Distributor: Kino Lorber
Release Date: November 26, 2019
Region: Region A
The Ring – 01:45:44
The Farmer’s Wife – 01:52:12
Champagne – 01:45:37
The Manxman – 01:40:36
The Skin Game – 01:22:34
Video: 1080P (MPEG-4, AVC)
Main Audio: 2.0 English DTS-HD Master Audio (24-bit)
Subtitles: English (The Skin Game)
The Ring – 23.98 Mbps
The Farmer’s Wife – 24.99 Mbps
Champagne – 17.00 Mbps
The Manxman – 16.99 Mbps
The Skin Game – 16.99 Mbps
Notes: This is the North American Blu-ray
“[British International Pictures] rapidly gathered assets—a couple of distribution companies, cinemas, subsidiary production companies, and Elstree film studios. It also signed up as much talent as it could back up its claims to eminence in the newly secure-seeming British film industry. Most importantly, it acquired Alfred Hitchcock, who was prized away from Michael Balcon and Gainsborough with promises of new freedom, bigger and better budgets—a considerable inducement since Gainsborough’s finances were painfully modest and Hitch had not been happy with either of his assignments since The Lodger.” –John Russell Taylor (Hitch: The Life and Times of Alfred Hitchcock, 1978)
When Hitchcock joined British International Pictures in June of 1927, he fully expected to be able to make ambitious films of his own choosing.
“Hitchcock was envisioning various future projects, including ‘two epic films dealing with the Mercantile Marine and the English railways.’ There was also loose talk of Hitchcock’s chronicling England’s general strike of 1926—a ten day nationwide stoppage, generally regarded as a historic opportunity and dismal defeat for English labor—in a film that would depict ‘the fistfights between strikers and undergraduates, pickets, and all authentic drama of the situation,’ in his words. Already in pre-production, according to B.I.P. was an experiential ‘film symphony’ called ‘London,’ which Hitchcock had written in collaboration with Walter Mycroft… Hitchcock’s ‘London’ would offer a heaping slice of humanity.
None of these experimental, populist, or otherwise out-of-the-ordinary Hitchcock pictures would ever be made. The director’s actual deal with B.I.P. included option clauses that hinges on his ability to churn out four B.I.P. productions a year, maintaining the staggering level of output he had managed in 1927. As fast as he was, Hitchcock couldn’t keep up that pace and hope to make the kind of films that called for studio to risk more time and expense…
…What Maxwell really wanted to do in the foreseeable future was to consolidate his English Audience. His twelve picture, three year deal with Hitchcock was part of a general speedup, and a studio policy that called for more—for cheaper—films to justify its overhead. Photographing English plays and books, with English actors, was front-office conservativism that took no account of Hitchcock’s higher aspirations. And so the next several years at Elstree, from 1928 to 1932, would prove the busiest of Hitchcock’s career, but also at times the least personal.” –Patrick McGilligan (Alfred Hitchcock: A Life in Darkness and Light, 2003)
Luckily, his first film under this new contract was one that he chose himself. It was an original story by Hitchcock entitled The Ring.
The Ring (1927)
“You might say that after The Lodger, The Ring was the next Hitchcock picture. There were all kinds of innovations in it, and I remember that at the premiere an elaborate montage got a round of applause. It was the first time that had ever happened to me.” –Alfred Hitchcock (Le Cinéma selon Hitchcock, 1966)
The fact that Alfred Hitchcock took sole credit for the original story (a practice unique in his career) may hint at the director’s affinity for the project, but it may also be the result of a temporary falling out with Eliot Stannard. He had collaborated with the writer on all five of his previous films and would work with him again on his subsequent silent endeavors (with the notable exception of Blackmail). While Walter Mycroft is reported to have worked on the script, it is usually suggested that his contributions consisted of minimal touch-ups and advice on the film’s boxing sequences. In any case, the bulk of the script was left to Hitchcock (and most likely his wife Alma) after Stannard’s exit from the project.
Today, it may seem as if the film’s subject was an unusual choice for the director, but boxing wasn’t totally outside of the Hitchcock’s milieu.
