Quatre de l'espionnage

... itself based on W. Somerset Maugham's novel Ashenden. In 1916, British Army officer Edgar Brodie (John Gielgud) is conscripted into the intelligence bureau. He's given the name "Ashenden" and assigned to assassinate an unknown enemy agent. Ashenden is given a "wife" (Madeleine Carroll) as part of his cover, as well as the assistance of an oddball professional killer known as "the General" (Peter Lorre). While Ashenden and the General hunt for the enemy agent's identity, the "wife" makes time with American playboy Robert Marvin (Robert Young). With Percy Marmont, Florence Kahn, Charles Carson, and Lilli Palmer.

It's interesting to see Gielgud in a leading role, although it's quickly evident why it didn't happen more often. He lacks any romantic chemistry with Carroll, and he frequently seems bored by the proceedings. Carroll and Young both do well with under-thought characters, but Lorre easily steals the picture as the strange assassin with a morbid sense of humor and indeterminate ethnicity.

This, in my opinion, is one of the master's best early films, so good, in fact, that it begs for repeat viewing. That is the only way I know to absorb the subtle verbal repartees (observe the fascinating expressions and body language of Madeleine Carroll as she repeatedly defends herself from the blandishments of the affable American played by Robert Young); the hilarious malapropisms and convoluted syntax courtesy of the unpredictably eccentric Peter Lorre (there is good reason to believe this was unfeigned because Mr. Lorre, a Hungarian by birth who had achieved a well-deserved reputation as a chilling screen presence in German cinema before leaving for England following the National Socialist take-over, had not yet mastered the nuances of the English language); the classic understatement by that most aristocratic of all British actors, John Gielgud; and for those of us who never tire gazing at the incomparably beautiful Madeleine (Elsa) Carroll, the camera angles finally do justice to her divinely-wrought features (she also delivers her usual elegantly controlled performance). And, of course, there is all of the excitement and suspense one comes to expect from the great Alfred Hitchcock... Needless to say, I highly recommend this film.

When the topic of spy movies comes up, James Bond is usually one of the first names to arise. But even spy movies had a beginning, and sure enough, in the first couple decades of cinema, who was there making spy movies? Alfred Hitchcock.

Like the other spy movies he did, (Take Torn Curtain and Topaz for instance, two of his later works. How much later? Nearly 40 years later), Secret Agent is a spy movie without lots of explosions or car chases or shootouts. Instead it is about a man who goes undercover to break up a potentially disastrous international agenda of some kind, and along the way falls in love with his partner and realizes that he's not up to the task of murdering someone.

This 1936 movie is another in Hitchcock's decade-long run of British talkies: highly-contrasted black and white, under 90 minutes generally, and devoid of major stars (except for Peter Lorre, who appears in this movie two years after he did The Man Who Knew Too Much).

But unlike many of the movies surrounding it (Young and Innocent, The 39 Steps), this one isn't quite as good. Not that Secret Agent is a bad movie, far from it:

The directing is fine, and the church-murder scene is a beautiful mix of sound and picture. Lorre is much like the male version of Bette Davis - overacting and proud of it. His role as the womanizing yet clever "General" is much lighter than his usual horror-laced stuff, and he still pulls it off with ease. The leads are equally good. And the humor laced throughout is genuinely funny. (Note that, even in 1936, it is obvious that Hitchcock was already looking for the actress that would be fulfilled in Grace Kelly - the strong, feisty, beautiful blonde leading lady.)

But there's nothing here to just make the jaw drop and the eyes widen. It is a good movie, and from a director that has had whole decades worth of *great* movies, it just seems subpar. A previous commentor was right: This was the movie for Hitchcock to remake in the 1950s (with color and Cary Grant and Grace Kelly - heck, maybe even a minor role for Jimmy Stewart), not The Man Who Knew Too Much, which was one of his best British films.

Overall, it is good and worth the watch - especially for Hitchcock fans, but it's just not quite *there*.

7/10

Despite the abject absurdity of Hitchcock's "Secret Agent", I adored it.

The film starts off as a farcical story following John Gielgud and Madeline Carroll - two novice British spies - hunting down a German agent with the help of a more experienced man - "The General" - a Mexican hilariously played by Peter Lorre. With these principal players, it should be no surprise that the performances are top-notch. However, given the fact that Lorre was, at the time, at one of the lowest points in his tumultuous but brilliant career, it is possible that his over-the-top and uncharacteristically comedic performance at least began unintentionally (and was exploited by the great director as a last-ditch effort to complete the film successfully).

