Blu-ray Review: Blackmail

Blackmail Blu-ray Cover

Distributor: Kino Lorber

Release Date: August 13, 2019

Region: Region A

Length:

Silent Version – 01:16:07

‘Talkie’ Version – 01:25:47

Video: 1080P (MPEG-4, AVC)

Main Audio: 2.0 English DTS-HD Master Audio (48 kHz, 1557 kbps, 16-bit)

Subtitles: English

Ratio:

Silent Version – 1.33:1

‘Talkie’ Version – 1.20:1 / 1.33:1

Bitrate:

Silent Version – 32.85 Mbps

‘Talkie’ Version – 30.92 Mbps (1.33:1) / 30.73 Mbp (1.20:1 Version)

Notes: This “special edition” Blu-ray will also include the rare silent version of the film accompanied by a new score by The Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra. This is the first time either version of this film has appeared on Blu-ray in North America. A DVD edition of this title is also available. In fact, the DVD edition is the film’s North American debut on that format as well. Blackmail has only been available previously on unofficial “public domain” labels, and the transfers used for these releases were horrendous. Of course, none of this takes into account the various VHS and Laserdisc releases of this title since those are dead formats.

Title

Blackmail: Alfred Hitchcock’s First “Talkie”

“Making a talkie film I had only just completed as a ‘silent’ …gave me a tremendous advantage over most other directors. For one thing, I was able to improve on my original ideas; and for another, I was not handicapped by having a stagey subject to handle.” –Alfred Hitchcock (My Screen Memories, Film Weekly, May 02-30, 1936)

The introduction of sound revolutionized the motion picture industry, but it seemed that the so-called “talkies” were a one-step progression and a two-step retreat (at least in the beginning). It completely changed the way that films were shot, and the new methods made the camera difficult to move. Worse, actors were glued to stationary positions so that the microphone could pick up their voices. Suddenly, sound recording took precedence over a film’s visual aesthetic. It is no wonder that the British film industry faced this new art-form with a certain amount of anxiety. It would mean building expensive soundstages, buying sound equipment, and completely relearning how to efficiently shoot a motion picture. This, of course, doesn’t even take into consideration the challenges faced by exhibitors—and what if talkies were a passing fad?

Luckily, Alfred Hitchcock worked best when he was challenged and often turned technical limitations into creative triumphs. It was impossible for the director to know for certain if British International Pictures would be prepared for a sound production in time for his next project, but most sources agree that he planned the film as both a sound and silent production just to be on the safe side. He decided to embrace the new innovation instead of being threatened by it, and the result was probably his strongest effort since The Lodger. Of course, this is at least partially due to the fact that Blackmail would return him to the thriller genre.

Alfred Hitchcock and Charles Bennett.

Alfred Hitchcock and Charles Bennett

CHARLES BENNETT’S ORIGINAL STAGE PLAY

In fact, the film is actually based on a stage play by Charles Bennett—a man who would eventually become an instrumental collaborator on The Man Who Knew Too Much (1934), The 39 Steps (1935), Secret Agent (1936), Sabotage (1936), Young and Innocent (1937), and Foreign Correspondent (1940).

“Being a somewhat conceited individual, I like to believe that I subscribed in no small way to Hitch’s reputation. In fact, I know that it was my sense of suspense which moved Hitch to enlist me as his regular writer for seven of his early sound movies beginning with the ‘FIRST SUPER TALKIE,’ Blackmail (1929), for British International Pictures (BIP)…

His film was adapted from my second play… which during its London run caught the fancy of the rotund but highly talented young director. Hitch loved the story—his kind of stuff (and mine). Attempted seduction. Murder. The young innocent murderess being blackmailed. The switch in which the blackmailer himself becomes the suspect of the murder. Suspense.

Anyway, in 1928 Hitchcock had BIP lease the film rights to Blackmail…” –Charles Bennett (Hitchcock’s Partner in Suspense, 2014)

Of course, this is a slightly misleading quote, because—by his own admission—Bennett didn’t actually assist the director in adapting his play into a film. However, his influence is certainly felt in Hitchcock’s film version, and it is worth examining the origins of Blackmail for this reason. Luckily, much of what is known about this subject can be extracted from a short section from Charles Bennett’s autobiography:

“[Al Woods] advertised for authors to send their manuscripts for review, and to my satisfaction he chose my play ‘Blackmail’ from among three hundred submissions. The play was based on the experiences of a girl of whom I was once very fond, an adventure she had after attending the Chelsea Arts Ball. ‘Blackmail’ opened at the Globe Theater on February 28, 1928, [was] produced by Raymond Massey, and starring Tallulah Bankhead, then in her mid-twenties.

I remember that during the run Tallulah Bankhead invited me into her dressing room for a drink—she was stark naked. It wasn’t an invitation to an affair; it was just the way she was. But the play met a stormy reception, as Tallulah’s enthusiasts rushed the gallery stairs and the police were called. There was press notoriety concerning her role, then the play flopped. Critics remarked that if this was the best of several hundred plays, exactly how bad must the others have been? I had to go around apologizing, eventually replying to the criticism in a letter to the Sunday Express. When it was mentioned that I was the author, people thought it was funny. Fortunately, S. Rossiter Shepherd, Film critic for the Sunday People, published the truth about the miserable business, revealing how the original play had been hacked about and spoiled by Al Woods. This cleared me, as I could not really say a word in my own defense without repercussions among producers…

An interesting side note: I was actually knifed during a June 1928 performance of ‘Blackmail’ at the Regent Theatre, King’s Cross. I was playing the artist Peter Hewitt and, during the rape scene, the bread knife slipped from the grasp of the actress Violet Howard and sliced into my left ear. I received treatment at the Royal Free Hospital and then was able to return to the stage, head bandaged, for the curtain call.

When the original version went on tour with multiple touring companies, it proved the success it should have been in London’s West End. Thank God. One reviewer wrote kindly of me, ‘His object is to show the moral murderousness of blackmailers, and he succeeds vividly. He not only shows the tortures of the blackmailed, but lays bare also the state of mind of the blackmailer. The subtlety of alternating drama and psychology demands from the cast an unfaltering accuracy of interpretation.’” –Charles Bennett (Hitchcock’s Partner in Suspense, 2014)

Tallulah Bankhead 1928

Tallulah Bankhead portrayed Alice White in the Globe’s 1928 stage production of Blackmail. She would later portray Connie Porter in Alfred Hitchcock’s Lifeboat.

It isn’t known whether Alfred Hitchcock attended one of these performances of Blackmail, but it certainly seems likely considering that he was an avid patron of the theatre, and this particular subject would have appealed to his tastes. However, Bennett’s memoir raises an important question. Which ending was included in the text that Hitchcock and his team used as the source for the eventual film? If you remember, the play was produced with two endings:

“One encounters a problem attempting to study [the play’s] third act. The version that Al Woods insisted on, and which the press panned, is presently unknown. Because Tallulah Bankhead’s fans behaved riotously, one suspects that Alice’s integrity was compromised by Al Wood’s version. But Charles said the play reverted back to its original ending on tour and was then successful.” –John Charles Bennett (The Avenger, Hitchcock’s Partner in Suspense, 2014)

Did Hitchcock have access to both the Al Woods and the Charles Bennett ending? This question is impossible to answer, and it might not matter very much since the play’s ending was jettisoned in favor of the film’s museum chase.

Even so, such changes should not keep us from examining the published script (which was provided to us by John Bennett as he is currently the holder of all rights to the play). First of all, it is interesting to note that the characters have different names in the original play than their cinematic counterparts, and the reasons for these changes seem somewhat arbitrary. For example, Alice maintains her given name in the film, but her surname has been changed from Jarvis to White. Her detective boyfriend maintained the surname of Webber, but his given name was changed from Harold to Frank. We learn from the play that the blackmailer’s given name is Ian. He is referenced only as “Tracy” in the film. Finally, Mr. Crewe (the doomed artist) was originally named Peter Hewitt. It is also worth noting that Alice has a brother named Albert in the play that never appears in Hitchcock’s film.

The first act of Bennett’s play takes place entirely in the artist’s apartment, and there are two lengthy scenes that play out as one in real time. The first of these scenes has Tracy (the eventual blackmailer) entering the vacant residence uninvited. It is clear that he is intoxicated, and he soon makes himself right at home. The louse even sits down to eat a meal that is laying out after helping himself to a beer that can only aggravate his particular condition. However, these actions are soon interrupted by the artist’s landlady (who is named “Mrs. Cook”), and she quickly tosses him out after their brief exchange makes it clear that he is a former resident who once lived in the building before being evicted. It seems that he was never able to pay his rent. The landlady puts everything back into order, turns out the lights, and escorts the man out of the building (we hear them leave).

This scene is twelve pages in length (the entire Act is less than thirty-five pages), and has absolutely no counterpart in the film. Instead, Hitchcock opens on the arrest of an unknown man, and then follows the detective (Harold/Frank) out on a date with an annoyed Alice. Alice picks a fight with Harold/Frank and ends up leaving with the artist, and this new couple runs into Tracy on their walk to his apartment. However, the next scene in Bennett’s play does have a counterpart in the film.

After the landlady and Tracy are heard leaving, the audience waits in “comparative darkness” for a time before “a distant church clock is heard chiming the hour … twelve strikes.” This sound is followed by the sound of someone entering the building, ascending the stairs, and approaching the door before the artist enters cautiously:

[…He strikes a match for illumination. He speaks in a whisper over his shoulder.]

Peter: It’s all right. Come in.

[Alice Jarvis comes forward out of the darkness of the passage. She passes Peter and advances hesitatingly into the room. The match splutters and goes out and in the darkness Peter closes the door—quietly turning the key and pocketing it afterwards. He speaks to cover the noises of the lock.]

Wait a moment. I’ll switch on the light.

[He strikes another match and going to the divan-bed switches on the red shaded light beside it. He doesn’t switch on the center light, probably because he knows that the more subdued illumination is more suitable for his purpose…]

–Charles Bennett (Blackmail, 1934)

It is painfully obvious from the outset that the artist is on the make and probably not entirely trustworthy here. Whether this is also true of the film version is up for argument, but the play proceeds in a more straightforward and blatant manner than in the film. In any case, Bennett’s stage directions proceed to paint Alice as trying to hide her nervousness, and states that she regrets coming into his apartment.

[…He comes down and takes her caressingly by the shoulders. His voice is low and always seductively suggestive.]

Peter: Darling thing to come up here.

Alice [nervously]: I don’t know why I did.

Peter [with meaning]: I do.

[Alice looks at him, not sure of his trend and he smiles knowingly. She senses danger and lowering her eyes, breaks away towards the window, changing the subject as she does so.]

–Charles Bennett (Blackmail, 1934)

Alice sees something or someone outside of the window and inquires as to who the man was that addressed him as they were entering the building. We learn that Tracy is always bothering him for money, and she tells him that he is still hanging around outside. This doesn’t surprise the artist in the least as this seems to be his habit. This goes on for about a page, but the Artist soon takes the conversation back into uncomfortable territory.

[…She realizes that she must keep the conversation going if ‘unpleasantness’ is to be avoided and plunges into it.]

Alice: It’s — It’s a nice room.

Peter: Like it?

Alice [Looking around.]: Yes. I — I Like your big window.

Peter: Oh — That’s where I work.

Alice: Yes, I knew that — by the easel.

Peter: Do you paint then?

Alice: No — I wouldn’t know how to begin.

Peter [smiling]: I see I’ll have to teach you…”

–Charles Bennett (Blackmail, 1934)

It would be reasonable for anyone who is familiar with Hitchcock’s film versions of Blackmail to assume that this leads into a scene wherein Alice’s hand is guided into painting a primitive nude, but the subject is immediately dropped here as the artist begins making himself a drink. However, this moment still has importance since it would have planted the seed in Hitchcock’s mind for that particular exchange in his film. The line, “I see I’ll have to teach you” undoubtedly suggested that bit of business.

Bennett’s play takes another route. As Peter/Mr. Crewe makes himself a drink, he offers one to Alice only to discover that she is a teetotaler. He continues to apply some light pressure on her to no avail, so he instead offers her a cigarette. She doesn’t smoke either. This refusal to accept anything seems important as it should send a message to the man that his goals aren’t her own. The topic of conversation soon turns to her job, and we learn that she works selling clothes at “Horridge’s.” The man tries at every turn to steer the conversation where he wants it to go until he finally insists that she take off her coat and relax:

Alice: Oh, but I must be going in a minute.

Peter: Not yet.

Alice [quickly]: Yes. You see — it’s some way down the road.

Peter: But I’ll see you home. There’s nobody sitting up for you, is there?

Alice: No

[Too late. She wishes she had said ‘Yes.’]

Peter: Got a key?

Alice: Yes.

Peter: Then what are you worrying about? Here — Give me that coat.

Alice: But I really oughtn’t to —

Peter: Silly. Come on —

[He undoes her coat and in spite of her protests, removes it, revealing a pale blue dance frock beneath. It is short, close fitting, and very pretty in a simple way. Poor Alice, though, feeling positively naked before Peter’s gaze, looks down, abashed. Peter smiles and puts the coat on a chair by the table, then comes back and takes her hand. She speaks in feeble protest.]

Alice:I wish you wouldn’t make me take it off.

Peter: Why?

Alice: Oh, I don’t know. I feel so — so silly without it, somehow.

Peter: You don’t look it. Besides — you hadn’t got it on at the dance.

Alice: It wasn’t the same there.

Peter: How do you mean?

Alice [looking down]: Oh, I don’t know.

Peter [smiling at her]: Sit down.

Alice [nervously]: No. — I don’t want to sit down.

Peter: Of course you do. You must be tired out. [He sinks on the end of the bed and draws her to him.] Come on. — Don’t be shy.

Alice [terribly self-conscious]: I — I can’t help being shy. It’s — It’s the way you look at me, I think.

Peter: I won’t look at you then. [He draws her down onto his knee and she hangs her head, half ashamedly. Peter decided to adopt more subtle methods.] Did you enjoy the dance?

Alice: Yes. Did you?

Peter: Rather. I met you.

Alice [pleased but abashed]: Oh!

Peter: I’ve seen you there before, you know?

Alice: Have you?

Peter: Two or three times.

Alice [shyly]: I’ve seen you too — often.

Peter [a little flattered]: Have you—I say, that’s splendid! By the way, who was the fellow who looked so annoyed when you danced with me?

Alice: Oh. [She giggles a little.] That was Harold.

Peter: Harold?

Alice [looking down]: My young man.

Peter: Oh — So you’ve got a young man, have you?

Alice [glancing up shyly]: Of course.

Peter: Going to marry him?

Alice: One day.

Peter: Lucky beggar. What’s his job?

Alice: Well, he used to be a policeman, but he’s a detective now.

Peter: I say, that sounds imposing. Is he much older than you are?

Alice: Only six years. We’ve been walking out ever since I was fifteen.

Peter [lifting his eyebrows]: And you’re not tired of him yet?

Alice: Tired? Why, of course not. What funny things you say.

Peter [ruefully]: He didn’t seem to like the look of me much.

Alice [giggling again]: No, he didn’t. You should have heard some of the things he was saying about you out in the passage. We had quite a row.

Peter: A row?

Alice: Well — words anyway. That’s why I let you see me home — to teach him a lesson.”

–Charles Bennett (Blackmail, 1934)

This discussion about Harold may have suggested to Hitchcock and his team the idea for Alice’s row with Frank in the restaurant. However, the film suggests that Alice was expecting to see the artist there, and she starts another row after finding him to ensure an opportunity to meet with this handsome stranger. As a result, her motives are less clear in the film version. It might be argued that this ambiguity makes the following episodes more interesting and sets up his decidedly grim ending.

In any case, this conversation continues as Alice and Peter discuss their former encounters at various dance-related events. We learn that Peter never approached her because she had always been with Harold before he goes on to insult his dancing abilities. Belittling her boyfriend is the precursor to asking her on a date, but she tells him that she couldn’t possibly see him in this manner. He continues to press the issue and insists that she see him again and assures her that Harold would never know about it. She tentatively relents, but it is unclear if this is merely her way of ending this topic of conversation or if she actually wants to see him. There are several more pages of Peter’s attempt to wear her down before he asks Alice if Harold’s jealousy was the only reason that she left with him.

Alice [looking down]: I — I’ve forgotten.

Peter: Perhaps I can help you remember. [He lowers his voice.] Was it — Was it because you wanted the same thing as I did?

Alice: I don’t know what you wanted.

Peter [meaningly]: Shall I tell you?

Alice [scenting danger]: No.

Peter: Why not?

Alice: It — It mightn’t be something I’d like.

Peter: Oh — You’d like it all right.

Alice: No. [She feels Peter’s gaze on her head and looks up, realizing desperately that she must keep talking.] I don’t know why I came up really. I — I think I thought it would be funny.

Peter: Funny?

Alice: Yes — You know. To — To go into a man’s room at night. I’ve never been in a man’s rooms [sic] before — at night.

Peter [congratulating himself on the way she is playing into his hands]: Never?

Alice: No.

Peter: So you were looking for new experiences, were you?

Alice: I — I suppose I was.

Peter: And you thought you’d start with me?

Alice [not knowing what to say]: Er — Yes.

Peter [softly]: I’m flattered. [Alice lowers her eyes and Peter smiles.] Are you — Are you glad you decided to start with me?

Alice [breathing quickly]: I — I don’t know.

Peter: Don’t know?

Alice: Not yet —

Peter [pretending to see a meaning which isn’t intended.]: Oh — I shan’t disappoint you. — You darling little devil.

[His face is very close to hers. She is trembling. He lifts her chin with his hand and looks into her eyes, then leans forward to kiss her lips. She realizes his intention though and draws her head back quickly — speaking as she does so —]

Alice: No.

Peter [taken aback]: Why?

Alice: I don’t want to be kissed.

Peter: Don’t want — ? But you didn’t mind half an hour ago at the town hall.

Alice: That was different.

Peter: I don’t see it.

Alice: It was.

Peter: Why?

Alice: You know. It’s — It’s not right now we’re alone.

Peter: Now we’re — But I don’t see — [He stares at her for a moment, then his eyes light up with well-affected amazement.] Why — I believe you’re afraid of me. —

Alice [quickly]: No I’m not.

Peter: I believe you are. Why?

Alice: I’ve told you — I’m not.

Peter: Really and truly?

Alice [nodding]: Yes.

Peter: Then — [He looks at her fixedly for a moment, then speaks very seductively.] Then prove it — by letting me kiss you.

Alice [frightened]: No.

Peter [His lips are very close to hers.]: Prove it —

Alice: I’ve asked you not to —

Peter [very softly]: Silly — [Alice is breathing quickly—her breast heaving. For a moment Peter gazes into her eyes—then he draws her to him and their lips meet. There is a long pause—then Peter speaks again—his voice very low.] Stay with me tonight.

Alice [shrinking]: No —

Peter: You’ll like it as much as I do. — I promise you that.

Alice: You know I can’t.

Peter: Why not?

Alice: Well — We — We’re not married.

Peter: Does that matter?

Alice: You know it does. Besides — I’m not that sort of girl.

Peter: What sort?

Alice: The sort you want me to be.

Peter [As if puzzled by her attitude]: But I don’t understand. I — I’m not trying to insult you, you know. I’m asking you to stay because — Well, because I like you.

Alice: I can’t stay.

Peter: You mean—you don’t want to?

Alice: Yes.

Peter: You don’t like me?

Alice: I never said so.

Peter: Then why — ?

Alice: Oh — You don’t understand. [She shakes her head.] I do like you. — I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. It’s — It’s not because it’s you. It would be just the same whoever it was. It’s just — I’m not that sort. You know what I mean, don’t you?

Peter [after a slight pause]: I suppose I do. You mean — You mean you’d like to stay, but you feel you oughtn’t to.

Alice: Not quite that.

Peter: What then?

Alice: Oh — Can’t you see?

Peter: No.

Alice: Well, I’m going to be married one day.

Peter: I don’t see what that’s got to do with it.

Alice: It’s got a lot — [Simply.] You see — I’d like my husband to be the first man I ever — You know what I mean.

Peter [slowly]: Y—es. [Pausing reflectively, then smiles and rises. Going to the fireplace — lighting a cigarette.] Afraid I can’t see your point of view, you know.”

–Charles Bennett (Blackmail, 1934)

The kiss in this portion of the scene may have suggested the threatening kiss in Hitchcock’s film versions, but the scene has a later kiss as well. It seems likely that the endless dialogue would have been cut in any case as it would have been too direct to pass the censors, but Hitchcock was also planning a film intended as a silent endeavor! He had to come up with a more visual means of seduction, and dialogue had to be both simple and brief. Hitchcock was prone to cinematic means of expression, and Bennett’s play was written for the stage. It’s difficult to imagine him taking this approach as he disliked “filmed theatre.”

In the play, the pair argues about whether Alice’s Victorian values are outdated and whether marriage is a worthwhile institution. Obviously, Peter is a man who isn’t going to respect her wishes if they get in the way of his own desires. Peter argues that their escapades wouldn’t be a sin. “What do you think we were sent into the world for? Not to sit and look at each other… The whole thing is a matter of conscience, and if you have a healthy mind, that needn’t bother you much. … Marriage laws were instituted by evil-minded old puritans—too damned prurient to see that if young people loved each other, they’d stick together anyway!” His argument has no effect. In fact, Alice outwits him:

Alice: If they loved each other! [She thinks it over for a minute—then looks at Peter.] Yes. But you don’t love me.

Peter: How do you know that?

Alice: I do know.

Peter: Well — I like you anyway — More than any girl I’ve met for years.

Alice: But you said – ‘If young people loved each other.’

Peter [realizing that he has made a slip.]: Well — You know what I mean.

Alice: Yes. — I think I do. [She speaks very simply.] And I think I agree with you too. If young people loved each other it might be different. Maybe marriage wouldn’t matter so much, then. But you don’t love me. —

Peter [uncomfortably—feeling he has lost ground.]: Well — not exactly — but — [He forces a smile.] Well — you don’t love me for the matter of fact.

Alice: I haven’t offered to stay.

Peter [flinching]: Now you are being cruel…”

–Charles Bennett (Blackmail, 1934)

Peter tries insisting that he does love her out of sheer desperation. When it becomes clear that he isn’t winning her over, he turns away and broods like a child. Soon after this moment, Alice announces that she will be going. Her words seem to set off some sort of trigger in the man’s ego, and “he turns to look at her. The fact that she has repulsed him has only made her more desirable in his eyes.” This leads to a second kissing moment that may have also helped to suggest the scenes in Hitchcock’s film versions.

Peter: Not yet.

Alice: Why not?

Peter: There’s something else I want to say.

Alice: What?

[Peter is staring at her. He is obviously losing control of himself. He takes her hand—drawing nearer.]

Peter: You know what it is —

Alice: I don’t.

Peter: I — I want you.

Alice [frightened again]: No.

Peter: I do. [He is breathing very quickly.] Do you know how beautiful you are? Do you know?

Alice: Don’t. —

Peter: I can’t help it. — I want you — so much.

Alice [moved by his obvious sincerity]: You mustn’t say that. —

Peter: But it’s true. Alice —

[Their faces are close together. Suddenly, Peter takes her in his arms and kisses her passionately. For a moment, she doesn’t resist. Peter’s hand drops caressingly to her knee and he leans over—thrusting her back on the cushions. Suddenly though, she gasps and her hands beat him convulsively. She tears herself away—speaking quickly as she does so.]

Alice: No — Not like that.

Peter: Like what?

Alice: Like that. [She is obviously very frightened and she is rubbing her hand quickly backwards and forwards across her mouth.] I’ve never been kissed like that before. — It’s — It’s wrong.

Peter: It isn’t.

Alice: It is.

Peter: Nonsense. Besides — you liked it.

Alice: I didn’t.

Peter: You did. D’you think I don’t know?

Alice [hysterically]: I didn’t like it. How dare you talk to me like that. —

Peter [nervous at the noise she is making]: Here — For God’s sake keep your voice down. —

Alice: What — ! [She stares at him for a moment—arrested by his tone—then, with great effort, she steadies herself.] Alright. I will. You needn’t hear me anymore.

Peter: What do you mean? [Alice doesn’t reply. She turns away from him and snatching her coat from the chair she wraps it quickly ‘round her shoulders. Her face is hard and set. Peter, realizing that she is going, speaks repentantly.] But look here, Alice. — I didn’t intend to —

[But Alice has crossed quickly to the door and he tails off weakly as he reads the determination in her eyes. He pauses — not quite sure what to do. Alice tries the door — finds it locked — and faces him again. She speaks quietly.]

Alice: This door is locked.

Peter [dully]: Is it?

Alice: You know it is. You locked it.

Peter [morosely]: Well?

Alice: When?

Peter: In the dark—before I switched on the light.

Alice: Why?

Peter: Oh, I don’t know. I didn’t want us to be disturbed by my landlady — that was all.

Alice: Give me the key.

Peter: But look here —

Alice: Give me the key.

Peter: You’re really going then?

Alice: Yes. Give me the key.

[They are facing each other. Peter stares at her for a moment, then gives in and lowers his eyes. He slowly puts his hand to his pocket and takes out the key. He sinks on to the end of the bed couch — looks at her again — then throws the key to the ground at his feet. He speaks sullenly. ]

Peter: Oh, blast you then — take it.

[Alice looks at him disdainfully for a moment, comes down to pick up the key. Peter watches her resentfully. He is breathing in quick gasps — evidently not master of himself yet again. He has intended to let her go but her defiant carriage and steady eyes are too much for him. His lips curl into a twisted smile — desire and bitterness warring — then, suddenly, as she stoops to pick up the key, he covers it with his foot. His voice is quiet but hoarse with passion.]

No. Why should I let you go?

Alice [taken aback]: What?

Peter [his eyes fixed on her]: You knew what you were coming to when you came in here tonight. —

Alice [frightened]: What do you mean? Give me that key.

Peter: No.

Alice: Give me that key — !

[She makes a dart for it but peter’s hand shoots out and seizes her wrist. She writhes as he twists it and her coat slips from her shoulders and falls to the ground.]

Peter: You knew —

Alice [in agony]: Let me go —

Peter: A girl knows what to expect when she comes into a man’s room at night.

Alice: Let me go.

Peter: I’m damned if I do.

Alice: Let me go, I say —

Peter: No. You’ve been playing me up. — It’s my turn now.

Alice: Oh — !

[Thoroughly frightened she is struggling desperately by this time. Suddenly she stoops forward and bites his hand. He lets go her wrists with an exclamation of disgust.]

Peter: God! You cat!

[Alice, free for a moment, darts away across the room — but Peter is just behind her. He seizes her frock at the neck but it tears right down revealing pretty ‘Cami-knickers’ beneath. Having lost her momentarily, he sways drunkenly almost falling — evidently the result of intense emotional excitement — and Alice, seizing her opportunity reaches the table and turns on him with her back to it. But Peter is after her again.]

Alice: Keep away from me —

Peter: What —

Alice: Keep away. I’ll shout for help.

Peter [closing with her]: No you won’t — you damned little cheat.

Alice [fighting desperately]: You—You—Help!!

Peter [thrusting his hand over her mouth]: Shut up — Blast you —

[Alice tries to scream but can’t. For a moment they are struggling fiercely—then Peter has her in his arms and is kissing her wildly, Alice is gasping for breath, but Peter is forcing her farther and farther back on to the table. He is obviously carried away with passion and doesn’t know what he is doing. SUDDENLY Alice’s right hand is disengaged, and somehow THE BREAD KNIFE IS IN IT! Peter tries to seize her hand, but it is too late. The knife whips through the air and a moment later is reeling back with an ugly wound in the throat. Alice drops the knife and staggers away from the table. Peter is writhing horribly — one hand to his neck — another to his heart. He falls but rises again. Alice watches him — horror stricken. He falls across the bed and for a moment is writhing in his death agony — then he lies quite still. Alice stares at the form on the bed for a while—her eyes wide with terror. Presently she speaks—intense fear in her voice.]

Alice: What’s the matter? What’s the matter with you? You’re trying to frighten me — aren’t you? [She draws a little nearer—speaking very appealingly.] Aren’t you? [She draws nearer still and her eyes dilate. She leans over, and putting out her hand, touches the dead man’s face, but snatches it back again with a stifled scream as she comes in contact with blood. She shrinks away from the bed — agony in her voice.] Oh—I didn’t mean to do it. You shouldn’t have — You shouldn’t have tried to —

[Her voice is shaking with fright and emotion and she tails off weakly. For a while she stands gazing at the silent form — obviously in a quandary as to what to do next, Presently she goes to the window and looks out furtively—then comes back to the bed again. She stands there for a moment — still undecided — then, suddenly, she makes up her mind. She picks her coat up quickly and draws it about her — gets the key — crosses to the reading lamp and switches it off — goes to the door and opens it stealthily — looks ‘round once more — then passes out into the blackness of the passage, closing the door behind her. For a while the creaking of the stairs is heard as she descends, and presently the closing of the front door is discernible. The room is left in darkness again as in the opening of the act — the hazy moonlight striking across the bed, just revealing the silent for that lies there. The distant church clock is chiming the hour again — and anon, the heavy stroke of one is heard.

There is a pause. Then the sound of gravel is heard being thrown from below and rattling on the window pane is heard — Tracy — trying to attract the attention of Peter Hewitt. After another pause, the rattle of the gravel on the pane is heard again.]

THE CURTAIN FALLS.”

–Charles Bennett (Blackmail, 1934)

There are obviously momentary similarities between the play and the Hitchcock versions, but there are also radical differences that go beyond the reduced dialogue, the off-screen nature of the murder, and the basic staging. The introduction of the clown painting accounts for a major addition to Bennett’s text, and it becomes a motif that carries through to the very final film. The aftermath of the murder is radically different in Hitchcock’s film. The film’s Alice is absolutely stunned and noticeably less at herself than the Alice of the play.

However, Bennett’s second act contains a curious amalgam of obvious similarities and major differences to Hitchcock’s adaptation. Some of these differences may at first seem rather arbitrary, but closer analysis will clearly show that these minor alterations change the manner in which scenes that are taken (almost) directly from the play are experienced by an audience.

First of all, Hitchcock alters the characterization of Alice’s parents and omits the character of Albert (Alice’s brother). However, it might be argued that the character of her brother has been replaced with the gossiping customer as Albert is responsible for gossiping about the murder in the play’s second act. Bennett describes Alice’s father as “fat, fifty, ponderous, dogmatic, and extremely like a sea lion. He has a tremendous respect for the profundity of his own wisdom and a child-like, if entirely erroneous, belief that he is… a wit.” Meanwhile, her mother is characterized as “an unsympathetic woman of forty-five or so,” and claims that “she might have been good hearted and human enough” if she had married anyone else. Instead, “she has developed a hard and nagging disposition. She takes great delight in scandal (other people’s), is sycophantish [sic] towards her betters and has a very strong ‘respectability complex.’” Hitchcock’s film reduces the importance of these characters but also makes them more sympathetic.

This portion of Bennett’s play also calls into question the validity of scholarly criticism about Joan Barry’s accent as inappropriate for “a cockney shop girl.” A study of the play’s text reveals that while Mr. Jarvis/Mr. White has a thick cockney accent, both Mrs. Jarvis/Mrs. White and Alice speak in a more proper manner (although this is less true of the mother). What’s more, there is a casual mention of the sacrifices made for Alice’s education, so Alice probably received speech training as part of her school’s curriculum. One could certainly argue a case for either point of view.

More interesting than this triviality is the fact that Alfred Hitchcock has Alice sneaking into bed and evading scrutiny about her late arrival while the play opens on her parents as they worry about her whereabouts. We learn that it is four o’clock in the afternoon and that she has been missing for sixteen hours. It is instantly clear that her mother is more concerned about the possibility of a potential scandal than she is about Alice’s safety. She is painted as an extremely unpleasant person. Of course, the same cannot be said about Sara Allgood’s portrayal in the film.

Albert (Alice’s brother) soon returns from his search for Alice and has no news to report about his sister’s whereabouts, but he has learned about the murder of a “young artist bloke” who was discovered “dead—up the road near the King’s Picture ‘ouse… Wound in the neck an’ a blood-stained knife on the floor beside ‘im.” Mrs. Jarvis/Mrs. White takes an intense momentary interest before remembering her own troubles. The scene, which is part of one long act that plays out in real time, takes place in the parlor of the family’s general shop.

A second scene runs into this one when Alice finally shows up.

[Mrs. Jarvis stares at her. Her relief has been intense, and for a moment she has been prepared to welcome her daughter with all the love that lies in her. But her words and intentions freeze into nonexistence as she appreciates Alice’s appearance. A germ of suspicion is immediately bred, rapidly grows and as rapidly finds confirmation. She is at once convinced that ‘the worst’ has happened and her voice and demeanor reveal the fact. She speaks slowly.]

Mrs. Jarvis: Oh! So you’ve come home, have you? Well — Where have you been?

[Alice is looking at her mother. She is obviously at the end of her tether. Her movements are quick and nervous. And there is a haunted look in her eyes. She looks at her father and then at her brother. Finding no sympathy in either of them, her eyes come back to the questioner. She speaks quietly.]

Alice: Walking.

Mrs. Jarvis: Walking?

Alice: Just — walking.

Mrs. Jarvis: And last night?

Alice [after a momentary pause]: Walking.

Mrs. Jarvis: What? [Alice can’t bear it any longer and lowers her eyes. Mrs. Jarvis stares at her for a moment — then follows up her attack.] What do you mean — walking?