“I was interested — I used to go to the Albert Hall. I think the thing, strangely enough, that fascinated me about boxing in those days was the English audience that would go all dressed up in black tie to sit around the ring. It wasn’t the boxing that fascinated me so much, although I was interested in the shop, all the details connected with it. Like pouring champagne over the head of the boxer at the thirteenth round, if he was going a bit groggy. You’d hear them uncork the champagne bottle and pour the whole bottle over his head. All that kind of thing I was interested in, and put it all in the picture.” –Alfred Hitchcock (The Cinema of Alfred Hitchcock, 1963)
Hitchcock’s creative freedom extended to the film’s casting, and he exorcised this freedom by offering Lilian Hall-Davis the role of Mabel (a.k.a. “The Girl”). He had admired her work in a film entitled The Passionate Adventure and wanted very much to work with her. He decided to offer Carl Brisson the role of “One-Round Jack” as he was a former middleweight champion, and his rival in and out of the ring would be played by Ian Hunter despite his lack of boxing ability. In fact, Hitchcock used Hunter’s shortcomings as a fighter to good effect within the film:
“The high-spot of the picture was the last round of a boxing match. Brisson had to win. Brisson was a trained boxer. He was, actually, a boxer before he was an actor. Hunter was only an amateur. It was, incidentally, his first—and very successful—film.
On the day we were shooting this last round—the previous rounds had been photographed before with trick photography to speed up the effect by ‘under-cranking’ (turning the camera more slowly)—I ranged four cameras [a]round the set and told them to go all out. Ian went off to the local tavern with Gordon Harker. He lunched off bread and cheese and beer. How he must have regretted it!
I exploited Brisson’s knowledge of boxing. I told him to box as he would if it were a genuine match. So Brisson, with the eye of a practiced athlete, attacked Ian’s body. Every time he connected, Ian remembered the beer. It was a raging hot day. He was sweating like a bull. They fought on and on, Hunter swinging at Brisson’s handsome elusive face; Brisson plugging blow after blow to the mark; Hunter puffing, and blowing, and grunting with every smack he took.
Finally, I gave the signal for the last of it. Brisson was to knock out his opponent. He launched a blow at Hunter’s body. Hunter caught his breath with a gulp, that sort of gulp you give when a football catches you amidships. He swayed, tottered, sat down. He was congratulated on a brilliant piece of acting. I got some kudos for a good piece of direction. Actually, neither of us deserved any credit. I was not directing. Hunter was not acting. He was really ‘out.’” –Alfred Hitchcock (Life Among the Stars, News Chronicle, March 01-05, 1937)
Gordon Harker filled the role of Jack’s best friend and trainer.
“I found Gordon Harker on the stage, too. I was looking for a Cockney “second” for Carl Brisson in The Ring, and I happened one night to drop into Wyndham’s Theatre to see Edgar Wallace’s ‘The Ringer.’ Harker was playing a Cockney part, and I saw in him the very man I needed. Incidentally, it has always seemed to me to be rather a waste of Harker’s talents that he should almost invariably be cast as a Cockney. He is a brilliant character actor, and perhaps you’ll remember that I gave him the role of a Devon farmhand in The Farmer’s Wife. He made a very good job of it…” –Alfred Hitchcock (My Screen Memories, Film Weekly, May 02-30, 1936)
In addition to his role in the two aforementioned films, Harker would also appear in Champagne. It is clear that the director admired the actor’s work, and his performances in these silent efforts are incredibly entertaining. (The fact that he also appeared in Elstree Calling is also be significant, but the director preferred to downplay his participation in this project.)
The Ring would also mark the first time that Alfred Hitchcock worked with Jack Cox as his cinematographer.
“…It marked a clear division in the camera department between the Hitchcock films made at Gainsborough and those made at B.I.P. Cox was an ‘effects’ cameraman—an expert in ‘blurred images, overlays, and double exposures,’ in the words of [Duncan] Petrie… That was more important to Hitchcock than framing or lighting genius. Hitchcock really didn’t need compositional advice; his staging within the frame was always strongly in his mind, and annotated in the script. What Hitchcock wanted was a cameraman who would take a dare. And even veterans like Cox were sometimes taken aback by Hitchcock’s taunts and demands… Cameramen learned to trust Hitchcock’s instincts; he not only stipulated the setups, but, with his art training would whip out a sketch-pad, draw the image, and specify the focus…
…Starting with The Ring, Cox would photograph all ten of Hitchcock’s B.I.P. films during the prolific years between 1927 and 1932. Then, after an interval of several years, they would reunite on The Lady Vanishes. Eleven Hitchcock pictures: only Robert Burks, another virtuoso cameraman, whom Hitchcock found at Warner Bros. in America, would work with him more.” –Patrick McGilligan (Alfred Hitchcock: A Life in Darkness and Light, 2003)
Unlike many of the director’s later efforts at British International Pictures, The Ring was given a reasonable budget and plenty of time to achieve Hitchcock’s intended vision. It was shot during the summer of 1927 (July and August), and the production was an incredibly smooth one. Cox’s adventurous spirit came in handy when it came time to shoot the film’s Albert Hall climax as the Schüfftan process was employed. This would blend live action footage with painted backgrounds, photographs, and miniatures.
