Blu-ray Review: I Confess

Distributor: Warner Bros.

Release Date: February 16, 2016

Region: Region A

Length: 01:34:27

Video: 1080P (MPEG-4, AVC)

Main Audio: 2.0 English DTS-HD Master Audio

Alternate Audio:

2.0 French Dolby Digital

2.0 Spanish (Castellano) Dolby Digital

2.0 Spanish (Latino) Dolby Digital

2.0 Polish Dolby Digital

Subtitles: English SDH, French, Spanish (Castellano), Spanish (Latino), Czech, Polish

Ratio: 1.37:1

Notes: This title was previously released (and is still available) in a DVD edition.

“I feel that both I Confess and The Wrong Man suffer from a lack of humor. The only question then is whether one should always have a sense of humor in dealing with a serious subject. It seems to me that some of my British films were too light and some of my American films were too heavy handed, but it’s the most difficult thing in the world to get just the right dosage. It’s only after the film is done that one can judge that properly.” —Alfred Hitchcock (Hitchcock/Truffaut, 1966)

I Confess does lack the humor that is usually present in Alfred Hitchcock’s films, but this seems appropriate for the subject matter. It is based on what François Truffaut called “a very mediocre play” by Paul Anthelme entitled, “Nos Deux Consciences” (Our Two Consciences). It was a rather obscure play that was written in 1902, but it had elements that interested Hitchcock despite any dramatic weaknesses inherent in the property. Louis Verneuil was responsible for bringing the play to the director’s attention.

“Verneuil came along with this play, and I guess he must have done a good sales job, because I bought it! Now, when I buy a story, that doesn’t mean I’m taking on the theme as well. They tell me the story, and if I feel the subject is suitable and the situation lends itself to what I want, the theme of the film will be worked out later on.” —Alfred Hitchcock(Hitchcock/Truffaut, 1966)

The film was originally planned as a Transatlantic release before the production company crumbled. However, Warner Brothers bought the property from the company for Hitchcock to direct. A number of writers were courted to collaborate with Hitchcock—including Graham Greene (who couldn’t have been less interested). It seems that Victor Peers and Lesley Storm made a few early contributions to the scenario (though some of this was obviously tossed). Peers wrote a letter to Sidney Bernstein that discussed the trouble they were having with the script:

“Dear Sidney, We met last night—Hitch, Lesley Storm, Peggy Singer, and myself. Before Lesley Storm’s arrival, I sensed that Hitch wasn’t too happy with the story line, which is enclosed here. He did not care for the first scene at the Grandford home and the scene of the priest going to Malotte’s home is apparently out of the question from the Catholic point of view.

Lesley Storm, however, argued her point so well that Hitch was obviously most interested and suddenly turned to me and said that he would like her to return with him to CA and to work with him on the actual scenario…

…From my angle, Storm appears to be getting hold on the story and thinking constructively and, in clarifying the characterization, for example, she thinks that in their youth it is Ruth who is much more in love with Michel than he with her. He leans toward priesthood, and it is because she is afraid that she may lose him that she gives herself to him in an effort to keep him.

It is the parents, of course, who destroy this plan.

This idea of characterization impressed Hitchcock very much indeed. The position then is that Storm will wait until the end of this week for word from you as to whether 1) she continues and 2) she goes to America.

Hitch is certainly very low in spirit… Moreover, he has been working continuously and late hours and undoubtedly needs a rest…” —Victor Peers (Letter to Sidney Bernstein – as reprinted in “Hitchcock’s Notebooks” by Dan Auiler)

It seems that Storm was discharged because she was uncommunicative with her collaborators. Hitchcock and Bernstein were left waiting to hear word from her after one of their script meetings. Storm was to work on the changes discussed in the meeting and return a revised treatment. Weeks passed without any word from her.