Alice [suddenly — desperately]: Leave me alone. Let me be. I’m not going to say anything.”

–Charles Bennett (Blackmail, 1934)

Obviously, there is nothing at all like this in Hitchcock’s adaptation. However, it seems reasonable to suspect—as Charles Barr also noted in his essay, “Blackmail: Charles Bennett and the Decisive Turn”—that this scene suggested Alice’s incredible post-murder journey through the city in Hitchcock’s film. The cinematic sequence is one of the film’s most memorable stretches and was purely Hitchcock’s creation, but it seems likely that Bennett’s play once again planted the seed for the idea in the director’s mind.

The play continues down this same path as Mrs. Jarvis and (to a lesser extent) the other members of Alice’s family try to force her to tell them where she has been. She continues to refuse until finally snapping at them: “You all seem pretty sure of what really happened last night. All right, then — you can think what you like — but I’ll tell you one thing, though. Whatever did happen is a thousand times worse than anything you can imagine — any of you!” Obviously, this only exacerbates her situation.

As this article has already mentioned, Alice’s absence goes unnoticed by her family in the Hitchcock films. This allows for the brilliant scene with the gossiping customer—the infamous “knife” sequence. It’s quite a scene and may actually do an even better job at getting Alice’s anxiety across to the viewer. It somehow makes it worse that her family doesn’t suspect anything as she is entirely alone in her suffering here.

In any case, this interrogation continues until the entrance of Harold/Frank.

[The shop door-bell rings and a man enters the shop. Mrs. Jarvis glances through the door.]

Mrs. Jarvis: Here’s Harold. [Alice starts.] Yes—and you’d better think what you’re going to say to him. You won’t get any help from us.

Alice [nervously]: I can’t see him.

Mrs. Jarvis: We’ll see about that — Ah! [Harold Webber has entered the room. For a moment during the preceding dialogue he has lingered in the shop waiting for an invitation to come in — but suddenly seeing Alice, he dispenses with ceremony… He stands just inside the room — his eyes on Alice. Mrs. Jarvis addresses him at once.] Yes — you may well come here, Harold. There she is—home after sixteen hours. Maybe she’ll tell you more than she told us. Ask her where she was last night.

Harold [looking fixedly at Alice and speaking quietly.]: Yes — I want to ask her that. [Alice lowers her eyes. Harold pauses a moment, then turns to Mrs. Jarvis.] But I’d like to ask you alone — if you don’t mind.

Mrs. Jarvis [disappointed]: But I don’t see —

Harold [looking at Alice again]: If you don’t mind, Mrs. Jarvis.

Mrs. Jarvis [annoyed]: Oh — very well, then. — We’ll go to the kitchen.”

–Charles Bennett (Blackmail, 1934)

This particular portion of the play does bring to mind a moment in the film when Alice asks Mr. and Mrs. White to leave their parlor/kitchen in the film, but this doesn’t happen until after Tracy arrives as a threat to the couple. The Hitchcock version of Harold/Frank’s interrogation of Alice occurs much more simply and with very little dialogue in a phone booth located in the public area of the store. What’s more, the audience knows from one of the film’s earlier scenes that Frank has discovered Alice’s glove and is fully aware that he suspects that Alice is guilty of the artist’s murder. In the play, this actually comes as a surprise after an interrogation of Alice that lasts over nine pages in length. After asking where she has been, he tells her that he is currently investigating a man’s murder and reads her an excerpt from the newspaper that informs her and the audience that the police are currently working on a clue. He then asks her who she left the dance with the previous night, and it becomes clear that he saw her leave with the murdered man.

Harold: …Was it the fellow you were dancing with?

Alice [after a silent pause]: No.

Harold: It wasn’t?

Alice [turning away to avoid his eyes]: No.

Harold [doubtfully]: Um! Did he tell you his name?

Alice [evasively]: I can’t remember.

Harold [curiously]: Can’t you? I wonder if you’d remember if you heard it again. —

Alice [facing him—frightened]: Why? — Do you know it?

Harold [nodding]: I know it all right. Shall I tell you?

Alice [quickly]: No.

Harold: Why not?

Alice [turning away again]: I’m — I’m not interested.

Harold: No — ? [Alice looks into the fire and doesn’t reply. Harold changes his tone once more.] By the way, Alice — you lost your gloves last night. Did you know?

Alice: No

Harold: I found them. [He takes a pair of long, light, kid gloves from his pocket.] These are yours, aren’t they? [Alice takes the gloves from him and stares at them—but doesn’t reply.] Aren’t those the ones I gave you at Christmas?

Alice: I — I don’t know. Where did you find them?

Harold: Are they yours?

Alice [after a momentary pause]: No.

Harold: They’re not.

Alice: No

Harold [doubtfully]: Sure? — Where are yours then — ?

Alice [quickly]: Oh—somewhere—in my pocket, I expect.

Harold: Um! [He thinks it over a moment.] Oh, all right, give me those back — I’ll need them.

Alice: Why?

Harold [as casually as possible]: Well — as a matter of fact they’re a clue.

Alice [startled]: A clue?

Harold: Yes. I ought to have handed them over to my chief when I found them. I took a pretty big risk when I put them in my pocket instead.

Alice [staring at him]: Harold —

Harold [looking straight into her eyes]: To tell you the truth I found them in the room where Peter Hewitt died — [Slowly] Peter Hewitt — the artist you were dancing with at the town hall last night.

Alice: But — [She stops.]

Harold: What?

Alice [quickly]: I—I don’t know what you’re getting at.

Harold: I think you do.”

–Charles Bennett (Blackmail, 1934)

The play continues down this path with Alice refusing to admit her guilt and Harold becoming more forceful in his approach. It is only when she comes to understand that Harold has no intention of handing her over to the police that she breaks down and admits her guilt. Harold then promises her that he will stick by her and no one will ever know. In contrast, Hitchcock sets up the uniqueness of Alice’s gloves in the restaurant scene very early in his adaptation as we learn “there’s a hole in two fingers.” This allows him to show the audience the discovery of the glove and then allow the couple to interact with very little dialogue and very little exposition. The result is as follows:

Frank: What happened last night?

[Alice looks away from him not wanting to answer.]

Why won’t you tell me?

[After a beat, he realizes that she isn’t going to tell him and takes the glove from his pocket.]

Look. You know where I found that?

[Surprise and fear registers on Alice’s face as she nods that she does.]

It’s the only piece of evidence that you were there.

[She reaches for it, but he puts it back into his pocket.]

I’m keeping it back at present.

[She looks at him, at a loss for words.]

For God’s sake, say something!

[There is a knock at the phone booth’s door. It is Tracy. He has been watching them throughout the scene. He opens the door.]

Tracy: If you’re not using the phone, uh, may I? I — I want to get on to Scotland Yard.”

Interestingly, Tracy also interrupts the couple in Bennett’s play. After Harold/Frank promises that they are “the only two in the world who will ever know” that she killed the artist, they hear someone entering the store. We soon learn that their customer is Tracy, and he asks for Alice. Before she can refuse him, the man enters the parlor without asking and then proceeds to blackmail the couple for five pages. It isn’t unlike what happens in the film, but he milks money from them on the spot and even pressures Alice to take money from the store’s till to buy his silence. The biggest change here is that this shake down is allowed to play out, and the blackmailer leaves the premises after promising to be back regularly. In the film, the tables are turned on Tracy when Frank receives a phone call from Scotland Yard.

This never happens in Bennett’s play. Instead, Alice’s parents return to the parlor shortly after Tracy leaves their company. Mrs. Jarvis expects to learn from Harold what her daughter has been up to the previous night, but he refuses to tell her as she has told him in confidence. As a result, Mrs. Jarvis turns against him and suspects that “it’s a put-up job between them,” and accuses her of being with him the previous night. This continues until they again hear someone enter the shop. Albert has returned with more gossip about the murder.

[He is obviously very excited. Mrs. Jarvis transfers her attention to him at once.]

Mrs. Jarvis: Well?

Albert [at random]: Well — They’ve fahned out ‘oo did it!

Mrs. Jarvis: What?

Albert: Why, the murder, o’ course.

Mrs. Jarvis [exasperated]: What murder?

Albert [surprised at her ignorance]: O’ the young artist bloke up the road. ‘Is landlady — a Mrs. Cook, ‘as come forward an’ given the chap away.”

–Charles Bennett (Blackmail, 1934)

Of course, the chap in question is Tracy. Alice feels bad that the wrong man has been accused, but Harold believes that he deserves whatever he gets and calls it a “heaven-sent chance.” This is obviously what suggested the phone call from Scotland Yard that turned the tables on the blackmailer in Hitchcock’s film. The film version simply opts for economy.

The published version of the play’s third act has no counterpart in Alfred Hitchcock’s film adaptation as it finds an anxiety ridden Alice wide awake in the middle of the night as she tries to phone Harold/Frank. She is caught by Albert (who never even appears in the film version), and he makes it clear that he suspects that she is somehow mixed up with the Peter Hewitt murder. When Alice finally admits that she is the one who killed him, Albert leaves to discuss the matter with Harold. Meanwhile, Alice calls Harold to tell him that her brother is on his way to see him and admits that she is worrying about the welfare of Tracy. After this brief phone conversation, she hears someone at the shop door. This, of course, turns out to be an extremely exhausted Tracy. We learn that he has been chased by the police for hours and has come to seek shelter as it is storming. He tries to convince Alice to turn herself in to the police as they discuss their current situation. Alice assures Tracy that she has no intention of letting him take the fall for her, but she prefers to find another way around it so as not to get Harold into any trouble.

Soon, they see a policeman with a light peering in the store windows and hide. It seems that he is merely checking the premises as part of his nightly duty and hasn’t seen them. After more discussion, Harold arrives to talk to Alice. He tells her that Tracy was spotted entering the store and that other policemen are on their way to arrest him. There is an argument between the couple—with interjections, insults, and threats made by Tracy—about what she should do when the police arrive. She tells him that it would be wrong to let someone be punished for her crime and asks him to call the station to turn her in so that suspicion will be taken off of him. When he refuses, things become heated between Harold and Tracy. After absorbing a number of Tracy’s insults, Harold ends up pulling a gun on the man.

Harold:[He is staring at Tracy. There is a queer note in his voice.] Still — there’s another way, you know.

Tracy: What?

[Harold pauses a moment before answering. His hand is in his right pocket — his voice is steady.]

Harold: Besides us — Alice and me — you are the only person in the world who knows how Peter Hewitt died. I’m a policeman and there’s a warrant out for your arrest. If you tried to escape it’s my job to take you — and if you put up a fight — they’re not going to hang me for going a bit further.

Tracy: What do you mean?

Harold [suddenly whipping a light revolver from his pocket and covering Tracy]: THIS — !

Alice [terrified]: Harold — !

Harold [an insane glint in his eyes]: Look at that! Look at it, you swine. Murder to cover murder. It’s been done before, you know.

Tracy [cowering back]: You’re mad.

Harold: Perhaps

Alice [desperately]: Harold!!

Harold [throwing her back with his left arm.]: Keep out o’ this — [He lifts the revolver to shoot—but Alice has darted behind him and has seized his hand. He struggles with her.] Let go. — Let go. —

Alice: You can’t —

Harold [wildly]: Can’t I — ?

[He throws her off momentarily — AND SHOOTS! But Alice has knocked up the muzzle of the revolver and the bullet hits a picture, high above Tracy’s head. Alice seizes Harold by the wrist — desperate appeal in her voice.]

Alice: Harold!!

[Harold is staring at her — his eyes wild. Suddenly there is a loud knock at the shop door. Harold looks up and the revolver slips from his fingers and falls to the floor. Alice dives for it — then runs towards the left hand door evidently afraid that Harold might try to get it again. But Harold is standing as if in a dream — his muscles relaxed — his face expressionless. He speaks quietly.]

Harold: The police — !”

–Charles Bennett (Blackmail, 1934)

It is, in fact, the Sargent of police. He has arrived to arrest Tracy. Alice makes an effort of confession but is hushed by Harold. She tries again but is interrupted by Albert. He has returned from the police station, and he demands that Harold call the station before anything else happens. After a brief exchange of confusion and argument, he does as Albert asks and phones the station. It seems by Harold’s reaction that he is receiving surprising news. Once this conversation is finished and the call is ended, we learn what he has heard on the other end of the line.

[Harold looks at them — one after another. His eyes finally rest on Alice. At last he speaks — slowly — as if in a dream.]

Harold: Peter Hewitt! His doctor went to Scotland Yard tonight. He told them a thing or two and it made them think — [To Tracy] And then — because they were after you, a police surgeon was sent down to the mortuary at once. He found out who did it — He found out —

Alice [staring]: Harold —

Harold [almost laughing—on the verge of a breakdown.]: Did you think he was murdered? My God! What a lot of fools we’ve been. Why, the wound wasn’t deep enough to have killed. The jugular vein wasn’t touched. [His lips move convulsively for a moment — then.] He died — of HEART FAILURE!

Tracy [gasping]: What?

Harold [going on quickly as Alice starts violently.]: Heart failure — brought on by over excitement. His heart’s been weak for months so the doctor says and they worked it out — Oh, Lord — they’re so clever — [He sways a moment and steadies himself against a chair before going on.] He — He was about to have supper when something — something happened to upset him. He had a seizure — the bread knife was in his hand — he fell — ON THE KNIFE! He managed to crawl to the bed where he died a few minutes later of — of — heart failure — Heart —

[He staggers and nearly falls—his hand to his eyes. The Sergeant darts forward and catches him by the arm.]

Sergeant: Steady!—What’s up?

Harold [sinking into a chair]: Nothing. Dizzy. — It’s been a long day—[His eyes come to Tracy. He speaks thickly.] There’ll be no charge against him. Take him along. They’ll let him go again when he gets there.

Sergeant [looking at Tracy regretfully]: Um! Are you ready, sir? [Tracy doesn’t reply. He too seems knocked out by the sudden turn of events. He looks at Harold then at Alice—then slowly turns and goes up into the shop. The Constable follows him. The Sergeant turns up too — speaking to Harold as he goes.] You’ll follow us — ?

Harold [without looking at him.]: At once.

Sergeant [to Alice]: Goodnight, Miss.

[Alice doesn’t reply. She is gazing fixedly at Harold. The Sergeant smiles to himself — turns — and goes into the shop, closing the glass door after him. Albert goes with him. A moment later the outer door slams — signifying that they have gone. Harold is sitting very still — staring straight in front of him — at nothing. Suddenly the pendulum clock gives a whirring noise and strikes ONE. Alice starts and speaks—fear in her voice.]

Alice: Oh. — Twenty-four hours since — since — [Her voice trails off.]

Harold [looking at her at last—speaking steadily]: Peter Hewitt died of heart failure.

[Alice looks at him—her eyes light up—she comes toward him.]

Alice: Harold — Was that true?

Harold [rising to meet her — nodding his head.]: True. —

Alice [relief too intense for words]: Oh. —

[Harold takes her in his arms — affectionately–protectively. She nestles up to him—looking up into his eyes. He speaks very quietly.]

Harold: You poor kid.

THE CURTAIN FALLS”

–Charles Bennett (Blackmail, 1934)

The carryover from this portion of the original play was the idea for the chase sequence in the original film version. Tracy elaborates on his experiences after seeking shelter with Alice, and it seems likely that this planted the seed for Hitchcock’s third act (even if the action in the film adaptation is completely different than what was described by Tracy in Bennett’s play.

An unpublished version of the play entitled “24 Hours” actually had another ending. This early draft seems to have taken a much different path to its eventual happy ending. Apparently, Alice eventually admits to the crime so as to let Tracy off the hook in this version.

“A sensational trial, occurring during the curtained interval between the second and third acts, acquits Alice of murder because she acted in self-defense. Returning home from jail, she is introduced by her mother, Mrs. Jarvis, to Miss Potter, a nasty Victorian spinster. Miss Potter has been tasked to force the terrified girl into a workhouse, where, locked away, she will atone her family’s disgrace by ironing.” –John Charles Bennett (The Avenger, Hitchcock’s Partner in Suspense, 2014)

It is doubtful that Hitchcock ever saw this early draft of the play, but it might be worth including here as a comparison to the version that was published:

Miss Potter: You must remember that this is going to take a lot of living down. Your parents have their livelihood to consider. If you were here… Well… It isn’t a very pleasant reflection, is it? I mean… The disgrace.

Alice: But I don’t see. What disgrace? I’ve been acquitted.

Miss Potter: Acquittal isn’t everything.

Alice [losing control of herself]: But they said… Oh… you ought to have been there to hear them. It was proved I wasn’t to blame.

Miss Potter [soothing her … irritatingly]: Now try to keep calm. It’s alright. It won’t be for long. You can come back here in a year or so’s time.

Alice: A year or so! And where do you expect me to go in the meanwhile?

Miss Potter: That has been arranged. You will live for the next few months at the Southwark branch of the Fallen Women’s Aid Society… [Alice gives a gasp but Miss Potter continues] You will find your surroundings friendly and congenial and you will have time to reflect and to think about making a new start in life. You will…

Alice [suddenly … unable to bear it any longer]: Be quiet! You … dreadful … woman!

Miss Potter [staggered … and shocked to the depths of her soul]: What … !!

Alice [tensely]: So you want to put me in prison after all. Yes … that’s what it means … Aid Society! Why … [desperately] I’d rather go on the streets!

Mrs. Jarvis: Alice!

Alice [to her mother]: You. Do you consent to this?

Mrs. Jarvis: It’s best, Alice.

Alice: Best! [She turns away on the verge of hysterical laughter—but faces them again.] And this is my home. You don’t want me here. I killed a man to save myself from … from … [Her voice breaks but she carries on.] And yet you’d send me to a home, among women of that sort … as if … as if … [She is crying again.]

–Charles Bennett (24 Hours, as reprinted in “Hitchcock’s Partner in Suspense,” 2014)

Of course, Alice refuses to go to the workhouse and ends up selling her story to the press for a large sum of money before announcing that she will marry the detective. Even if this ending had been presented to the director, it seems highly unlikely that he would have used it in his film.

This is a photograph of Alfred Hitchcock that was taken during the production of BLACKMAIL (1929).

THE ADAPTATION

If Blackmail can be viewed as the beginning of Alfred Hitchcock’s association with Charles Bennett, it should also be seen as the end of the director’s collaboration with Eliot Stannard. Stannard had collaborated in some capacity on the scripts for each of his silent films, but Blackmail was the dawn of a new era. On November 07, 1928, The Times reported that Garnet Weston was working on the scenario, but in the end Weston only contributed a rather generalized treatment for the film—a treatment that didn’t include the film’s third act chase through the British Museum.

Of course, Alma Reville was always a primary collaborator (especially during this phase in the director’s career), but the duo usually wanted a third voice.

“…Hitchcock didn’t have to look far. With his instinct for discovering young talent, he remembered Michael Powell… Hitchcock liked him, and so did Mrs. Hitchcock…

…During the filming of The Manxman Hitchcock had handed Powell a copy of the Charles Bennett play, telling him that Blackmail was well-crafted until the weak third act. Hitchcock liked fireworks for his third acts, the dramatic set pieces he called ‘crescendos,’ which topped everything that went before.

‘See what you think of the play,’ Hitchcock told Powell, ‘and let me know how you think it might be improved for a film.’ It was the kind of remark Hitchcock often meant as a little test, but Powell passed swimmingly. He returned to tell Hitchcock he agreed with him—Blackmail would make a ‘swell movie.’ When Hitchcock then asked about the rotten’ third act, Powell said, ‘To hell with the third act. We’ll make it a chase.’” –Patrick McGilligan (Alfred Hitchcock: A Life in Darkness and Light, 2003)

Of course, many people in the director’s orbit at the time have laid claim to coming up with the initial idea for Blackmail’s chase sequence (including John Maxwell), but it seems fairly safe to assume that the idea was born out of script sessions with Hitchcock, Reville, and Powell. It would probably be very difficult for even these three participants to actually nail down who came up with an idea that was born out of group conversation, but Powell would have certainly participated in the idea. In any case, his account of the script meetings that produced the chase is worth noting:

“At one script session, according to Powell, the director ‘broached an idea that I had been nurturing for a while.’ Blackmail ought to conclude, Powell suggested, with an elaborate chase that takes place in ‘some bizarre location that is entertaining in itself.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Hitchcock, raising his eyebrows. ‘What do you think Michael means, Alma?’ Right on cue, Mrs. Hitchcock gave Powell an encouraging nod. Powell had been pondering his boyhood visits to the British Museum Reading Room; that hallowed edifice with its glass dome. ‘Let’s have him [the blackmailer, pursued by police] slip into the British Museum at night,’ Powell offered, ‘and get chased through rooms full of Egyptian mummies and Elgin Marbles, and climb higher to escape, and be cornered and then fall through the glass dome of the Reading Room and break his neck.’ The Hitchcocks beamed.” –Patrick McGilligan (Alfred Hitchcock: A Life in Darkness and Light, 2003)

With the film’s third act in place, the director could begin planning for the film’s unusual production.

Sound Proofing 2

PRODUCTION: SILENT AND SOUND VERSIONS

We know that the production began as a silent film, but the production history of Blackmail is somewhat convoluted. In some ways, Hitchcock’s own recollections seem to raise nearly as many questions as they answer.

“I was bitterly disappointed when I was told that it was to be a silent picture. I was convinced that talkies were no mere flash in the pan and that the day of silent films had passed. I felt certain in my own mind that, when the picture was finished, I should be asked to add dialogue to it, or to remake it entirely as a full-length talkie. Therefore, when producing the film in silent form, I was imagining all the time that it was a talkie. I was using talkie technique, but without sound.” –Alfred Hitchcock (My Screen Memories, Film Weekly, May 02-30, 1936)

As luck (or fate) would have it, the director was proven correct.

“…They told me that the last reel was going to be done in sound. I didn’t let them know up front, but I knew there was so much of the visual in it that here and there I could go back and drop certain sounds into scenes that were completed. Having seen it once since then, I think it shows a little bit that there’s no flow of dialogue where it should flow. The dialogue almost comes in like titles in the early part of the picture.” –Alfred Hitchcock (The Cinema of Alfred Hitchcock, 1963)

This, of course, implies that Hitchcock was able to lay in sound over most of the scenes that had already been shot for the silent version. However, Hitchcock told François Truffaut that the producers gave him “carte blanche to shoot some scenes over.” What’s more, an article written by Hitchcock in 1936 suggests that quite a few scenes were completely reshot (and a comparison of the two films confirms this).

“I was allowed to remake practically the whole of the picture in talkie form. There were certain difficulties. I had the same cast, except for Phyllis Konstam, who had gone off to fulfill a stage engagement. Phyllis Monkman replaced her.” –Alfred Hitchcock (My Screen Memories, Film Weekly, May 02-30, 1936)

The replacement of Phyllis Konstam was a relatively inconsequential change in casting as she was only in a few scenes. However, it would have been impractical to recast the film’s protagonist, and this impracticality created quite a bit of chaos when it came time to reshoot scenes for the sound version.

“The star was Anny Ondra, the [Czech] actress, who, naturally, hardly spoke any English. We couldn’t dub in the voices then as we do today. So, I got around the difficulty by calling on an English actress, Joan Barry, who did the dialogue standing outside the frame, with her own microphone, while Miss Ondra pantomimed the words.” –Alfred Hitchcock (Hitchcock, 1966)

It is this particular production problem that bothers many scholars. It’s impossible to fathom that the film would have been as groundbreaking sound-wise without quite a bit of serious consideration and planning. However, it seems strange that Hitchcock would have cast Anny Ondra as Alice White if he truly anticipated from the outset that he would be shooting sound. This seems somewhat paradoxical! On one hand, his sound experiments couldn’t have been achieved seamlessly without serious preplanning. On the other hand, if he was planning for a possible sound production, why was Ondra cast in the first place?

It seems reasonable to assume (and there is evidence to support the theory) that a sound production was initially nixed by the studio after the director’s contingent planning for both possibilities but before casting the film. It is known that John Maxwell (the film’s producer) changed his mind and agreed to add a final sound scene after production was well under way, and that he signed off on a few more sound additions at the behest of Hitchcock at an even later date. Hitchcock and Ondra were good friends. He wasn’t about to dismiss her in the middle of a production.

Anny Ondra

Anny Ondra

Even actors with strong voices and appropriate accents had a rough go of it. The coming of sound made it necessary for actors to relearn their craft. Silent actors had to adapt their technique so as to give more understated performances. Studios also began hiring stage actors, but acting for the screen required a different technique than what was required for the stage. Alfred Hitchcock remembered how veteran stage actress, Sara Allgood, had trouble adjusting her technique during the production of Blackmail:

“I remember a terrible moment in connection with her. As it was her first film we got to discussing [sic] the technique of the screen, and I was pointing out how stage actors rarely used their expressions and only their voices—they never had to project their expressions. Filmmaking was exactly the opposite; everything depended on pantomime.

‘How does one acquire the technique of pantomime?’ Sara asked me. I told her that it was mainly instinct, though there were artificial ways of teaching it. In the early days of films they would make a star look agonized by telling her bad news or releasing some rats at her feet.

‘How would you look,’ for example, ‘if I suddenly told you your mother was dead?’ To my surprise, Sara’s face suddenly went into tragic contortions, and she turned her head away. Then she explained. I had hit upon an unhappiest example I could possibly have chosen. Her mother had only just died.” –Alfred Hitchcock (My Screen Memories, Film Weekly, May 02-30, 1936)

Any issues regarding the film’s actors were somewhat easy to overcome in comparison to the technical challenges created by the addition of sound production. Patrick McGilligan paints a particularly grim picture of his circumstances during the shooting of Blackmail’s sound sequences in Alfred Hitchcock: A Life in Darkness and Light:

Blackmail moved into B.I.P.’s new temporary soundstage: a padded house on the Elstree grounds. The walls were cushioned with blankets. Draped felt was sandwiched under the corrugated iron roof. The sound cameras had to be encased in telephone-booth-like kiosks on wheels. The cameras couldn’t track or dolly without wheeling the entire booth around the room. Camera movement—already a Hitchcock trademark—basically ground to a halt.

The standard carbon arc lamps produced an incessant hum and sputter, so the cameramen began experimenting with five and ten-kilowatt incandescents [sic]. This worked out well for illumination purposes, but created a near-suffocating heat inside the stage area—‘like being in a bake house,’ as Freddie Young recalled. ‘In between calls, the actors lay down on the floor and napped as best they could in the sweltering heat.’

The camera booth, a smaller confined space, was hellish—an even more punishing sweatbox. It was covered in front by a thick glass panel that had to be wiped clean constantly with alcohol. The crew even grabbed their tea breaks inside. ‘The operator was locked inside,’ recalled Young, who was assistant cameraman on another B.I.P. talkie… ‘And there he’d stay until the end of the take, when he’d stagger out sweating and gasping for air.’

…Hitchcock, most of the time, was stationed in a separate recording booth that was every bit as hot and suffocating, wearing outsized earphones to monitor the audio quality.” –Patrick McGilligan (Alfred Hitchcock: A Life in Darkness and Light, 2003)

A comparison of the “murder sequence” as seen in both the silent and talkie versions of Blackmail speaks volumes. Consider an incredibly effective moment in the silent version where the camera moves with the artist as he makes his way closer and closer to Alice before he attacks her. There is no such moment in the “talkie” version, because moving the camera in this manner would have been impossible.

Blackmail - Silent Approach

This threatening moment from the silent version of Blackmail isn’t replicated in the sound version of the film.

Blackmail - Murder Mustache

The mustache shadow seen in this image was Hitchcock’s farewell to silent cinema.

One touch that did manage to make both versions of the film was often mentioned by the director in interviews:

“I did a funny thing in that scene, a sort of farewell to silent pictures. On the silent screen the villain was generally a man with a mustache. Well, my villain was clean-shaven, but an ironwork chandelier in his studio cast a shadow on his upper lip that suggested an absolutely fierce-looking mustache!” –Alfred Hitchcock (Hitchcock, 1966)

While one feels that this sequence was better served in the silent version, the celebrated “knife” scene is an incredible scene that uses sound as dramatically (and as subjectively) as Hitchcock uses the camera:

“After the girl has killed the painter, there is a scene showing a breakfast, with her family seated around the table. One of the neighbors is discussing the murder. She says, ‘What a terrible way to kill a man, with a knife in the back. If I had killed him, I might have struck him over the head with a brick, but I wouldn’t use a knife.’ And the talk goes on and on, becoming a confusion of vague noises to which the girl no longer listens—except for the one word, ‘knife, knife,’ which is said over and over again and becomes fainter and fainter. Then suddenly she hears her father’s normal, loud voice: ‘Alice, please pass me the bread knife.’ And Alice has to pick up a knife similar to the one she’s used for the killing, while the others go on chattering about the crime.” –Alfred Hitchcock (Hitchcock, 1966)

As Hitchcock would later write in an article about screen direction, the sequence is a clear example of “how careful use of sound can help strengthen the intensity of a situation.” The remarkable thing about this particular scene is that it was made during a time when few were making any effort to use sound dramatically. For most filmmakers, sound was merely a functional gimmick that often got in the way of their visuals. Hitchcock understood that it could be used to enhance the drama.

Scholars have also given the film’s climactic chase sequence plenty of attention throughout the years, but this may be because there is so much documented information available about the shooting of this sequence. One of the earliest of these articles was published while Blackmail was still in production:

“The British Museum… is to play quite a big part in the first British ‘talkie,’ Mr. Alfred Hitchcock’s Blackmail. Mr. Hitchcock has permission to film as much of the exterior and photograph as much of the interior as he wants, and his minions were at work a few days ago, in a ‘Flying Squad’ van, filming a ‘wanted’ man (Mr. Donald Calthrop), who scudded along Great Russell street, and dashed to cover up the steps of the Museum. Mr. Hitchcock, who seems to be turning rather to the Russian theory of casting types rather than professional actors, made his cameraman film the ordinary passers-by against whom Mr. Calthrop brushed. Though a few became ‘camera conscious,’ the effect was realistic. For the interior scenes, which include a chase along the galleries and a crash through the dome of the reading room, the Museum authorities have naturally not allowed facilities on the spot.” –The Adelaide Chronicle (Filming the British Museum, July 11, 1929)

Hitchcock was able to realize the interiors shots that made up the greater part of the film’s museum chase by utilizing a technique that he had learned during his stay in Germany:

“It was all process. You see, there was never enough light in the British Museum, so we used what is known as the Schufftan process. You have a mirror at an angle of 45 degrees and in it you reflect a full picture of the British Museum. I had some pictures taken with half-hour exposures. I had nine photographs taken in various rooms in the museum and we made then into transparencies so that we could back-light them. That is more luminous than a flat photograph. It was like a big lantern slide, about 12 by 14. And then I scraped the silvering away in the mirror only in the portions where I wanted the man to be seen running, and those portions we built on the stage. For example, one room was the Egyptian room, there were glass cases in there. All we built were the door frames from one room to another. We even had a man looking into a case, and he wasn’t looking into anything on the stage. I did nine shots like this, but there was barely any set that could be seen on the stage.

The front office was worrying about when the picture was going to be finished. So I did it all secretly because the studio heads knew nothing about the Schufftan process. I had another camera set up on the side photographing an insert of a letter, and a look-out stationed at the door. When the big-shot from the front office would walk through, we would just be shooting the insert of the letter. They’d go on through and I’d say, ‘All right, bring back the Schufftan.’ I did the whole nine shots that way. The chase on the roof was a miniature. We just built a skeleton ramp for him to run on.” –Alfred Hitchcock (The Cinema of Alfred Hitchcock, 1963)

Of course, Hitchcock often insisted that this ending was a compromise.

“I never did it the way I really wanted to… In the first reel, I show the process of an arrest: the detectives go out in the morning; they pick up the man; he has a gun; they take it away and put the handcuffs on. He’s taken to the police station, booked, fingerprinted, and questioned. They take a mug shot and lock him up in a cell. And then we come back to the two detectives going to the men’s room and washing their hands, just as though they were two office workers. To them, it was just the end of a day’s work. The younger detective’s girl is waiting for him; they go to a restaurant, have a row and go their separate ways…

…The ending I originally wanted was different [than the ending used in the film]. After the chase and the death of the blackmailer, the girl would have been arrested and the young man would have had to do the same things to her that we saw at the beginning: handcuffs, booking at the police station, and so on. Then he would meet his older partner in the men’s room, and the other man, unaware of what had taken place, would say, ‘Are you going out with your girl tonight?’ And he would have answered, ‘No, I’m going straight home.’ And the picture would have ended in that way. But the producers claimed it was too depressing.” –Alfred Hitchcock (Hitchcock, 1966)

Of course, the so-called “happily-ever-after” that the producers forced on Hitchcock was eventually subverted by the director into what is decidedly not a happy ending. The film’s ending has layers of foreboding as we understand that neither Alice nor Frank are free. They have merely locked themselves into another kind of prison—together, and in bondage. In other words:

“The producers unwittingly chose the more radical ending because it ‘looked’ more conventional, a romantic happy ending. The censors who gave Buñuel his marvelously subversive conclusion to Viridiana made the same happy error… In any case, the imposed ending stands as an integrated ironic whole.” –Maurice Yacowar (Hitchcock’s British Films, 2010)

If there was any hope as to the couple’s potential for future happiness, Hitchcock brilliantly destroys it during these final moments by bringing back the film’s most frequent motif:

“The most protean symbol is Crewe’s painting of the clown… The clown image itself assumes various expressions. Upon Alice’s arrival in the studio, it promises gaiety. It leers at her when the atmosphere turns erotic. When the same face accuses her after she kills Crewe, she slashes at its harsh laughter. The clown later catches the furtive Frank’s concealment of the glove and taunts him. At the end the painting is carried past Frank and Alice into the heart of the Yard, where it will point its accusing finger at the duped police force…” –Maurice Yacowar (Hitchcock’s British Films, 2010)

It isn’t mentioned, but the painting also seems to be accusing both Alice and Frank as it is carried past them. It knows that they can never be happy. It knows that their future is grim. It even admonishes the audience for our complicity in these crimes. Do we even deserve a happy ending?