The freedom that he was given during the production of The Ring resulted in a spike in the director’s creativity. He was working on a project that he was excited about, and this resulted in some very interesting visual touches.
“This is also the film in which I introduced a few notions that were widely adopted later on. For instance, to show the progress of a prize fighter’s career, we showed large posters on the street, with his name on the bottom. We show different seasons—summer, autumn, winter—and the name is printed in bigger and bigger letters on each of the posters. I took great care to illustrate the changing seasons: blossoming trees for the spring, snow for the winter, and so on.” –Alfred Hitchcock (Le Cinéma selon Hitchcock, 1966)
This sort of transition may seem quaint by today’s standards, but filmmakers are still using similar techniques to show the passing of time in their films. A film director should be able to tell a story visually, and this is why Hitchcock is without equal. He is and has always been a visual storyteller. However, he later questioned some of his celebrated visual touches in The Ring.
“I must say that in recent years I have come to make much less use of obvious camera devices… The other day a journalist came to interview me, and we spoke about film technique. ‘I always remember,’ he said, ‘a little bit in one of your silent films, The Ring. The young boxer comes home after winning his fight. He is flushed with success—wants to celebrate. He pours out champagne all [a]round. Then he finds that his wife is out, and he knows at once that she is out with another man. At this moment, the camera cuts to a glass of champagne; you see a fizz of bubbles rise off it and there it stands untasted, going flat. That one shot gives you the whole feeling of the scene.’ ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘that sort of imagery might be quite good: I don’t despise it and still use it now and then. But is it always noticed?’ There was another bit in The Ring which I believe hardly anyone noticed.
The scene was outside a boxing-booth at a fair with a barker talking to the crowd. Inside the booth a professional is taking on all comers. He has always won in the first round. A man comes running out of the booth and speaks to the barker. Something unexpected has happened. Then a straight cut to the ringside: you see an old figure 1 being taken down and replaced with a brand new figure 2. I meant this single detail to show that the boxer, now, is up against someone he can’t put out in the first round. But it went by too quickly. Perhaps I might have shown the new Figure 2 being taken out of paper wrapping—something else was needed to make the audience see in a moment that the figure for the second round had never been used before.” –Alfred Hitchcock (Direction, Sight and Sound, Summer 1937)
It is interesting to note that his criticism is focused on the issue of clarity. The audience was always on Hitchcock’s mind. Unfortunately, audiences didn’t flock to the theaters upon the film’s release despite a whirlwind of critical praise.
“…The picture had a succès d’estime, but it was not a commercial hit.” –Alfred Hitchcock (Le Cinéma selon Hitchcock, 1966)
His next film was also praised by most critics (and is still praised by many scholars), but it was often dismissed by Hitchcock.
The Farmer’s Wife (1928)
“The Farmer’s Wife, I would say, was again merely a photograph of a stage play with lots of titles instead of dialogue. It was just a routine job.” –Alfred Hitchcock (The Cinema of Alfred Hitchcock, 1963)
With their working relationship patched-up and running efficiently, Eliot Stannard was back to work on the script of The Farmer’s Wife, and his adaptation is surprisingly faithful to the Eden Phillpotts play. This was always a source of regret for Hitchcock as he preferred more cinematic material. One assumes that the film was an assignment, and it is unclear how much freedom Hitchcock actually had over the production. Periodicals from the period suggest that Eden Phillpotts may have had as much (or more) control over the film as Hitchcock.