Paul Vincent Carroll also worked on the project for a short time before Hitchcock finally commissioned George Tabori to collaborate with him. He got along quite well with Hitchcock during their collaboration, and the resulting screenplay seemed to satisfy both Hitchcock and Tabori. The script was a lot darker than the final film, and it had a number of controversial elements that were just begging to be eradicated by someone—be it the studio or the Catholic Legion of Decency. The screenplay ended with Father Logan being hanged for Keller’s crime (and only after his death was his innocence established). What’s more, the backstory involved an illegitimate child that Father Logan doesn’t know about! As anyone can guess, censorship won the day. Somehow, though, Tabori was bemused when changes had to be made. Actually, Hitchcock scholarship seems equally bemused. It seems that there are various opinions as to who censored the film.

Some scholars believe that the Catholic Church was responsible for the changes:

“…There was a hitch when Catholic authorities saw George Tabori’s original script and stopped all use of their churches in the city, because in the original draft Clift’s character was found guilty. Rather than fight the Catholic fathers, Hitchcock instructed Tabori to alter his script. Tabori later recalled, ‘I felt betrayed. I walked out in the middle of a story conference with the excuse of having to take a leak, went straight for the airport, to New York City, and never came back.’ Unworried, Hitchcock simply commissioned William Archibald to alter the script to his satisfaction.” —Patrick Humphries (The Films of Alfred Hitchcock, 1986)

This version of events doesn’t seem entirely out of the realm of possibility, but there are those who insist that Warner Brothers was responsible for the alterations to the script:

“Bernstein took the lead in talks with religious authorities, seeking their approval; and surprisingly the Canadian Church found I Confess profoundly catholic—for the priest, in spite of his illegitimate child and execution, was greatly ennobled by the script. The Transatlantic partners wisely employed a local priest with a doctorate in theology, Father La Couline bridged the discussions with the Church, reading the script to authenticate the ecclesiastical reality and recommending trims to avoid censorship.

It was Warner Bros. that finally rebelled. For years Hitchcock had staved off the studio’s nervousness, hoping somehow to slip his ideas onto the screen. But as the midsummer start of filming loomed, Hitchcock was forced to circulate the latest script by Tabori, and studio officials were shocked to discover that the wrong-man priest still had an illegitimate child in the story—and still was destined to be executed at the end of the film. In late April, the studio put its foot down: it couldn’t produce such a film, which was bound to provoke an overwhelming outcry in America.” —Patrick McGilligan (Alfred Hitchcock: A Life in Darkness and Light, 2003)

Some combination of both of these stories is probably true. Either way, it is certainly clear that Hitchcock was forced to change the script (and the director was probably even more disappointed than Tabori). This change altered what was originally a perfect allegory, although the similarities to the story of Christ are still quite obvious in the final film.

Archibald would be the final writer to work on the film, but there is ample evidence to suggest that Alma Hitchcock worked on the script along with the famed director and his writing team. In the end credit was given to Tabori and Archibald for the compromised final version of the screenplay. Of course, the script was simply one of many compromises concerning I Confess that would be forced upon Hitchcock before production commenced. One of the largest compromises concerned the casting of an actress to portray Ruth Grandfort. Jennifer Jones was discussed, and the idea tossed before Hitchcock settled on his choice — and his choice wasn’t Anne Baxter.

This is a publicity photograph of Anne Baxter that was used to promote “I CONFESS.” The actress was not Alfred Hitchcock’s preferred choice.

“I didn’t want Anne Baxter to play the feminine lead; I wanted Anita Bjork, who had played Miss Julie, However, Warner Brothers decided against her, sent Anita Bjork back to her fiords, and I was informed by a phone call that Anne Baxter had been assigned to the picture. I met her for the first time a week before the shooting, in a dining room of Quebec’s Hôtel Château Frontenac. When you compare Anita Bjork and Anne Baxter, wouldn’t you say that was a pretty awkward substitution?” —Alfred Hitchcock (Hitchcock/Truffaut, 1966)

The reason for Bjork’s dismissal is that she showed up with her lover and illegitimate child, and Warner Brothers didn’t want a scandal on their hands. (The Ingrid Bergman – Roberto Rossellini scandal was fresh in Hollywood’s mind.) Whatever one might think about Anne Baxter’s performance, we will agree that she doesn’t have quite the same qualities as Anita Bjork. It is difficult to believe that she is a part of Quebec society. Perhaps Hitchcock’s disappointment was palpable, because Baxter seemed to feel somewhat rejected by what she considered the director’s apathetic treatment of her. The director dyed the actress’s hair blonde and altered Bjork’s wardrobe to fit Baxter, but he was unable to turn her into a convincing Quebecer.