This is a publicity photograph of Cyril Ritchard and Anny Ondra that was taken during the production of BLACKMAIL (1929).

RELEASE AND RECEPTION:

“The first showing in Berlin of the British International Pictures production, Blackmail, was used to test the feeling of the public here on the vocal film.

The whole work was passed twice across the screen, once with and once without the voices, and the audience, consisting mainly of people connected with the cinematograph industry who had come by invitation, was asked to state on voting cards which of the two versions was preferred. The result was 685 votes for the silent and 439 for the, vocal rendering.

This decision is the more important because the work on the whole was very well received. One of this evening’s papers, for instance, says: ‘It does not, like others, merely pretend to be a sound film, but actually is one.’

The same writer finds that certain scenes were very successful and clearly indicated the many and extraordinary possibilities of the sound film. He also speaks of the ‘wonderful atmospheric truth; and ‘The minute penetration in the observation and reproduction of detail shown by the very gifted young producer, Alfred Hitchcock.’” –Hull Daily Mail (Sound v. Silent Film Vote, September 11, 1929)

It is interesting to consider that the silent version was the preferred version of Blackmail during this preview screening, and the silent version was more widely distributed since there was a great number of theaters that were still not set up to exhibit “talkies.” However, most of the existing press from the era seems to largely ignore the silent Blackmail as British International Pictures understandably preferred to promote their first sound picture, and this more popular version of the film was (by most accounts) an overwhelming critical success. Most critics showered “Britain’s First All-Talking Picture” with hyperbolic praise. Of course, there were exceptions. For example, Hugh Castle wrote an incredibly condescending—if mostly positive—review for the film that oozes snobbish pretention:

“Alfred Hitchcock had finished the picture at the time the talkie wave broke. Frenzied conferences resulted in his re-shooting most of it and making it into a dialogue picture. It must be said at the outset that, considering that he was toying with a medium about which we knew nothing, considering he had a finished picture to doctor into a talkie, considering his star could not speak English and had to be ‘ghosted’ throughout, he has made a good job of it.

Blackmail is perhaps the most intelligent mixture of sound and silence we have yet seen. It is not a great picture, it is not a masterpiece, it not an artistic triumph, it is not a valuable addition to the gallery of the world’s great films, it is not even, I think, a great box-office picture. But it is a first effort of which the British industry has every reason to be proud. It is Hitchcock’s come-back. While seeing it you can hardly believe that it was made by the man who gave us Champagne or The Manxman. For perhaps the first time in the history of the commercial cinema we are faced with a good film based on a dreadful play. Usually, however low the stage, the screen can be depended upon to go one lower.

As is usual in the more serious Hitchcock pictures, all considerations are secondary to the Almighty German Technique. If you shoot up a stairway you must tilt your camera until the result looks like Gertrude Stein reduced to a cross-word puzzle. If you want to show a Flying Squad car in full blast you begin by showing a revolving wheel and draw away until you run parallel to the car. Very clever, of course. Yet Hitchcock has a way—at his best—of justifying his weaknesses.

The first reel is silent. The dialogue is in arithmetic progression with the speed of the picture. The story, which is too thin from the commercial angle, and too inane from the artistic, concerns a detective in the Flying Squad whose girl murders an artist who attempts to seduce her… An altogether inconsequential theme for a good picture. Yet. Hitchcock succeeds in wedding sound with silence.

He has one sequence which, despite the way it has been glorified in the English press, gives one a clear idea of the potentialities of the medium. The girl overhears a chatterbox discussing the murder, while the memory of the knife is still fresh in her penny-dreadful mind. The talk dies down and down until only the word ” ‘knife’ emerges, stabbing, hurting. Inasmuch as that particular sequence is about the only one we have on record in which sound has been definitely instrumental in the development of the drama, the picture is worthwhile…

… Within twenty-four hours of the show being over, the optimists were predicting an immediate revival in British production. Blackmail has put us on top of the world. Pudovkin is dead, Eisenstein has ceased to be. Even Carl Laemmle, a greater figure than either, is forgotten for the moment! We shall see.” –Hugh Castle (Elstree’s First ‘Talkie, Close Up, August 1929)

Of course, Ernest Betts, in a later article entitled, “All-Talking, All-Singing, All-Nothing” was less courteous (but even more pompous) in his mention of the film. It should come as no surprise to note that it too was an article for Close Up:

“I suppose it would not be denied that one of the essential gifts of the daily paper film critic of popular standing is to be able to write voluminously about nothing. However asinine the subject-matter, there is always plenty to be said about it. And we know in any case that the best journalists are very often those who can give an air of importance to things which really do not matter at all…

Blackmail is a good story, but it tells us nothing, except that if pretty girls will get involved with artists in Chelsea they may get seduced. But this is exactly the type of film of which I complain. What was the great focal point of all the critics over this particular film? It was admiration and analysis of its technique. Good heavens, to think of the stuff I have written, or attempted to write, about Hitchcock’s technique! I look at the stuff and I say: ‘This is awful! What on earth are you talking about? Where did you get hold of it all?’ And at once I am reminded of the dreary university lectures I used to attend on the textual sublimities of Chaucer, the alliterative fancies of Piers Ploughman, and so on. But the vital spark of Chaucer and Langland I never got. And nobody reads either of them now except as an academic exercise. For the truth is, these studies were concerned with the makings of literature, not with the thing made, which you can hold up to the light and judge as a living texture. It is as if you bought a clock for the works instead of the time…” –Ernest Betts (All-Talking, All-Singing, All-Nothing, Close Up, June 1930)

Mr. Betts really shouldn’t have been allowed to write about film in the first place. Philistines shouldn’t masquerade as scholars, and those who can’t fully appreciate the cinema do not deserve it. In any case, this sort of attitude seems to have been the exception to the rule. The Times, for example, had nothing but praise for the film. What’s more, they were able to impart their praise without lacing it with condescension:

“More than the average significance attached to the showing of Blackmail, as it was the first full-length talking subject to be made in a British film studio. Mr. Alfred Hitchcock, the director, should be well pleased with his work, which easily surpasses its forerunners in the peculiar gifts which the sound film is acquiring for itself. From the first Mr. Hitchcock has held firmly to the principles of movement which underlie his craft. Blackmail is a true motion picture, and frees us from the idea that the camera must be transfixed and the pictorial flow of the film arrested merely for the pleasure of recording a variety of strange noises.

Based on the play by Mr. Charles Bennett, the story retells, even to the carving-knife, the Tosca-like theme of seduction which has served film and opera so faithfully. Mr. Hitchcock, sweeping aside American traditions of speed and glamour, has given us a piece of uncompromising ‘cinema’ whose lentisaimo drama unfolds without any attempt to lash itself into fury. Yet it is full of doom, and rolls on with fatal deliberation to its end. While the young Chelsea artist is entertaining the tobacconist’s daughter at his studio, the rhythm is so slow, the scene so artless, we never suspect the horror lying in wait behind the curtains. Thereafter the blackmail of the girl by the loafer in possession of her glove is conducted with the same mesmeric coolness, and we witness the scenes at Scotland Yard, the thrilling chase on to the roof of the British Museum, as if personal to these encounters. This would be satisfying enough as a silent film. It gains by the director’s use of sound, which calls for no display of thunder or circus swagger. During the first 10 minutes of the film not a character breaks into speech, for the story is quite able to express itself pantomimically [sic]. When at length the casual talk of detectives is introduced, the ear is not offended as by battery and assault. The words bring relief after, silence and the long, mounting suspense. Indeed, the dialogue throughout is admirably written and enters with a frank and pleasing cadence into its graphic background. Considerable use is made of voices ‘off the set,’ and the realistic note is heightened by this device, as when detectives are heard speaking in an adjacent room and we understand, though we do not hear, the words.

Aside from these technical considerations, the scene, story, and characterization have much to recommend them. They have the freshness of truth, showing us intelligible people on lawful and dastardly occasions in such settings as the London suburbs, Chelsea, Westminster, Bloomsbury, Piccadilly, and ‘the Yard.’ Mr. Hitchcock’s fondness for symbolism does not diminish and he loves the perspective of a good staircase ; but his camera has an original eye, always set at a vivid angle, and he can make time deepen and ache for its crisis in a way that has no parallel in skill since Warning Shadows.

Credit must be given to the cast, who speak and move with so sensitive a response to the story’s needs. Miss Anny Ondra, whom we saw not long ago in The Manxman, has infinitely improved her performance, as somebody has clearly improved, if not stolen, her voice. As the artist, Mr. Cyril Ritchard gives a study free of all ‘arty’ conventions, and produces a graceful villain in whom we can well believe. Miss Sarah Allgood, as a film mother, caught the outlines of that over-photographed character perfectly, and spared us the sentimental deluge. But perhaps the most brilliant performance was that of Mr. Donald Calthrop, whose blackmailer leaves us amazed that he is not oftener seen in British films. The Elstree studios can take pride in a production which should appreciably raise the stock of our fluctuating British industry, while it is but just to add that under Mr. Hitchcock’s guidance the talking film has taken a very definite step forward.” –The Times (June 24, 1929)

A review published in the Yorkshire Evening Post was no less flattering:

“The first really big audible film, Blackmail… touches the top note in talkie production, and is actually better than the best American speaking picture that has yet raised its voice in this country. The players speak quietly, naturally and distinctly, while even whispers are rendered effectively. There is no suggestion of a gramophone in the recording (R.C.A. Photophone sound on film) or in the reproduction.

In this screen version of Charles Bennett’s drama, Alfred Hitchcock has not been content to offer something in the nature of a photographed stage play with ‘canned’ dialogue, but has used the elastic medium of the cinema camera to form a large and impressive background to the story. It is a murder melodrama in which the action is confined entirely to London. Scenes in Scotland Yard, the Corner House and the British Museum have never been reproduced so faithfully in any film play. From the opening scene, the only silent portion of the picture in which detectives of the ‘flying squad’ arrest a ‘wanted’ man in the slums, the tension is never relaxed to the last ‘shot’ of all.

The theme may not be particularly novel, but it is treated in an unusual way. Also, the acting all round reaches a higher standard of excellence than in any talkie yet. It is stated that Anny Ondra, the Continental star, who plays the leading feminine role, employed a ‘double’ for her voice, but if so, synchronization is so nearly perfect that eye and ear are deceived… If British producers can keep up to the high level of Blackmail, there should be a bright future before the home talkie industry.” –L.M. (Blackmail: A British Talking Film Touches Top, Yorkshire Evening Post, July 10, 1929)

Dundee Evening Telegraph went as far to imply that it was the Brit’s patriotic duty to see the film.

“There is really only one thing that is possible to say about Britain’s first all-talking picture, Blackmail, and that is—see it. Blackmail, made entirely at Elstree and directed by Alfred Hitchcock, has anything that America had done beaten to a frazzle. The single fact alone that we hear the Mother Tongue as it should be spoken is sufficient to recommend it to all patriotic Britons. But Blackmail has more than that. The story is strong and dramatic, the acting is blameless, and the glimpses one gets of the interior of Scotland Yard and many other well-known and familiar places, and of the methods of that thrilling organization, ‘The Flying Squad,’ are intensely fascinating and homely [sic]. It is strange how much better one likes to see places that one knows on the screen, than scenes one has never visited…

…We are indebted to the brilliant direction of Alfred Hitchcock. Many of his little details are touches of sheer genius, such as, for instance, the opening scenes of the film. Although Blackmail is a full-length ‘talkie,’ Hitchcock has given us the introduction to his film in a silence that is ten times more effective than any sound. He himself says there are moments in any film when silence speaks far more than words…

…Everything has been done to obtain realism, and the characters on the screen seem to be made of flesh and blood and not mere puppets, so deftly has the producer handled the material at his command.” –Dundee Evening Telegraph (First British Talkie a Triumphant Success, August 09, 1929)

It is clear that at least some of the critical enthusiasm for the film was born out of national pride and support for the British film industry (which was struggling to gain a foothold even within the confines of Britain). Blackmail seemed to offer hope that it could compete with American product, and this is why this review—and many of the others—make it a point to laud it favorably against American product.

It’s also interesting to note that many of these reviews make it a point to criticize Charles Bennett’s stage play even as it praises Hitchcock’s film. Both of these trends are on display in a review published by The Canberra Times:

Blackmail (says the London Daily Mail) is as far in advance of all other talking films which have hitherto been shown in London… It is—very nearly—a great film. The qualification is necessary, not in virtue of its merits in comparison with other talking films, but because of its own standards. In this film for the first time intelligent use is made of sound: the noise has not been thrown in as an overweight to the action. The director, Mr. Alfred Hitchcock, has been known always as a master of expressive technique. He has succeeded in translating into vocal terms the doctrines of expressionism which the great Germans like Pabst and Lubitsch have exploited in pictorial values. It is superb entertainment and it is the first credible picture of London and its characteristic life which has yet appeared on the screen. London is, indeed, its leading lady. The story is taken from the stage play of the same name (and in its taking contrary to established practice, Mr. Hitchcock has transmuted a play which was almost entirely tedious into an exciting entertainment)… Blackmail will come as a shock to the American film magnates, who cannot conceive goodness in a film not created after their own image.” –The Canberra Times (New English Talkie, October 11, 1929)

A review published in The Burnley Express is perhaps even more concerned with the British film industry than it is in the film:

“All who are interested in the welfare of the British film industry will be delighted with Blackmail… A good story has been most intelligently directed. A little is occasionally left to the imagination, and there are many subtle touches which we thought at one time could only be introduced by Continental directors… The acting throughout is of a standard seldom reached in ‘talkies.’ Anny Ondra, John Logden, and Donald Calthrop, who head the cast are all splendid. I hope the British films will continue to be successful enough to keep these fine players in their own country.” –Burnley Express (British Success at The Pentridge, January 08, 1930)

The same publication would publish another equally enthusiastic review only a few weeks later:

Blackmail… was practically the first British picture to challenge the supremacy of the American ‘talkies.’ Alfred Hitchcock, the director, proved himself a real master of his art by his masterly handling of this picture, which is sure to attract large audiences wherever it is shown… Although the director’ brilliant work would have of itself made the picture a success, the players have given him every possible assistance by gripping characterizations, and Blackmail will now remove any doubt anyone may have had regarding the future prospects of the British film industry.” –Burnley Express (Coliseum’s Excellent Fare, January 24, 1930)

In Alfred Hitchcock: A Life in Darkness and Light, Patrick McGilligan suggests that the film was denied distribution in America despite rave reviews in the trades, but this seems to be untrue—or at least misleading—as there is much period evidence to suggest that it played to enthusiastic audiences after premiering at the Selwyn in New York on October 04, 1929. In fact, periodicals of the era even suggest that the film was “held over” and that Blackmail had “broken the house record” at the Davis theater in San Francisco.

There’s also a good number of American reviews for the film, and reading them makes it easier to understand why the British press made so many snide remarks about America’s film output. The American press was fairly dismissive of British pictures and treated them as if they were inferior and unimportant, so it should come as no real shock to learn that many of these American reviews weren’t nearly as positive as most of those that came out of the director’s home country.

Freddie Schader’s review for Motion Picture News is a case in point:

“This was heralded as the best British made talking film to date. If this is a sample of the best that the English can turn out, we have only to say that it is of the quality that in this country is usually booked into Class B and C houses and never gets into deluxe first runs. To bring this picture to Broadway and offer it at $2 top is going a little too far. It is a murder mystery tale with Scotland Yard as its background. The only one who really committed the crime goes scott-free. There’s no moral in that, is there?

But the picture has a moral. It is simply this: Never permit your love for cheese to persuade you to place a chunk of it at the head of your bed, and above all never leave a knife with it. For if this artist chap, who is the heavy, hadn’t left a piece of cheese and a knife with it on the table where it was possible to reach it from the bed he never would have been murdered…

…The chap who played the blackmailer must have been the architect of the British Museum judging from his familiarity with the various stairways, halls, and doors in the building during a chase which seemingly ran more than a reel. There is no one in the cast who matters to this market.” -Freddie Schader (Opinions on Pictures: Blackmail, Motion Picture News, October-December 1929)

Variety was just as dismissive:

Blackmail is most draggy. It has no speed or pace and very little suspense. Everything’s open-face. It’s a story [from the play by Charles Bennett] that has been told in different disguises—the story of a girl who kills a man trying to assault her…

…In performance the standout is Donald Calthrop as the rat crook. He looks it. Ondra is excellent as the girl. Dialogue is ordinary but sufficient. Camera work [was] rather well done, especially on the British Museum [in the chase finale] and the eating house scenes. A bit of comedy here and there, but not enough to be called relief.” -Variety (December 31, 1928)

This particular review actually makes one wonder if Variety was allergic to complete sentences, but Mordaunt Hall’s review on the New York Times is nearly as clunky and just as disparaging:

Blackmail, Britain’s first talking picture, which was wildly acclaimed by London critics, is… a murder story based on a play by Charles Bennett and in spite of its many artificial situations and convenient ideas it possesses a dramatic value that holds the attention. It has the advantage of authentic backgrounds, even to an episode for which the British Museum serves as a setting. Its vocal delivery is nicely modulated. The diction of the players is very English but none the less pleasing and suitable to the chronicle. Its continuity is smooth, the narrative being told without any extravagant flourishes, and the performances of the players reveal that two or three of them could do even better work.

The characters impress one as always being far too obedient to the director’s iron will. They do the wrong thing to set the story right. An artist who is murdered is more natural in life than any of the other persons. The photography is seldom up to American standards, for the director, Alfred Hitchcock, frequently fails to see that his scenes are adequately lighted and more often than not the images do not stand out as distinctly as they might if more attention had been paid to the shading of the interior walls…

…The dialogue in this film is frequently so staccato that it reminds one of the speech of Dickens’s Alfred Jingle. Three words are uttered and then follows a curious and artificial silence. Then there may be either four or five words with another hushed period. This talking matches the action of the players, for Mr. Hitchcock, to heighten the dramatic effect, often calls upon his actors to move with exasperating slowness. Anny Ondra, a Czechoslovakian actress who does not speak with any noticeable foreign accent, officiates as Miss White. She has a well-defined personality and does creditable work. The failing in her acting in some scenes is due to the direction…” –Mordaunt Hall (Britain’s First Talking Film, New York Times, October 07, 1929)

Apparently, Hall was unaware of the fact that Ondra’s voice was in actuality Joan Barry’s voice. What’s more, if there is any “failing in her acting,” this is likely do to the fact that she was merely mouthing words as Barry spoke her dialogue. His statement that the film was inadequately lit makes one wonder what he would think of the film noir genre with its use of shadow. In any case, it seems unlikely that the film was given a fair chance by American critics.

However, a review in Billboard did have a few kind words for the film despite criticism about “a slow beginning” and “inconsistent” direction.

“Lacking all the fancy photography and distracting features that visually accompany a foreign-made production, Blackmail proves to be one of the best pictures that has yet been imported to America. Except for a few minutes of a slow beginning the picture holds its audience with a dramatic intensity that few American productions during the current season have equaled…

…The direction of Alfred Hitchcock is inconsistent in parts, with a letter left to the artist which the police read several times without letting the audience know its contents, but, as a whole, the job is very well done. The recording throughout is excellent and American producers could learn a lesson from this production, which will prove a howling success in any theater in which it is played.” –J.F.L. (New Films Caught in New York: ‘Blackmail, Billboard, October 12, 1929)

Luckily, time has allowed for a more objective analysis of the film. It may not stand with Alfred Hitchcock’s best British thrillers, but it absolutely stands above a vast majority of the early sound pictures being made at that time.

BLACKMAIL (SILENT) SS01

The Presentation:

4 of 5 MacGuffins

Kino Lorber houses the two discs in a standard Blu-ray case with a sleeve featuring artwork taken from one of the lobby cards that was used to promote Blackmail during its original theatrical engagement:

Lobby Card

Of course, the image has been adjusted to include a stylized title that was taken from various vintage advertisements for the film.

Blackmail Menu

The disc’s menu features this same image with accompaniment from the film’s score and is both attractive and easy to navigate.

BLACKMAIL (SILENT) SS02

Picture Quality:

4 of 5 MacGuffins

While the “talkie version” of Blackmail has seen several illegitimate “public domain” releases featuring terrible transfers that nearly rendered the film unwatchable, the “silent version” has never been given a home video release in North America. Those who have only seen one of these horrendous transfers of the “talkie version” will be surprised to discover that they haven’t actually seen the film at all. Meanwhile, the “silent” version will be completely new to an even greater number of people.

The talkie version is available in two distinct versions:

Disc One features the film in the typical 1.33:1 aspect ratio (along with the Silent Version), and Disc Two supposedly presents the film in the original theatrical ratio of 1.20:1. European films of this era were often shot in this ratio because the soundtrack utilized part of the frame. If this was the original 1.20:1 image, the horizontally stretched 1.33:1 version of the film would seem superfluous. Unfortunately, this doesn’t seem to be the case. In fact, the 1.20:1 version of the film seems vertically stretched so that it is actually a 1.12:1 image! This is a rather disappointing revelation. As for the 1.33:1 version, one assumes that it has been included here because some of the shots were originally captured silently in the Academy ratio, and this version will allow those shots to shine (even if they were not originally presented in this manner except in the “silent version”). However, this is simply conjecture.

Blackmail Transfer Comparison

The largest of these images is distortion free. The top side image is from the 1.33:1 transfer and is horizontally stretched. The bottom side image is of the 1.20:1 transfer and is vertically stretched.

To be clear, the 1.20:1 version is slightly less distorted than the 1.33:1 version. However, most of the aforementioned “public domain” discs presented a horizontally stretched transfer, and familiarity with this particular brand of distortion might make this the preferred transfer for some viewers. In any case, stretching is a curse that has followed this film for decades.

Both of these transfers display significantly more contrast than the “silent version” of the film, and there is some noticeable print damage on display. However, the damage isn’t at all distracting. In fact, this is the cleanest that the film has ever looked on home video. What’s more, it is much clearer than any of those dreadful “public domain” transfers. Seeing this new transfer will be a revelation! Detail is surprisingly evident throughout, although the “talky” transfer does suffer somewhat when compared to BFI’s Restoration transfer of the “silent” version of Blackmail. I’d say that a restoration of the sound version is also in order.

The silent version is a healthier looking transfer that exhibits stronger blacks and quite a bit more detail throughout the film. A comparison between these two versions is a fairly good demonstration as to why film restoration is so incredibly important. BFI did a terrific job here, and Kino Lorber’s transfer is an admirable reproduction of their good work. There have been criticisms about this transfer that suggest that the transfer could have benefited from a bit more contrast, but we wouldn’t want just anyone tinkering with the knobs.

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Sound Quality:

4 of 5 MacGuffins

The “talkie” version of Blackmail is given a 2.0 DTS-HD transfer of the film’s original mono soundtrack that faithfully reproduces the film’s original sound without embellishment. Obviously, the primitive production techniques that were used limit the range despite being a clean representation of the original elements. Hiss is never an issue here, but it can occasionally be heard if one is listening for it. It is a vast improvement over all of the previous unofficial “public domain” releases! The fact is that this is an incredibly clean track. When one considers the film’s production history, it might even be considered a minor miracle.

The silent version’s 2.0 DTS-HD mix of the score is also an incredibly healthy transfer. The Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra comes through cleanly and clearly.

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Special Features:

4 of 5 MacGuffins

First of all, we are not counting the Silent Version of Blackmail as a supplemental feature here, because the film is equally as important to this release as its “Talkie” counterpart.

Feature Length Audio Commentary by Tim Lucas

Tim Lucas offers valuable comparison between the silent and sound versions of the film, mention’s Michael Powell’s collaboration, and points out errors in the continuity. It’s a better-than-average commentary track that engages the listener.

Anny Ondra’s Screen/Sound Test – (00:59)

Sound Test

What a treasure! Any Blu-ray release of Blackmail without this screen test would be incomplete.

As is mentioned in the above essay about the film, Anny Ondra was a Czech film actress with a rather thick accent that was decidedly inappropriate for the very British protagonist. Most sources agree that this sound test was done as a demonstration to Anny Ondra, and Hitchcock does mention that she had asked to hear her voice on film within the actual test itself. However, other details surrounding the test are somewhat vague. We know that Jack Cox was the cameraman with Hitchcock very much in control. Apparently, the director had a habit of trying to make his actors—both male and female—laugh with his “bawdy humor.” His exchange with Anny Ondra fell in line with this habit:

Alfred Hitchcock: Now, uh, Miss Ondra. You asked me to let you hear your voice on the talking picture.

Anny Ondra: [Giggles] But, Hitch, you mustn’t do that.

Alfred Hitchcock: Why not?

Anny Ondra: Well, because… I can’t speak well.

Alfred Hitchcock: Do you realize the squad van will be here any moment?

Anny Ondra: No, really? Oh, my god. I’m terribly frightened.

Alfred Hitchcock: Why? Have you been a bad woman or something?

Anny Ondra: Well, not just bad, but… uh.

Alfred Hitchcock: But you’ve slept with men.

Anny Ondra: Oh, no! [She turns away as she laughs.]

Alfred Hitchcock: You have not? Come here. Stand in your place, otherwise
it will not come out right, as the girl said to the soldier.

Anny Ondra laughs as she turns away from the camera.

Hitchcock: [turns to the camera] That’s enough.

Hitchcock/Truffaut: Icon Interviews Icon – (10:27)

It’s very pleasing to find that this audio excerpt from the legendary Hitchcock/Truffaut interviews was included on the disc. This particular portion of the interview finds Hitchcock discussing Blackmail and his memories and thoughts are played against a kind of slideshow featuring artwork and production stills.

Introduction by Noël Simsolo – (06:28)

It would probably be better to label this as an “interview” rather than an introduction. There are way too many spoilers here, and it provides more information than the typical introduction. Some of Simsolo’s information is laced with questionable commentary, but this is a slightly better interview than the one that he provided for Murder!

Theatrical Trailers and Blu-ray Advertisements:

Blackmail (Blu-ray Ad) – (01:15)

Murder! (Blu-ray Ad) – (01:12)

The Paradine Case Theatrical Trailers – (01:43)

Under Capricorn Theatrical Trailers – (02:04)

Lifeboat (Blu-ray Ad) – (01:28)

The theatrical trailers are welcome and worth having on the disc, but the Blu-ray advertisements seem like superfluous additions. One wishes that the original trailers for Blackmail could have been found and included. This would have been a significant addition to the disc.

BLACKMAIL (SILENT) SS05

Final Words:

Kino Lorber has finally given Alfred Hitchcock’s first sound film (and his final silent film) a solid release on the Blu-ray format. Which version of Blackmail is superior? You can finally decide for yourself.

Review by: Devon Powell

BLACKMAIL (SILENT) SS06

Source Material:

Staff Writer (Variety, December 31, 1928)

Staff Writer (The Film World, The Times, November 07, 1928)

Staff Writer (First English Talkers Start in Production, Amarillo Sunday News Globe, May 05, 1929)

Staff Writer (Filming the British Museum, Nottingham Evening Post, May 23, 1929)

Staff Writer (Blackmail, The Times, June 24, 1929)

Staff Writer (The Talkie King Talks, Evening News, June 25, 1929)

L.M. (Blackmail: A British Talking Film Touches Top, Yorkshire Evening Post, July 10, 1929)

Staff Writer (Filming the British Museum, The Adelaide Chronicle, July 11, 1929)

Hugh Castle (Elstree’s First ‘Talkie, Close Up, August 1929)

Staff Writer (The First Two British All-Dialogue Pictures, Yorkshire Post, August 29, 1929)

Staff Writer (Hull Daily Mail, Sound v. Silent Film Vote, September 11, 1929)

Staff Writer (Pictures Presentations: ‘Blackmail’ October 4, Billboard, October 05, 1929)

Mordaunt Hall (Britain’s First Talking Film, New York Times, October 07, 1929)

Staff Writer (New English Talkie, The Canberra Times, October 11, 1929)

J.F.L. (New Films Caught in New York: ‘Blackmail, Billboard, October 12, 1929)

Staff Writer (Pictures Presentations: ‘Blackmail’ Held Over, Billboard, October 19, 1929)

Staff Writer (Blackmail, Hull Daily Mail, November 19, 1929)

Staff Writer (British Success at The Pentridge, Burnley Express, January 08, 1930)

Staff Writer (Stageland, The World’s News, January 15, 1930)

Staff Writer (Coliseum’s Excellent Fare, Burnley Express, January 24, 1930)

Robert Herring (Twenty-Three Talkies, Close Up, February 1930)

Ernest Betts (All-Talking, All-Singing, All-Nothing, Close Up, June 1930)

Oswell Blakeston (Advance Monologue, Close Up, August 1930)

Charles Bennett (Blackmail, 1934)

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)

Alfred Hitchcock (Some Aspects of Direction, National Board of Review, October 1938)

Peter Bogdanovich (The Cinema of Alfred Hitchcock, 1963)

François Truffaut (Hitchcock, 1966)

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

Tom Ryall (Blackmail: BFI Film Classics, December 27, 1993)

Sidney Gottlieb (Hitchcock on Hitchcock: Selected Writings and Interviews, 1995)

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

Sidney Gottlieb (Alfred Hitchcock Interviews, 2003)

Maurice Yacowar (Hitchcock’s British Films, 2010)

Barton Palmer and David Boyd (Hitchcock at the Source, 2011)

Charles Barr (Blackmail: Charles Bennett and the Decisive Turn, Hitchcock at the Source, 2011)

Charles Bennett (Hitchcock’s Partner in Suspense, 2014)

John Charles Bennett (The Avenger, Hitchcock’s Partner in Suspense, 2014)

Sidney Gottlieb (Hitchcock on Hitchcock: Volume 2, 2015)

Blu-ray Review: The House of Hitchcock – Limited Edition Collection

HOHC - Blu-ray Set.jpg

Distributor: Universal Studios

Release Date: October 01, 2019

Region: Region A

Notes: These films are also available individually with standard Blu-ray packaging, as part of The Masterpiece Collection, and as part of The Ultimate Collection.

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Universal owns the rights to more Alfred Hitchcock titles than any other studio, and they certainly milk these properties for every penny that they are able to squeeze out of his admirers. However, one really shouldn’t complain since this gives fans an opportunity to own these films with plenty of choice as to how these discs are packaged. Each of the films available in this collection have been available on Blu-ray for quite some time (as individually packaged titles, as a part of The Masterpiece Collection, and as part of The Ultimate Collection), and these image and sound transfers are the same ones utilized for those earlier releases. What’s more, these discs include the same supplemental material. Interested parties can read more detailed information about each of the discs included in this set by clicking on the links below:

Saboteur

Shadow of a Doubt

Rope

Rear Window

The Trouble with Harry

The Man Who Knew Too Much

Vertigo

North by Northwest

Psycho

The Birds

Marnie

Torn Curtain

Topaz

Frenzy

Family Plot

The House of Hitchcock also includes the two standard definition DVDs that focus on Hitchcock’s television work that originally appeared in The Ultimate Collection:

The Best of ‘Alfred Hitchcock Presents

This new disc showcases a single Alfred Hitchcock directed episode from all seven seasons of Alfred Hitchcock Presents. The following episodes are included:

Revenge (Season 1, Episode 1)

The series premiere of Alfred Hitchcock Presents is one of the show’s best episodes. It first aired on October 02, 1955 and starred Vera Miles and Ralph Meeker. Those who admire The Andy Griffith Show will also notice Frances Bavier in a supporting role. The story by Samuel Blas follows Carl and Elsa Spann, a newlywed couple just starting their life. Elsa has recently suffered a nervous breakdown but seems to be on her way to recovery. Unfortunately, Carl returns home from work one evening to find that his wife has been attacked. When the police prove to be unhelpful, Carl decides to get justice on his own.

Vera Miles gives a great performance here—a performance that looks forward to her portrayal of Rose Balestrero in Alfred Hitchcock’s under-appreciated docudrama, The Wrong Man.

Mr. Blanchard’s Secret (Season 2, Episode 13)

Mr. Blanchard’s Secret pales in comparison. The episode first aired on December 23, 1956 and starred Mary Scott, Robert Horton, Dayton Lummis, and Meg Mundy. The story by Emily Neff revisits some of the themes better explored in Alfred Hitchcock’s Rear Window. Babs Fenton, a housewife with an overactive imagination who fancies herself a writer, believes that Mr. Blanchard has murdered his wife. However, her suspicions are called into serious question when Mrs. Blanchard shows up at their door looking to be very much alive. Babs alters her theory as to the reason behind Mr. Blanchard’s suspicious behavior only to be proven wrong once again.

Lamb to the Slaughter (Season 3, Episode 28)

Lamb to the Slaughter is rightly mentioned amongst the series best episodes. It aired on April 13, 1958 and stars Barbara Bel Geddes (who portrayed Midge in Vertigo that same year). The story by Roald Dahl follows a devoted housewife named Mary Maloney who decides to kill her cheating husband with a frozen leg of lamb rather than let him leave her. What follows is classic Hitchcock.