“I hear that the producers of the forthcoming film version of The Farmer’s Wife are searching diligently for real Devon ‘types,’ and that Mr. Eden Phillpotts is himself assisting them. He has also personally chosen the locations for the film.” –Staff Writer (The Farmer’s Wife, Western Morning News, September 16, 1927)
The original play was written by Phillpotts and premiered in London in 1924, and it would eventually be performed over 13,000 times on that stage before Laurence Olivier went on tour as the lead in 1926. Such success would have given the writer plenty of contractual authority. Even so, it is likely that the film’s director had a hand in the casting since both Lillian Hall-Davis and Gordon Harker appear in the film. In fact, much of what Hitchcock has said about the production concerns the actors (although, his comments aren’t specific to the film’s production):
“…This was in certain respects a tragic film, for tragedy came to two of the leading players in it. The star of the picture was Jameson Thomas. He had, of course, been in numerous films before this, and he was undoubtedly one of England’s most popular players. He is in Hollywood today, playing supporting roles. He left England to take his wife to California. She was very ill. The Californian sunshine seemed to offer the only hopes of a cure. So Jimmy Thomas packed up everything in this country and moved to Hollywood—in vain. His wife died in spite of the sacrifice.
Thomas’s leading lady in The Farmer’s Wife was Lillian Hall-Davis. She was an amazing girl. On the set she suffered from acute self-consciousness. She had an acute inferiority complex in regard to her ability to play certain parts, and I remember that she turned down an extremely good role because she wasn’t sure she could do it well enough. Actually, she could have played it with ease. Yet, in private life she was altogether a different person. She possessed a terrific personality and amazing vivacity. It was with the deepest regret that, two or three years ago, I read of her death in tragic circumstances.” –Alfred Hitchcock (My Screen Memories, Film Weekly, May 02-30, 1936)
Tragic indeed. Davis committed suicide on October 25, 1933. A neighbor named Herbert French found the actress with her head in the oven, a razor in her right hand, and a wound in her neck.
As for the film itself, we know that production commenced in October of 1927, and that Hitchcock shot much of it on location in Surrey and Devon, Somerset in order to capture an authentic countryside setting. Interestingly, the director enjoyed his visit to the rustic locations and would soon purchase a weekend retreat in Shamely Green as a result of his time there. The film’s camera work is also noteworthy:
“When the chief cameraman got sick, I handled the camera myself. I arranged the lighting, but since I wasn’t too sure of myself, I sent a test over to the lab. While waiting for the results, we could rehearse the scene. I did what I could, but it wasn’t actually very cinematic.” –Alfred Hitchcock (Le Cinéma selon Hitchcock, 1966)
During this same interview, the director claimed that he didn’t remember much about the film and seemed both detached from and disappointed in it. “There was too much dialogue,” he told Truffaut. “It was largely a title film… I know that filming that play stimulated my wish to express myself in purely cinematic terms.”
Unfortunately, his assignments at B.I.P. would consist largely of stage adaptations that didn’t always allow the director’s cinematic ideas to flourish.
According to most sources, Champagne originated with an idea by British International Pictures’ scenario editor and literary adviser Walter Mycroft.
“Someone had this idea, let’s make a film about champagne. And my thought was — it’s kind of a corny idea really — why don’t we do one about a little girl who works at Reims in the cellars and always watches the train go off carrying champagne. And then she eventually gravitated to the city and became a kind of whore and was put through the mill and eventually went back to her job, and then every time she saw champagne go out, she knew, ‘Well, that’s going to cause some trouble for somebody.’ That was scrapped. They thought it was much too, they didn’t use the word ‘highbrow,’ but, oh, that wasn’t entertainment. So we ended up with a hodge-podge of a story that was written as we went through the film and I thought it was dreadful.” –Alfred Hitchcock (The Cinema of Alfred Hitchcock, 1963)
Readers may remember running across Mycroft’s name earlier in this article as he would have collaborated with Hitchcock on a number of his earlier projects. Most sources agree that Hitchcock was enthusiastic about the hiring of Mycroft, who had previously worked as a journalist before joining BIP as the head of their story department in latter months of 1927. The director’s enthusiasm may have been due to the fact that the journalist was one of the founders of the Film Society. His own membership in the film society may have given him the erroneous idea that Mycroft would champion his ideas and secure him a certain amount of creative freedom. Unfortunately, this would not be the case at all, and his relationship with Mycroft would soon become somewhat antagonistic.
In fact, Champagne may have been the project that sealed their mutual loathing. His own ambitious ideas were cast aside for being uncommercial and potentially depressing after Betty Balfour—an incredibly popular British film star—signed on as the leading actress. After all, audiences didn’t want to see Britain’s biggest star being dragged through the trenches of a hard and apathetic universe. They wanted to laugh and enjoy her charismatic charm. Hitchcock had little choice but to re-write his gritty drama as a bubbly comedy of little consequence. The new script was rushed, and Hitchcock’s interest in the project evaporated.