Alfred Hitchcock had originally cast Anita Bjork as his female lead. She was replaced, because Warner Brothers feared a scandal.

Many actors were discussed as being suitable to play the role of the tortured Father Logan (including James Stewart and Laurence Olivier), but it is difficult to picture anyone other than Montgomery Clift in this particular role. Of course, the process of actually working with Clift was not without its problems. The actor had many personal demons and a habit of trying to drown them in a bottle (or with narcotics). His neurosis was certainly problematic on the set of I Confess, and his particular working methods were at odds with Hitchcock’s.

“…Hitchcock had problems communicating with Montgomery Clift, who was then at the apogee of his career and steeped in the Method school of acting which was just manifesting itself in Hollywood… After Brando, Clift and James Dean were the foremost exponents of the method, which primarily meant that the actor got inside his character, and concentrated on motivation and background to deliver a fully rounded portrayal of the person, not just as the camera caught him for a specific scene, but where he had come from, where he was going, what impelled him to be there – the very antithesis of Hitchcock’s methods. Clift’s biographer, Robert LaGuardia, wrote that Hitchcock ‘simply couldn’t understand the fanatical intensity of Monty. He complained constantly about ‘all that preparation … Over and Over, Hitch had to stop and explain to Monty why, at the end of a certain scene he had to look up at a church or suddenly turn around. He wasn’t used to having to explain to his actors that he intended to edit in a shot of a clanging bell or some such event.’ The contrast between actor and director manifested itself early in the shooting, when [green]-eyed Clift insisted on wearing brown contact lenses because the script stated that Father Logan’s eyes were brown. Hitchcock found this totally incomprehensible, not least because I Confess was shot in black and white.” —Patrick Humphries (The Films of Alfred Hitchcock, 1986)

Montgomery Clift’s method acting sometimes conflicted with Alfred Hitchcock’s cinematic style. The actor had trouble looking up so that Hitchcock could cut to his perspective during this series of shots.

Hitchcock’s efforts certainly weren’t in vain. Clift really adored the script—the original script that ended in the Father Logan’s unjust execution. He began preparing for the role with enthusiasm and spent a week doing research in a monastery before filming. Unfortunately, he was less enthusiastic about the changes that had been made to the script when he arrived in New York for his camera tests. He was at least in agreement with his director on this issue (not that it did either one of them any good).

There were other minor issues concerning Montgomery Clift that perturbed Hitchcock, but none that caused the director any real aggravation.

“Clift had his drama coach, Mira Rostova, close by at all times; she had been made part of his contract and was umbilically attached to his performance. Rostova rehearsed with the sensitive actor daily, and then stood just out of sight whenever cameras rolled. Clift waited for her nod of approval, not Hitchcock’s, before moving on. [Karl] Malden thought that Rostova’s presence created ‘a deep division and tension’ on the set, a gulf between the star and the director—but if so, it remained a largely unspoken gulf. Hitchcock left Clift and Rostova alone… If anything, Hitchcock was extraordinarily patient, exceptionally polite, as he went about collecting his shots and angles.

The director realized that, if anything, Rostova helped the production by soothing Clift’s wounded psyche. Although Hitchcock dubbed her the ‘little pigeon,’ he treated the drama coach with elaborate courtesy, and made a point of including her in the cast dinners he hosted at the Château Frontenac in August and September, and later at Bellagio Road.” —Patrick McGilligan (Alfred Hitchcock: A Life in Darkness and Light, 2003)

Chances are that Rostova’s presence was a larger thorn in Malden’s side than in Hitchcock’s. The actor felt that Clift and his coach were somehow conspiring against him. It is impossible to know whether or not this is the case, but the two friends had a cooler relationship on the set that was usual. Perhaps this is “the method” at play once again. After all, their characters were against one another in the film. In any case, Clift’s performance is extraordinary (even if several critics denigrated his performance upon the film’s release).