The story is based rather loosely on a Somerset Maugham story translated for theater by Campbell Dixon then adapted by Hitchcock favorite Charles Bennett. Quite a bit, as you can well imagine, changes as a result of the translations from medium to medium.

The drama turns on a developing romance between Gielgud and Carroll's characters - and the burgeoning consciences which accompany it. Will they be able to carry out their patriotic duty if and when they finally track down their opponent, or will they fail? Furthermore, what will the zealous and perhaps a little psychotic General do if his co-conspirators drop out of the spy business at the last instant? Typical Hitchcock plot devices (i.e. trains, quirky romantic relationships, European ethnic stereotypes) make cameo appearances at appropriate points in the story, and enhance the experience for Hitchcock aficionados.

The script and general story-line is not one of the best Hitchcock would have access to throughout his career, but it is quite rich compared to some of the plots he worked with earlier in his career, and the director develops the comedy, suspense, and human drama economically and affectively, if not fully. The camera-work is, of course, good, but not nearly as experimental or interesting as many of Hitchcock's earlier and later films. This is generally true of most of Hitchcock's excellent efforts for Gaumont British Pictures of America during the 1930s (I.e. Sabotage, 39 Steps, etc) - very British films made with American/British casts and production for an international audience.

Though less suspenseful than many of Hitchcock's contemporaneous efforts, Secret Agent remains a good and entertaining example of Hitchcock in the 1930s.

A young British army officer is 'killed off' on the Western Front so that he can assume a false identity and go to Switzerland on a secret mission. Brody (or Ashenden, as he is now known) finds the dirty business of espionage distasteful, but is determined to see his mission through to a successful conclusion.

In this early Hitchcock thriller, John Gielgud plays Ashenden as a cheerless snob. His acting is wooden and unappealing, and his embraces with Elsa (Madeleine Carroll)are cold and unconvincing. Peter Lorre is an over-the-top delight as 'the General', the exotic and nasty little assassin. His toilet-paper tantrum is great fun, and he moves the plot along with superb little nuances of gesture (as when he follows the progress of the chocolate-box note).

There are some striking Hitchcockian moments. Is that the Master himself, coming down the ship's gangway ahead of Ashenden? The dead organist is 'playing' a constant discord alone in the Langenkirche, because his lifeless head is slumped on the organ keys. In a classic piece of tension-building, Hitchcock makes the organ sound swell dramatically as Ashenden and the General, unsuspecting, approach the body. Of course the corpse shouldn't be able to increase the organ's volume. That doesn't matter. The effect is great.

The scene shifts from London in an air raid to the Swiss Alps (and as a postscript, to the Bulgarian-Greek border). The main locations are attractively depicted, London's sky a lattice of searchlights, and Switzerland a mountain idyll.

Hitchcock plays clever tricks with the button found in the dead man's hand. It sets our heroes off in pursuit of Caypor, and then it comes back to haunt Elsa's conscience. When the folk singers swirl coins in bowls, Elsa can see only the infernal button. It does not bother the viewer that the coincidences surrounding the button are far-fetched, because the pace and confidence of the story-telling suppresses any incipient scepticism.

The incident on the Langen Alp is in many ways the film's climax, with Hitchcock's trademark suspense-building very much to the fore. As the much-dreaded moment draws near, the cuts to the polite German conversation class raise the viewer's anxiety to an unbearable pitch. Caypor's frantic dog is a masterly touch: the women and the pet know intuitively that the worst has happened. Soon afterwards, Elsa sits silent in her misery between Ashenden and the General, who both chat blithely across her. The camera closes in on her, explaining her feelings of guilt better than any dialogue could.

Throughout his long career, Hitchcock pursued a specific ideal of feminine beauty. Kim Novak and Tippi Hedren were its 1960's manifestation, and here in 1936 Madeleine Carroll is the fresh-faced girl with the fine bone structure and the blonde bob.

The arbitrary deaths in the final reel are silly, and the crash of the model train even sillier, but by this stage the director has eschewed exposition and is hurrying to tie up the plot's loose ends. Even if the viewer thinks hard, he is at a loss to explain what Ashenden was ever doing in Switzerland in the first place: but the trick is not to think too hard.