Assistant cameraman, Alfred Roome, remembered that the film entered production without a finished script. This is, unfortunately, all too evident when one watches the finished film. Alfred Hitchcock tried to keep his spirits up by experimenting stylistically.
“…The opening and closing images, shot through a champagne glass, would become one of Hitchcock’s most celebrated effects [up to that point]. ‘I was the one who had to focus through the bottom of the glass,’ remembered assistant cameraman Roome. ‘Hitch had it made specially by a glass manufacturer who put a lens into the bottom of a giant champagne glass so we could shoot through it and get a clear picture of what was happening at the other end of the room. We all said it wouldn’t work. Most people said that of Hitch’s ideas, but they almost always did work.” –Patrick McGilligan (Alfred Hitchcock: A Life in Darkness and Light, 2003)
Michael Powell—a man now known as one of the British cinema’s most brilliant directors—was hired as a stills photographer during the film’s production. He later remembered that Hitchcock wasn’t at all happy about Balfour’s casting and wasn’t pretending otherwise. In fact, he tried to keep Powell from shooting publicity images of the actress! This is undoubtedly due to the fact that he blamed her casting for the change in the project’s direction.
In any case, the director had plenty to distract him from his disappointment over the fact that this project was now merely an inconsequential assignment. An extremely personal project was also in the works, and he and Alma would eventually name her Patricia. Production on Champagne wrapped in July of 1928—and his only daughter would be born on the seventh of that same month.
The Manxman (1929)
“The only point of interest about that movie is that it was my last silent one.” –Alfred Hitchcock (Le Cinéma selon Hitchcock, 1966)
Some scholars would dispute the film’s place as Hitchcock’s final silent feature since his silent version of Blackmail is very much an indelible part of his filmography. However, this quote speaks volumes about the director’s own attitudes towards the project. To his mind, The Manxman was merely another B.I.P assignment that he was obliged to direct.
“The Manxman, again, was a kind of old-fashioned story. An assignment, more or less. It was a domestic melodrama, you know, the illegitimate child and the brother and the judge—one of those things full of coincidences—the brother happens to be a lawyer and the poor girl gets involved with a fisherman and so on.” –Alfred Hitchcock (The Cinema of Alfred Hitchcock, 1963)
He would tell François Truffaut that the film was “a very banal picture” and lamented the fact that the story was taken from “a very well-known book by Sir Hall Caine” since the novel’s popularity made it necessary for him to “respect that reputation and that tradition.” Hitchcock preferred to simply take a basic idea from a source and build visually striking cinematic situations from that idea. In other words, he felt that the forced fidelity to Caine’s original novel resulted in a film that wasn’t entirely his own. (This was a feeling that he would have quite often during his time at B.I.P.)
It’s impossible not to agree with the director when he describes the story as old fashioned. The scenario seems clichéd and outdated when viewed today, but these handicaps don’t overwhelm the film. In fact, The Manxman is one of the director’s most beautiful silent efforts. Much of this is due to some incredible location shooting in various communities along the beautiful Cornish coast. (These locations largely stood in for the Isle of Man, but there was also some incidental shooting at the actual island.) Meanwhile, Anny Ondra’s performance is a heartbreaking testament to her talents as a silent actress.
In any case, his collaboration with Ondra on Blackmail would return the director to material that he could fully embrace.
The Skin Game (1931)
In fact, one might expect the success of Blackmail to put Alfred Hitchcock in a stronger position at Elstree, but he was still a contract director and was obligated to accept the assignments that were handed to him. He followed his first “talkie” with an incredibly faithful adaptation of Sean O’Casey’s Juno and the Paycock, but the director felt that the incredibly talky play didn’t allow him to tell the story cinematically. As a result, the film’s enormous critical success wasn’t particularly gratifying for Hitchcock. He felt that the success was O’Casey’s and not his own. While Murder! leaned more towards mystery than it did suspense, it did allow the director to exercise his creativity. Unfortunately, his following project would be yet another talky stage property.
