La maison du bourreau

Citizen Hogan ( Victor McLaglen) is an Irish expatriate, wanted by the British, hiding out in the French Foreign Legion. He gets a message and says he must return to Ireland to kill somebody.

From the title and what goes on during the first part of the film, I was thinking that he came back to kill Lord Justice O'Brien (Hobart Bosworth), the titular hangman but actually a judge. Maybe the judge sentenced a friend or relative to hang? And although Ford builds this judge up as a very bad guy, haunted by the people he sentenced to death, I can never see what exactly he did that was wrong in the line of duty considering capital punishment was routine at the time. He wasn't said to take bribes. He wasn't convicting anybody, just sentencing them. Would the townspeople like him to just let murderers go? Would they prefer they be paroled in their house, in the bedroom next to their teen daughter's room? Since the townspeople hate him so, the only thing I can figure is that because he is an Irishman cooperating with the British system of justice, they just consider everybody executed by said British as a martyr and thus the judge as a traitor, even if the people he hanged would wreak chaos on normal people if freed. But I digress.

But the judge dies pretty quickly into the film, and yet Hogan hangs around, risking capture. So it turns out the judge was never his actual target, but the actual target is associated with the "Hangman's House".

This seems like a warm up for The Quiet Man in several ways. The tormented lovers kept apart by family, the crowd cheering at a horse race, the odd superstitions of the people, and so on. Even some small bits of dialogue are the same as in The Quiet Man. The only rather laughable bit is that the villain looks SO MUCH like a villain, especially a silent era villain.

This film is probably best remembered as having a bit part for John Wayne in it as he goes crashing through a fence at the end of the horse race, and you probably will not spot him unless you know he is there. But it is worth a look in its own right.

Hangman's House (1928)

*** (out of 4)

John Ford directed this melodrama about an infamous hangman judge who's on his death bed when he asks his daughter (June Collyer) not to marry the man she loves (Larry Kent) but instead marry a man (Earle Foxe) who isn't any good but carries a certain social flame. As it turns out, this man is responsible for the suicide of a woman who just happens to have a brother (Victor McLaglen) who sets out for revenge. Once again Ford perfectly captures the mood, feel and atmosphere of the Ireland settings and makes a very fast paced film. The movie is mainly melodrama but there's an added touch of what would eventually become known as Gothic Horror. The creepy house used in the film is something you'd expect to see in a Euro Horror film as it really becomes its own vital character. The visuals are great throughout and really add to the dread of the situations and the entire cast shines in their roles. Foxe makes for a great villain with Kent a likable and sympathetic character. McLaglen steals the show as the brother who will stop at nothing to get vengeance. The finale contains some great stunts with the climax clearly being the highlight of the film. There's a scene here, which Ford would later use in The Quiet Man and we also get a clear view of a young John Wayne during one scene.

Hangman's House is one of a number of sentimental slices of rural European life to come out of Fox Studios in the late-silent era. This time round the focus is on dear old Ireland, and so who better to produce and direct than renowned blarney-merchant John Ford? Ford's approach to this one is very uncluttered, in that there are none of the improvised comedy diversions that decorated (or bogged down) many of his features. This is perhaps not surprising, since the story and characters being as they are, Ford probably saw no need to inject any further twee "oirishness". Ford's directness is helpful, because the plot is a bit of a muddle as it is. It's not entirely clear whose story we are supposed to be following, as equal weight (albeit different emphasis) is given to three different arcs. Ford probably didn't regard this as a problem though – for him the main character is simply the Irish people, and he photographs each individual as if they were the protagonist.

Ford's economy of expression is much in evidence. A typical Ford shot is the introductory one of Hobart Bosworth, he of the eponymous house. In the centre of the frame we see the man as he is now, elderly and frail. The portrait on the wall behind him shows us what he was, whereas the flames that underline the image hint symbolically at where he may soon end up. This is not to say Ford's shot compositions were overly complicated. For most of the picture he uses simple, delicate arrangements that focus us on the important elements. This is often achieved with soft-focus photography, which also adds to the sweet, romantic look of the images.

One of the characteristics of the late-silent period is the freeing up of the camera, with pictures such as Sunrise having the lens whiz about all over the shop. By contrast Ford wisely limits himself in this respect, and there are only two significant camera moves in the whole of Hangman's House. The first is at the end of the opening scene, a version of the much-imitated pull-back-across-a-long-table shot that was originally done in 1925 Valentino vehicle The Eagle. This is mirrored towards the end with a dolly in on villainous Earle Fox. Besides these examples the camera is "invisible", in that it only moves to follow an actor or an action. Ford would maintain this pattern of camera movement throughout his career, throwing in just one or two noticeable moves per pictures to draw attention to a key moment.

It's a pity the auteurists focused so much on Ford's "themes", because they draw attention away from his restrained and to-the-point command of cinematic technique. To be honest, there is far more going on on that front than there is in the story of Hangman's House, which is clichéd, unfocused and above all boring. Ford's tender shot compositions for the intimate scenes compensate for the so-so acting, and his imaginative coverage of the horse race provides us with a rousing mid-film high point. But pretty though the imagery may be, Ford's pictures of this period were not very interesting. He is one filmmaker whose style would be revitalised by the coming of sound.