Poison (Season 4, Episode 1)

Poison—which was based upon another tale by Dahl—first aired on October 05, 1958 and stars Hitchcock alumnus Wendell Corey and James Donald. Harry Pope (Donald) wakes up with a poisonous snake in his bed. Worse, it finds a comfortable place to rest right on his chest. The entire episode is devoted to solving this tense predicament.

Arthur (Season 5, Episode 1)

Arthur first aired on September 27, 1959 and stars Laurence Harvey in the title role. Unusually for an Alfred Hitchcock Presents episode, the story begins with Arthur standing amongst a large number of chickens as he addresses the audience directly. After this opening monologue, we flash back in time as he tells the viewer how he killed his gold-digging girlfriend and was able to get away with it. The story itself is rather amusing, but the framing device at the beginning and end doesn’t work very well (possibly because there is already an introduction and epilogue performed by Hitchcock).

Mrs. Bixby and the Colonel’s Coat (Season 6, Episode 1)

Mrs. Bixby and the Colonel’s Coat is more benign than many episodes, but it has a very similar sense of irony. It originally aired on September 27, 1960 and stars Audrey Meadows, Les Tremayne, and Stephen Chase. The story by Roald Dahl follows Mrs. Bixby as she visits her secret lover “the Colonel,” who ends their affair but offers her a mink coat as a parting gift. She isn’t sure how to explain the coat to her husband, so she pawns the item without putting a description on the ticket. She then tells her husband that she has found the ticket and instructs him to turn it in for the pawned item. Obviously, things aren’t going to work out in quite the way that she expects.

Bang! You’re Dead! (Season 7, Episode 2)

Bang! You’re Dead! originally aired on October 17, 1961 and is the final episode that Alfred Hitchcock directed for the original half-hour series. It was based on a story by Margery Vosper and stars Billy Mumy as a young Jackie Chester—a spoiled six-year-old who mistakes a loaded gun for a gift from his uncle. The child then proceeds to pretend he is an outlaw and points it at the random people he meets throughout the day. It is only a matter of time before he actually pulls the trigger. Meanwhile, his family has discovered the mistake and tries frantically to locate him. Hitchcock’s gift for building suspense is evident throughout the duration.

Special Features:

This disc also includes a single special feature entitled Alfred Hitchcock Presents: A Look Back. Gary Leva’s 15 minute featurette is far from a comprehensive examination of the series, but the retrospective interviews with Norman Lloyd, Hilton A. Green, and Patricia Hitchcock do reveal some general information about how the show was produced and those responsible for its success.

The Best of ‘The Alfred Hitchcock Hour

The second new disc showcases a single episode from all three seasons of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour. Unlike the first disc, only the first of these episodes is actually directed by Alfred Hitchcock since he only directed a single episode of this series. The following episodes are included:

I Saw the Whole Thing (Season 1, Episode 4)

I Saw the Whole Thing is the only episode of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour that was actually directed by Alfred Hitchcock. It originally aired on October 11, 1962 and is based on a short story by Henry Cecil. Hitchcock alumnus John Forsythe portrays Michael Barnes in this Rashomon-like courtroom drama with an interesting twist. Barnes has been accused of causing a fatal car accident, but he insists that he is completely innocent and acts as his own attorney at his trial. In court, he proves that the various eyewitnesses called by the prosecution are unreliable.

Three Wives Too Many (Season 2, Episode 12)

Three Wives Too Many was directed by Joseph M. Newman and was based on a short story by Kenneth Fearing. It aired on January 03, 1964 and stars Hitchcock alumnus Teresa Wright, Linda Lawson, Jean Hale, and Dan Duryea. The story follows a bigamist who is suspected of murdering his various wives.

Death Scene (Season 3, Episode 20)

Death Scene was directed by Harvey Hart and was based on a story by Helen Nielsen. The episode aired on March 08, 1965 and features Hitchcock alumnus Vera Miles as Nicky Revere, the daughter of a movie director named Gavin Revere (John Carradine). It is best that viewers see this particular episode knowing as little as is possible about the actual story, but it is certainly one of the most memorable of the hour-long episodes.

Special Features:

This disc includes a single featurette entitled Fasten Your Seatbelt: The Thrilling Art of Alfred Hitchcock. This six minute fluff piece includes interviews with Martin Scorsese, Guillermo del Toro, William Friedkin, John Carpenter, Eli Roth, and Joe Carnahan, but none of these filmmakers say anything particularly enlightening. It is almost like an EPK created to sell the idea of Hitchcock’s brilliance without ever revealing anything that isn’t immediately obvious.

Promotional photograph for 'Alfred Hitchcock Presents' from 1955. .jpg

This photograph was used to promote ‘Alfred Hitchcock Presents‘ in 1955.

It’s nice to have both of these new standard definition discs included here, but it is impossible not to wonder why Universal didn’t choose to release discs with each of the seventeen Hitchcock-directed episodes of Alfred Hitchcock Presents and his single episode of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour instead. Such a collection would have been a much more appropriate and satisfying addition to the package. What’s more, this approach would’ve only required one more disc (three instead of the two). Actually, it is ridiculous that Universal hasn’t already released these episodes together in a single collection.

In addition, one cannot help but lament some of the choices made by Universal as to which episodes to include. Some of these episodes are inferior to other Hitchcock-directed episodes from that respective season. For example, season two’s One More Mile to Go is vastly superior to Mr. Blanchard’s Secret. In fact, it is one of the best of the entire series. Of course, this particular issue wouldn’t be a problem if all of the Hitchcock directed episodes had been included.

The Presentation:

4.5 of 5 MacGuffins

HOH Contents

Universal’s ‘The House of Hitchcock’ packaging is a significant improvement over their previous Blu-ray sets. Both of those releases offered book-style packaging. This means that the various discs were housed in folder-like sleeves, and this particular approach leaves discs vulnerable to scratching and other types of damage. Since disc protection should always be a priority, it is nice to see that this collection protects the discs in actual cases. Unfortunately, three or four discs are housed together in only four cases instead of giving each film its own case and artwork. Those who believe that this is a space-saving technique are naïve. This keeps production costs down for Universal, and gives the consumer significantly less bang for the buck. Luckily, they do a fairly good job on the multi-film artwork.

A small book is also included. Those who have purchased one of the earlier sets will know exactly what to expect here. It adds quite a bit of value to the package even if there isn’t much in the way of information here (and some of it borders on being erroneous). It’s really just a fun bit of swag… and swag is what this release contains that the earlier two releases didn’t. There are fifteen art cards that feature the one sheet designs for each of the films included in the set. There are set blueprints for the infamous Psycho house, replicas of letters and memos, stationery with ‘Bates Motel’ printed on it (in case you want to make your friends back home feel envious), and a Psycho-themed “Please, Do Not Disturb” sign.

The theme and design of the package is a bit kitschy, and it is slightly bothersome that it is so Psycho-centric since there are fifteen films included here (and only one of those films is Psycho).

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Final Words:

The House of Hitchcock obviously contains a wealth of essential Hitchcock classics, but the discs included here are the same ones that have been available for quite some time. Those who already own these films on Blu-ray (either individually or as part of The Masterpiece Collection or The Ultimate Collection) can save their pennies.

Those who own The Ultimate Collection will already have the two ‘Alfred Hitchcock Presents’ and ‘The Alfred Hitchcock Hour’ discs, and those who only own the films individually or as part of The Masterpiece Collection probably won’t feel that these two discs are worth the price of the set (especially considering the fact that they are in standard definition). What’s more, the swag contained in this new release can be filed under “less than meets the eye.” They certainly don’t warrant an upgrade on their own.

Review by: Devon Powell

Blu-ray Review: Murder!

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Distributor: Kino Lorber

Release Date: August 13, 2019

Region: Region A

Length: 01:42:29

Video: 1080P (MPEG-4, AVC)

Main Audio: 2.0 English DTS-HD Master Audio (48 kHz, 1554 kbps, 16-bit)

Subtitles: English

Ratio: 1.37:1

Bitrate: 31.93 Mbps

Notes: This marks this title’s North American Blu-ray debut.

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Murder! was the first important ‘who-done-it’ picture I made.” —Alfred Hitchcock (The Cinema of Alfred Hitchcock, 1963)

Murder! is one in a series of films following Blackmail (1929) and proceeding The Man Who Knew Too Much (1934) that are, in all honesty, very difficult to enjoy as entertainments. I’m sure that this statement will be met with a certain amount of derision and perhaps a bit of anger, but it seems reasonably obvious that the director was experiencing a creative dry spell that wasn’t entirely of his own making.

For one thing, the early sound era produced a great many films that make for very difficult viewing today due the limitations of recorded sound and the fact that sound production completely changed the way that films were shot. The industry struggled to overcome the challenges created by the new format as cameras had to be isolated in small “telephone-booth-like kiosks” which made movement extremely difficult, and actors remained stationary so that the microphone could pick up their voices. Visual aesthetics were suddenly not the primary priority, and the result of this change could be incredibly awkward (to say the least).

This would have been frustrating enough for Hitchcock, but British International Pictures often handed him properties that held little to no interest for him instead of allowing him to choose his own projects. In other words, most of these films were “assignments.” Blackmail and Rich and Strange (1931) seem to be exceptions, but it isn’t clear whether Murder! was the result of yet another assignment, if he chose to make it from a list of inappropriate BIP properties, or if this was his own idea. Whatever the case, it is worth noting that the director often made it a point to stress in interviews that he preferred suspense stories to mysteries and that these two genres are actually antithetical to one another:

“There’s a great confusion between the words ‘mystery’ and ‘suspense.’ And the two things are absolutely miles apart. You see, mystery is an intellectual process—like in a ‘who-done-it’—but suspense is essentially an emotional process. Therefore, you can only get the suspense element going by giving the audience information… I’ve only made one ‘who-done-it’ many, many years ago because in the course—before you arrive at that five second revelation—there’s no emotion going on… So, the mystery has no particular appeal for me.” –Alfred Hitchcock (AFI Seminar, 1970)

The mystery that he mentions making “many, many years ago” is obviously Murder!, and it is important to remember that this film was made before the director had latched onto the fact that he was at his best when working within the fairly diverse genre of the suspense thriller. This revelation wouldn’t come until the back-to-back successes of The Man Who Knew Too Much and The 39 Steps. In other words, Murder!—which is a who-done-it based on a novel by Helen Simpson and Clemence Dane (aka Winifred Ashton) entitled “Enter Sir John”—may have actually helped the director to understand his preferences for suspense over mystery. What’s more, evidence suggests that if the director didn’t choose this property as a potential film project, he was certainly excited and inspired by this particular “assignment.”

enter sir john - dust jacket

This is a dust jacket for “Enter Sir John.” It is worth noting Helen Simpson would work briefly with Hitchcock on Sabotage, and wrote a novel entitled Under Capricorn that the director would later adapt as one of his more unsuccessful films.

REDEVELOPING ‘THE HITCHCOCK TOUCH’

Alfred Hitchcock worked primarily with Walter C. Mycroft on the adaptation and the incredible Alma Reville on the scenario. The three Hitchcocks borrowed an overwhelming amount of the film’s dialogue from the novel itself, but the director didn’t allow the addition of sound to obstruct his ability to render scenes cinematically. Instead, he preferred to utilize the new medium to build upon his already developing cinematic voice.

“The talkies have given most of us a past about which we need to be ashamed. Why, we used to bore a hole in an actor’s head and superimpose tiny images representing his thoughts! Sound has done away with such clumsiness. I am thinking of a sequence from Enter Sir John. A murder has been committed. There is a shot of the curious outside the villa in which the body was found; a picture with a Fleet Street look. Then, a cut to the notice-board in the greenroom of the local theatre; attention being focused on the fact that an understudy is playing. After that, a glimpse of the curtain rising: immediately followed by a close up of the grille opening into the cell of the condemned actress. The camera holds her face, but the voices in the theatre talk about the understudy. The woman’s eyes just respond to the comments and her thoughts are pretty plain.” —Alfred Hitchcock (Advance Monologue, Close Up, August 1930)

In other words, Hitchcock applies cinema’s visual principals to sound. He uses sound in the same manner that he uses his camera (just as he had done previously in Blackmail). One particularly interesting scene concerned a jury deliberation as Sir John tries to explain his “not guilty” verdict to the eleven jurors who disagree.

“…The jury scene turns expressionistic when Sir John’s arguments against the other jurors are beaten back with increasingly loud, increasingly quick replies: ‘Any answer to that, Sir John?’ Finally, he is overwhelmed by their choral ‘Any answer, any answer, any answer to that, Sir John?’ The veer from dialogue to chant puts the audience into Sir John’s beleaguered position.” –Maurice Yacowar (Hitchcock’s British Films, 2010)

Hitchcock’s unique editing rhythm mirrors their chanting, but their words become little more than a distorted symphony of voices as Hitchcock moves into an extreme close-up of our anxiety ridden protagonist’s face. The result is a bit crude due to the aforementioned production limitations, but the scene does find the director experimenting with the cinematic possibilities that sound would offer him.

The moments that follow this exchange are just as interesting. After a despondent Sir John relents and agrees to a guilty verdict, he sits motionless in his chair as the other jurors gather their belongings and leave the room. He begins gathering his things only when the final jurors are making their exit. He finally leaves us alone in the empty room. However, an attendant soon enters the room and begins to clean up as we hear the verdict read to the court and a sentence of death passed down. This is something that couldn’t have been done in a silent film, and it seems slightly audacious even today.

SD - SIR JOHN BEATEN DOWN.jpg

“I tried to stylize a jury persuading a final juryman to agree to the verdict of guilty, and I stylized the voices hammering away at him.” –Alfred Hitchcock (Hitchcock, 1966)

End of Jury Scene.jpg

Sir John sits despondently as the other Jurors happily file out of the room.

The scene that follows the fade out from this scene is probably the film’s most recognizable, as it is often discussed for its creative (and difficult to achieve) use of sound. Blackmail had the so-called “knife scene,” and Murder! has the infamous “mirror monologue.”

“Most people remember the picture by one particular scene—the one in which Marshall spoke his own thoughts without opening his mouth. The same idea was used more extensively some time later in Strange Interlude. It was considered a somewhat startling talkie innovation. Actually, the idea was one of the prominent methods of stage technique handed down from Shakespeare. Then it went out of fashion. Nowadays, a second actor is brought on so that the actor can speak his lines to him. I have always hated the idea of bringing in an unnecessary person, and this is why I set out to find some way of avoiding it when I had to direct that scene in Murder! I merely went back to the oldest form of all and introduced the soliloquy, brought up to date by making it unnecessary for Marshall to open his mouth.” –Alfred Hitchcock (My Screen Memories, Film Weekly, May 02-30, 1936)

This effect was more difficult to achieve at that time than it is today, and Hitchcock would discuss this scene in interviews until the end of his career.

“…[Marshall] had [just turned] the radio on, and I wanted to have the Prelude from ‘Tristan [and Isolde]’ playing. I had a thirty-piece orchestra in the studio, just for this little radio he’s playing in his bathroom. You see, you couldn’t add it later, it had to be done at the same time and balanced on the stage.” —Alfred Hitchcock (The Cinema of Alfred Hitchcock, 1963)

To complicate matters further, a recording of Sir John’s internal soliloquy also had to be played off-screen, and this recording had to be timed to the orchestra’s music! One can only imagine the madness that this probably created on the set, but the coming of talkies often created such chaos. Filmmakers who refused to build upon their already well established stylistic techniques would fail to make an impact in the sound era. Those, like Hitchcock, who became excited at the opportunity to build upon these already established techniques would flourish. However, even these directors would stumble on occasion. The “talkie” era made it necessary for directors to experiment, and these experiments weren’t always successful.

This was certainly true of Alfred Hitchcock, and one particular experimental approach during the production of Murder! helped him to establish some of his more steadfast directorial rules.

“I also experimented with improvisations in direct sound. I would explain the meaning of the scene to the actors and suggest that they make up their own dialogue. The result wasn’t good; there was too much faltering. They would carefully think over what they were about to say and we didn’t get the spontaneity I had hoped for. The timing was all wrong and it had no rhythm.” —Alfred Hitchcock (Hitchcock, 1966)

The failure of this technique helped to solidify his preference to “improvise in the office” while working on the script. The final film shows signs of this failed approach and adds to the clunkiness of the final product.

Publicity Still featuring Herbert Marshall from MURDER!.jpg

“[Murder!] was Herbert Marshall’s first talkie, and the part he played was ideal for him. He immediately proved himself a natural talkie actor.” –Alfred Hitchcock (My Screen Memories, Film Weekly, May 02-30, 1936)

Alfred Abel in Fritz Lang's Metropolis.

Alfred Abel was cast in a Hitchcock-directed German version entitled Mary. His most famous screen performance was probably his portrayal of Joh Fredersen in Fritz Lang’s Metropolis (1927).

A BILINGUAL PRODUCTION

Most of what is known about the production of Murder! concerns its status as a so-called “bilingual production.”

“Since it took more time to make a picture, they were often made in several versions in order to reach an international audience. Therefore each film was much more expensive.” —Alfred Hitchcock (Hitchcock, 1966)

The practice was short-lived but crossed continents. There are multiple versions of a great many films made during these early days of sound. There are foreign-language versions of Dracula, The Blue Angel, M, and a great many other titles from this era. However, different directors usually took the reins of the foreign version (although the same sets were usually used). This wasn’t the case with Murder!. British International Pictures trusted Hitchcock to shoot both of these versions.

“We made the German and English versions simultaneously. I had worked in Germany and had a rough knowledge of the language—just enough to get by. In the English version the hero was Herbert Marshall, and we used a very well-known actor, Alfred Abel, for the German version. Before the shooting, when I went to Berlin to talk over the script, they proposed many changes that I turned down. As it happens, I was wrong. I refused them because I was satisfied with the English version. Besides, we didn’t want to shoot two versions that would be too different from each other for reasons of economy.

Anyway, I returned to London without having altered the script. But as soon as we started to shoot, I realized that I had no ear for the German language. Many touches that were quite funny in the English version were not at all amusing in the German one, as, for instance, the ironic asides on the loss of dignity or on snobbishness. The German actors were ill at ease, and I came to realize that I simply didn’t know about the German idiom.” —Alfred Hitchcock (Hitchcock, 1966)

The script was translated into German by Georg C. Klaren and Herbert Juttke, and a handful of changes were made to the story during this process. Most noticeably, the title was changed to Mary (as Diana Baring’s name was changed to ‘Mary Baring’). In addition, Fane’s motives were completely different in the German film. Instead of trying to hide his racial origins, the murderer is trying to conceal the fact that he is a fugitive from justice. However, the production was conceived as a close replica of Murder!

“It was designed technically that I would set up and light a scene with the English cast, [then] take them out, substitute the other actors and do the scene over again in German.” –Alfred Hitchcock (Transcription of François Truffaut’s Interview, August 1962)

MURDER! MARY COMPARISON.jpg

It is clear that the two films mirror one another, but this comparison probably doesn’t give us an accurate account of the differences in framing since home video transfers often crop images for various reasons. (These examples are taken from Sony’s 2007 DVD transfer of Murder! and a 2006 French DVD transfer of Mary.)

This methodology creates a film that mirrors Hitchcock’s British version more often than not, but it didn’t completely eradicate the insanity created by shooting two films at the same time. Charles Landstone—who portrayed one of the jurors in Mary—remembered the chaos created by the bilingual shoot and reminisced about his experiences in his memoir. Apparently, the prospect of interpreting another a role being portrayed by another actor at the same time made Landstone apprehensive. However, he managed to find a solution for this unique predicament:

“…Each man had to give his views—Norah Baring was being tried on a murder charge—and Hitchcock had the idea of planting each juryman with a solo shot that displayed his personality. The Englishman in my part was Kenneth Cove, quite a well-known feature actor of the day and a member of the famous Aldwych farce team. I watched him carefully as he went on the set, and thought that if I could copy him I might get through without being sacked as some of the others had been. I saw Hitchcock give me a knowing grin; he hadn’t been fooled, but he didn’t care. For the twelve days that the shooting of the jury scene lasted I followed the same procedure, carefully aping everything that cove did. Nobody seemed to notice, not even Cove.” –Charles Landstone (Memoir)

It isn’t surprising to learn of Alfred Hitchcock’s tendency to exploit the unusual “bilingual” situation for laughs (or for his own private amusement).

“He had a clapper boy named Harold, and he cast him in the role of the King’s Jester. His cry would be ‘Haro-old!,’ and when Harold dutifully came to heel he would be sent off on one fool’s errand after the other. He made ‘Haro-old’ learn off by heart a sentence in German which he told him to go and repeat to a young actress who was Norah Baring’s counterpart. I forget what it was exactly, but it was the sort of remark that one might expect in the most permissive of today’s scripts. In 1930 it was outrageous. ‘Haro-old’ dutifully repeated it; the girl was startled out of her life and ‘Haro-old’ stammered: ‘E told me to say it.’ The actress, catching sight of Hitchcock roaring his head off, wagged her finger at him in admonition.” –Charles Landstone (Memoir)

However, most of the director’s pranks seemed to be directed at the very difficult Alfred Abel:

“[Hitchcock] transparently disliked Alfred Abel, a stuffy man who didn’t share his sense of humor, Abel refused, for example, to wear the same tweeds-and-raincoat costume as the English star, Herbert Marshall, because it didn’t suit his idea of formality. And he refused to follow Hitchcock’s directions for the scene where a landlady’s children climb over Sir John, who is trying to relax in bed while sipping his morning cup of tea. It is a memorable interlude in Murder! (experimenting with overlapping sound, Hitchcock has a baby bawling throughout), but it had to be restaged for Abel and [Mary]…

…Abel finally stepped into the crosshairs when he objected to Marshall’s special lounge chair. No such privilege had been accorded to the German lead. ‘Hitchcock didn’t trouble to explain,’ wrote Landstone, ‘that Marshall was a 1914-18 war casualty and had a wooden leg, but simply said that provision would be made for the German to rest between the shots… and after lunch a magnificent-looking armchair, far more luxurious than Marshall’s, appeared at the side of the set. On it was Abel’s name, and the latter thanked Hitchcock profusely. Noticing, however, the director’s puckish grin, the German went over to the chair and touched it gingerly with his finger, whereupon the whole contraption collapsed to the ground. Hitchcock’s roar of laughter filled the studio.” –Patrick McGilligan (Alfred Hitchcock: A Life in Darkness and Light, 2003)

Norah Baring (Diana Baring), Alfred Hitchcock, and Olga Tschechowa (Mary Baring) during the production of MURDER! and MARY..jpg

This is a ‘behind the scenes’ photograph of Norah Baring (Diana Baring), Alfred Hitchcock, and Olga Tschechowa (Mary Baring) on the set of Murder! and Mary.

RELEASE AND RECEPTION

“It was an interesting film and was quite successful in London, but it was too sophisticated for the provinces.” —Alfred Hitchcock (Hitchcock, 1966)

The evidence suggests that Hitchcock’s above recollection as to the reception of this film is accurate. While the German Mary only received a limited release in Germany, the British Murder! did quite well upon its release (especially in terms of critical opinion). British critics were especially kind and fast to compare the film favorably with American product. The following review from ‘The Yorkshire Post’ is a case in point:

“…This adaptation of “Enter Sir John,” the novel by Clemence Dane and Helen Simpson, also deals with crime, but the film leaves you with a convincing impression of real people involved in quite possible situations… There may be melodramatic moments in the film version, but there is no rosy haze and no sham sentiment.

Mr. Hitchcock long ago proved himself the most gifted of British directors, and Blackmail showed that he could handle a talkie every bit as well as a silent picture. Murder! (I prefer the original title of the novel) is much longer and fuller than Blackmail, but no less brilliant. Once more we can enjoy Mr. Hitchcock’s remarkable gift for making every scene and every glimpse say something. His camera is as resourceful as in the days of silence. That feeling which the talkie used to give us of being anchored in a narrow room is entirely overcome.

Sometimes, I think, he pauses too long over details—particularly over his satirical touches. The scene in which the needy stage-manager and his wife go to lunch at Sir John’s West End apartment is extremely amusing, but the amount of footage given to it holds up the action. Still, Mr. Hitchcock’s eye for idiosyncrasies of character and his command over so many levels of English life are a great asset. Murder! is a long film, but so richly packed with material that not for a moment did I find it dull.

The acting is on a level with the direction. Herbert Marshall—a new recruit from the stage — has exactly the right urbanity for Sir John; Edward Chapman is first-rate as the little stage-manager; Edward Percy—another stage recruit—is equally effective as a trapeze artist; and Miss Norah Baring, in her short but difficult part as the suspected girl…

Nor is there any weakness in the production or in the settings. Here we have a home-made film which attempts to do no more than tell a mystery story, but which does its job with complete success. Indeed, the wealth of vitality displayed in the handling of this British picture makes the American efficiency of ‘Raffles’ seem oddly stereotyped, oddly thin.” —Yorkshire Post (Alfred Hitchcock’s Success, August 05, 1930)

Hugh Castle, who wrote a condescending but mostly positive piece on Blackmail upon that film’s release, did likewise upon the release of this film. In fact, it is obvious that he prefers Murder! to the director’s “talkie” debut:

“…Hitchcock by now must be an admitted authority on the black arts, having graduated with Blackmail. Hitchcock, of course, is an interesting phenomenon, said he, adopting the quietly introspective style. A rambler rose on an arctic slope. Or perhaps it would be better to say a walrus on Everest. He has his moments. He is the one man in this country who can think cinema. He may never achieve half of what he thinks. One cannot expect too much of the British industry… But Hitchcock’s moments justify themselves. Obviously Murder! had its moments. It may not achieve real unity, but it comes nearer than any of its homemade competitors. And after Two Worlds!

There is a suggestion in Murder! of a talk-film idea which personally has appealed to me from the start of the dialogue film. Too much, in my opinion, is made of the deliberate distortion of sound to make a counterpoint to the visual rhythm. For myself, I have always been interested in the direct linking of sound and picture by the employment of a literary translation in the dialogue of a similar rhythm as is used in the montage… In the jury sequence in Murder! Hitchcock has discovered this same idea. The acceleration of cutting, coupled with the dialogue rhythm, speeding up, speeding up. Speech montage. So much more fundamental than that psychologically interesting ‘knife’ episode in Blackmail.

Much could be said about Hitchcock, his use of the detached camera. Documentation. His efforts to weld literary satire into cinematic development, the old fault for which Lubitsch has to answer. His idea-fertility, the use of dialogue as a thought-medium [in Murder!]—a throwback to the Elizabethan stage, this.

Anyway, Hitchcock gives the screen ideas, in which it is so bankrupt. Murder! has several ideas, flung off, used to serve a purpose and then forgotten. Regarded as a motion picture Murder! is a praiseworthy effort, quite the best thing this country has done. Looked at from the straightforward angle of the film-goer it gets dangerously near the highbrow, which means to say that the fact it has brains may militate against it…” —Hugh Castle (Attitude and Interlude, Close Up, September 1930)

The review published in ‘The Times’ offers more thoughtful praise but forgoes Castle’s particular brand of snobbery. After praising Marshall’s performance in the film, the review elaborates on Hitchcock’s direction:

“…We find ourselves thrust into a world at once made passionately aware of itself, and Mr. Hitchcock has never been more skillful in revealing the inner lives of his characters and the strangeness of the scene that enfolds them. Murder!, then, is not simply a brilliant exercise in mystery melodrama. Like most of Mr. Hitchcock’s work, it tells us about the life as well as the lives of his characters, and we cannot follow him into Sir John’s study or into the actress’s lodgings without knowing more of the world about us than we did before. In short, Mr. Hitchcock’s method is that of the creative artist. He has produced a picture of which any country might be proud, and has shown that when so minded we can make films superior in intelligence and style to any submitted to us by America or Germany.” —The Times (September 23, 1930)

Charles F. Hynes offered the film plenty of qualified approbation and also predicted a successful future in film for Herbert Marshall:

“Probably the best of the pictures recently produced in Great Britain, this boasts a strong story, capably acted by a fine cast. Top honors go to Herbert Marshall, a good looking and capable hero, who solves the murder mystery. The picture has the fault common to many British films of too much dialogue and lack of action, but good direction surmounts this obstacle and the suspense is sustained throughout…

… There are no names of American prominence in the cast, but Marshall should be played up, as he is a good potential bet. This looks like a good offering for the weekly changes, as well as subsequents [sic]. The title should give it draw.” —Charles F. Hynes (Murder, Motion Picture News, November 01, 1930)

Even American trade publications offered the film their blessings as this review by Charles S. Aaronson illustrates:

“This British International film, adapted most expertly by Alma Reville from Clemence Dane’s stage play, ‘Enter Sir John,’ is as good a mystery thrill picture as they come. As seems to be the usual thing with the product of the Elstree studios in England, the cast is exceptionally fine, from the lead of Herbert Marshall as Sir John, actor and amateur detective, down to the most incidental part. Marshall gives an excellent exhibition of self confidence in his role, and handles his lines with a restraint and perfection of diction which is seldom bettered on the talking screen…

…The manner in which Sir John traps the suspect into betraying his guilt, and the odd way in which the murderer beats the law in the end provide an unusual conclusion and put real punch into a mystery thriller which is novel for its new angle. The direction of Alfred Hitchcock is all that anyone could ask. Every motion and speech is pointed toward the climax, with little or no time wasted on unnecessary incidentals. Photography is good throughout, with several scenes easily rating a grade better than good…

…An able cast, and fine adaptation and direction of a story which has at least one or two unusual twists for this type of mystery, make this film one of the most entertaining British International has sent over. There can be little doubt that American audiences will get a real kick out of it.” —Charles S. Aaronson (New Product: Murder, Exhibitors Herald, November 01, 1930)

The film’s successful reception is understandable, and it is the highlight of a decidedly uneven period in Alfred Hitchcock’s career (1930 – 1933 / Juno and the PaycockWaltzes from Vienna). If it has aged more than some of his later films, one can take solace in the understanding that it is on par with other “talkies” made during this era.

Murder! SS01

The Presentation:

4 of 5 MacGuffins

Kino Lorber houses their disc in a standard Blu-ray case with a sleeve featuring artwork taken from a Columbia Pictures window card design that was used to promote Murder! in US theaters. It’s probably the most famous available artwork for the film, so their decision to use it was wise.

Murder! Menu

The disc’s menu features this same image with accompaniment from Beethoven’s fifth symphony, and the result is both attractive and easy to navigate.

Murder! SS02 - BLOOPER

Those who enjoy finding mistakes will notice that equipment is visible in this particular shot. It seems likely that this error would have been cropped out of release prints.

Picture Quality:

4 of 5 MacGuffins

Kino has given Murder! a very healthy high definition transfer that blows previous DVD transfers of the film out of the water. As for the previous standard definition “public domain” transfers, there is absolutely no comparison as those were washed out, blown out, cropped to the point of ruin, and barely watchable. Those who have only seen one of these transfers haven’t actually seen the film. Kino’s Blu-ray transfer is also a step up when one compares it to Sony’s previous DVD edition of the film (which is the only legitimate release of Murder! in North America).

First of all, we see more information on all four sides of the frame when comparing it to the Sony release. Density isn’t always as strong as one might hope during a few scenes, but it is better than it has ever been in the past. Fine detail and clarity have also seen a significant improvement here, while the filmic layer of grain is healthier and better resolved. It’s true that there are occasional signs of damage, but none of these become at all distracting. In fact, it is surprising how clean the print looks considering the film’s age. There are a few instances of the film momentarily fading to black and then back into the scene that must be the result of age. It is a minor weakness that probably couldn’t be improved upon without significant restoration work being done on this title.

Murder! SS03.jpg

Sound Quality:

4 of 5 MacGuffins

It is important to consider the “early sound” nature of this track before criticizing the inherent weaknesses on display. These weaknesses were always on display! Kino’s 2.0 DTS-HD Master Audio reproduces the film’s original mono accurately, and those who have only experienced those dreadful “public domain” transfers will be amazed at how clean and clear the track sounds when compared to those earlier releases. Dialogue is clear and usually intelligible. The weakest element is obviously the music as it is a bit boxed in and suffers slightly from the limitations of the era’s sound technology. However, even this has seen improvement when compared to earlier DVD releases of the film. It represents the original sound elements faithfully.

Murder! SS04.jpg

Special Features:

4.5 of 5 MacGuffins

Mary (1931) – (SD Up-Res) – (01:22:07)

Mary Title Card

If Mary had been presented in high definition, it wouldn’t be discussed here as one of the disc’s supplemental offerings. It would have been one of two main attractions. The article that proceeds this disc review discusses the production of Mary, and cinephiles should agree that it is a substantial addition to the disc (even in standard definition). The film hasn’t received a legitimate North American release in any format, so Kino Lorber should be applauded for their efforts.

Audio Commentary by Nick Pinkerton

Pinkerton gives a well-researched but monotonous commentary that mixes analytical theory with biographical information and production history. The major weakness here is his delivery, and this is a shame because it is an informative track.

Alternate Ending – (10:06)

Alternate Ending

Apparently, the official UK cut of the film was slightly shorter than the version projected for US audiences. The latter of these versions inserts a pair of incidental scenes into the film’s ending in order to make certain points more clearly.