“[The Skin Game] was taken from a play by John Galsworthy. I didn’t make it by choice, and there isn’t much to be said about it.” –Alfred Hitchcock (Le Cinéma selon Hitchcock, 1966)
The truth is probably more complex. Hitchcock himself listed Galsworthy’s work as a foundational influence on him, but one imagines that he would have been more at home adapting ‘Escape‘ as this would have fallen in line with his penchant for suspense yarns. What’s more, the playwright’s contractual control over his film adaptation limited Hitchcock’s own creative input:
“…Galsworthy, like O’Casey, had a B.I.P agreement that outlawed, in his words, ‘dialogue except what is written and passed by me, and no tampering with the play’s integrity.’ Hitchcock would be hemmed in on The Skin Game more than on Juno and the Paycock. Though he worked to open it up visually, he’d adhere very closely to the play—shooting most of the scenes with multiple cameras for a fluid soundtrack (they still ‘couldn’t cut sound in those days’).
Galsworthy felt strongly about casting, and he presented Hitchcock with a list of preferred actors, though his contract gave him no say in this matter. Yet in the end, the leads must have pleased the playwright. Edmund Gwenn had been the original Mr. Hornblower, the nouveau rich industrialist whose hard-driving tactics ignite a feud over a parcel of land between two families, one aristocratic and the other parvenu. Gwenn also played Hornblower in the silent film; now he would reprise his famous role for Hitchcock. And Helen Haye, another original cast member who had returned for the Anglo-Dutch silent, was back as snobby Mrs. Hillcrist. The rest was a mix of Hitchcock semi-regulars and actors under studio contract.” –Patrick McGilligan (Alfred Hitchcock: A Life in Darkness and Light, 2003)
Hitchcock went on record about the difficulties he was having with his adaptation of The Skin Game during his publicity campaign for Murder!:
“It has been found that the technique demanded by the stage rarely lends itself to the screen…The more perfect the stage technique, the more difficult becomes anything like a faithful screen adaptation. Galsworthy’s brilliantly clever stagecraft in The Skin Game is giving us no end of trouble in finding the true screen equivalent.” –Alfred Hitchcock (Making Murder!, Cassell’s Magazine, August 1930)
One imagines that this is polite publicity speak for Hitchcock’s true opinion of his newest project as he was more direct in later interviews. “Photographed theatre, really,” he told Peter Bogdanovich. “I didn’t alter the Galsworthy play very much. It opened up a little bit more than Juno. Not too much, though.” He was able to apply his creativity to the film’s auction sequence. This scene finds a meek and mumbling auctioneer presiding over the frenzied bidding as the two rivaling families attempt to purchase the same piece of property. Hitchcock highlights the bidding with wild pans and quick cuts that place the viewer in the chaos of the scene. The audience experiences the sense of desperation that is at the heart of the scene. Both families need this property if they are to maintain their way of life.
John Galsworthy’s way of life was somewhat different than Alfred Hitchcock’s, but the director did enjoy his initial meeting with the playwright.
“In preparation for the film Hitch, still an avid playgoer …was invited down to week-end at Galsworthy’s country house. He found Galsworthy living in some style…surrounded by a large household. Hitch put his foot in it immediately. Mrs. Galsworthy asked him what kind of music he liked. ‘Wagner,’ replied Hitch, ‘he’s so melodramatic.’ ‘Oh, no,’ said Mrs. Galsworthy conclusively; ‘we like Bach.’” –John Russell Taylor (Hitch: The Life and Times of Alfred Hitchcock, 1978)
It was likely during this visit that the director attended a dinner party that was hosted by Mr. and Mrs. Galsworthy.
“The Skin Game was responsible for the most cultured dinner party I ever attended and for one of the best malapropisms I have ever heard. The dinner party was at Mr. Galsworthy’s house. When we sat down, Galsworthy himself ‘set’ the subject for discussion. ‘Let us discuss,’ he said, ‘words. Words in relation to their meaning and in relation to their sound.’ One guest suggested the word ‘fragile’ as descriptive. Another advanced the opinion that the French ‘fragile’ was even more delicate in its sound. A third stressed the claims of crepuscular’ as being ‘filled with the nuance of the twilight.’ I sat amazed at the feeling the guests had for the sound-sense of words.
A course or so later, Mr. Galsworthy gave out another topic. ‘Let us discus,’ he said, ‘the various states of consciousness.’ Then he amplified the topic in answer to my question. ‘The states of consciousness are like stratified layers of earth. The crust is compete consciousness and the core is the subconscious. Between lie an infinite series of gradations of consciousness.’
That was my first contact with The Skin Game. Now for the contrast. Edmund Gwenn had to wear a toupee—a sort of hair wig—in the production. We got it from Clarkson’s. It cost three guineas. One day someone from the accounts, keeping an eagle eye on the pence, came rushing down. ‘Why go to Clarkson’s for a three guinea toupee?’ he asked angrily. ‘Do you think the firm is made of money? You can get one at Austin Reed’s for a guinea.’