I rented this at Netflix to see John Wayne in his earliest credited role, and there he is and in more than one scene, too, at the races. They had to kind of bury him with a family and friends and put him in the back of a wagon, until it was time to tear down the fence, in order to tone down this extra's height, good looks, and enthusiasm! Otherwise, he would have taken over the whole scene. No wonder Ford was interested in him.

In addition to Wayne, though, I was surprised to see how good this movie is overall, even today. It has some of the 1920s melodramatic touches and rather silly (from today's perspective) plot devices, but that is more than outweighed by John Ford's film shots of the Irish countryside and its people.

I swear Ford took some of the "Irish" shots out of this and set them into "The Quiet Man," in color and with sound; for example, the buggies with the men and women in the side seats are just shown in passing in "Hangman's House," but of course Ford makes them a prominent plot device in "The Quiet Man." There is actually more loving detail of upper class Irish life in "House," including some spectacular sets of houses and the waterways, than in "Quiet Man." Listen to the music in the race scene in "House": it's a version of the same tune that Michaleen starts in the last sequences of "The Quiet Man," when Wayne goes down to the train station to fetch O'Hara home. I always wondered why Ford featured that so prominently.

Ford also used some very imaginative camera setups, including having some of the horses in the race come straight at the camera and then jump over it, as well watching the old hanging judge suffering torments of conscience...with the camera filming him from the back of the fireplace, through the flames! Victor McLaglen dominates the film, too. It's quite a revelation for someone who has just seen him in "The Quiet Man,"and seeing his performance in "House" enhances the whole fight scene at the end of "The Quiet Man."

All in all, this excellent movie complements "The Quiet Man" quite well.

This is a hidden gem of a film from Ford's silent period. Much of Ford's output often feels somewhat erratic, with different narrative pieces introduced and never quite fitting together, but Hangman's House is a shockingly well put together film. At only 70 minutes, it feels stuffed with detail, but that detail never feels like a distraction here. Instead, everything works in tandem, revolving around everything else with a solid narrative core. It's got so much of what animated Ford (horse racing, Ireland, the underdog everyman against the traitorous outsider), and it ends up working wonderfully well together.

In Algeria, in the French Foreign Legion, is an Irish man, Denis Hogan (Victor McLaglen) who receives news and immediately declares that he must go home to Ireland, even though he has a price on his head there. We do not learn the reasons for his return until much later, though. Back home, the elderly judge, Lord Justice O'Brien (Hobart Bosworth), the hangman's judge as he's called, is nearing death and trying to arrange for the advantageous match of his daughter, Connaught (June Collyer), at the same time. She's in love with the local Dermot McDermot (Larry Kent), but Father has his eyes on the wealthy socialite John D'Arcy (Earle Fox), who should be able to open doors for her future. Because he is dying, Conn gives into her father's demands and marries D'Arcy.

Lord Justice O'Brien is haunted by the people he sent to the gallows, though. There's a wonderful little moment where O'Brien looks into the fire and sees flashbacks (including an uncredited John Wayne) of his victims. Beset by guilt, when Hogan appears outside his window in a hood, resembling Death to a certain degree, O'Brien has a heart attack and dies on the night of his daughter's wedding. Conn, though, is trapped in a loveless marriage with the unappealing D'Arcy while Dermot promises to be her friend no matter what.

There's a big horserace in the county, and Conn has placed her own horse, The Bard, in the race. When the jockey mysteriously disappears, Dermot offers to ride for her, an offer she happily takes. However, D'Arcy fights the idea, having put all the money he could borrow on another horse (and presumably being responsible for the disappearance of the jockey). The race is the kind of well-filmed spectacle Ford demonstrated he could handle in The Shamrock Handicap with exciting jumps and falls as the horses race over fences and walls, ultimately leading to the expected outcome of Dermot winning.

D'Arcy is broken, his dreams of fleeing Ireland with his winnings dashed, and Dermot and Conn begin to hope that they might be able to find a way to be together. Dermot flings his wallet at D'Arcy with a promise to kill him if Dermot ever sees him again, and Dermot goes to find Citizen Hogan, having heard that Hogan might know something about D'Arcy's past. Hogan, having been captured by the English soldiers at the race and escaped at the hands of his Irish loyalists, finally offers up his reasons for returning to Ireland. D'Arcy had married Hogan's sister in Paris, abandoning her, an action that led to her death.

Without a plan on what to do in the future, Dermot returns Conn home, to her father's large house, and goes home himself. However, D'Arcy has come back and he's trying to sell everything in the house. Dermot and Hogan return for a final showdown, and it's the amalgamation of elements into an exciting conclusion that Ford had already become well-practiced at.

Why did I enjoy this movie so much? Because despite its short runtime and rather large set of characters, elements of setting, and crisscrossing motives, everything ends up coming together in a satisfying way. Like a series of cogs fitting together perfectly to create the smooth motion of a single machine with a single purpose. Every character is there supporting the central story of justice being visited upon those who have escaped it. Every action is in support of it. And, more importantly, the characters and their motivations feel real, avoiding sensations of contrivance. It's a very good movie, a real hidden gem.