The first of these scenes follows directly after Handel Fane’s dramatic demise. We see his corpse being carried out on a stretcher as Sir John is handed a note that Fane had left behind for him. After looking at the note for a moment, he exits the dead performer’s dressing room. This, of course, leads into a scene that is actually in the official UK cut (the scene where Sir John reads the note out loud).

This scene is then followed by another added scene wherein we see the innocent Nora Baring as she exits the prison to ride off with Sir John. He tells her to save her tears since they will serve her well in his new play. This is the cue for the next (and final) scene in both cuts of the film. Sir John kisses Diana’s hand before tracking out to reveal that this is part of a stage performance. The curtain drops. The End.

In some ways, this US ending (which was included as the primary ending on the Madacy Entertainment DVD) is much smoother and less choppy than the official UK ending, but it also anticipates the final gag of pulling out from what we think is the clichéd “happy ending” kiss. It’s nice to have both endings on the disc, but one actually wishes that Kino Lorber had offered an option for viewers to watch the film with either ending.

Hitchcock/Truffaut: Icon interviews Icon – (14:19)

It’s very pleasing to find that this audio excerpt from the legendary Hitchcock/Truffaut interviews was included on the disc. This particular portion of the interview finds Hitchcock discussing Murder! and his memories and thoughts are played against a kind of slideshow featuring artwork and production stills. The only complaint that we have about this is that one of the photos is clearly from the production of Blackmail and not Murder! The oversight takes some of the polish off of the presentation.

Introduction by Noël Simsolo – (05:12)

Noël Simsolo’s French-language introduction is an odd and not altogether worthy inclusion as his information isn’t completely accurate and his theories aren’t entirely sound. First of all, it is clear when one examines Alfred Hitchcock’s filmography that he didn’t really latch onto the thriller genre until the back to back successes of The Man Who Knew Too Much. What’s more, Mary wasn’t shot after Murder! as he suggests. These films were shot simultaneously.

One doesn’t like to disagree with popular theories as to thematic subtext, but his adoption of Truffaut’s assessment that the film delves into the subject of homosexuality is questionable. Such subtext does crop up throughout Hitchcock’s work but Murder! is a different animal. In ‘Hitchcock’s British Films,’ Maurice Yacowar makes an argument against such readings:

“Ernest Betts makes an extreme claim: ‘More interesting than any technical gimmicks is Hitchcock’s awareness of dissolving ethical standards, of the whole atmosphere of moral and psychological change. He confronts homosexual and other issues in a manner considered bold at the time.’ Durgnat rewrites the film: ‘It leaves us, sophisticates of 1970, in little doubt that “half cast” means “left handed,” which means bisexual or homosexual.’ To Truffaut Murder! ‘in essence is a thinly disguised story about homosexuality.’ The film is neither ‘about’ nor does it ‘confront’ homosexuality. Well, if it is, it is more than ‘thinly disguised.’

…The ‘half caste’ need not denote homosexuality. Nor does transvestitism, given the British farce tradition of male performers in drag…” –Maurice Yacowar (Hitchcock’s British Films, 2010)

Yacowar should have gone farther with his argument, because performing in drag isn’t transvestitism. The performing artist isn’t dressing for his own pleasure but for the pleasure and amusement of an audience. This distinction is important.

In the end, one doesn’t mind Simsolo offering his theoretical interpretation of the film, but the factual errors and assumptions (presented as fact) are regrettable.

Theatrical Trailers and Blu-ray Advertisements:

Murder! (Blu-ray Ad) – (01:12)
Blackmail (Blu-ray Ad) – (01:15)
The Paradine Case Theatrical Trailer – (01:43)
Under Capricorn Theatrical Trailer – (02:04)
Lifeboat (Blu-ray Ad) – (01:28)

The ‘theatrical trailers’ are welcome and worth having on the disc, but the Blu-ray advertisements seem like superfluous additions. One wishes that the original trailers for Murder! could have been found and included. This would have been a significant addition to the disc.

Murder! SS05

Final Words:

Murder! is arguably the best of Alfred Hitchcock’s early (post-Blackmail and pre-The Man Who Knew Too Much) “talkies,” but his best work was still ahead of him. It is fascinating to see how Hitchcock experimented with the new sound medium. However, those who are only casually interested in Alfred Hitchcock’s oeuvre may find it a challenging entertainment due to the technical limitations that plagued the early sound era.

Kino Lorber’s Blu-ray is a remarkable release, and it is certainly recommended for devotees of the director.

Review by: Devon Powell

Source Material:

Staff Writer (‘Murder’ at Regal and Alhambra, Burnley Express, May 23, 1931)

Oswell Blakeston (Advance Monologue, Close Up, August 1930)

Staff Writer (Alfred Hitchcock’s Success, Yorkshire Post, August 05, 1930)

Charles F. Hynes (Murder, Motion Picture News, November 01, 1930)

Charles S. Aaronson (New Product: Murder, Exhibitors Herald, November 01, 1930)

Hugh Castle (Attitude and Interlude, Close Up, September 1930)

Staff Writer (Murder, The Times, September 23, 1930)

Alfred Hitchcock and John K. Newnham (My Screen Memories, Film Weekly, May 02-30, 1936)

Peter Bogdanovich (The Cinema of Alfred Hitchcock, 1963)

Alfred Hitchcock (AFI Seminar, 1970)

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)

Sidney Gottlieb (Alfred Hitchcock Interviews, 2003)

Maurice Yacowar (Hitchcock’s British Films, 2010)

Barton Palmer and David Boyd (Hitchcock at the Source, 2011)

Ken Mogg (Melancholy Elephants: Hitchcock and Ingenious Adaptation, Hitchcock and Adaptation: On the Page and Screen, 2014)

Mark Osteen (Hitchcock and Adaptation: On the Page and Screen, 2014)

Offbeat Blu-ray Review: Gaslight

Gaslight Blu-ray Cover.jpg

Distributor: Warner Archives

Release Date: June 25, 2019

Region: Region Free

Length: 01:53:46

Video: 1080P (MPEG-4, AVC)

Main Audio: 2.0 English Mono DTS-HD Master Audio (48kHz, 24-bit)

Subtitles: English SDH

Ratio: 1.37:1

Bitrate: 34.99 Mbps

Gaslight Title.jpg

George Cukor’s Gaslight has long drawn comparisons to certain films in Alfred Hitchcock’s filmography and is often mentioned as one of “the best Hitchcock films that Alfred Hitchcock didn’t actually direct.” Of course, this isn’t at all fair to Cukor, but there are a number of factors that tend to encourage such comparison. The most important and interesting of these is the fact that the original play was written by Patrick Hamilton. Readers will recall that Alfred Hitchcock’s Rope was also adapted from a successful stage play written by Hamilton. What’s more, the theme of marital paranoia was touched upon by Hitchcock in Rebecca, Suspicion, and Notorious. Finally, seeing Ingrid Bergman (Spellbound, Notorious, Under Capricorn), Joseph Cotton (Shadow of a Doubt, Under Capricorn), and Dame May Whitty (The Lady Vanishes, Suspicion) in such a thriller is bound to remind viewers of their work for Hitchcock. In fact, a train scene between Bergman’s ‘Paula’ and Whitty’s ‘Miss Thwaites’ is so obviously “Hitchcockian” that it seems unlikely that the similarities aren’t intentional:

Miss Thwaites: Oh, my goodness! Good gracious! It’s so exciting.

Paula: Your book?

Miss Thwaites: Yes. It’s about a girl who marries a man—and what do you think? He’s got six wives buried in the cellar!

Paula: That seems a lot.

Miss Thwaites: Yes, and I’m only on Page 200, so I’m sure there’s still more to come. It’s a wonderful book!

Paula: It sounds a little gruesome.

Miss Thwaites: Yes. I’m afraid I enjoy a good murder now and then. My brother always calls me “Bloodthirsty Bessie.” Have a biscuit, dear.

Paula: Thank you.

Miss Thwaites: Digestive biscuits. Unpleasant name, isn’t it? I always call them “diggy biscuits.” I never travel without them.

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Ingrid Bergman won an Academy Award in the “Best Actress” category for her performance in Gaslight. The film earned a total of seven nominations.

It is also worth noting that Alfred Hitchcock’s Under Capricorn would feature Ingrid Bergman as a character being “gaslighted” by her jealous housekeeper. The film wasn’t one of the director’s more successful efforts, but it seems likely that this fact contributes to people’s tendency to draw parallels between Cukor’s work on Gaslight and Hitchcock’s work in general.

In the end, however, it seems inappropriate to put too much emphasis on any of these points. George Cukor’s great work on the film should not be overshadowed by comparisons to a director who had absolutely nothing to do with the production. Instead, we should celebrate the existence of a film that is good enough to stand amongst Hitchcock’s work as a classic of the genre.

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The Presentation:

4 of 5 MacGuffins

Warner Archives houses their disc in a standard Blu-ray case with a sleeve featuring a slightly altered version of the film’s original one sheet design. The cast credits are much smaller and are arranged in a more traditional manner that takes up less space, and the title has been moved so that it is located directly under these names. Whether these changes make for a stronger composition is a matter of taste, but it is nice to see that the original artwork was at least used here.

Gaslight - One Sheet

The disc’s menu features this same image with accompaniment from the film’s score and is both attractive and easy to navigate.

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Picture Quality:

4.5 of 5 MacGuffins

This exquisite transfer is sourced from a recent 4K scan of the film (which must have been in excellent condition). It is stunningly representative of the film’s original elements and features consistently impressive fine detail for a film of this vintage. An extremely healthy layer of grain lends the image a filmic texture without ever becoming unwieldy or problematic. Contrast is well handled here with strong blacks and healthy whites. The high bitrate ensures that compression issues are never a problem. Age related damage is minimal and never distracting. There really aren’t any problems to discuss here. Everything looks terrific.

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Sound Quality:

4 of 5 MacGuffins

The 2.0 DTS-HD Master Audio track showcases the film’s original mono mix rather admirably. All elements are well prioritized and probably sound as good as they ever have. Dialogue is consistently clear, music is given more room to breathe than in previous DVD editions of the film, dynamic range is much better than one might expect, age related anomalies such as hiss and hum are never an issue, and there aren’t any noticeable synch problems. Audiophiles should be reasonably pleased.

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Special Features:

4 of 5 MacGuffins

Gaslight: The Original 1940 British Version — (01:23:57)

Gaslight 1940

Upon purchasing the re-make rights to this film, MGM had included a clause in their contract which demanded that all existing prints of this film be destroyed. They even tried to destroy the negative. Luckily, they didn’t succeed.

This earlier adaptation of Hamilton’s play was directed by Thorold Dickinson and stars Diana Wynyard and Anton Walbrook as the two principals (named ‘Bella’ and ‘Paul’ in this version). In many ways, this almost feels like a reader’s digest version of the story. The husband is very obviously characterized as a brute here, and his “Gaslighting” is already well underway by the time we are given a proper scene between them. It is a bit choppy compared to the more fluid progression of Cukor’s film version, but there are those who prefer this version to the re-make. These individuals will cite a darker and more suspenseful tone, but others are just as likely to note the script’s less subtle characterizations and performances that are nearly void of all nuance.

Either way, it is very nice to have this British adaptation included here as it is fun comparing the two films. It certainly adds enormously to the value of this disc. Unfortunately, this particular image transfer is presented in standard definition with 2.0 DTS-HD Master Audio. C’est la vie.

Reflections on Gaslight — (13:50)

Cinephiles will also be thrilled with the inclusion of this short “featurette” as it manages to pack some very interesting information into its short duration. Pia Lindstrom hosts, provides a bit of production history, and tells a few second-hand anecdotes. Angela Lansbury also appears to share her memories of the production. This is far from a comprehensive examination of the film’s production, but it certainly doesn’t waste the viewer’s time.

Oscars for Movie Stars — (01:32)

This newsreel footage from the 17th Annual Academy Awards ceremony includes contextual narration by John B. Kennedy as Gary Cooper presents the award for “Best Actor” to Bing Crosby, Jennifer Jones presents the “Best Actress” award to Ingrid Bergman, and Margaret O’Brien receives the Academy’s special juvenile award. The ‘thank you’ speeches were short and gracious in those days. Recent winners could watch this and take a few notes.

Theatrical Trailer — (01:53)

It’s nice to see how Gaslight was sold to audiences at the time. One wishes that all Blu-rays would include a film’s original theatrical trailer (or trailers).

Gaslight: Lux Radio Theater Broadcast — (59:40)

This Lux Radio Theater adaptation was originally broadcast to radio audiences on April 29, 1946 and features Ingrid Bergman and Charles Boyer in the same roles that they had brought to the screen only a few years earlier. The entire program is presented here—including commercials and scripted interviews with Bergman and Boyer.

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Final Words:

Gaslight is an engrossing thriller with an incredibly strong performance by Ingrid Bergman, and this Blu-ray from Warner Archives offers a terrific transfer that bests all previous home video releases.

Review by: Devon Powell

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Offbeat Blu-ray Review: Sisters – The Criterion Collection

Spine #89

Blu-ray Cover

Distributor: Criterion Collection (USA)

Release Date: October 23, 2018

Region: Region A

Length: 01:32:42

Video: 1080P (MPEG-4, AVC)

Main Audio: English Mono Linear PCM Audio (48 kHz, 1152 kbps, 24-bit)

Subtitles: English SDH

Ratio: 1.85:1

Bitrate: 34.71 Mbps

Notes: The Criterion Collection had previously released a DVD edition, but this is the film’s Blu-ray debut.

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WARNING: This article contains spoilers. We prefer not to discuss a film’s plot in intricate detail so that spoilers aren’t an issue, but it was necessary to compare very specific elements in Sisters to those found in Alfred Hitchcock’s work. We apologize in advance.

De Palma 1973

Brian De Palma in 1973

“I have found that people who like and are knowledgeable about Hitchcock also like Sisters—they know the references I am making to his films and they seem to appreciate it all the more for that. Which is good, because you could so easily be attacked as a tawdry Hitchcock rip-off.” –Brian De Palma (Filmmakers Newsletter, September 1973)

After several decades worth of hindsight, it seems more accurate to say that those who are truly knowledgeable about Alfred Hitchcock are much more likely to find fault in the film homages of Brian De Palma—not because he is using ideas and themes popularized by a much better filmmaker, but because he doesn’t seem to understand how and why Hitchcock’s technique for creating suspense in his audiences actually works. In fact, these borrowed techniques are often rendered less effective when used alongside De Palma’s own stylistic flourishes.

Sisters is the film that began this particular pattern of filmmaking for Brian De Palma, and it may very well be the homage that works the best on its own terms. This is probably due to the fact that he wasn’t attempting to set himself up as the next Hitchcock when he started the project. In a 1973 interview, De Palma clarified his intentions: “Basically, I wanted to make a movie in the Hitchcock mode in order to work out my own problems as a storyteller. It was also a study in the realization of precise visualization.” He was also attempting to make a film that could capture a wide enough audience to make a decent profit at the box-office after the epic failure of Get to Know Your Rabbit. This meant turning his attention towards exploitable subject matter and learning how to plan his scenes visually.

“I was at Columbia in the late ’50s and early ’60s, terrified of being drafted. So I made movies about not wanting to go to Vietnam—very much the politics of the day. And then I decided I wanted to start learning how to tell stories with pictures. So, of course, Hitchcock is the great master of that, and I saw a lot of his movies and began to use some of his story ideas and techniques in order to learn how to do that.” –Brian De Palma (NPR, July 01, 2016)

Borrowing heavily from Psycho, Rear Window, and even Rope, the film tells a sordid story about a gorgeous model named Danielle (Margot Kidder) who has a secret: she was once a conjoined twin and was recently surgically separated from her sister, Dominique (also Margot Kidder). This particular story element was actually based on a very real set of Siamese twins:

“I got the idea from a picture in ‘Life‘ magazine. They had these Russian Siamese twin sisters called Masha and Dasha as they’re sitting together on a couch—one looking kind of gay and happy and the other sort of slumped over to the side looking completely psychopathic. And the caption was ‘although they’re physiologically perfectly normal, as they develop into adolescence, they’re developing certain mental problems.” –Brian De Palma (De Palma, 2015)

Masha and Dasha-Rare Study of Russia's Siamese Twins-Life April 8, 1966

This is the photograph of Masha and Dasha (at age 11) that gave Brian De Palma his inspiration for Sisters (1973). It appeared along with a photo essay entitled “Rare Study of Russia’s Siamese Twins,”  which appeared in the April 8, 1966 issue of Life. The caption actually read: “When they were younger, they enjoyed special attention. As they matured, they came to comprehend the full meaning of their deformity. Doctors now predict they will need psychiatric help.

The first act of Sisters is an obvious nod to the structure of Psycho as it introduces a character as the film’s protagonist only to kill him off at the end of the first act. In this instance, the protagonist is Phillip Woode (Lisle Wilson). We first see Phillip as the unwitting guest on a hidden camera show called ‘Peeping Toms.’ (Some critics suggest that this may be a homage to Michael Powell’s Peeping Tom, but those familiar with De Palma’s earlier films understand that voyeurism had long been a staple of his work—especially in Greetings and Hi, Mom!. It is also a theme that is omnipresent throughout Alfred Hitchcock’s body of work.

The aforementioned model, Danielle, has been hired to portray a blind woman in Phillip’s locker room who begins undressing (seemly unaware of his presence) as the show’s contestants make guesses as to whether he will be a gentleman and leave or if he will simply gawk at the attractive woman undressing before his eyes. He does the right thing and is given a dinner for two at a cheesy restaurant called “The African Room.” One might assume that Danielle was paid for her participation, but this is apparently not the case since she is given a set of cutlery. In any case, Danielle asks Phillip if he wouldn’t mind taking her as his date to “The African Room” and they take a fast liking to one another.

Unfortunately, their enjoyment of the evening is soon hindered by a strange looking gentleman named Emil Breton (William Finley) who seems to be stalking Danielle. We first see him in the studio audience at the game show, he confronts her as she dines with Phillip at “The African Room,” and he follows them back to Danielle’s apartment. It turns out that the gentleman stalker is actually Danielle’s ex-husband. After temporarily getting rid of Emil, Phillip and Danielle make love as the camera reveals a rather large scar on her hip.

Morning soon comes and Phillip is awakened by the sound of Danielle arguing with an unknown woman in another room. The argument is in French and therefore inscrutable to Phillip. However, he is soon told what the audience has already inferred from their subtitled argument: the other woman is Dominique, Danielle’s unstable twin sister who is visiting her on their birthday. It seems that she is jealous of Phillip’s presence in the apartment. He offers to leave them alone so that they can enjoy their day together, but Danielle prefers that he stay with her. She does, however, ask him to go and pick up some medication for her. He does this and also stops at a bakery to buy Danielle and Dominique a personalized birthday cake. Meanwhile, Danielle is in a great deal of pain and in desperate need of her medication.

Phillip returns and it seems that she has passed out on the sleeper sofa—but the woman asleep on the sofa isn’t Danielle. It will suffice to say that Dominique doesn’t seem to care much for birthday cake, because Phillip is stabbed to death for his efforts. The structural similarities between Sisters and Psycho are obvious: Phillip Woode is the Marion Crane of Sisters. De Palma has made it a point to discuss this similarity in interviews, bragging that “there are a great many structural elements here that are in all [of] Hitchcock’s movies: introducing a character and then having him killed off early in the film, switching points of view, taking the person who sees the murder and then having him solve the crime.” He isn’t quite right in stating that this was a structural feature of all Hitchcock films. After all, the master really only dispatched what the audience assumed was the film’s protagonist in Psycho, but De Palma is right to give credit where credit is due. (One might argue that Hitchcock also killed off one of his primary characters two-thirds of the way through Vertigo, but it should become clear why this isn’t technically the case if they give it any serious thought.)

Phillip desperately crawls to a window where he writes “help” in his own blood. This is seen by Grace Collier (Jennifer Salt), a struggling reporter living in an apartment across the way. This is one of several nods to Rear Window, but this is shown in split-screen instead of Hitchcock’s preferred technique of subjective montage. In fact, the next sequence in this film relies heavily on split-screen—a device that Brian De Palma is known for and uses in many of his films (with varying degrees of success). It actually works surprisingly well in Sisters for a variety of reasons. For one thing split-screen reflects the “split” nature of Danielle and Dominique (in more ways than one), but it also provides a bridge between the Phillip/Danielle perspective and the Grace Collier perspective since this single sequence is shared equally between them. Of course, it wasn’t the first time that he had used this device and it wouldn’t be the last.

“[The] split-screen, I got from Dionysus in ’69 where I shot the narrative of the play and Bob Fiore shot the audience’s involvement with the players and the play. And then I got this idea: ‘Well we’ll show them simultaneously.’ The thing about movies is that you’re telling the audience what to look at. When you cut to something, you’re saying ‘Oh, there’s something important going on here. Look at that! The thing about split-screen is the audience has a chance to sort of put two images together simultaneously, and something happens in their head. You’re giving them a juxtaposition as opposed to, “THIS!” Split-screen is a technique that can take you out of the experience. The idea is, ‘where is it appropriate?’ In Sisters it worked quite well: ‘Can I get the blood cleaned up before Jennifer [Salt] comes around with the police?’” –Brian De Palma (De Palma, 2015)

Grace calls the police and hurries around to find the location of Danielle’s apartment before two police officers arrive at the scene with a chip on their shoulder. (It seems that Grace has recently written a rather unflattering article about the local police department.) As our new protagonist answers their questions and tries to talk them into investigating the murder instead of wasting time as they address their own hostilities, Emil has arrived at Danielle’s apartment and helps her clean up Dominique’s bloody mess. Much of this plays out in split screen and it is really quite effective as the viewer waits to see if the mess can be cleaned up before Grace arrives at the door with the police. If the sequence has a flaw, it lies in the fact that there is temporal manipulation in the form of editing during the Emil/Danielle portion of the frame while Grace interacts with the police in real time. Ideally, both scenes should have played out mostly in real time for maximum effect.

Sisters Splitscreen - Cleanup.jpg

Even with these flaws, the split-screen device works much better in this film than it did in many of De Palma’s other films. One can’t help but wonder if he didn’t continue using the device in an effort to put his stamp on a film without ever considering how it would affect the scene. One example would be the prom rampage in Carrie. After her cruel humiliation, we see the film’s titular character take violent vengeance on the students and faculty. It plays out in a series of split-screen shots, and the effect of the chaotic violence is largely diminished as a result. This is only one example of many, but it seems that the director now agrees with this particular criticism after having given the sequence a few decades of retrospective analysis:

“[Split-screen is] very good for some types of storytelling and not so good for things like the trashing of the prom in Carrie, because split-screen doesn’t really work well in action. It’s more of a meditative technique.” –Brian De Palma (The Autopsy, 2004)

Carrie 1

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The split-screen scene in Carrie (1976) was an error in judgement, and the device doesn’t work nearly as well in this film as it did in Sisters (1973).

Actually, Carrie has a number of distracting touches that seem to serve no function other than to take the viewer out of the film. The most obnoxious example might be a scene where Tommy Ross (William Katt) is seen with a group of his friends as they try on and choose their tuxedos. Suddenly, the scene speeds up and their voices sound like chipmunks. This is a horror film! Establishing and maintaining a certain tone is of paramount importance, and this completely takes the viewer out of the film. De Palma claimed in a commentary track that he felt that the scene was too slow, but this is a scene that could have been shortened by cutting to the next scene a bit earlier or deleting it entirely (it wasn’t at all a necessary scene). There are weird quirks in many of his films, but this is one of the more annoying examples.

However, it seems that this article has gone off on a tangent—and just as it was about to discuss one of the most important scenes in the entirety of Sisters.

It is during the aforementioned clean-up sequence that another Hitchcockian touch is introduced. Emil and Danielle hide Phillip’s body in the sleeper sofa just as a body was hidden in a trunk throughout the entire duration of Rope. It turns out that they finish cleaning and Emil is able to exit the apartment with the rest of the evidence just as Grace arrives at the door with the two police officers—a very nice ending to the film’s celebrated  and the split-screen sequence.

Sisters Splitscreen - Arrival at Door

What follows is an investigation of the apartment that might have had even stronger ties to Alfred Hitchcock’s Rope if De Palma had been able to shoot the sequence as he had originally intended:

“One of the scenes which I would have completely reshot had I the money (and it’s no longer in the picture because I couldn’t reshoot it) is one that I had thought about for years and years, where the body is in the couch and it’s bleeding through the bottom of the couch. The whole search scene is a Max Ophuls-type tracking shot about six minutes long, and while they are searching through the apartment, the camera keeps coming back to the couch, and the spot keeps getting bigger and bigger and bigger. I shot it, but because the camera could only get down so low and still go up high enough to shoot the rest of the scene, we couldn’t get down to the bottom of the couch, and when we saw the rushes it looked ridiculous because it looked like the guy was bleeding up through the arm of the couch. So I had to throw out the whole tracking shot, and I was forced to use close-ups and television-type coverage—which bothered me a lot because it was a great conception for that kind of material. (In fact, the whole set had been constructed so that I could track through the entire length and back around, just like Hitchcock did in Rope.)” –Brian De Palma (Filmmakers Newsletter, September 1973)

What we are left with is still quite interesting as the couch still manages to loom large in the scene as we are shown a blood stain that goes unnoticed just as Grace actually sits down on the sofa as she argues that there must be evidence of the murder. As they go through the apartment, Grace discovers that the closet contains two of each outfit and asks Danielle if she has a twin sister. Danielle insists that she has multiples of her outfits because she is a model and sometimes need a backup. This lie is nearly exposed when Grace discovers the birthday cake (which reads “Happy Birthday, Dominique and Danielle”) in the refrigerator, but she slips on the floor and destroys the cake before the two police officers can read it.

The police consider the matter closed after this fruitless search, but Grace is undeterred and continues to investigate the matter on her own and hires a private detective named Joseph Larch (Charles Durning) to assist in the investigation. Larch decides that another search is in order and uses the guise of a window cleaner to enter the residence after it is determined that the residence is empty. Meanwhile, Grace watches this search from her apartment with a pair of binoculars in a scene that recalls a sequence from Rear Window wherein Lisa Freemont investigates Lars Thorwald’s apartment while he is away. Larch soon signals to Grace from one of the windows that he has found something, but Danielle and a pair of unknown men return to the apartment. Grace distracts Danielle by dialing her phone and Larch soon signals that everything is okay (it is unclear what actually transpires since the view is much more limited here than it is was in Rear Window).

Rear Window - Hitchcock

Lisa Fremont (Grace Kelly) silently addresses L.B. Jefferies from Lars Thorwald’s apartment in Alfred Hitchcock’s Rear Window (1954).

Rear Window - Sisters

Joseph Larch (Charles Durning) silently addresses Grace Collier from Danielle Breton’s apartment in Brian De Palma’s Sisters (1973).

De Palma uses Hitchcock’s favored subjective editing style in this particular scene, but he is unable to build the same level of apprehension for a variety of reasons. One important factor here is that we just met Joseph Larch and are not nearly as invested in his character as one is to that of Lisa Fremont in Rear Window. Another issue here is that the film is less carefully thought out and the result is a scene that isn’t nearly as clear as the similar scene in Hitchcock’s film.

Shortly thereafter, Grace watches Emil and the two men previously seen in the apartment as they load the sleeper sofa into the back of a moving van. Meanwhile, Larch returns to the van and gives her a file that he found hidden in Danielle’s room and tells her that he tried moving the sofa to find that it was much too heavy and has come to the conclusion that this is where they have hidden Phillip’s body. He decides that he will follow the moving van and tells Grace to wait in her apartment and he will call her with updates. However, Grace has no intention of doing this, because the records contained in the file reveal that not only does Danielle have a twin sister named Dominique, but they were conjoined at the hip until very recently.

Grace remembers a story written about Dominique and Danielle that was published in Life magazine and visits the writer of the piece. It is here that she learns two important things: Dominique was once mentally unstable, and she died in surgery as the result of the separation. Those familiar with Psycho might compare this revelation with the scene where Lila Crane and Sam Loomis are told by Sherriff Chambers that Mrs. Bates died in a murder-suicide incident several years prior.

Soon thereafter, Grace tails Emil and Danielle to a mental institution in a sequence that owes more to Roman Polanski than it does to Alfred Hitchcock (at least in terms of style). Grace watches as Danielle struggles against Emil and is soon discovered. Emil (the head doctor at this institution) convinces one of his staff that she is a new patient and proceeds to hypnotize her, “There was no body, because there was no murder.” While she is still under hypnosis, we are taken into a dream or hallucination that inexplicably places Grace in Dominique’s memory:

“…The history of the twins growing up in the Institute and their separation is via a sort of dream imagery, which I think makes it much more interesting. The idea derives from Polanski. I have always liked the dream sequence in Rosemary’s Baby where the devil makes love to her. It was a good idea because you never really know whether or not it happened, and the imagery is terrific. It also avoids the scene in Psycho where the psychiatrist sits down and explains everything. An expository scene can be a kind of boring scene, but you need it because the audience doesn’t know what’s happening and you’ve got to explain it to them. By placing it in a dream, I think you get a sort of visceral feeling for what went on rather than specific information.” –Brian De Palma (Filmmakers Newsletter, September 1973)

Rosemary's Baby - Dream 1

The surreal nightmare-rape sequence in Roman Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby (1968) inspired the ill-advised dream elements that tainted the final act of Sisters (1973).

Frankly, this is the moment that the film de-rails. The dream sequence is an unnecessary element and serves only to confuse the viewer (while exposition is intended to clarify or provide information). We really don’t learn anything of paramount importance that we do not already know or won’t learn in the moments following this hallucination. Furthermore, it isn’t nearly as interesting or as well executed as the scene in Rosemary’s Baby that inspired it.

This ineffectual nightmare is immediately followed by a scene wherein Emil reminds Danielle that Dominique died as a result of the surgical separation that he performed on them, and we learn that she compensated for this loss by giving Dominique life in her mind (a psychological phenomenon that is now referred to as Dissociative Identity Disorder). He also explains that Dominique’s personality takes over any time that he tries to make love with her. If De Palma’s intention for the illogical hallucinatory nightmare was to provide the film’s expository revelations in a more cinematic manner than the typical dialogue scene, one has to ask why he follows the scene with expository dialogue.

It also seems unlikely that an educated doctor who has just revealed the fact that his sexual attention triggers the wrath of Dominique would punctuate this information by giving Danielle a passionate kiss when she is obviously in an unstable state of mind, but this is exactly what he does. Of course, the inevitable result of this moment of incredible stupidity is his death—and the result of this murder is that Danielle is arrested (although she still seems completely oblivious to the reality of her condition). Unfortunately, Grace seems irrevocably damaged and emphatically insists that, “there was no body, because there was no murder” when the police take her statement. The picture ends on a short shot of Joseph Larch watching the abandoned sleeper sofa that no one will ever claim. It goes without saying that the film’s premise owes a huge debt to Psycho.

It seems fitting that such a film should be scored by Bernard Herrmann, but his participation actually began after the film entered post-production. In fact, one might even say that his score was merely an inspired afterthought.

“When we were doing Sisters my editor, Paul Hirsch laid a lot of Benny’s stuff from Psychoin a temp track. As we were looking at it and it worked so well, we sort of looked at each other and said, ‘where’s Bernard Herrmann now?’ So, we brought him to New York to look at the film… Of course, as soon as he hears—I forget what it was, but I think it was either Vertigo or Psycho—but he starts to hear the music [and] he starts shrieking. He says, ‘Stop the projector! Stop it, stop it. I can’t hear that!’ And I said, ‘Oh, my God! So we stop the projector. He says, ‘I can’t look at your movie and listen to that!’ So, we frantically pulled all the temp track off and then played the movie silent for him… But he was scary.” –Brian De Palma (De Palma, 2015)

Of course, Herrmann’s score added immensely to the film’s overall power. It also reinforced all of the inevitable comparisons with Alfred Hitchcock’s oeuvre.

Conclusion: The Trouble with De Palma

“…But then I am no Hitchcock—I don’t have the resources or the time or the skill to do that yet.” –Brian De Palma (Filmmakers Newsletter, September 1973)

It has now been 45 years later since the release of Sisters, and Brian De Palma now has the resources and the time. He has also developed his technical skills, but this shouldn’t suggest that he has risen to Alfred Hitchcock’s level since technical proficiency is no match for creative genius. This should have never become De Palma’s goal in the first place, because it is impossible to develop one’s own creative voice while attempting time and time again imitate someone else.

It is somewhat difficult to get a handle on such a filmmaker. One cannot say that he merely mimics Alfred Hitchcock since a great number of his films bear very little if any resemblance to Hitchcock’s work. However, De Palma has made quite a few films that borrow heavily from the master’s oeuvre and he seems to delight in rubbing the viewer’s nose in their similarities. This is unfortunate, because one never becomes fully engaged in a film if they are constantly comparing it to someone else’s movie. To confuse matters even further, he consistently compares his films to those made by Alfred Hitchcock only to chastise critics and scholars for making these same observations.

“Well, I’m compared to Hitchcock all the time, mostly by people who don’t quite understand me or Hitchcock. I understand Hitchcock extremely well. I mean, I’ve been behind those eyeballs. I see the way those shots are constructed.