He seemed to embody the character of Father Logan. He is an actor that always seems to be hiding secret emotional wounds, and this characteristic was particularly appropriate for this role. Clift’s priest quietly carries his burden with a grace and dignity that should endear him to audiences. Truffaut pointed out that Father Logan is constantly in forward motion. This motion is part of the film’s design and illustrates visually the character’s integrity. It is impossible to think of any other actor pulling this off quite as effectively.

Hitchcock was always one to fill the frame with rich detail, but this fact has never been more evident that it is when one watches I Confess. Hitchcock even explained to one of the extras precisely how he wanted her to eat an apple in an angry mob scene. This is a detail that might very well be missed by casual viewers, but these small details were important to Hitchcock. Of course, most of the visuals fit a particularly interesting design that is often discussed by scholars.

Alfred Hitchcock showed the “apple eater” exactly how he wanted her to eat the apple.

“The film is rich in religious imagery. In one shot the camera catches Father Logan walking tormented past a Church, the camera placed high above one of the Stations of the Cross, as if making the point that Father Logan too is undertaking his own journey to Calvary. The film’s opening shot is an elliptically angled view of a looming church, darkly brooding and sinister. Clift’s lonely inner struggle to sacrifice himself rather than his beliefs is contrasted with the killer’s pathetic need to confess, as if by telling of his sin his guilt will be absolved.” —Patrick Humphries (The Films of Alfred Hitchcock, 1986)

One wonders if Humphries is mistaking Quebec’s ‘Le Château Frontenac’ for a church. If he is, this doesn’t lead one astray. The city’s churches do loom large over the film. However, none of Hitchcock’s “religious imagery” is merely imagery. It is symbolism. Let us use the same example that Humphries uses of Father Logan walking tormented past a church as he is seen through a statue of Christ carrying his cross to his own crucifixion. Isn’t Father Logan carrying his own cross to his own crucifixion—and for the very same reasons (the burden of sins that aren’t their own)! He could very well die for someone else’s sin. This is a direct parallel to the story of Christ.

If this isn’t enough, Hitchcock uses another image during the trial sequence. Father Logan is being questioned by the prosecution, and a large crucifix hangs on conspicuously on the wall above him as he is shot in profile. This reminds audiences what might potentially happen to Logan, while reminding Logan about his own beliefs. It is an effective shot. The crucifix seems to be a weight on top of the priest throughout the entire rest of the sequence.

Another particularly interesting bit of religious imagery occurs at the very beginning of the film. We see a man exit a building in a priest’s cassock before walking down an alley. Alfred Hitchcock and Robert Burks do interesting things with composition and lighting. The scene is lit in such a way that the man’s silhouette forms a cross. This is interesting enough, but the man also casts a long shadow in the shape of an inverted cross. This tells the audience that the man is pretending to be a Holy man of God, but that his real nature is perhaps malicious. The man turns out to be Otto Keller (the film’s murderer).

There are many such examples in the film. When one considers the film as an allegory that mirrors Christ’s crucifixion, it becomes clear why Alfred Hitchcock and George Tabori fought for the original ending. However, many scholars and critics believe that the film’s final ending is even more appropriate. Patrick McGilligan seems to side with these critics.

“I Confess smolders without ever catching fire. Hitchcock is most comfortable with the secondary characters (the Brian Aherne scenes are especially playful), the brooding Quebec City and Catholic atmosphere, [and] the dreamlike flashback. (These silent interludes, depicting the idyllic prewar romance between the priest and his girlfriend, seem almost to achieve the kind of hyperrealism Hitchcock had wanted from Salvador Dalí for Spellbound.) Perhaps the best part of I Confess is the Hitchcockian ending — ‘which is liturgically and thematically right (transference of guilt healed by confession),’ in Bill Krohn’s words—although it was virtually imposed by the studio as an alternative to hanging the priest.” —Patrick McGilligan (Alfred Hitchcock: A Life in Darkness and Light, 2003)

Unfortunately, the film was released to somewhat disenchanted reviews. Warner Brothers made a small profit off of the film, but it was not the success that many other Hitchcock had been. Hitchcock later believed that making the film was a mistake.