‘Really?’ I asked. ‘Have Austin Reed started a makeup department?’ ‘Makeup?’ said he. ‘I thought you were buying a tropical helmet!’” –Alfred Hitchcock (Life Among the Stars, News Chronicle, March 01-05, 1937)
While The Skin Game is seen as little more than a mere footnote in the director’s filmography today, it wasn’t considered a failure at the time of its release. Actually, if the director would claim that it was one of the “most successful pictures” that he made during this period. The trouble was that the film’s strengths and weaknesses—or successes and failures—seemed to belong more to John Galsworthy than to Alfred Hitchcock. The film wasn’t a creative triumph for the director; it was merely an assignment that he was obliged to complete. In fact, Hitchcock’s treatment by British International Pictures was by now looking depressingly similar to the situation which had first prompted him to abandon Gainsborough.
4 of 5 MacGuffins
Kino Lorber house their two Blu-ray discs in a standard blue case with a sleeve featuring a very young Alfred Hitchcock. The case is further protected by a cardboard slip sleeve that exhibits the same artwork. It’s an attractive package and an appropriate design for a release like this one.
Both discs contain uniform menus that utilize the same photograph. They are attractive and easy to navigate.
3 – 4 of 5 MacGuffins
It is probably best to start by saying that each of these five transfers are significant improvements over those seen on the previous Lionsgate (and Studio Canal) DVD editions. Grain is more natural looking and resolves better here than the other format allowed. What’s more, the higher resolution allows for a bit more detail to come across (although the images are soft due to the limitations of the medium at the time that these films were made). They look fairly good considering their age, and BFI should be commended for their restoration efforts. The results are surprising as clarity is especially strong when one considers their age. The Manxman may very well be the sturdiest transfer in the set while The Ring is probably the weakest of the silent restoration transfers. However, each of the four silent films are impressive efforts. The Skin Game is probably the weakest transfer in the set as the credits are jittery and there seems to be some unfortunate cropping on display (though neither of these issues is nearly as problematic as is seen in the various bootleg copies that are still so readily available). The master for this film was provided by Studio Canal, and Kino cleaned this master up a bit. However, this film hasn’t been given a proper restoration.
Notes about Champagne
“Although the restoration team were able to work from an original negative, which meant we were able to get very good image quality, this was a mixed blessing… At the beginning of the restoration process we were concerned that for a Hitchcock film there were some clumsily juxtaposed shots and framing errors, as well as the occasional shot exhibiting substandard acting or shots that were held uncomfortably long.
Further examination revealed an instruction scratched into a leader (blank film attached to the start of a reel to enable threading into the projector) saying ‘2nd neg’. From this we deduced that this negative was assembled from second-best shots, kept as a backup in case of damage to the original or for making additional prints for export. This was studio practice at the time… These were edited together from different takes that you can clearly see were taken at the same shoot, but were not taken simultaneously with a second camera. As this negative is the only original element in existence we will never know exactly what the film looked like as it was originally released.
The evidence of editor’s marks on the negative of Champagne confirmed our suspicions. An extensive international search of archives and film collections didn’t turn up any further copies of Champagne that we could use as a guide. One 16mm print loaned by a collector turned out to be made from our negative so could supply no new information…” –Bryony Dixon (Restoring Hitchcock #4: The Trouble with ‘Champagne,’ BFI)
In other words, the restoration is a beauty to behold, but Champagne can be seen as a “lost film” in many regards since what remains is essentially made up of alternate/inferior takes instead of the footage that had originally been chosen for release. Obviously, having this is certainly better than nothing at all, but it is important to make this point quite clear.
3-4.5 of 5 MacGuffins
All five of the included films have been given 2.0 DTS-HD Master Audio transfers, and the four silent efforts include new scores. The Ring has been scored by Meg Morley, The Farmer’s Wife was scored by Jon Mirsalis, Champagne boasts a score by Ben Model, and the music for The Manxman was provided by Andrew Earle Simpson. Each of these scores adequately support their respective film, and their transfers are quite strong.
Kino’s transfer for The Skin Game is as strong as can be expected considering the film’s age and the recording methods utilized by the production. There is some slight background hiss throughout the track, but this is never terribly distracting. Dialogue isn’t as sturdy as one might hope, but it is certainly audible and understandable. This is a huge improvement over the many bargain basement “bootleg” releases of The Skin Game as those were nearly impossible to sit through.