And many of the comparisons… are ludicrous. You read them all the time. You don’t know what these people are seeing on the screen. They talk about Carrie—the bath scene—being like the Psycho shower scene, and it’s like, ‘what?’ I mean, the Psycho shower scene is completely unique. It’s a whole series of very clever quick cuts. Carrie gets into the bathtub [and] washes the blood off in about three different cuts! There’s absolutely no relationship except [that] there’s a girl in water.” –Brian De Palma (The Autopsy, 2004)

This may seem a like an extremely valid argument, but thousands of comparisons have been made of the two directors throughout the years (many of them by De Palma himself), and most of these comparisons are blatantly obvious. His arrogant and manipulative assertion that those who compare him with Alfred Hitchcock do not “understand” him or Hitchcock is beyond absurd. What’s more, his argument is based purely on how these two scenes are shot. He never considers their context or what the two scenes being compared actually represent. One imagines that it is De Palma who misinterpreted whichever critic happened to make this comparison and not the critic who misinterpreted him.

At first, this reviewer agreed with De Palma’s assertion that any comparison between Hitchcock’s shower scene in Psycho and the bath scene in Carrie is ridiculous. However, after giving it a moment of consideration, it now seems like an interesting observation—an observation that has nothing to do with how the two scenes are shot or how they work on the audience. Marion Crane’s shower was a symbolic baptism in that she was washing away her sin (the theft of the $40,000). Carrie White’s bath can also be seen as a cleansing of her sins (the murderous rampage at the prom). The symbolism is made even more obvious in Carrie due to the fact that she is literally washing away blood (not to mention the other religious iconography that saturates the film).

Whatever one’s opinion on this particular argument may be, it should certainly strike the reader as incredibly strange that De Palma should become irritated at being compared with Alfred Hitchcock. It was he himself who started this comparison during his publicity interviews for Sisters, and he would continue positioning himself in this manner for quite some time. He seems to have spent a significant portion of his career making films that he himself admits borrow heavily from the master’s body of work. After all, this is the same man who made Obsession! To call this a radical contradiction would be a massive understatement.

Vertigo.jpg

Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo (1958) is actually one of Brian De Palma’s primary influences and he has borrowed liberally from the film throughout his career. Obsession (1976), for example, borrowed liberally from the film:
…I saw [Vertigo] in 1958, and it had an incredible impression on me way before I was interested in making movies. And there was something about the way the story was told and the cinematic language used in it that connected to me, even though, at that point, I was studying to be an engineer.” –Brian De Palma (NPR, July 01, 2016)

For a filmmaker who has consistently gone out of his way to promote himself as a student of Hitchcock’s, De Palma doesn’t really seem to have a handle on his work. He even seems ignorant about basic trivia that is known to basically everyone who has even a casual interest in the subject. As an example, he writes in Murder by Moog: Scoring the Chill—an article about his working relationship with Bernard Herrmann that he had thought the composer had already passed away. When his editor, Paul Hirsch questioned this, De Palma stood firm, “Look, I don’t have the dates, but the last movie I remember him doing was The Birds and that was ten years ago.

Most cinephiles are aware of the fact that The Birds has no score and that Herrmann merely acted as a “sound consultant” (which in retrospect seems like a title one gives to temperamental composers with sensitive egos as a way to ensure a continuing working relationship). Oskar Sala and Remi Gassmann deserve more credit for bringing Hitchcock’s unique ideas to life than Bernard Herrmann. Worse, De Palma seems to have forgotten the composer’s great work on Marnie—even though they had used a selection from this score in the temp track for Sisters (as is indicated later in the same article).

Of course, De Palma’s ignorance about such trivialities doesn’t really matter very much. One simply feels that if he wants to sell himself as a student of Alfred Hitchcock’s (much less the “heir” to his thrown), he should at least admit that he never paid any attention in class. De Palma may borrow heavily from Hitchcock, but he often overlooks (or ignores) important elements that are inherent in the master’s approach to a scene and replaces them with devices that are more in line with his own aesthetic. The result is usually a mishmash that doesn’t quite work. Luckily, Sisters almost came out unscathed in spite of these tendencies… almost.

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The Presentation:

4.5 of 5 MacGuffins

The Criterion Collection houses their disc in the same sturdy clear case that has become the standard for their releases (we prefer this to their digipaks). The cover sleeve includes thematically appropriate artwork by Jay Shaw that is an improvement over their artwork for the earlier DVD edition but somewhat less impressive than Criterion’s best cover art. Happily, we are given an attractively illustrated booklet instead of their standard folded leaflet. It contains an essay by Carrie Rickey entitled, Sisters: Psycho-Thriller, Qu’est-ce Que c’est?, excerpts from an archival interview with Brian De Palma that was originally published in Filmmakers Newsletter in September of 1973, and Murder by Moog: Scoring the Chill, which is an article written by the Brian De Palma about his professional relationship with composer Bernard Hermann. It was originally published in the October 11, 1973 edition of The Village Voice. This booklet adds an enormous amount of value to an already attractive package.

Menu

Criterion’s animated menu features footage from the movie and is in the same style that collectors have come to expect from Criterion’s Blu-ray releases. It is attractive and should be intuitive to navigate.

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Picture Quality:

4.5 of 5 MacGuffins

Well, Criterion’s new 4K digital restoration transfer is a significant improvement over Arrow’s 2014 transfer. There may be a few fans who prefer Arrow’s color grading but it seems reasonable to assume that Criterion’s disc is more accurate since it has been approved by Brian De Palma (although this isn’t necessarily true). We know that Criterion has always prided itself on trying to represent the films in their collection in the manner that the filmmakers originally intended. Highlights look especially better here than they did in the earlier release. The only issue here is that the color does shift a bit.

Another difference between the two transfers is that Criterion presents the film in its original 1.85:1 aspect ratio. We should make it a point to mention that while Arrow’s 1.78:1 transfer may have included more information at the top and bottom of the frame, Criterion gives the viewers more information at the left and right of the image (while presenting the film as it was seen in theaters).

There may be a bit more grain evident but this is likely due to the increase in detail that the new 4K scan gives the image. Frankly, this grain looks more organic and well resolved here despite the fact that there is more of it. Many cinephiles will appreciate the filmic texture of the image. There are some density fluctuations that were inherent in the source elements that are unfortunate, but since these were unavoidable it would be unfair to blame the transfer. Depth has certainly been given a boost as has fine detail. There may be a few age-related issue present, but Criterion seems to have removed most of these anomalies. Overall, this is a very nice transfer that was limited only by the original source elements.

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Sound Quality:

4.5 of 5 MacGuffins

Criterion’s lossless Mono track represents the film’s original mix. It might be a marginal improvement over Arrow’s transfer as it seems to be fuller and allow the various elements (including the Bernard Herrmann score) more breathing room. There isn’t a huge difference, but that earlier sound transfer was really quite decent. Some may criticize Criterion for not including an upgraded 5.1 track, but the important thing is that this is a very good representation of the original sound.

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Special Features:

4 of 5 MacGuffins

Feature Length Audio Interview with Brian De Palma

This 1973 discussion with Brian De Palma was recorded at the American Film Institute and plays over the film as if it were a commentary track. The conversation is largely focused around Sisters, but other films are briefly discussed as well. It is certainly an interesting listening experience, although some of the questions from members of the audience are quite difficult to hear or can be inarticulate even when they are audible. It is amusing to hear De Palma’s irritation at times as certain questions rub him the wrong way, but he is quite open as to his intentions and his responses are worth hearing. Especially interesting are his recollections about working with Bernard Herrmann.

Interview with actor Jennifer Salt – (24:07)

Jennifer Salt discusses her friendships and the lifestyle that she shared with her Margot Kidder and Brian De Palma before the production of Sisters, and how she and Kidder were eventually cast in the film (their roles were written for them). She also goes into their experiences while shooting the film and her initial disappointment that it wasn’t an immediate classic. Her memories are interesting and worthwhile even if much of the information is vague and generalized.

The Autopsy – (26:32)

The Autopsy is a “making of” retrospective that was produced by “Wild Side Video” and features interviews with Brian De Palma, Paul Hirsch, Bill Finley, Edward R. Pressman, and Charles Durning. It was produced in 2004 and contains a fair amount of information about the film’s conception and production. It isn’t as comprehensive as one might hope, but it is well worth the viewer’s time as it does add to one’s appreciation of the film itself.

Margot Kidder on The Dick Cavett Show (1970) – (08:56)

This pre-Sisters interview with the late Margot Kidder finds the actress in a quirky but charming form. This excerpt also includes a rather large dose of an equally charming Gloria Swanson and a tiny dose of Janis Joplin (we don’t see much of her). It’s a nice addition to the disc even if it doesn’t bring anything in the way of Sisters-related information. It is an enjoyable nine minutes.

Photo Gallery – (11:20)

Herrmann’s music accompanies this lengthy no-frills slideshow of production photography. It is nice to see these photos included in some manner as most of them were new to this reviewer.

Radio Spots – (03:31)

This collection of radio spots is accompanied by pages from the film’s press book. Both the press book and the collection of radio spots give cinephiles a brief glimpse into the film’s marketing. Unfortunately, much of the text featured here is impossible to read.

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Final Words:

De Palma has proclaimed himself to be the “only true heir” to Alfred Hitchcock’s cinematic technique. We disagree with this on a number of levels, but such a claim wouldn’t be worth celebrating even if it were true.

Luckily, Sisters works as mindless exploitation once accepted on its own terms (even if—like Danielle—it is unable to establish its own identity), and this Criterion release offers genre fans a very good transfer coupled with a supplemental package that adds to one’s overall appreciation of the film… Just remember that those who want to see something truly Hitchcockian should watch a film that was actually directed by Alfred Hitchcock.

Review by: Devon Powell

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One Sheet

Offbeat 4K UHD Review: Halloween

Blu-ray Cover

Distributor: Lionsgate Films

Release Date: September 25, 2018

Region: Region A

Length: 01:30:56

Video: 2160P (HEVC, H.265)

Main Audio: 7.1 English Dolby TrueHD (48kHz, 24-bit)

Alternate Audio: Mono English Dolby Digital Audio

Subtitles: English, English SDH, Spanish

Ratio: 2.35:1

Notes: This title has seen many DVD releases and two Blu-ray releases. This marks the film’s UHD debut. Special features are never consistent when it comes to this particular title, and this creates a problem for anyone who wishes for a clean upgrade. The transfer for the UHD disc was sourced from different elements than the included Blu-ray (see below for a more detailed analysis).

Halloween

“Well, you call it a slasher film. I guess the original slasher film was Psycho. That was the film that all of these things are kind of based on… Psycho was the big daddy of them all. And it had a literal slashing scene in it! The famous shower scene. So I don’t think I created anything…” –John Carpenter (Crave Online, Oct 23rd, 2013)

Is it even possible to discuss John Carpenter’s classic without mentioning Psycho? It’s difficult to find an article about (or a review of) Halloween that doesn’t at least mention Hitchcock’s landmark film. In fact, Roger Ebert opened his original review of Halloween with a quote by Alfred Hitchcock before he proceeded to compare the two films:

“‘I enjoy playing the audience like a piano.’ –Alfred Hitchcock

So does John Carpenter. Halloween is an absolutely merciless thriller, a movie so violent and scary that, yes, I would compare it to Psycho. It’s a terrifying and creepy film about what one of the characters calls Evil Personified… Halloween is a visceral experience — we aren’t seeing the movie, we’re having it happen to us. It’s frightening. Maybe you don’t like movies that are really scary: Then don’t see this one… Credit must be paid to filmmakers who make the effort to really frighten us, to make a good thriller when quite possibly a bad one might have made as much money. Hitchcock is acknowledged as a master of suspense; it’s hypocrisy to disapprove of other directors in the same genre who want to scare us too.

It’s easy to create violence on the screen, but it’s hard to do it well… ” –Roger Ebert (Chicago Sun-Times, October 31, 1979)

John Carpenter during the production of Halloween (1978)

John Carpenter during the production of Halloween.

The truth is that there is very little “violence on the screen” after the film’s opening murder sequence. Carpenter plays by the same rules utilized by Hitchcock while maintaining a style all his own. It is no small wonder that Ebert goes on to describe Carpenter’s expert command of the frame—it is a command that demands participation from the viewer. The film’s killer, Michael Myers, looms ominously in the background and usually remains in the shadows (or is seen at some distance). He is a malignant force that can be felt even when our eyes might miss him, and one never knows where he might turn up next. At other times, he will appear mysteriously in the foreground as his potential victims complacently go about their lives in the distance. Either way, the audience is aware of his presence while the teenagers remain blissfully in the dark—and this is Hitchcock’s primary rule for creating suspense. We know something that the characters do not know, and their ignorance may very well cost them their lives.

The emphasis is on the stalking sequences instead of the inevitable carnage. The eventual deaths contain little violence and relatively little blood. It simply isn’t needed. Carpenter, like Hitchcock before him, shows his audience the threat before making them wait for the violence. He has an uncanny ability to slowly build an audience’s anticipation until the suspense is nearly intolerable.

Janet Leigh and Jamie Lee Curtis

Mother and Daughter: Janet Leigh with Jamie Lee Curtis.

However, while one cannot deny that Hitchcock’s influence on Carpenter can be felt while watching Halloween, one doubts if a thorough comparison to Psycho would withstand serious scrutiny. Frankly, most of their commonalities are somewhat superficial. One imagines that Halloween’s various homages to Hitchcock’s film is responsible for linking these two vastly different exercises in suspense: Dr. Sam Loomis was named after John Gavin’s character in Psycho, Marion Chambers seems to be an amalgam of Janet Leigh’s Marion Crane and John McIntire’s Sheriff Chambers, and Jamie Lee Curtis is the daughter of Janet Leigh. One could argue that both Bates and Myers favor the butcher knife as their weapon of choice, but this isn’t a particularly revelatory observation.

Janet Leigh (Psycho) and Jamie Lee Curtis (Halloween)

Janet Leigh as ‘Marion Crane’ in Psycho and Jamie Lee Curtis as ‘Laurie Strode’ in Halloween.

Sam Loomis and Dr. Sam Loomis

John Gavin as ‘Sam Loomis’ in Psycho and Donald Pleasence as ‘Dr. Sam Loomis’ in Halloween.

Several scholars have chosen to compare the original murders of Michael Myers and Norman Bates from a quasi-psychological perspective and argue that Myers murdered his sister for showing another boy sexual attention just as Bates dispatched his mother for having a relationship with another man. This reading of the film suggests that, like Norman Bates, Myers is a stunted adolescent. Norman Bates forms an alternate personality to keep from facing the consequences of his actions while Myers literally wears a mask to keep reality at bay. This would certainly explain why sex seems to act as a trigger for Myers, and such an examination would definitely be more interesting than the popular opinion that Halloween is a kind of puritanical morality play about the evils of carnal knowledge (a reading that Carpenter himself has always argued against). It might be very interesting to view the film from this perspective, but it is impossible not to feel that this particular argument is a bit overreaching.

Perhaps it doesn’t matter either way. After all, the fact that Halloween is still being discussed and analyzed some forty years after its initial release places it in a distinguished group of timeless classics—and this is inarguably something that the film shares with Psycho. What else matters?

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The Presentation:

4 of 5 MacGuffins

Lionsgate houses their UHD and Blu-ray discs in a standard 2-disc UHD case with a sleeve that includes the same iconic jack-o’-lantern artwork that graced the film’s most popular one sheet. This is as it should be! It is one of the best marketing images that has ever been produced for a horror film. The first pressing also includes a sleeve with this same artwork that will help protect the case and the discs that are housed inside.

One Sheet.jpg

The UHD menu is reasonably attractive and easy to navigate. Meanwhile, the included Blu-ray features the same animated menu seen on Anchor Bay’s original Blu-ray release of Halloween in 2007. (It is exactly the same disc. The only difference is the artwork that decorates it.)

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Picture Quality:

UHD: 4.5 of 5 MacGuffins
Blu-ray: 3.5 of 5 MacGuffins

Disc 1: 4K UHD

This transfer was approved by John Carpenter and Dean Cundy, so fans can breathe a collective sigh of relief! This disc offers the viewer an option of HDR10 and Dolby Vision. The film has been scanned at native 4K for this release, and the result is really quite pleasing to the eye. There is, of course, a natural patina of grain inherent in the image, but this only adds to the filmic look of this overall transfer. The significant increase in resolution and dynamic range has resulted in a crisper and significantly more detailed image. The anamorphic lenses tend to result in a softer look at the edges of the frame, but this is hardly the fault of the transfer. Everything looks terrific here! The best news of all is that the color timing seems to correspond with the filmmaker’s original intention and mirrors the overall look of the “35th Anniversary” Blu-ray release.

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Disc 2: Blu-ray

It is next to impossible to review this image transfer without also discussing the film’s “35th Anniversary” Blu-ray released in 2013. This disc is actually an earlier 2007 release—complete with the same opening previews, menu, and transfer. It has simply been decorated with artwork from the 2013 release. This may be confusing, but trust us when we tell you that this is the 2007 version.

The transfer included here simply isn’t inaccurate and doesn’t represent the original intention of those who worked on it. It is way too bright as the image practically glows, and the color timing is a complete mess. This throws the film’s tone off-kilter (a real tragedy as Carpenter has an amazing ability to create an atmosphere of dread). Unfortunately, these aren’t the only areas in which the later edition bests this disc in terms of image quality. The early exterior scenes were vastly improved and exhibit less vibrant colors and more natural skin tones than this particular transfer (as the colors here read much too warm). It had a crisper and more detailed image as well and clarity isn’t quite as good here either.

When the “35th Anniversary” edition was released, marketing materials highlighted the fact that it was a new transfer that had been overseen by Dean Cundey (the film’s cinematographer):

“A lot of the previous editions had just been made from a print or a previous digital version or whatever. I was very impressed by the fact that they wanted to make this sort of the definitive copy. Obviously, Blu-ray is, at the moment, state-of-the-art, and the fact that they went back to original materials, the camera negative and IP, and brought John and myself in to sort of approve the work and make sure it looked like our original intention, was highly commendable, I think. Yes, they did take advantage of all the latest technology, with scratch and dirt removal, things like that, so it is a very pristine example of the movie we made.” –Dean Cundey (Liner Notes: “35th Anniversary” Edition, 2013)

Such careful preparation was obviously in response to this disc, so those who own the “35th Anniversary” Edition would be wise to hold on to it if they wish to own the very best transfer in both the UHD and Blu-ray formats.

One wonders why they chose this disc over the other edition, and the only reason one can reasonably conceive is that this disc was chosen so that Halloween fanatics could have the supplements included here (since the supplements on the UHD have been carried over from the “35th Anniversary” edition). However, they could have easily put them on the freshly minted UHD along with the others if this was the reasoning behind this choice.

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Sound Quality:

UHD: 4 of 5 MacGuffins
Blu-ray: 4 of 5 MacGuffins

The disc employs a TrueHD 7.1 lossless mix that is an obvious upgrade from the previous disc. The film’s iconic score has never sounded more dynamic and the dialogue is noticeably clearer than in the previous Blu-ray edition. This is especially clear in an early car scene where Dr. Loomis and Marion Chambers are driving in the storm. In the previous release, the dialogue seemed to be swallowed by the sounds of the storm. Here it seems to be balanced at a more acceptable level. The track has decent range and clarity making for a solid listening experience. It would be unreasonable to believe that a 7.1 mix on an older low budget film could sound any better than it does on this disc.

It will irritate most purists to discover that a high definition transfer of the film’s original mono mix isn’t included here, and I must admit that I include myself in this group. I’m tempted to give the sound a three star rating do to this oversight, but one doesn’t wish to give an unfair assessment of what is actually here.

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Special Features:

UHD: 3 of 5 MacGuffins
Blu-ray: 4 of 5 MacGuffins
Total: 4.5 of 5 MacGuffins

Disc 1: 4K UHD

Every supplement featured on this UHD disc has been carried over from the “35th Anniversary” Blu-ray edition of Halloween.

Feature Length Audio Commentary with John Carpenter and Jamie Lee Curtis

People will likely feel that this new commentary is superior in some ways to the track on the 2007 Blu-ray disc that has been included in this same package. That track includes John Carpenter, Jamie Lee Curtis, and Debra Hill—but all three of these collaborators were recorded individually for that track, and the result isn’t nearly as fluid as the conversation between Carpenter and Curtis that is featured here. Having said this, the other track might be a bit more informative than this one. Both tracks should be of interest to fans of the film.

TV Version Footage – (SD) – (10:46)

This collection of scenes is actually my favorite supplement on the UHD disc. They were shot by Carpenter during the production of Halloween II in order to extend the film’s length for its original television broadcast, but he claims to regret doing this and feels that he sold out. It’s easy to understand why the director doesn’t care for them as they add nothing to the proceedings and interrupt the fluidity of the overall film. Having said this, one is happy to have them included on this disc for fans to revisit.

The Night She Came Home!! – (HD) – (59:43)

This featurette gives fans a glimpse of Jamie Lee Curtis as she attends a horror convention in order to monetize her horror celebrity for charity. She is shown signing autographs, talking to her fans, taking photos, and even hanging out with other Halloween alumni. Fans should find it extremely interesting if somewhat anemic when it comes to the amount of actual information provided. It simply isn’t terribly revelatory.

On Location: 25 Years Later – (SD) – (10:25)

This feature is ported over from one of the film’s many DVD editions and is a look at the various South Pasadena locations as they appeared on the film’s 25th anniversary. It is worth viewing, but why did they not include Halloween Unmasked 2000 instead? Unmasked is a 28 minute documentary about the making of the film that is far more informative than this featurette, and it includes some of the film’s important locations as well. What’s more, it hasn’t been included on either of the film’s Blu-ray releases. Oh well.

Theatrical Trailer – (SD) – (02:42)

It is nice to have the film’s trailer included. Too many supplemental packages seem to forget this basic feature.

Three Television Spots – (SD) – (00:32, 00:32, 00:12)

Three Radio Spots – (HD) – (00:29, 00:27, 00:28)

These vintage television and radio spots are interesting artifacts and nice additions to the supplemental package (even if watching them all together does tend to become somewhat repetitive).

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Disc 2: Blu-ray

Again, this is the exact same disc that was released by Anchor Bay in 2007. The disc includes three unique supplements.

Feature Length Audio Commentary with John Carpenter, Jamie Lee Curtis, and Debra Hill

As mentioned previously, this commentary track may provide a bit more information to listeners than the 2013 track discussed above, but one’s listening experience isn’t quite as fluid. Basically, both tracks have their own strengths and weaknesses.

Halloween: A Cut Above the Rest – (SD) – (01:27:07)

The best overall supplement included in this set is undoubtedly this feature-length “behind the scenes” documentary. It covers the entire production history of Halloween, the film’s release, and its enduring legacy. Frankly, it was incredibly annoying to find that the “35th Anniversary” Blu-ray didn’t include this essential supplement. Those who are annoyed that Lionsgate included the 2007 Blu-ray instead of the “35th Anniversary” Edition may find solace in the fact that they are getting an excellent documentary that wasn’t included in that later edition.

Fast Film Facts (Textual Trivia Track)

This feature allows the viewer to watch the films with occasional trivia information occasionally appearing on the screen (very much like subtitles). One doubts if most people will want to revisit this particular feature terribly often since it tends to take one out of the film. It would be better to utilize this option while listening to the commentary track.

Trailer – (SD) – (02:42)

Three Television Spots – (SD) – (00:32, 00:32, 00:12)

Three Radio Spots – (HD) – (00:29, 00:27, 00:28)

The Theatrical Trailer, Television Spots, and Radio Spots are all exactly the same as those featured on the UHD disc.

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Final Words:

John Carpenter’s Halloween is forty years old and still going strong. It is an incredibly efficient suspense thriller that demands to be revisited. Luckily, it can now be revisited in 4K UHD. Just remember to hold on to your “35th Anniversary” Edition Blu-rays since the image transfer on that release is vastly superior to the Blu-ray included in this package.

Review by: Devon Powell

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Alternate Poster

 

Blu-ray Review: Under Capricorn

Blu-ray Cover

Distributor: Kino Lorber

Release Date: June 19, 2018

Region: Region A

Length: 01:57:14

Video: 1080P (MPEG-4, AVC)

Main Audio: 2.0 English DTS-HD Master Audio (48 kHz, 16-bit)

Subtitles: English

Ratio: 1.33:1

Bitrate: 35.93 Mbps

Notes: This title was previously given a bare bones DVD release.

Title

Under Capricorn was made for Ingrid Bergman… but if I’d been thinking clearly, I’d never have tackled a costume picture. You’ll notice I’ve never done any since that time. Besides, there wasn’t enough humor in the film. If I were to make another picture in Australia today, I’d have a policeman hop into the pocket of a kangaroo and yell, ‘Follow that car!’” –Alfred Hitchcock (Hitchcock/Truffaut)

Many scholars have pontificated as to why Hitchcock chose to adapt Helen Simpson’s Under Capricorn as what was originally intended to be the première Transatlantic Films production. The major studios had all wisely passed on optioning the property. In fact, they had also passed on the other properties purchased by Sidney Bernstein and Alfred Hitchcock for Transatlantic. Under Capricorn, Rope, Stage Fright, and I Confess were all considered inappropriate material in which to build a suitable film script. Few if any of these historians seem to have given any consideration to the possibility that these “passed over” properties may have been the only ones that the budding production company could afford. It is doubtful that they would be able to outbid the major studios on more promising subjects (although Rope and I Confess are both incredibly underrated). This is only conjecture but it seems a reasonable possibility and one wishes that this avenue could be explored in more depth.

Alfred Hitchcock always claimed that he chose the property because he felt that Ingrid Bergman would respond to the material and that he was so absorbed with signing the actress to a film that this became his only consideration.

“I had no special admiration for the novel, and I don’t think I would have made the picture if it hadn’t been for Ingrid Bergman. At that time, she was the biggest star in America and all the American producers were competing for her services, and I must admit that I made the mistake of thinking that to get Bergman would be a tremendous feat; it was a victory over the rest of the industry, you see. That was bad thinking, and my behavior was almost infantile. Because even if the presence of Bergman represented a commercial asset, it made the whole thing so costly that there was no point to it. Had I examined the whole thing more carefully from the commercial angle, I would not have spent two and a half million dollars on the picture. At the time, that was a lot of money, you see… Anyway, I looked upon Bergman as a feather in my cap. We were making it with our own production company, and all I could think about was, ‘Here I am, Hitchcock, the onetime English director, returning to London with the biggest star of the day.’ I was literally intoxicated by the thought of the cameras and flashbulbs that would be directed at Bergman and myself at the London airport. All of these externals seemed to be terribly important. I can only say now that I was being stupid and juvenile.” –Alfred Hitchcock (Hitchcock/Truffaut)

This makes sense when one considers that the director was enjoying his first taste of freedom after being emancipated from the shackles of his contract with David O. Selznick. It was more important for the director to distinguish himself as a producer than to satisfy his own creative interests (at least when it came to his material). Under Capricorn was to be a star vehicle to rival those that Selznick was so fond of producing, and the fact that Bergman had already refused to sign another contract with Selznick would have made this victory even sweeter.

Ingrid Bergman in a Publicity Still for 'Under Capricorn'

Publicity Still of Ingrid Bergman: “The film was done more or less for the benefit of Ingrid Bergman. That was a case of trying to find a subject to suit the star, which I don’t believe in. So, it was really a compromise…” –Alfred Hitchcock (John Player Lecture, March 27, 1967)

 WRITING THE SCRIPT

Unfortunately, Selznick had been able to procure prestigious properties and Hitchcock was stuck with a rather tedious novel that borrowed heavily from much better pieces of literature. Hitchcock’s film is thankfully much different than the convoluted mess that Simpson originally concocted. Her story is divided into three sections, and Hitchcock’s film only follows the first of these before providing a more coherent denouement. His final act has been criticized for being rather weak, but it must be said that reading the original novel gives one new respect for Hitchcock’s conclusion.

As mentioned, the film follows the first section of Simpson’s text rather faithfully, but the stories diverge at the Governor’s ball (which is a St. Patrick’s Day dance in the novel). This dance begins the second section of Smith’s novel, and it is at this point when her story becomes much more convoluted and tangential. Constantine Verevis gives a more detailed comparison between the film and the novel in an essay entitled, “Under a Distemperate Star” (although she takes a more appreciative view of the original novel than it really deserves). Her account of the rest of the book is a concise and more enjoyable way of comparing these two very different stories than actually having to read the book:

“The beginning of [section] two takes up the story—some three months after Adare’s arrival—on the occasion of the St. Patrick’s Day dance, the event Adare chooses to present the restored Lady Henrietta to social life… The Irish dance becomes the point of Hitchcock’s departure, setting up Henrietta’s emergence at the ball (as Adare’s first artistic creation) as the occasion of Flusky’s public reclamation of his wife. This event provokes—in the celebrated 9.5 minute sequence shot—Henrietta’s confession to Adare that it was she (not Flusky) who killed Dermont [James in the novel] in self-defense and sets up a number of confrontations that lead ultimately to the restoration of the married couple, Flusky and Henrietta. In order to effect this, Hitchcock excises from the novel Adare’s encounter at the dance with a young working-class woman much nearer his age—the locally born Susan Quaife—to whom he takes an immediate liking…

…Adare proceeds to court Susan, visiting her at her father’s barbershop on George Street. Around the same time, Adare enlists the help of ‘Ketch,’ the aboriginal leader introduced (none too sympathetically) following Adare’s first dinner with Flusky, to embark upon a treacherous journey north to Port Macquarie and then inland to unknown territory in search of gold. Milly has spread vile rumors that Adare and Henrietta are lovers, and Flusky (mildly suspicious of Adare) is quick to agree to fund the expedition. Convinced that Flusky has effectively delivered Adare (in repetition of her brother’s fate) to his death, Henrietta becomes despondent and turns to drink.

[Section] three thus begins with Henrietta again fighting her demons. Five months have passed with no word of Adare. Milly returns to assume control of the household, and this time it is Winter, the gentleman servant, who challenges Milly’s authority. Winter is soon expelled (given his ticket back to convict prison), but before leaving he passes to Henrietta a message left by Adare prior to his departure. The letter asks Henrietta to look up Susan Quaife, and upon doing so she invites Susan for an extended stay at the Flusky mansion, where Henrietta proceeds to groom the illiterate colonial girl in manner and appearance. Around the same time, Flusky is told that Adare has been found close to death but that he is recovering and is expected back in Sidney in December. After some weeks, Adare returns, declaring his love for Susan and [his] desire to stay and work honestly in the colony. This along with Susan’s exposure of Milly’s attempt to usurp Henrietta’s place, conclusively disrupts the romantic triangles and paves the way for a restored relationship between Henrietta and Flusky…

…Simpson does this by substituting the character of Susan Quaife for that of Charles Adare, whose search for gold happens entirely off-stage. Upon relocating to Minyago Yugilla, Susan not only proves herself an able match for the wily Milly, but also comes to function as a surrogate daughter to the childless Henrietta. Adare returns from the expedition matured by his experience on the land… [And] at this point, [he] asks for Susan’s hand in marriage and declares his dedication to the new continent. Simpson sets up the working-class Susan and the nobleman Adare as a parallel (cross-class) couple to Henrietta and Flusky, the latter stating (in anticipation of the young folks’ union), ‘It would be like us, only t’other way round,’ to which Henrietta replies: ‘With a better chance. Better hope. Both free.’” –Constantine Verevis (Under a Distemperate Star, Hitchcock at the Source, 2011)

Although, it goes without saying that Under Capricorn isn’t amongst Hitchcock’s best work, it is impossible not to admire how he transformed this convoluted mess into something that resembles a reasonably coherent narrative—although he may have been aided by an earlier dramatization (most likely written for the stage but never produced) by John Colton and Margaret Linden. Their play had also seen fit to jettison some of the book’s later subplots but also confined the action to the Flusky mansion. Having never seen or read this adaptation, it is best not to make any assumptions as to any similarities between it and the film version.

In any case, one completely loses interest after the first section of Simpson’s meandering novel, but Hitchcock and his writers were able to trade this nonsense for a resolution that examines some of Hitchcock’s pet themes regarding an innocent carrying the burden of a wrong that isn’t their own. It comes as no surprise that the French critics loved it! Unfortunately, the film’s pacing is constricted by the kind of long monologues that plague so many of the era’s costume dramas. The director was never able to find an appropriate writer and settled on inappropriate collaborators.

“My second mistake was to ask my friend Hume Cronyn to do the script with me; I wanted him because he’s a very articulate man who knows how to voice his ideas. But as a scriptwriter, he hadn’t really sufficient experience. Still another error was calling on James Bridie to help with the scenario. He was a semi-intellectual playwright and not in my opinion a very thorough craftsman. On thinking it over later on, I realized that he always had very good first and second acts, but he never succeeded in ending his plays. I still remember one of our working sessions on the script. The man and wife had separated after a series of terrible quarrels, and I asked Bridie, ‘How are we going to bring them together again?’ He said, ‘Oh, let them just apologize to each other and say, ‘I’m sorry, it was all a mistake.’” –Alfred Hitchcock (Hitchcock/Truffaut)

Hume Cronyn cited Hitchcock’s obsession with the film’s visual design as the source of the weaknesses inherent in the script:

“…I learned a lot from him and I have enormous admiration for him. He put together Under Capricorn image by image, and with all due respect, I think this method sometimes led him astray. He became so fascinated by these images that sometimes the direct line of the narrative would get lost or be bent, or there would be an awkwardness telling the story. He had of course been very revolutionary in the way he approached Rope, and it had been written to be shot in tremendously long takes. But when he came to his next film, it was to cover the vast panorama of colonial life in Australia. The difference in the quality of the two stories was the difference between a miniature and an enormous landscape. Yet, he decided to use the same approach, and I feel that was a mistake and got him into trouble.” –Hume Cronyn (as quoted in ‘The Art of Alfred Hitchcock,’ 1976)

This tendency to blame Hitchcock’s visual approach for the film’s failure is ridiculous, but there were certainly issues that should and could have been addressed and the director was well aware of them when the team was working on the script.