“…Aside from the public, there were many of the critics who apparently felt that for a priest to guard a secret at the risk of his own life was absurd… If the basic idea is not acceptable to the public, it compromises the whole picture. And this brings up another generalization: To put a situation into a film because you yourself can vouch for its authenticity, either because you’ve experienced it or because you’ve heard of it, simply isn’t good enough. You may feel sure of yourself because you can always say, ‘This is true, [and] I’ve seen it.’ You can argue as much as you like, but the public and critics still won’t accept it… That’s the trouble with I Confess. We Catholics know that a priest cannot disclose the secret of the confessional, but the Protestants, the atheists, and the agnostics all say, ‘Ridiculous! No man would remain silent and sacrifice himself for such a thing.” —Alfred Hitchcock (Hitchcock/Truffaut, 1966)

One shouldn’t take Hitchcock’s opinion on this particular matter as gospel. This reviewer isn’t Catholic and understood and admired the priest’s resolve regardless. It is difficult to say whether or not this was a valid argument. However, it should be said that the director was selling himself short when he went on to tell Truffaut that the film “comes under the heading of an old-fashioned plot.” If anything, I Confess was years ahead of its time. One could imagine the likes of Martin Scorsese tackling just such a subject.

The critics didn’t care for the film upon its release. Variety’s staff critic did manage to summon some positive remarks about the film but led in criticizing the film for its lack of the director’s trademark suspense.

“An interesting plot premise holds out considerable promise for this Alfred Hitchcock production, but I Confess is short of the suspense one would expect. Hitchcock used the actual streets and buildings of picturesque Quebec to film the Paul Anthelme play on which the screenplay is based…

…While Hitchcock short-changes on the expected round of suspense for which he is noted, he does bring out a number of topflight performances and gives the picture an interesting polish that is documentary at times. Clift’s ability to project mood with restrained strength is a high spot of the film, and he is believable as the young priest. Physically, he doesn’t have as mature an appearance as the role opposite Baxter calls for, but otherwise, his work is flawless.” —Variety (December 31, 1952)

Other critics were less kind to I Confess. It is evident that Bosley Crowther was too wrapped up in his personal expectations about what an Alfred Hitchcock should be to appreciate the dark story that the director had to offer. His review in the New York Times betrays a shallow mind that is nearly incapable of forward thinking. His review attacks everything from the script to Montgomery Clift’s wonderful performance. I suppose that the actor’s subtleties were lost on critics in 1953.

“Alfred Hitchcock’s famous talent for brewing a mood of fine suspense with clever direction and cutting is spent on a nigh suspense-less script in I Confess, his latest picture for Warners… And even though moments in the picture do have some tension and power, and the whole thing is scrupulously acted by a tightly professional cast, the consequence is an entertainment that tends to drag, sag and generally grow dull. It is not the sort of entertainment that one hopefully expects of ‘Hitch.’

The trouble, of course, is that the audience is told near the start of the film that the hero is not guilty of the murder with which he is subsequently charged. The murderer, we know, is a fellow who confesses his act right away to the irreproachable hero, a Roman Catholic priest. And the issue is in the dilemma of the priest, when suspicion falls on him and he is unable to clear himself in a jiffy because he is bound to silence by what is known as ‘the seal of the confessional.’

This makes for a nervous situation that George Tabori and William Archibald have prolonged through a considerable amount of incidental plotting in their obviously padded script. They have ominously piled against their hero so much heavy circumstantial evidence that it seems he can never get around it and avoid the penalty of loyalty to a creed. But only the most credulous patron will be worried for very long that the hero will not be delivered from his dilemma by some saving grace. And this realization well unburdens the situation of any real suspense… In short, the plotting of the story through its long middle section is dull.