4 of 5 MacGuffins
Feature Length Commentary for The Ring with Nick Pinkerton
Nick Pinkerton’s commentary gets off to a slow start, but those who continue listening to his track will be rewarded with some interesting information that might add to their appreciation of the film. Interestingly, his commentary seems to morph into the sort of “sports commentary” that one hears during sporting events when the film’s climactic boxing match gets underway. However, there were some interesting revelations during this portion of the film as well.
Hitchcock/Truffaut Audio Interview Excerpts: The Ring, and The Farmer’s Wife – (07:33)
Fans will be happy to note that the disc includes the excerpts from Hitchcock’s interview with François Truffaut that focus on The Ring and The Farmer’s Wife. Frankly, we disapprove when Blu-rays don’t include these excerpts. It’s obvious from their conversation that he prefers The Ring to The Farmer’s Wife, and the greater portion of these seven and a half minutes is devoted to that film.
Feature Length Commentary for Champagne with Farran Smith Nehme
Farran Smith Nehme’s commentary for Champagne is more immediately engaging than the Nick Pinkerton commentary for The Ring and no less informative. It isn’t one of the best commentaries we’ve heard as third party tracks rarely live up to those offered by people who have actually worked on the film. This one offers enough information and observation to make it a worthwhile addition to the disc.
Feature Length Commentary for The Manxman with Farran Smith Nehme
Nehme’s commentary for The Manxman is on par with her track for Champagne. There’s quite a bit of worthwhile material here. Fans should enjoy hearing it.
Hitchcock/Truffaut Audio Interview Excerpts: Champagne, The Manxman, and The Skin Game – (12:17)
This disc also includes excerpts François Truffaut’s infamous interview with Hitchcock. Of course, these segments cover Champagne, The Manxman, and The Skin Game. It seems as if some of their conversation covering these titles hasn’t been included (particularly in the case of The Skin Game), but what is here is certainly appreciated. It’s clear enough that none of these titles are among his favorites.
Hitchcock: British International Pictures Collection is an incomplete assembly of the films made during one of Alfred Hitchcock’s fallow periods. The Ring is one of the director’s most interesting silent efforts, but films like Champagne and The Skin Game are less essential to casual viewers. Meanwhile, one wonders why they didn’t include Juno and the Paycock, Rich and Strange, and Number Seventeen in this set. This would compete the collection (since Blackmail and Murder! were released individually).
Kino Lorber’s set offers an opportunity for fans to watch films that were made during a time when Hitchcock was just a cog in the studio wheel. Many of these titles were merely assignments and were made on deficient budgets. It is nice that they are available in high definition, and Kino Lorber should be commended for their efforts.
Review by: Devon Powell
Staff Writer (The Farmer’s Wife, Western Morning News, September 16, 1927)
Alfred Hitchcock (Making Murder!, Cassell’s Magazine, August 1930)
Staff Writer (British Films: Activities at Elstree, Sydney Morning Herald, December 05, 1930)
Staff Writer (Illness Among Screen Stars: Productions Held Up at Elstree, Dundee Evening Telegraph, December 05, 1930)
William A. Mutch (The Skin Game, The Filmgoer’s Annual, 1932)
Alfred Hitchcock and John K. Newnham (My Screen Memories, Film Weekly, May 02-30, 1936)
Alfred Hitchcock (Life Among the Stars, News Chronicle, March 1-5, 1937)
Alfred Hitchcock (Direction, Sight and Sound, Summer 1937)
Peter Bogdanovich (The Cinema of Alfred Hitchcock, 1963)
François Truffaut (Le Cinéma selon Hitchcock, 1966)
John Russell Taylor (Hitch: The Life and Times of Alfred Hitchcock, 1978)
Sidney Gottlieb (Hitchcock on Hitchcock: Selected Writings and Interviews, 1995)
Patrick McGilligan (Alfred Hitchcock: A Life in Darkness and Light, 2003)
Maurice Yacowar (Hitchcock’s British Films, 2010)
Barton Palmer and David Boyd (Hitchcock at the Source, 2011)
Bryony Dixon (Restoring Hitchcock #4: The Trouble with Champagne, BFI, 2014)
Sidney Gottlieb (Hitchcock on Hitchcock: Volume 2, 2015)