“In the year following Rope, Hitch asked me to do another treatment, this one based on Helen Simpson’s novel Under Capricorn… I went to London with Hitch to work on Capricorn. We would meet for our story conferences at Sidney Bernstein’s offices in Golden Square. From the beginning, the work was fraught with problems. On one particular morning, with Hitch at the end of the table and Sidney and I on the either side of him, Hitch suddenly reared back in his chair, scowling like an angry baby, and announced, ‘This film is going to be a flop. I’m going to lunch.’ And he stalked out of the room, pouting. I was appalled; Sidney was immediately solicitous. ‘Now, Hume, don’t be upset. You know Hitch: he’ll have a good lunch, come back, and everything will be serene.’ It was true; I’d seen Hitch suffer these tantrums before. He never had them on the set; by the time we got there, the whole film was already shot in his head, down to every cut and camera angle… But during a film’s preparation, he could become very mercurial; his emotional thermometer would soar to over a hundred degrees in enthusiasm, only to plunge below freezing in despair. We were alike in that, and I should have been more philosophical about the morning’s upset. The trouble was that in this particular instance I had the awful, nagging suspicion that Hitch’s premonition was accurate.” -Hume Cronyn (his memoirs as quoted in ‘Hitchcock’s Notebooks,’ 1999)

Interestingly, the director originally tried to engage Bridie to write the script to Under Capricorn after finishing his work on The Paradine Case (a Selznick production that has its own script issues) and turned the project down.

“I don’t mind helping to turn The Paradine Case from a bad book into a good film, but it is another story when the book is a good book but based on a philosophy that means nothing to me. If you get the right script writer, Under Capricorn ought to be really memorable. But it is not up my street.” –James Bridie (as quoted in ‘Alfred Hitchcock: A Light in Darkness and Light,’ 2003)

How anyone could judge Simpson’s novel as anything better than mediocre is a mystery, but perhaps this isn’t important since he later relented and agreed to work on the project.

THE PRODUCTION

The script wasn’t the only aspect of the film’s production that gave Hitchcock headaches and the director felt that the film’s casting compromised the film’s verisimilitude.

Under Capricorn was again the lady-and-groom story. Henrietta fell in love with the groom, and when Joseph Cotton was shipped to Australia as a convict, she followed him there. The main element is that she degraded herself for the sake of her love. Cotton wasn’t the right type; Burt Lancaster would have been better.” –Alfred Hitchcock (Hitchcock/Truffaut)

This statement about the inappropriateness of Joseph Cotton in the role of Flusky isn’t merely the lamentations of a disappointed filmmaker who suddenly becomes aware of something after the fact. During the film’s pre-production, Hitchcock actively sought Burt Lancaster, but the actor required too much money and had other obligations. The production couldn’t be pushed back, and Bergman’s salary had already taken a considerable chunk out of the budget. He would have to find someone else, and that someone ended up being Joseph Cotton.

Joseph Cotten VS. Burt Lancaster

Hitchcock had originally sought Burt Lancaster for the role of Sam Flusky as he believed Cotton too distinguished and charming to portray an ex-stable hand.

One can understand why audiences may have been unable to accept Cotton as an uneducated, manure smelling, brutish groom—but this isn’t such a problem for modern audiences. Frankly, Cotton’s portrayal frees the character from the sort of stereotypical trappings of such characters. Is it outside the realm of possibility that a poor stable-hand might also be intelligent and charming? In any case, this has never been one of the more troubling aspects of Under Capricorn. After all, it is rare to hear anyone complain about Ingrid Bergman’s accent as Lady Henrietta Flusky which isn’t convincingly Irish—a fact that wasn’t lost on the actress. Her inability to give her character a proper Irish brogue plagued Bergman throughout the film’s production and exacerbated an already stressful situation.

Ingrid Bergman and Alfred Hitchcock enjoyed a warm friendship that lasted their entire lives, but the production of Under Capricorn put a strain on their relationship. Bergman blamed the contention on various stresses created by the director’s long mobile takes, an approach he carried over from Rope. A series of letters to Ruth Roberts gives one an intimate glimpse into the troubled production. The first and lengthiest of these letters is dated August 06, 1948:

“…Oh dear! This is my seventh week waiting. [Under Capricorn] started O.K. [on] the 19th, but with Hitch’s ten-minute takes they were behind one week after one day’s shooting. The technicians here have very little or no experience—and they don’t seem to care. I have been waiting and waiting, but every day it is the same: ‘We didn’t get the shot today, but for sure we’ll have it tomorrow morning.’ Finally after four days I was told [that] Hitch had abandoned the shot and would start with my entrance. I was so happy. [We] rehearsed and at two o’clock the same day had the first take. During the second take all the lights went out, the electricians walked down the ladders and left. Strike! All afternoon we waited for them to finish their meeting, but they never came back. This morning I was up at six; at nine I was told they had not come back yet: ‘Just relax in your dressing room!’ I am outraged but the others seem to take it relaxed. Nothing new. After the war they always have a couple of strikes. The reason for the strike was that two men were fired because of bad work and coming late to work several times.

Hitch is trying to find an entirely new electricians’ crew. Until then, we’ll have no peace. This is their second walkout. The camera crew and sound crew are nice, but it is a hostile feeling on the set that just kills you. People hardly look or speak to you. When I had the first test, the crew were whistling and making funny remarks. I was stunned because you know how very good people have always been. Don’t think everybody is bad but you know if it is just a few they color the whole set. The script is interesting now [and] we’ve got a pretty good end but Hitch’s new technique I don’t like. I have had no experience with it yet, for my first entrance was just a normal shot. But I have watched him with the others. It is so frightening for actors and crew. If the least bit goes wrong, you know … I think Hitch and I will have some arguments. He wanted to shoot a whole roll of film, the camera following me everywhere and the sets and furniture being pulled away. It meant we had to rehearse a whole day without shooting and then shoot the scenes the following day. It made everybody nervous but he insisted. We already had one little argument about my entrance and I got my way. I know I always can with him, but I dislike the argument… To top the rest of the mishaps I have a slow hairdresser. I have to be here at seven thirty. Makeup is very fast—hardly any—and very grey: no lipstick, no ice-towels, and the rest of Jack Pierce’s fun. All the time is for hair, so already at nine a.m. I am sore, not only my behind… Look what a long letter the strike will give you. It is now eleven thirty. No move in any direction…” –Ingrid Bergman (My Story, Apr 01, 1983)

The long takes that she mentions in this letter did create a few problems—some of which were not an issue during the production of Rope. However, any objective analysis of these troubles will reveal that most were beyond Alfred Hitchcock’s control. Could he be blamed for the various strikes that halted production (or the time lost when Michael Wilding took ill with pleurisy)? Absolutely not.

In any case, the problems that were actually created by the long takes took a lot of ingenuity to solve. Jack Cardiff would often discuss his work on the film, and his memories weren’t happy ones.

“I had been much more involved than usual in the production planning. Usually, I tried to dream up ideas for dramatic lighting, but on Capricorn, I had for the most part to work out how on earth I could possibly light so many sets at once! I worked more closely with the director than usual… Practically all of Hitchcock’s dramatic ideas were visual. If a cameraman is supposed to ‘paint with light,’ Hitchcock painted with a moving camera…

…We would rehearse one whole day and shoot the next day. Good recorded sound was impossible: the noise was indescribable. The electric crane lumbered through sets like a tank at Sebastopol, whole walls cracked open, furniture was whisked away by panting prop men and then frantically replaced in position as the crane made a return trip. The sound department did exceptionally well just to get a ‘guide track.’ … When we had made a successful ten minute take, everyone had to leave the studio except the sound people, Hitch, the script girl, and the cast, who would then go through the motions with dialogue without the camera. Amazingly, by sliding the sound tape backward and forward, it all came together.” –Jack Cardiff (as quoted in ‘Hitchcock’s Notebooks.’ 1999)

This strategy took the cooperation and agility of everyone on the set and this included the actors.

“…Required to light as many as six sets for a single take, English cinematographer Jack Cardiff attached lights to cranes, dollies, boom mikes and even crew members to make them mobile enough to light a shot and then get out of the way of the cumbersome crane as it followed the actors to another part of the set. ‘It was a fantastic sight,’ he wrote in an article for American Cinematographer, ‘to see a lamp silently glide in through a window, or even in through a hole in the wall, twist and tilt and pan in several directions, then just as mysteriously disappear again.’

…The Regency table that production designer Tom Morrahan built for Under Capricorn [were] cut into fourteen sections. It came apart to permit the camera to pass through. ‘The actors often helped,’ Cardiff writes, ‘and as the camera approached them seated nonchalantly enough, it looked positively weird to see them suddenly grab a section of the table, with a candle or plate of food fixed on it, and fall wildly out of picture … with their own parts of the table clutched in their hands.’ Mattresses were placed strategically behind the actors to catch them when they toppled backwards.

A bed was made for Ingrid Bergman that could be made to tilt up at a 45-degree angle, permitting the camera to shoot ‘down’ at the actress. Despite the contortions this setup imposed, Bergman succeeded in conveying so many conflicting emotions in one shot where, lying in bed, she realizes she is being systematically driven mad by a jealous servant, that Eric Rohmer wrote he would give all of Stromboli (1950), her first film with Roberto Rossellini, for that shot, if cinema were ‘only’ the art of plumbing the depths of the human soul.” –Bill Krohn (Hitchcock at Work, 2000)

Needless to say, this kind of chaos can be a great handicap for actors trying to lose themselves in their role, and this eventually all became too much for Bergman and led to an infamous outburst which was discussed intimately in another letter written to Ruth Roberts towards the end of August, 1948:

Under Capricorn is half finished. The other day I burst. The camera was supposed to follow me around for eleven whole minutes—which meant we had to rehearse a whole day with the walls or furniture falling backwards as the camera went through—and of course that couldn’t be done fast enough. So I told Hitch off. How I hate this new technique of his. How I suffer and loathe every moment on the set. My two leading men, Michael Wilding and Joe Cotton, just sat there and said nothing—but I know they agree with me—and I said enough for the whole cast. Little Hitch just left. Never said a word. Just went home… oh dear…” –Ingrid Bergman (My Story, Apr 01, 1983)

Years later, Hitchcock himself remembered this exchange in his famous interview with François Truffaut:

“Ingrid Bergman got angry with me because of those long shots. And, since I never lose my temper and I hate arguments, I walked out of the room while her back was turned to me. I went home, and later on someone called to inform me that she hadn’t noticed my departure and was still complaining twenty minutes after I’d gone.” –Alfred Hitchcock (Hitchcock/Truffaut)

She would try again while having drinks with the director and her two male leads. Somehow the conversation shifted to the long takes and she began complaining about the approach once again. Unfortunately, she made the mistake of turning away and he took this opportunity to leave her company. “That’s the trouble with Hitch,” the actress lamented, “he won’t fight!” This was true. Hitchcock loathed conflict and felt that drama should be reserved for the screen.

Even so, it should be made clear that Hitchcock didn’t always ignore Bergman’s protests. When it was possible, he preferred to placate her by offering some sort of compromise that would allow him to have his way while seeming to bend to her will.

“…They were shooting a drunk scene on the stairs and Bergman could not, or would not keep her marks. ‘Why should she anyway?’ she asked. She was supposed to be drunk. Couldn’t they just let her act the scene the way she felt it and follow her? This time, Hitch decided on a little demonstration, so he agreed to shoot the scene her way if she would play it his, and leave the decision of which version to use up to her. Once she saw the rushes of their respective versions she was in no doubt that Hitch’s was better and generously admitted as much.” –John Russell Taylor (Hitch: The Life and Times of Alfred Hitchcock, 1978)

Luckily, none of this had a lasting effect on their friendship, and Bergman would even admit that his approach had merit after seeing some of the footage. This admission first appeared in a follow-up letter:

“The picture is nearly finished. Some of those damned long scenes work out very well. In one nine-and-a-half-minute take, I talked all the time; the camera never left me and it worked fine. I must say much better than being cut up and edited.” –Ingrid Bergman (My Story, Apr 01, 1983)

This same sentiment would be repeated publicly in an essay written for the Toledo Blade that was published on August 27, 1949:

“…I know I put myself completely in [Hitchcock’s] hands. In the making of that picture Hitch was the boss—and, within the four walls of the sound stage, his word was law… Merely acting for ten minutes at a stretch is no problem to anyone with stage training, but doing a ten-minute tense emotional scene without a break for the screen is a different matter. Your positions and your movements must be correct to the fraction of an inch for camera focus. Walls and doors are constantly disappearing to make way for the camera as you move from room to room, Property men are crawling under foot removing obstacles in your path. And a Technicolor camera on a 30-foot crane is constantly pursuing you, coming in swiftly for a close-up and then sweeping away—all these make demands upon an actress that go far beyond the realms of mere acting. But a lot of people do exhausting work and are happy to do it because the results are gratifying. And that’s how it is with me. I have seen Under Capricorn and I know the experiment, if you care to call it that, has succeeded. Hitch sees, and commits to paper, every movement of the cast and camera six months before hand. He has the whole production in mind, from beginning to end, on the day the camera starts turning. And it is not only a general idea; it is the detailed development, with every camera angle and every movement, worked out to the last quarter.” –Ingrid Bergman (Ingrid Bergman Cables Story of Technique Used in Under Capricorn,’ Toledo Blade, August 27, 1949)

Joseph Cotton was more worried about weaknesses within the script and his dialogue. As a matter of fact, he referred to the project as “Under Crapricorn” or “Under Cornycrap” (depending on which version of the story you want to believe) within earshot of his director and James Bridie (who had come to the set to adjust some of Cotton’s dialogue). Of course, it is quite possible that this comment was born out of his insecurities as an actor (he was never able to handle an authentic Irish lilt) and personal issues that were not at all related to the production as he was going through quite a lot in his personal life. The lengthy takes only exacerbated these simmering issues.

The director himself may have privately cursed his sequence shots after having his toe crushed by the camera and the crane that held it. Perhaps this was a negative omen.

Alfred Hitchcock and the mamoth camera during the production of 'Under Capricorn.'

Alfred Hitchcock and the mammoth Technicolor camera used for the production of ‘Under Capricorn.’

RELEASE, RECEPTION, & LEGACY

Under Capricorn became the first British feature to have a world première at Radio City Music Hall on September 08, 1949 and had already accumulated $1,875,000 by this time on account of its world distribution rights. On September 17th, The Gloucestershire Echo reported that the film had already accumulated $2,000,000 but is unclear as to whether this amount includes the amount earned by selling these territorial rights (it is likely that it does). Either way, it seems that the film’s New York engagements were reasonably successful as the film played to “capacity audiences” for four weeks if newspaper reports can be believed. One assumes that the film was given a substantial boost due to the names of Alfred Hitchcock, Ingrid Bergman, and Joseph Cotton in the first week or two of release only to fall off in the following weeks. Whatever the case, Under Capricorn didn’t do enough business and was eventually repossessed by the bank that financed the project.

In The Alfred Hitchcock Story, Ken Mogg proposes that Ingrid Bergman’s presence in the film may have contributed to its eventual failure.

“…Then another setback occurred. The previous year, when Under Capricorn was being shot in England, Bergman had flown to Paris with her husband Petter Lindstrom to meet the Italian neo-realist director Roberto Rossellini. The meeting lasted two hours. There and then, Bergman agreed to appear in Rossellini’s next film, and joined him in Stromboli just before Under Capricorn was released. In fact, it was also a rendezvous of another kind. News of their affair and the scandal it caused spread quickly. Catholic organizations in America reacted by banning the Hitchcock film, and many cinema owners were sufficiently outraged to follow suit. Hitchcock blamed Rossellini for what had happened and always remained bitter towards him…” –Ken Mogg (The Alfred Hitchcock Story, 1999)

This may have some merit. However, it seems likely that the film had probably already failed by this point (at least in America). It was March 14, 1950 when—at the height of the scandal—Senator Edwin C. Johnson denounced the actress on the floor of the Senate calling her a “powerful influence for evil” who had instigated a violent “assault on the institution of marriage.”

“Mr. President, now that the stupid film about a pregnant woman and a volcano has exploited America with the usual finesse, to the mutual delight of RKO and the debased Rossellini, are we merely to yawn wearily, greatly relieved that this hideous thing is finished and then forget it? I hope not. A way must be found to protect the people in the future against that sort of gyp!” –Edwin C. Johnson

Of course, the senator had an agenda as he was proposing a censorship bill based on the “moral compasses” of those who work on any particular film. Such a bill sounds like an excuse to take away the inalienable rights of those who do not think or believe the same as Mr. Johnson and others like him, but this neither here nor there. The point is that this was months after the film’s initial release and it is doubtful that it had any effect on the film’s box-office earnings. It may have been a factor in the bank’s decision to repossess the picture but this is merely conjecture.

Critics and audiences tend to excoriate films that don’t meet their expectations and have difficulty judging them on their own merits, so Under Capricorn never really stood much of a chance. Alfred Hitchcock often made mention of this in his interviews.

“[The French critics admired Under Capricorn] because they looked at it for what it was and not what people expected. Here you get a Hitchcock picture which is a costume-picture and not approached from a thriller or excitement point of view until towards the end. I remember some remark by a Hollywood critic who said, ‘We had to wait 105 minutes for the first thrill.’ They went in expecting something and didn’t get it. That was the main fault with that picture… Also I used a fluid camera—mistakenly perhaps because it intensified the fact that it wasn’t a thriller—it flowed too easily.” –Alfred Hitchcock (The Cinema of Alfred Hitchcock, 1963)

This is probably a reference to William Brogdon’s awkwardly composed review for Variety:

Under Capricorn is fortunate in having a number of exploitable angles that can be used to parlay sturdy initial grosses. On the long pull, though, box-office will be spotty. Ingrid Bergman’s name will be a potent help and there are Technicolor, Joseph Cotton, and Alfred Hitchcock as added lures to get ticket sales going, even though it doesn’t appear likely [that] momentum will be maintained in the general market.

It is overlong and talky, with scant measure of the Hitchcock thriller tricks that could have sharpened general reception. A moody melodrama, full of long speeches and obvious movement, it uses up one hour and fifty-six minutes in developing a story that would have had more impact had not Hitchcock dwelt so tediously on expanded single scenes. He gives it some air of expectancy, but this flavor eventually becomes buried in the slow resolution of tangled human relationships into a happy ending… Miss Bergman’s scenes have their own particular brand of thespian magic. On their own, they glow, but when combined with the other lengthy sequences, the effect is dulled…

…In an opening sequence, Hitchcock plants the fact that Australian aborigines shrink the heads of their victims. One hundred minutes later he uses a mummified head as the single shocker in the footage. It will cause a round of horrified gasps. In between, he is just as obvious in the development, resulting in a regrettable lack of the anticipated Hitchcock subtleties… Margaret Leighton does the housekeeper, an unrelieved heavy so obvious that the other characters should have seen through her…

…Photography is another example of Hitchcock’s bent for an extremely mobile camera, playing long scenes in one take, but the moving camera is not a substitute for the dramatic movement that would have come with crisper story-telling…” –William Brogdon (Variety, September 14, 1949)

Other critics shared Brogdon’s opinion and echoed his sentiments, and British critics followed suit. This review in The Times sums up the majority opinion:

“Miss Ingrid Bergman, Mr. Joseph Cotten, Mr. Michael Wilding, Miss Margaret Leighton, and, as director, Mr. Alfred Hitchcock — there is clearly a team here, if not of all the talents, at least of a considerable number of them; and the question is, are they going to play well together? The answer, in the end, must regretfully be that they do not… and only occasionally is Mr. Hitchcock’s cunning and dramatic hand visible in the direction. The colour, especially while the camera is indoors, is admirable, but Under Capricorn lasts far too long and has far too many loose ends.” –The Times (Mr. Hitchcock’s New Film, October 05, 1949)

Many critics enjoyed the film but qualified their praise by pointing out that the material wasn’t up to the director’s usual standards. Usually, these reviews credited Hitchcock and his all-star troupe of actors for elevating the material. This review published in Harrison’s Reports is a case in point:

“Lavishly produced and photographed in Technicolor, this period melodrama with psychological overtones is an impressive entertainment of its kind. The story… is not unusual, nor are the characters, with the exception of the heroine, particularly sympathetic. Yet the acting of the entire cast is so competent that one’s interest is held well. Ingrid Bergman, as the wretched dipsomaniac who is victimized by a murderous housekeeper in love with her husband, comes through with another striking performance. The story is not without its weak points, particularly in that much of the footage is given more to talk than to movement, but Alfred Hitchcock’s directorial skill manages to overcome most of the script’s deficiencies by building up situations that thrill and hold the spectator in tense suspense…” –Harrison’s Reports (September 10, 1949)

Helen Williams wrote a similarly positive review for the Yorkshire Post:

“Mr. Alfred Hitchcock has exploited to the full the dramatic possibilities of Under Capricorn, Helen Simpson’s romantic story of Australia in 1831… He is ably supported by a brilliant cast… The probabilities in this melodramatic tale may not bear analysis, but the excellence of the acting and Alfred Hitchcock’s direction carry the film to a triumphant close…” –Helen Williams (New Film by Mr. Hitchcock, Yorkshire Post, October 07, 1949)

Of course, the French critics were enamored with the film and would eventually vote Under Capricorn into a list of the ten greatest films ever made in Cahiers du Cinéma. It’s hardly one of the ten greatest films ever made. Frankly, it isn’t even one of the ten greatest films in Hitchcock’s filmography. Unlike Vertigo, few Hitchcock scholars try to elevate the film’s reputation in the public consciousness. Books covering the director’s filmography tend to see it as a forgettable blemish on the face of the director’s career, and this is actually a pretty fair assertion. Unfortunately, the scholars making these assertions don’t seem to have any real understanding as to why the film doesn’t measure up to his greatest work.

A perfect example of this appears in The Art of Alfred Hitchcock:

“…The impressive long takes that sometimes move from floor to floor, through lengthy corridors, and several rooms make this a sporadically beautiful movie, but the obsession for this technique also inspired lengthy monologues and dialogues that became perilously arid. Too often motionless, the camera seems indifferent, as if actors had to keep talking until the film ran out… This results in very talky motion picture-making without a prevalent viewpoint. The conversation simply isn’t engaging or suspenseful, and the lack of cutting short-circuits tension and necessary visual narrative rhythm.” –Donald Spoto (The Art of Alfred Hitchcock, 1976)

Spoto makes the mistake of assuming that the lengthy monologues were inserted to cater to the director’s lengthy takes, but they really only complicated them. If one will think back to The Paradine Case (which was also adapted by James Bridie and then given another polish by Selznick), they will recall that the film had a similar tendency of employing longwinded monologues and constant dialogue. This is a characteristic of Bridies writing. Unlike Rope, Hitchcock wasn’t trying to get through an entire roll of film without cutting. He simply employed this technique when it best suited the material.

Robert A. Harris and Michael S. Lasky similarly complained in their book about the film’s excessive dialogue but do not blame the sequence shot for this weakness:

“If [Under Capricorn] proved anything, it was that Hitchcock was literally making ‘talkies.’ Ostensibly [it] is a costume epic with a suspenseful side story. It was Hitchcock in a terrain in which he did not belong… The plot of the film was as uninspiring as [the] nearly two hours of dialogue.” –Robert A. Harris & Michael S. Lasky (The Films of Alfred Hitchcock, 1976)

Patrick Humphries doesn’t elaborate on the film’s weaknesses, but he makes it clear that his opinion follows suit:

“At best Under Capricorn is an unholy cross between Jane Eyre and Rebecca, with the three witches from Macbeth thrown into the kitchen for good measure. At its worst, it is a turgid historical potboiler.” –Patrick Humphries (The Films of Alfred Hitchcock, 1986)

Stephen Whitty goes even further in his condemnation of the film:

“…The production design is cheap and unconvincing—the Flusky mansion a more-than-usually obvious matte painting, the waterfront and pier a cramped mock-up—and although Bergman is given a nice, dramatic entrance, there’s no standout sequence or memorable moment. It’s the sort of picture that Hitchcock always said he hated—pictures of people talking—and it marks the lowest point in a dull period of halfhearted efforts that stretched from The Paradine Case to Stage Fright.” –Stephen Whitty (The Alfred Hitchcock Encyclopedia, 2016)

Surprisingly, Ken Mogg seemed to disagree in his analysis of the film and gives it his enthusiastic praise:

Under Capricorn is one of several Hitchcock films of the late 1940s and 1950s that pleased few people at the time, but now seem full of interest… The result is a moody, stylized film where people talk endlessly while their real points stay unspoken. A key line is given to Flusky, who complains about the unfeeling legal process, which goes ‘on and on and on.’ The line is significant because beyond all the legality—and the talk—lies hope of something else, a return to a lost paradise. Under Capricorn may be Hitchcock’s finest film to explore that theme… [It] is more than a key Hitchcock film: it is one of his most lovely pictures. Its fluid design suggests life itself, sometimes wasting, sometimes being savored.” –Ken Mogg (The Alfred Hitchcock Story, 1999)

The truth—as is often the case—lies somewhere between these two extremes. Some films are neither brilliant nor terrible, but Under Capricorn was certainly a failure in the mind of its director, and Hitchcock’s tendency to adopt the prevailing critical opinion of his films has poisoned objective reevaluation.

FINAL ANALYSIS

“I made Under Capricorn because I wanted to apply the concepts of Rope to a different sort of story to see what that would yield.” –Alfred Hitchcock (Interview with Alfred Hitchcock, Cahiers du Cinéma, February 1955)

Obviously, many scholars seem to believe that the failure of Under Capricorn was due to the fact that Hitchcock insisted on carrying over the sequence shots he utilized in Rope, and these people aren’t thinking past the semi-formed opinions of other critics that plagued newspapers and magazines in 1948 when the film was released. The fact is that his approach to Under Capricorn is fundamentally different than the technique used in Rope, because: a.) This film wasn’t shot to look as if it was shot in real time, b.) Under Capricorn includes traditional cutting in conjunction with sequence shots while Rope consists only of sequence shots, and c.) it doesn’t make any effort to camouflage the film’s edits.

In short, the technique used in Capricorn is a refinement of the experiment that he used for Rope. He is searching for the proper equilibrium between two opposing techniques and some of the director’s future work proves that he found it (even if it wasn’t perfected in this particular film). Hitchcock realized that there were flaws in his approach to Rope and is testing the sequence shot as an added tool to use in conjunction with other techniques. One can see a difference in his aesthetic before he made the two Transatlantic films and those that he made after them. He grew from these experiments and never completely abandoned the sequence shot. He confessed that he still admired the technique in a 1955 interview with Cahiers du Cinéma and this won’t come as a surprise to those who truly pay attention to his later work.

“Certain people thought it was a mistake and that it wasn’t truly cinema. Yet it’s pure cinema because you must do the editing in your head in advance. Then the movement between the scenes is made continuous by the movement of the actors, not of the camera alone, but of the actors and the camera together. Thus the camera roams about while the actors change positions, and together they establish various framed compositions. In my opinion, it’s a purer cinema but not enough people agreed.” –Alfred Hitchcock (Interview with Alfred Hitchcock, Cahiers du Cinéma, February 1955)

This is an important point that seems to be lost on most critics and scholars. Hitchcock incorporates a wide array of shots into these long takes. The wide master, the two shot, the close-up, the extreme close-up, and the insert shot are all utilized. It isn’t as if he were simply pointing the camera at the actors and allowing the scenes to play out as if this were a play. What’s more, his use of this technique adds power to a number of the film’s traditional edits.

Some of the cuts in Under Capricorn are dramatic solely because they happen to follow a sequence shot. Take, for example, Bergman’s introduction. We follow Adare as he meets other guests after arriving at the party, Flusky gives instructions to Milly regarding Mrs. Flusky (which makes the viewer curious about her), and the men finally sit down to enjoy a meal and say grace. Soon the guests notice something that is happening just outside the scope of the frame, and Flusky notices their attention and nervously begins turning his head to see what has captured their gaze. We then cut to Bergman’s bare feet as they move into the room and carry us back to Sam Flusky as she places her hand on his shoulders. Finally, we move to the intoxicated face of Ingrid Bergman. It’s quite the introduction.

Hitchcock never abandons his devotion to the visual in this experiment, he simply expands and adds to the language of the medium. If Under Capricorn fails, it is due to the weak script and an arguably less interesting subject. It does not stand with Alfred Hitchcock’s best films—or even his second-tier titles—but it was an essential phase in his artistic evolution. What’s more, it isn’t any worse than a number of other overwrought and syrupy costume melodramas being made at around that time. One wonders if the film wouldn’t have a different reputation if another director’s name were written on it.

SS01

The Presentation:

4 of 5 MacGuffins

Kino houses their Blu-ray in a standard Blu-ray case with a reversible sleeve that offers a choice of film related artwork.

Reverse Cover Artwork

The default art is taken from the film’s original American One Sheet while a more lurid foreign poster was used for the reverse as an alternative. The American one sheet is the superior choice.

Menu

In fact, Kino must agree with us on this point since it is this artwork that has been carried over for the disc’s static menu.

SS02

Picture Quality:

4 of 5 MacGuffins

Kino’s 4K restoration transfer is a huge improvement over the previous DVD editions of the film, and the improvement isn’t merely due to the added resolution. However, it must be said that the final result is less that completely satisfying and will probably disappoint some collectors. This doesn’t seem to be the fault of the restoration or the transfer but is instead the unfortunate symptom of the ravages of time. Damage and debris is evident, but the most significant problem here stems from the various color elements in the Technicolor print which has resulted in slight haloing. Luckily, this never becomes distracting. In fact, most people won’t notice it and will instead pick up on the obvious improvement over earlier transfers in terms of both vibrancy and clarity. Motion is also greatly improved upon here (something especially important considering the mobile nature of the image). Best of all, we get quite a bit more information in the frame in this new transfer. This is likely the best this film is going to look on home video at this point.

SS03

Sound Quality:

4 of 5 MacGuffins

The 2.0 English DTS-HD Master Audio is an admirable representation of the film’s original source elements. It doesn’t offer the dynamic sonic experience one expects from more recent films, but no one should really expect this. The film’s dialogue is well prioritized and clearly rendered and the music is given adequate room to breathe thanks to the high definition transfer. Fans should be pleased.

SS04

Special Features:

3.5 of 5 MacGuffins

Audio Commentary by Kat Ellinger

Kat Ellinger has provided commentaries for a wide variety of films in recent years. As editor-in-chief for Diabolique magazine, she has a reasonably deep well of general knowledge to aid her in this track—but those expecting any in-depth information will be somewhat disappointed. Some of her analysis is interesting enough to keep the listener engaged, but it isn’t an especially focused discussion about the film (which she insists is underrated). She has a tendency to overlook important points and there are a few questionable statements along the way. This is par for the course with third-party “scholarly commentaries.” It is nice that she has included some general information about the careers of various cast and crew, and this is really the best reason to give the track a listen.

Hitchcock/Truffaut: Icon Interviews Icon (Audio) – (12:23)

Absolutely essential is this excerpt from Alfred Hitchcock’s infamous interview with François Truffaut as it finds the director speaking candidly about Under Capricorn. Those who have already read the book won’t learn anything, but it is nice to hear the director discussing this often overlooked film. It is illustrated with a still photograph of the two filmmakers that was taken during the interview sessions in 1963.

A Cinema of Signs: Chabrol on Hitchcock – (26:42)

The disc’s best supplement is probably this half-hour program that finds Claude Chabrol discussing a variety of Hitchcock related topics, including Cahiers du Cinéma’s infamous Hitchcock issue that would help change critical opinion of Hitchcock’s work, the equally important book that he penned with Éric Rohmer (Hitchcock: The First Forty-Four Films), an analysis of a scene from Under Capricorn (which was taken from the text of this book), Truffaut’s book-length interview Hitchcock, and his own analysis of scenes from Marnie and Frenzy. Fans will find this material fascinating even if they find themselves in disagreement. It offers food for thought and is a welcome addition to Kino’s package.

Theatrical Trailer – (02:04)

While trailers for other Hitchcock titles are much more interesting and original than the rather standard approach used to market Under Capricorn, it is certainly nice to have the trailer for this film finally available on home video.

We are also given a number of other trailers, including one for Hitchcock’s The Paradine Case (1947), Bergman’s Intermezzo: A Love Story (1939), Cotton’s A Portrait of Jennie (1948), and a remake of The Lodger (1944).

SS05

Final Words:

“If I seem doomed to make only one type of picture, the movie audience is responsible. People go to one of my films expecting a thriller, and they aren’t satisfied until the thrill turns up.” –Alfred Hitchcock (Core of the Movie—The Chase, New York Times Magazine, October 29, 1950)

This quote frames our parting thoughts admirably. Those who expect a typical Hitchcockian suspense story are bound to be disappointed. Under Capricorn is probably one of the director’s five weakest American films but it certainly wasn’t a waste of his time. In fact, it was an extremely important step in Alfred Hitchcock’s creative evolution.

Kino Lorber’s Blu-ray includes the best transfer of the film currently available on home video and a very nice supplemental package.