Finally, the off-beat possibility of making something of the anguish of the priest in this unhappy situation is not only missed in the script but it is barely realized and suggested in the performance of Montgomery Clift. Under Mr. Hitchcock’s direction, Mr. Clift rather walks through the role with a slightly bewildered expression and a monotonously taciturn air. He seems neither tormented nor frightened — nor, for that matter, really to care.

As the matronly lady of the old romance, Anne Baxter gives an eloquent show of feeling sorry for herself and breathing heavily, but the ease with which she abandons both and resumes a dutiful attitude toward her husband (Roger Dann) is a bit disheartening. Karl Maiden as a stubborn detective, Brian Aherne as a prosecutor, O. E. Hasse as the twitching murderer and Dolly Haas as his wife are all good.

And, of course, Mr. Hitchcock does manage to inject little glints of imagery and invent little twists of construction that give the film the smooth, neat glitter of his style. Shot on location in Quebec, it has a certain atmospheric flavor, too. But it never gets up and goes places. It just ambles and drones along. —Bosley Crowther (New York Times, March 23, 1953)

Well, we will admit that Mr. Crowther should know quite a bit about ambling and droning along if his reviews are any indication. This particular reviewer has never cared for him, so it is probably better to keep my commentary to myself. It would be highly biased. In any case, the film was met with similar criticisms in Hitchcock’s native London.

“This film is directed by Mr. Alfred Hitchcock, and it lacks two things normally connected with his name and work -first, that moment when he springs a surprise on the audience, a respectable man, as it were, suddenly rounding on a friend with a drawn revolver, and, secondly, the careful building up of suspense. Suspense, in a measure, there certainly is, and Mr. Hitchcock loses no time in making it clear what form it will take, but it is suspense without its mainspring…

…The wisdom of introducing, a sacred subject into a ‘thriller’ is dubious, and the film seems conscious of disturbance and disharmony at the center of balance. A conventional chase through a luxury hotel is an admission of the failure of the original idea to survive intact, and never does Mr. Clift suggest a man in any touch with the things of the spirit…” —The Times (April 20, 1953)

Opinion hadn’t changed a great deal when Robert A. Harris and Michael S. Lasky wrote The Films of Alfred Hitchcock in 1976. Instead of reanalyzing the film for a new generation, Harris and Lasky adopted Alfred Hitchcock’s apathetic attitude towards the film.

“The screenplay adaptation was somber and lacked the subtle humor found in most Hitchcock films. The result is that the story is both frustrating and tedious… Of course, the entire premise upon which the film rests is that a priest’s first obligation is to God and the holy vows of the church. It is precisely this concept that annoyed non-Catholic viewers. ‘Why wouldn’t he just speak up to save his life?’ is the question.” —Robert A. Harris & Michael S. Lasky (The Films of Alfred Hitchcock, 1976)

One can wrap their minds around the director’s attitude towards the film. After all, it doesn’t represent his original vision. It is sometimes difficult for an artist to see beyond his own compromises. Actually, the film was further compromised in Quebec after the film was released. The Legion of Decency slapped it with a rating of ‘Morally Objectionable for Adults’ despite the fact that the Catholic press raved about the film. As a result, Quebec’s Censor Bureau insisted on cutting three minutes out of Anne Baxter’s flashback story. These little aggravations tend to add up in one’s mind. It probably became quite difficult for Hitchcock to look at I Confess in the proper perspective.

In the end, I Confess is another dark and deliberately paced Hitchcock offering. While it isn’t perhaps at the same level as other underappreciated works (such as The Wrong Man), it’s probably even more fascinating. It is certainly rich in subtext and one’s experience is enhanced exponentially with each viewing.

The Presentation:

4 of 5 MacGuffins

The disc is protected in a standard Blu-ray case with film related artwork. This artwork seems to utilize vintage promotional material (though it isn’t the same artwork used for the film’s original one sheet). It really looks quite fabulous!

The menu utilizes the same art that is on the cover, and it is accompanied by an excerpt from Dimitri Tiomkin’s score.

All of this makes for a presentation that is much better than what one usually expects with home video releases (especially for older catalogue titles).

