent Alfred Hitchcock drama gets decent mileage out of a rather simple story. Isabel Jeans stars as a young woman who, because of a messy divorce in her past, is unfairly considered a woman of "Easy Virtue", and she must struggle constantly against the ways that her past affects how she is perceived by others. This kind of drama was probably more popular and more familiar in previous eras, and many stories of the kind don't hold up very well now. This one does often show some signs of age, but it also has some of Hitchcock's creative touches that move it along and make it worth watching. One of the best is Hitchcock's treatment of Jeans responding to a marriage proposal - it's quite innovative, and a nice way to avoid the often banal treatments of romantic scenes.

This is nothing like the movies for which Hitchcock is usually remembered, and it's really not even among his best silent work. But it's not bad, and if not always compelling, it is sometimes interesting in its look at the characters' social attitudes and perspectives.

Easy Virtue is one of Hitchcock's interesting but not great films, that is neither among his best or worst. Not a terrible one but this is really not the master of suspense at his best. When it comes to his silent films, Easy Virtue is perhaps one of his weaker ones, with his best being The Lodger and his weakest being Champagne. It has a lot of good things. There are some very clever shots and Hitchcockian touches like in the opening courtroom scene with everything being shot like from the perspective of the judge through his monocle and the proposal over the phone showing only the reactions of the telephone operator. Hitchcock directs very well, though there is understandably the sense that he was still finding and developing his own style. The sets and costumes are lovely to watch, while Violet Farebrother plays her role with tremendous gusto and Isabel Jeans brings a lot of charm to hers. Robin Irvine is very bland though and the rest of the acting can feel rather overheated and exaggerated even with a silent melodrama. The characters do come across as stock and somewhat cardboard, there's little dimension to them and you don't really care for them either. The story is a let down, it begins brilliant and ends just as satisfyingly but there's half-an-hour at least of tedious melodrama and staid storytelling, the romance also lacks passion and you don't ever really feel the love between them. And some have made a good point about the benefits of having dialogue instead here, I have great appreciation for silent films but Easy Virtue was the sort of film being a comedy-social drama where dialogue would have helped it come alive. Overall, not terrible, not great, mixed view here if anything. 5/10 Bethany Cox

"Virtue is its own reward," they say - but "Easy Virtue" is society's reward for a slandered reputation. In the prologue, director Alfred Hitchcock crosscuts courtroom drama with flashbacks... Attractive Isabel Jeans (as Larita) is in divorce court, after a scandalous incident results in the death of a painter for whom she was sitting. Her drunken husband interrupted artist Eric Bransby Williams (as Claude Robson) as he was making play for the modeling Ms. Jeans. The painter wounded brutish rival Franklin Dyall (as Aubrey Filton), before killing himself. Jeans gains nothing but her freedom at trial. But, she was named in the dead painter's will.

Notorious, Jeans goes for a vacation on the Mediterranean, intending to relax and stay away from men. Instead, she finds the latter when well-heeled bachelor Robin Irvine (as John Whittaker) hits her in the head with his ball while playing tennis. After apologizing, Mr. Irvine begins courting Jeans. "It was like a cool breeze sweeping away the ugly memories of the past." The two whirlwind themselves into man and wife. Then, Irvine brings Jeans home to live in the family mansion. There, matriarchal Violet Farebrother senses something lurid in her daughter-in-law's past. Will Jeans' sordid history ruin her chances for happiness?

But, of course.

"Easy Virtue" may be considered rather ordinary, albeit a Noel Coward play directed to film by Alfred Hitchcock. But, as a silent melodrama, it's not only above average, but a little innovative. The location and settings are very nice. Most of the featured players are held over Hitchcock's previous "Downhill" (1927). "Mother-in-law" Farebrother makes the bulk of the film interesting, as she endeavors to rid her son of his bride. Their witty exchanges were written by Eliot Stannard, not Mr. Coward, by the way. Farebrother has a pleasantly sharp tongue, asking, "John, who is this woman you have pitchforked into the family?" She shoots to kill.

****** Easy Virtue (3/5/28) Alfred Hitchcock ~ Isabel Jeans, Robin Irvine, Violet Farebrother, Ian Hunter

While many have dismissed this silent film of Hitchcock as an insignificant work, I found this film anticipates the virtues of the later works of the director. Hitchcock often relied on strong stories/scripts/plays whether it was du Maurier or Ernest Lehman or Ben Hecht or Anthony Shaffer to make his cinema tick. In this film it was the brilliant playwright Noel Coward. Just as "Frenzy" (script of Shaffer) ends with the words "…you are missing your tie," the final words of "Easy Virtue" are the explosive "Shoot! There is nothing left to kill." The word "shoot" refers to the cameras of the paparazzi not guns.

Visually, Hitchcock would revert to the same scene in "Notorious", in "Torn Curtain" and even as a weapon of defense in "Rear Window." The underscoring of the irony of final scenes of Hitchcock films are interesting to note. Coward and Hitchcock were really sensitizing the viewer on the social perceptions of marriage and divorce. Coward and Hitchcock seem to ask us the connection between slandered reputation and "easy virtue." In "Blackmail" the jester (the painting) seemed to scoff at the so-called justice meted out by the law keepers in final sequence.

Visually the most poignant shot (repeated twice) in the film is the shot of the judge's wig from above his head as he looks up. The interiors of the sets seem remarkably similar to scenes from Russian (Eisenstein's "Ivan the Terrible") and German expressionist cinema. Who should be credited more for what the film offers—Coward or Hitchcock. Probably both, in equal measure.