Picture Quality: 

4.5 of 5 MacGuffins 

This is an incredibly gorgeous transfer of I Confess. Fine detail that went unseen in the previous DVD release of the film can now be admired in all its intended glory. Contrast is also wonderfully rich with deep blacks that never seem to crush detail. The film has a noir-esque quality that demands well rendered blacks with a sharp rendering of all the shades of gray that lies in between the lightest and darkest areas of the frame. It is nice to see that the transfer doesn’t disappoint on this issue. There is a healthy layer of grain that betrays the film’s celluloid source, but many film buffs will see this as a good thing. It is certainly preferable to overzealous DNR. There doesn’t seem to be any distracting digital anomalies that could be distracting to the viewer. This is a truly lovely transfer.

Sound Quality: 

4 of 5 MacGuffins 

The English 2.0 DTS-HD Master Audio is surprisingly clean for a film released in 1953. Dialogue is consistently crisp and clear, and this is married with well rendered ambience and intelligible sound effects. This is important, because Alfred Hitchcock uses sound in very interesting ways. The sounds are realistic and draw viewers into the film. Dimitri Tiomkin’s score is given adequate room to breathe for a 2.0 mix, but one must qualify this statement to indicate that one must consider when the film was shot. This isn’t the sort of dynamic track that one might expect to find on a Blu-ray release of a contemporary film. It is simply a faithful rendering of the film’s source elements.

Special Features:

3 of 5 MacGuffins

Hitchcock’s Confession: A Look at ‘I Confess’ – (SD) – (20:39)

Laurent Bouzereau provides another quasi “making of” documentary that provides more commentary than actual “making of” information (although one can see a small amount of rare color “behind the scenes” footage of the cast and crew shooting the dream sequence). Pat Hitchcock even shares some brief memories about visiting the production in Quebec. However, this is really more of an appreciation of the film that slowly turns into a love letter to the late Montgomery Clift. Jack Larson (a friend of Clift’s) shares information about his friend’s experiences on the film as the other participants celebrate his performance. It is always engaging and certainly appreciated, and the generalized critical commentary by Peter Bogdanovich, Bill Krohn, Richard Schickel, and Robert Osborne might enrich the casual viewer’s appreciation of the film. It is certainly worth the viewer’s time.

Gala Canadian Premiere for ‘I Confess’ – (SD) – (00:56)

Warner Brothers also includes a vintage newsreel about the Canadian premiere of the film. One can see Alfred Hitchcock and Anne Baxter arriving at two different premieres. It is obviously a piece of vintage promotional fluff, but the vintage nature of the piece makes this a rather interesting addition to the disc.

Theatrical Trailer – (02:47)

The trailer is also happily included on the disc. This is a rather typical example of trailers from this era, but many will be interested to see how the marketing department attempted to sell this film to audiences.

Final Words:

I Confess is for audiences with a predilection for dark allegorical mood pieces. While it isn’t a typical Hitchcock offering, it is well worth one’s time. Warner Brother’s new Blu-ray release is the perfect way to view the film on one’s home entertainment system.

Review by: Devon Powell

Source Material:

Staff Writer (Variety, December 31, 1952)

Bosley Crowther (New York Times, March 23, 1953)

Staff Writer (The Times, April 20, 1953)

Peter Bogdanovich (The Cinema of Alfred Hitchcock, 1963)

François Truffaut (Hitchcock/Truffaut, 1966)

Robert A. Harris & Michael S. Lasky (The Films of Alfred Hitchcock, 1976)

John Russell Taylor (Hitch: The Life and Times of Alfred Hitchcock, 1978)

Michael Haley (The Hitchcock Album, 1981)

Patrick Humphries (The Films of Alfred Hitchcock, 1986)

Dan Auiler (Hitchcock’s Notebooks, 1999)

Ken Mogg (The Alfred Hitchcock Story, 1999)

Patrick McGilligan (Alfred Hitchcock: A Life in Darkness and Light, 2003)

Lesley L. Coffin (Hitchcock’s Stars, 2014)