Review by: Devon Powell

One Sheet

Source Material:

Ingrid Bergman (Ingrid Bergman Cables Story of Technique Used in ‘Under Capricorn, Toledo Blade, August 27, 1949)

Staff Writer (The Times, August 31, 1949)

Staff Writer (Harrison’s Reports, September 10, 1949)

William Brogdon (Variety, September 14, 1949)

Staff Writer (Gloucestershire Echo, September 17, 1949)

Staff Writer (Mr. Hitchcock’s New Film, The Times, October 05, 1949)

Helen Williams (New Film by Mr. Hitchcock, Yorkshire Post, October 07, 1949)

Staff Writer (Amusements: Ingrid Bergman in Australian Romance, Western Morning News, February 14, 1950)

Staff Writer (The Cinema World, Yorkshire Post, February 28, 1950)

D.J. (Derby Daily Telegraph, March 14, 1950)

David Brady (Core of the Movie—The Chase, New York Times Magazine, October 29, 1950)

François Truffaut and Claude Chabrol (Interview with Alfred Hitchcock, Cahiers du Cinéma, February 1955)

Peter Bogdanovich (The Cinema of Alfred Hitchcock, 1963)

François Truffaut (Hitchcock/Truffaut, 1966)

Bryan Forbes (John Player Lecture, March 27, 1967)

Donald Spoto (The Art of Alfred Hitchcock, 1976)

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 Alfred Hitchcock Album, 1981)

Ingrid Bergman (My Story, Apr 01, 1983)

Patrick Humphries (The Films of Alfred Hitchcock, 1986)

Leonard Leff (Hitchcock and Selznick: The Rich and Strange Collaboration of Alfred Hitchcock and David O. Selznick in Hollywood, 1987)

Sidney Gottlieb (Hitchcock on Hitchcock, 1995)

Dan Auiler (Hitchcock’s Notebooks, 1999)

Ken Mogg (The Alfred Hitchcock Story, 1999)

Bill Krohn (Hitchcock at Work, 2000)

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

Barton Palmer and David Boyd (Hitchcock at the Source, 2011)

Constantine Verevis (Under a Distemperate Star, Hitchcock at the Source, 2011)

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

Sidney Gottlieb (Hitchcock on Hitchcock: Volume 2, 2015)

Stephen Whitty (The Alfred Hitchcock Encyclopedia, 2016)

Blu-ray Review: 78/52 – Hitchcock’s Shower Scene

Blu-ray Cover

Distributor: Shout Factory

Release Date: February 27, 2018

Region: Region A

Length: 01:31:46

Video: 1080P (MPEG-4, AVC)

Main Audio:

5.1 DTS-HD Master Audio

2.0 DTS-HD Master Audio

Subtitles: English, Spanish

Ratio: 1.78:1

Note: This release comes with a DVD disc that is housed in the same case.

Poster

“Of course, you can’t talk about the shower scene without talking about Psycho, and you can’t talk about Psycho without talking about Hitchcock, and you can’t talk about Hitchcock without talking about other films that influenced him, or films that he influenced, and so on. But everything in 78/52 was very carefully designed to be always, always, always about the shower scene.” -Alexandre O. Philippe (Michael Gingold, Rue-Morgue.com, October 18, 2017)

A lot of people may be asking themselves why anyone would devote a ninety-minute documentary to a single scene, but ninety minutes wasn’t nearly enough to do a proper job if Alexandre O. Philippe’s 78/52: Hitchcock’s Shower Scene is any indication. The shower scene is one of the most audacious scenes in cinema history, and it affected the viewer like a surprise punch to the solar plexus without infuriating them. That takes some doing. Unfortunately, the scene (and in fact the entirety of Psycho) has been parodied, ripped-off, discussed, analyzed, and even re-made so many times at this point that it is probably impossible for the majority of people to experience the scene in that same manner any longer.

In any case, the shower scene deserves to be studied. It is a remarkable moment in a terrific film. 78/52: Hitchcock’s Shower Scene attempts to dissect the reasons this influential scene was so effective. Philippe should certainly be applauded for his effort, but the end result doesn’t quite meet these intentions. The film’s first misstep is the ham-handed re-enactment of Marion Crane’s fateful drive to the Bates Motel. It wasn’t at all necessary and merely serves to distract and irritate those who love the film. However, the most discouraging aspect of this documentary is that it never rises above what people might find in a well-made Blu-ray supplement. It even carries a number of the same flaws—and the most notable of these flaws concerns some of the interview participants. For example, one would assume that a film seeking to dissect one of Alfred Hitchcock’s most infamous scenes would include a greater pool of legitimate authorities on either Hitchcock or cinema in general. The presence of Stephen Rebello, Bill Krohn, David Thomson, and Peter Bogdanovich was probably supposed to fulfill this requirement, but none of these people are prominently featured in the film (although Rebello fares better than the others). Worse, they don’t provide very much insight during the few moments that they are actually featured. Some might point out that Guillermo del Toro can be seen as an authority on Hitchcock (and his contribution is more than welcome).

Unfortunately, competent theorists are buried by participants that have absolutely no business being in the film at all. Such individuals pollute the entire duration of 78/52, and few of them actually add anything pertinent about the subject at hand. For example: Could someone please explain why Elijah Wood, Illeana Douglas, and Eli Roth are featured in the film? How could any of these people be considered an authority on Alfred Hitchcock? Elijah Wood doesn’t even seem to have seen North by Northwest! He looks completely lost when the film is mentioned and later seems surprised to learn about the film’s infamous final shot. Eli Roth throws Hitchcock’s name around quite a bit in his publicity interviews and commentary tracks, but nothing in his films suggest that he has learned anything from him (except perhaps on the most superficial level). The inclusion of such individuals only serve to remind the audience that the statements made throughout the piece can’t be taken seriously. Their very presence undermines the validity of what is good in the film (and it does have its virtues).

Alexandre O. Philippe - Director

Alexandre O. Philippe directed 78/52: Hitchcock’s Shower Scene.

Marli Renfro’s participation is especially appreciated. Her voice is one that has largely been excluded from previous documentaries about Psycho. She recalls what it was like to double for Janet Leigh in the shower scene, and one imagines that some of her recollections will be new discoveries for many viewers. Leigh discusses the scene in some very interesting archival footage from Laurent Bouzereau’s The Making of ‘Psycho, and Tere Carrubba, Jamie Leigh Curtis, and Oz Perkins are also on hand (although their contributions are nominal).

A large number of contemporary filmmakers have been brought in with somewhat mixed results. Justin Benson, for example, doesn’t seem to bring much more than snarky comments about the film to the table, while some of Bob Murawski’s valuable comments are undermined by his tendency to keep criticizing the shape of Mrs. Bates’ head. Murawski is an editor that has worked on a number of films (including a good number of Sam Raimi titles) and one can understand his presence, but it is Walter Murch’s contribution that holds the most promise. Oddly enough,  Amy E. Duddleston’s discussion about trying to replicate the shower scene in Gus Van Sant’s Psycho remake (which this reviewer loathes) is rather interesting as she admits that they were never able to make it work.

Unfortunately, the film’s better elements are buried by too many inappropriate participants, and this results in a documentary that isn’t nearly as focused as the premise promises. Audiences are merely given an abundance of conjecture that is rarely supported by insightful analysis (and they only skim the surface when any effort is actually made). It is an extremely engaging documentary, but the reason for this has more to do with the film being discussed than with the thrill of receiving any truly revelatory insight into the scene that is supposed to be dissected.

One Sheet

The Presentation:

4 of 5 MacGuffins

The two discs are protected in a standard Blu-ray case with related artwork that is reasonably attractive.

The menu also utilizes this artwork and is accompanied by the sound of faint shower water. Overall, it is an above average presentation for a documentary film.

Picture Quality:

4 of 5 MacGuffins

As is usual with documentary films that contain numerous archival elements, the quality of the film’s image fluctuates a great deal depending on the source being used at any given moment. The transfer is certainly solid and newly shot footage always displays an impressive amount of fine detail. All other elements are well rendered as well and are beyond criticism. However, the archival elements are all over the place and some of the footage seems to be sampled from up-scaled standard definition sources (although, this isn’t necessarily the case). Obviously, documentary filmmakers must make do with the materials that they are allowed to use. In any case, the quality falls in line with what one has come to expect from such productions.

Sound Quality:

4 of 5 MacGuffins

The 5.1 DTS-HD Master Audio and 2.0 DTS-HD Master Audio options are both strong options with the 5.1 mix obviously offering a slightly more dynamic experience. Obviously, the dialogue driven nature of the film should limit the viewer’s sonic expectations, but music and sound effects do expand the sound design quite a bit. It all sounds very good. The dialogue is clean and intelligible, the music and effects have room to breathe, and everything is mixed for maximum impact.

Special Features:

4 of 5 MacGuffins

Extended Interview with Walter Murch – (55:28)

The inclusion of this lengthy interview adds a bit of legitimacy to the disc. Murch has made a name for himself as an editor and as a sound editor. It is in this capacity that he gives a sort of examination of the shower scene, but he takes it further and actually goes into theories about how the viewer processes images. Obviously, this infuences his own personal approach to editing—even though the collision montage in Psycho purposly goes against this in order to cause slight disorientation in the audience.

Extended Interview with Guillermo Del Toro – (22:13)

It is always interesting to hear Guillermo Del Toro discuss cinema. He is the perfect blend of scholar and fanboy (not to mention the fact that he is a talented filmmaker in his own right). His discourse may be largely theoretical but it is always interesting (despite the fact that one doesn’t always agree with his comments). As with the interview with Walter Murch, this footage was obviously shot to be utilized in the film itself and is therefore presented in black and white.

“Stabbing Melons” with Director Alexandre O. Philippe – (02:52)

It’s difficult to discern why this footage was included on the disc as it doesn’t add anything worthwhile to the proceedings. The viewer is shown a small crew as they set up tables of melons and shoot them (some of the footage being shot is in the film). They mic the melons and proceed to stab them. Finally, the casaba melon used by Alfred Hitchcock is brought out to recreate the sound of the knife cutting into Marion Crane’s flesh.

Theatrical Trailer – (01:23)

IFC took a bit of a risk using so much of the newly shot “Psycho” footage in their trailer for the film. One can imagine a select portion of the intended audience cringing and being turned off by the film completely. However, the moody atmosphere of the images certainly raises a certain amount of interest.

Final Words:

78/52: Hitchcock’s Shower Scene is fun to watch, but it doesn’t really add anything revelatory to our understanding of the film (or of the scene in question). There is an excellent “making of” documentary included on the various Psycho Blu-ray releases that would probably make better use of the viewer’s time. However, anyone interested in the film will find it worth seeing if they happen to get the opportunity. Just don’t shell out any money for the privilege.

Review by: Devon Powell

Blu-ray Review: Alfred Hitchcock – The Ultimate Collection

Blu-ray Cover

Distributor: Universal Studios

Release Date: October 17, 2017

Region: Region A

Notes: These films are also available individually with standard Blu-ray packaging and as a part of The Masterpiece Collection.

Universal owns the rights to more Alfred Hitchcock titles than any other studio, and they certainly milk these properties for every penny that they are able to squeeze out of his admirers. However, one really shouldn’t complain since this gives fans an opportunity to own these films with plenty of choice as to how the discs are packaged. Each of the films available in this collection have been available on Blu-ray for quite some time (both as individually packaged titles and as a part of The Masterpiece Collection), and these image and sound transfers are the same ones utilized for those earlier releases. What’s more, these discs include the same supplemental material. Interested parties can read more detailed information about each of the discs included in this set by clicking on the individual links below:

Saboteur

Shadow of a Doubt

Rope

Rear Window

The Trouble with Harry

The Man Who Knew Too Much

Vertigo

North by Northwest

Psycho

The Birds

Marnie

Torn Curtain

Topaz

Frenzy

Family Plot

What really sets this release apart from the previous releases is that it includes two new standard definition DVDs that focus on his television work:

The Best of ‘Alfred Hitchcock Presents’

This new disc showcases a single Alfred Hitchcock directed episode from all seven seasons of Alfred Hitchcock Presents. The following episodes are included:

Revenge (Season 1, Episode 1)

The series premiere of Alfred Hitchcock Presents is one of the show’s best episodes. It first aired on October 02, 1955 and starred Vera Miles and Ralph Meeker. Those who admire The Andy Griffith Show will also notice Frances Bavier in a supporting role. The story by Samuel Blas follows Carl and Elsa Spann, a newlywed couple just starting their life. Elsa has recently suffered a nervous breakdown but seems to be on her way to recovery. Unfortunately, Carl returns home from work one evening to find that his wife has been attacked. When the police prove to be unhelpful, Carl decides to get justice on his own.

Vera Miles gives a great performance here—a performance that looks forward to her portrayal of Rose Balestrero in Alfred Hitchcock’s under-appreciated docudrama, The Wrong Man.

Mr. Blanchard’s Secret (Season 2, Episode 13)

Mr. Blanchard’s Secret pales in comparison. The episode first aired on December 23, 1956 and starred Mary Scott, Robert Horton, Dayton Lummis, and Meg Mundy. The story by Emily Neff revisits some of the themes better explored in Alfred Hitchcock’s Rear Window. Babs Fenton, a housewife with an overactive imagination who fancies herself a writer, believes that Mr. Blanchard has murdered his wife. However, her suspicions are called into serious question when Mrs. Blanchard shows up at their door looking to be very much alive. Babs alters her theory as to the reason behind Mr. Blanchard’s suspicious behavior only to be proven wrong once again.

Lamb to the Slaughter (Season 3, Episode 28)

Lamb to the Slaughter is rightly mentioned amongst the series best episodes. It aired on April 13, 1958 and stars Barbara Bel Geddes (who portrayed Midge in Vertigo that same year). The story by Roald Dahl follows a devoted housewife named Mary Maloney who decides to kill her cheating husband with a frozen leg of lamb rather than let him leave her. What follows is classic Hitchcock.

Poison (Season 4, Episode 1)

Poison—which was based upon another tale by Dahl—first aired on October 05, 1958 and stars Hitchcock alumnus Wendell Corey and James Donald. Harry Pope (Donald) wakes up with a poisonous snake in his bed. Worse, it finds a comfortable place to rest right on his chest. The entire episode is devoted to solving this tense predicament.

Arthur (Season 5, Episode 1)

Arthur first aired on September 27, 1959 and stars Laurence Harvey in the title role. Unusually for an Alfred Hitchcock Presents episode, the story begins with Arthur standing amongst a large number of chickens as he addresses the audience directly. After this opening monologue, we flash back in time as he tells the viewer how he killed his gold-digging girlfriend and was able to get away with it. The story itself is rather amusing, but the framing device at the beginning and end doesn’t work very well (possibly because there is already an introduction and epilogue performed by Hitchcock).

Mrs. Bixby and the Colonel’s Coat (Season 6, Episode 1)

Mrs. Bixby and the Colonel’s Coat is more benign than many episodes, but it has a very similar sense of irony. It originally aired on September 27, 1960 and stars Audrey Meadows, Les Tremayne, and Stephen Chase. The story by Roald Dahl follows Mrs. Bixby as she visits her secret lover “the Colonel,” who ends their affair but offers her a mink coat as a parting gift. She isn’t sure how to explain the coat to her husband, so she pawns the item without putting a description on the ticket. She then tells her husband that she has found the ticket and instructs him to turn it in for the pawned item. Obviously, things aren’t going to work out in quite the way that she expects.

Bang! You’re Dead! (Season 7, Episode 2)

Bang! You’re Dead! originally aired on October 17, 1961 and is the final episode that Alfred Hitchcock directed for the original half-hour series. It was based on a story by Margery Vosper and stars Billy Mumy as a young Jackie Chester—a spoiled six-year-old who mistakes a loaded gun for a gift from his uncle. The child then proceeds to pretend he is an outlaw and points it at the random people he meets throughout the day. It is only a matter of time before he actually pulls the trigger. Meanwhile, his family has discovered the mistake and tries frantically to locate him. Hitchcock’s gift for building suspense is evident throughout the duration.

Special Features:

This disc also includes a single special feature entitled Alfred Hitchcock Presents: A Look Back. Gary Leva’s 15 minute featurette is far from a comprehensive examination of the series, but the retrospective interviews with Norman Lloyd, Hilton A. Green, and Patricia Hitchcock do reveal some general information about how the show was produced and those responsible for its success.

The Best of ‘The Alfred Hitchcock Hour’

The second new disc showcases a single episode from all three seasons of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour. Unlike the first disc, only the first of these episodes is actually directed by Alfred Hitchcock since he only directed a single episode of this series. The following episodes are included:

I Saw the Whole Thing (Season 1, Episode 4)

I Saw the Whole Thing is the only episode of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour that was actually directed by Alfred Hitchcock. It originally aired on October 11, 1962 and is based on a short story by Henry Cecil. Hitchcock alumnus John Forsythe portrays Michael Barnes in this Rashomon-like courtroom drama with an interesting twist. Barnes has been accused of causing a fatal car accident, but he insists that he is completely innocent and acts as his own attorney at his trial. In court, he proves that the various eyewitnesses called by the prosecution are unreliable.

Three Wives Too Many (Season 2, Episode 12)

Three Wives Too Many was directed by Joseph M. Newman and was based on a short story by Kenneth Fearing. It aired on January 03, 1964 and stars Hitchcock alumnus Teresa Wright, Linda Lawson, Jean Hale, and Dan Duryea. The story follows a bigamist who is suspected of murdering his various wives.

Death Scene (Season 3, Episode 20)

Death Scene was directed by Harvey Hart and was based on a story by Helen Nielsen. The episode aired on March 08, 1965 and features Hitchcock alumnus Vera Miles as Nicky Revere, the daughter of a movie director named Gavin Revere (John Carradine). It is best that viewers see this particular episode knowing as little as is possible about the actual story, but it is certainly one of the most memorable of the hour-long episodes.

Special Features:

This disc includes a single featurette entitled Fasten Your Seatbelt: The Thrilling Art of Alfred Hitchcock. This six minute fluff piece includes interviews with Martin Scorsese, Guillermo del Toro, William Friedkin, John Carpenter, Eli Roth, and Joe Carnahan, but none of these filmmakers say anything particularly enlightening. It is almost like an EPK created to sell the idea of Hitchcock’s greatness without ever revealing anything that isn’t immediately obvious.

Promotional photograph for 'Alfred Hitchcock Presents' from 1962, taken by Gabor 'Gabi' Rona

This is a promotional photograph for ‘Alfred Hitchcock Presents’ that was taken in 1962 by Gabor ‘Gabi’ Rona.

It’s nice to have both of these new standard definition discs included here, but it is impossible not to wonder why Universal didn’t choose to release discs with each of the seventeen Hitchcock-directed episodes of Alfred Hitchcock Presents and his single episode of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour instead. Such a collection would have been a much more appropriate and satisfying addition to the package. What’s more, this approach would’ve only required one more disc (three instead of the two). Actually, it is ridiculous that Universal hasn’t already released these episodes together in a single collection.

In addition, one cannot help but lament some of the choices made by Universal as to which episodes to include. Some of these episodes are inferior to other Hitchcock-directed episodes from that respective season. For example, season two’s One More Mile to Go is vastly superior to Mr. Blanchard’s Secret. In fact, it is one of the best of the entire series. Of course, this particular issue wouldn’t be a problem if all of the Hitchcock directed episodes had been included.

The Presentation:

4 of 5 MacGuffins

The packaging is very similar to Universal’s Masterpiece Collection, but the artwork is somewhat different. It is of course a matter of taste as to which is better, but most should agree that the design is just as pleasing as the one utilized for that earlier release. From an aesthetic standpoint, this collection is beyond reproach. Unfortunately, it is the sort of design that seems special on the surface but actually provides the consumer with less value than if each film had been provided with a sturdy individual Blu-ray case.

It is time for studios to do away with these book-style sets that house the discs in folder-like sleeves. This leaves the discs vulnerable to scratching and other types of damage, and disc protection should always be the first priority when designing these collections. What’s more, it doesn’t allow the collector to arrange their collections in the manner that they might wish. (This reviewer prefers chronological arrangement).

The Ultimate Collection

This particular book-style release devotes two pages to each of the films included therein. The first of the two pages features the film’s one sheet while the second includes a quote, a brief description of the film, and a list of bonus features. A promotional still from the film is also utilized. Since this is the same information that one might find on the slip sleeve of any regular release, it only gives one the appearance of additional value when in actuality it is probably much cheaper than including individual cases for each title.

A small softbound book entitled “The Master of Suspense” is also included. There are around 58-60 pages worth of material here (depending on how one chooses to count them), and it does add a bit of value to the package. It includes some extremely general biographical information about Hitchcock and his career, a few paragraphs about his leading men, a page that focuses on “The Hitchcock Blondes,” two pages that focus on Edith Head (including a handful of costume sketches), two pages that showcase Saul Bass (with a series of screenshots from the title sequences for Vertigo and Psycho), a page about Bernard Herrmann, a half page about “The MacGuffin,” and another half page about the director’s cameo appearances. After these subjects, the book focuses on each of the films included in this set. Film trivia, artwork, storyboards, photographs, letters, and memorandum have been included throughout these pages in Universal’s effort to create an attractive keepsake. There isn’t much in the way of information here (and some of it borders on being erroneous), but it does make for a fun reading experience.

Final Words:

The back sleeve of this release screams “The Best of Alfred Hitchcock,” and one must admit that the set does include a number of the master’s best films. However, it is ridiculous to claim that the set represents Hitchcock’s best work because some of his best films aren’t included here while some of his worst films are present. For example, few would rank Topaz above Notorious or Strangers on a Train. This set is simply a complete collection of the films that Universal actually owns (with North by Northwest included as a healthy bonus due to a licensing trade).

It is certainly an impressive collection of films and those that don’t mind the folder-book packaging might wish to grab this set while supplies last—that is if they do not already own these films individually or as part of The Masterpiece Collection. The two new DVDs might not be worth an upgrade (especially since they weren’t given a new 1080P transfer for this release).

Review by: Devon Powell

Blu-ray Review: Rebecca – The Criterion Collection

Spine #135

Blu-ray Cover (No Sticker)

Distributor: Criterion Collection (USA)

Release Date: September 05, 2017

Region: Region A

Length: 02:10:40

Video: 1080P (MPEG-4, AVC)

Main Audio: English Mono Linear PCM Audio (48 kHz, 1152 kbps, 24-bit)

Subtitles: English SDH

Ratio: 1.33:1

Bitrate: 35.69 Mbps

Notes: This title is also available both individually and as part of The Premiere Collection boxed set (both with different cover art) in the DVD format and was given an incredible release in the same format by The Criterion Collection several years before that release.

The film was later given a lackluster Blu-ray release by MGM Home Entertainment both as part of a three-film set entitled, The Classic Collection and as an individual release.

Title

“Well, it’s not a Hitchcock picture; it’s a novelette, really. The story is old-fashioned. There was a whole school of feminine literature at the period, and though I’m not against it, the fact is the story is lacking in humor.” –Alfred Hitchcock (Hitchcock/Truffaut, 1966)

Most of the contemporary critics and scholars tend to agree that the film belongs more to Selznick than to the director. In his book of essays about Alfred Hitchcock’s filmography (The Art of Alfred Hitchcock) Donald Spoto writes:

“Hitchcock’s first American film won David O. Selznick the Oscar as producer of the best film of 1940. In fact, it’s more a Selznick film than it is Hitchcock. Depending on your mood, it’s either impossibly dated, woefully prolix as well as comically overstated every step of its long way—or it’s deliciously entertaining, the kind of gothic romantic hokum they don’t make anymore. Or both…” -Donald Spoto (The Art of Alfred Hitchcock, 1976)

We have trouble understanding how any movie made in 1939 and released in 1940 can be “impossibly dated,” but one must certainly admit the validity of Spoto’s assertion that the film could be perceived as “woefully prolix.” This would be the result of Selznick’s insistence that entire paragraphs of the novel’s dialogue should be included in the script—even if the same points might be made visually or with less ornate verbiage. Selznick’s fingerprints are all over the film to be certain, but it would be an incredible injustice and completely misleading to ignore the fact that Hitchcock’s influence is just as dominant and can be seen in every frame—and there are traces of the director’s humor on evidence (even if he would later claim otherwise).

As a matter of fact, Hitchcock had been interested in purchasing the rights to Daphne du Maurier’s source novel while he was still working in England but the cost of the property proved prohibitive. This and the fact that Rebecca contains elements that Hitchcock would return to in his later work should be evidence of the director’s sincere affection for the material. Rebecca might not be the version of the film that Hitchcock originally wanted to make, but the director was wrong when he claimed that it isn’t a Hitchcock picture. It is a Hitchcock film, but it is a Selznick production of a Hitchcock film. This subtle distinction is what really bothered the director.

“While, in many respects, Rebecca was very personal to Hitchcock—allowing him to explore more clearly than ever before his deepest thematic concerns—the film belongs as much to its producer as it does to its director. Hitchcock appears to have undertaken the film with certain misapprehensions: that he would have the full control he’d been accustomed to; that he could adapt the source novel as freely as he pleased; that he could insert touches of his typical British humor (his early draft had Maxim and his anonymous wife meeting on a channel steamer, with Maxim bringing on her seasickness by blowing smoke in her face!). Hitchcock was swiftly disillusioned. Selznick insisted on the strictest fidelity to du Maurier that censorship would permit, oversaw the entire production, and asserted his contractual right to final cut.” –Robin Wood (Rebecca: The Two Mrs. de Winters)

To be fair, the Monte Carlo sequence works much better than this would have, because the audience understands that Maxim de Winter has been away from Manderley for quite some time in an effort to forget his past. It is also much more mysterious. However, the pages of endless dialogue work much better in the novel, and the film is at its best when Hitchcock is allowed to tell the story in a visual manner. What’s more, Selznick’s generic cutting style wouldn’t have benefited the film. Luckily, Alfred Hitchcock knew a way around Selznick’s final cut and was one of the few directors capable of forcing aspects of his own personal vision upon the producer by cutting in the camera so that the footage could only be assembled in the manner that Hitchcock envisioned. Selznick wasn’t a fan of what he called the director’s “damned jigsaw cutting,” but this is exactly what he was paying for when he brought Hitchcock to America.

In retrospect, it might be said that much of what hasn’t dated in the film seems to belong more to Hitchcock than to Selznick. This may be an oversimplification, but Selznick’s insistence on fidelity created a more literary melodrama with more unnecessarily protracted dialogue than is typical of a director who prefers to tell his stories visually. If the film seems dated to contemporary audiences, this is undoubtedly one of the primary reasons. Another side effect of Selznick’s meddling is the sometimes overwrought and syrupy score provided by the talented Franz Waxman. Selznick obviously didn’t trust Hitchcock’s wonderful visuals to make their point and musical punctuation overwhelms what might have been poignant subtleties had the director been left to his own devices. The score is very good at conveying the film’s gothic and ghostly atmosphere, but there is more “Mickey Mousing” than is necessary, and there are cheesy (and unnecessary)musical punctuations every time a character reacts to something. The production values also seem to belong to Selznick, and Alfred Hitchcock has gone on record about his disappointment about the film’s production design. Rebecca has a gloss that is tonally different than even the glossiest of Hitchcock’s later films. Whether this is a good or a bad thing will depend on the viewer.

On final analysis, Rebecca is a brilliant Hitchcock/Selznick hybrid that rightfully earned eleven Academy Awards nominations (Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor, Best Actress, Best Supporting Actress, Best Cinematography, Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Art Direction, Best Film Editing, Best ScoreBest Visual Effects) and won in the Best Picture and Best Cinematography categories. The film is required viewing and marks an extremely important benchmark in not only Hitchcock’s career but also his artistic evolution. The stormy production created by a thunderous crashing of two giant egos resulted in more than a great film. It resulted in the creative growth of an already brilliant director.

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The Presentation:

4.5 of 5 MacGuffins

Criterion has once again given cinephiles a beautiful Blu-ray package. The special 2-disc set looks like most of their standard single disc releases. Both discs are housed in their standard clear case with a cover sleeve featuring an attractive painting by Robert Hunt.

Inside the case, there is a collector’s booklet that features an essay by David Thomson entitled “Welcome to the Haunted House.” Thomson is the author of a long list of film-related books, including: Showman: The Life of David O. Selznick, The Moment of ‘Psycho,’ Rosebud: The Story of Orson Welles, Scorsese on Scorsese, A Biographical Dictionary of Film, The Whole Equation: A History of Hollywood, Moments That Made the Movies, and a ridiculous number of other titles. This reviewer found some of his scholarly insights somewhat questionable, and wonder why Criterion didn’t simply utilize the two essays that were included in their original DVD release years ago. These essays were written by Robin Wood and George E. Turner, and they were more informative than this new piece.

Luckily, Criterion more than makes up for this minor issue by including a section entitled “Hitchcock vs. Selznick.” This section is essentially a collection of four memos from the production of Rebecca (all of which were featured on the second disc of their DVD release several years ago) with a short introduction by David Thomson. One must admit that having these memos collected in a booklet is preferable to including them on one of the discs as it makes them much easier to read, and their inclusion here makes this booklet a significant addition to the overall package. Our only complaint is that more memos weren’t included. It would’ve been incredibly awesome if Criterion had included a larger book containing all of the memos that were included on their earlier release of Rebecca!

Menu

Menu 2

Both disc menus make use of production stills and Franz Waxman’s score, and they are up to Criterion’s usual high standards. Those who own other Criterion discs will know exactly what to expect.

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Picture Quality:

5 of 5 MacGuffins

There is every reason in the world to be excited about Criterion’s new 4K restoration transfer of Rebecca. As is their usual practice, they include information about their restoration in the collector’s booklet:

“This new digital transfer was created in 16-bit 4K resolution on a Lasergraphics Director Film scanner at Motion Picture Imaging in Burbank, California, from the 35mm nitrate original camera negative. Digital restoration was undertaken by the Motion Picture Imaging Group…” –Collector’s Booklet

The result is beyond stunning as there is an incredible improvement in quality when one compares this release with the earlier MGM Home Entertainment release. For one thing, the grain structure has been improved upon and is better resolved. There is a more film-like quality to the overall image in this release, as it exhibits a very natural contrast and better black levels (which are incredibly deep without crushing). Fine detail is also vastly improved, density is much better and indeed quite impressive, and stability is terrific. It also looks absolutely incredible in motion. The image has been cleaned of any distracting blemishes (such as age chemical imperfections, stains, scratches, cuts, dirt, and other damage). There also aren’t any signs of overzealous manipulation or improper compression.

The only negative aspect of the new transfer is that there seems to be marginally less information on the sides of the frame when compared to the other releases, but there is more information at the top of the frame. You might say that everything evens out rather nicely in this respect. In any case, this seems to be the only aspect of this new release that nitpickers will have to complain about. Everything else is beyond reproach, and the reasonably high bitrate makes the most of their beautiful work.

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Sound Quality:

5 of 5 MacGuffins

The film’s soundtrack was also given a new restoration by Criterion.

“…The soundtrack was re-mastered from the original soundtrack negative at Chace by Deluxe in Burbank and restored by Disney Digital Studio Services. Additional restoration was performed by the Criterion Collection using Pro Tools HD and iZotope RX…” –Collector’s Booklet

The resulting uncompressed monaural (Linear PCM) audio track is as good as anyone has a right to expect, although it isn’t quite the upgrade in quality that the image received. As a matter of fact, it is relatively identical to the MGM track in many respects. The differences between the two tracks will be directly related to Criterion’s efforts to clean the track of imperfections. While the mono mix cannot be described as dynamic, it is certainly faithful to the original as it exhibits clear and well-prioritized dialogue, a good representation of Franz Waxman’s score, and the effects are strong and undistorted. The flat nature of this extremely old track may disappoint modern ears, but purists are certain to appreciate the final result.

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Special Features:

5 of 5 MacGuffins

When Criterion originally released Rebecca as a two-disc set in the DVD format, it was impossible to imagine that anyone would ever include a superior supplemental package for the film. However, this release contains quite a bit more material than that release, and not a single one of these added features could possibly be described as “filler.” Everything included here should be an incredibly fulfilling experience for anyone who admires Alfred Hitchcock, David O. Selznick, Daphne du Maurier, or classic cinema in general.

There are over 3 hours and 56 minutes of video-based supplemental entertainment on the disc—the accumulation of which would have easily earned the disc a five-star rating all on its own. However, they have also included over 3 hours and 30 minutes of audio based supplements (and this isn’t even counting the commentary track)!

Disc One

Feature Length Audio Commentary by Leonard J. Leff

Leonard J. Leff is the author of Hitchcock and Selznick: The Rich and Strange Collaboration of Alfred Hitchcock and David O. Selznick in Hollywood. The book is a well-researched and incredibly comprehensive account of Hitchcock’s working relationship with David O. Selznick and the films that Alfred Hitchcock made during that period. Frankly, it is one of a handful of books on the director that is absolutely essential.  Leff brings some of this knowledge to this track, but it leans more towards scholarly analysis. We have no doubt that this will likely disappoint a lot of fans. However, Leff’s archival Criterion track is a much better commentary than the one provided by the late Richard Schickel for the MGM release. Some might be put off by the dry and decidedly academic tone, but those who give it a fair chance will find it well worth their time.

Isolated Music and Effects Track

This feature allows audiences to experience the film with only the music and sound effects. It is presented in the Linear PCM format.

The Making of Rebecca – (28:02)

Film historians discuss the uneasy relationship between David O. Selznick and Alfred Hitchcock during the making of the film. It offers more generalized “behind the scenes” information than many of the more comprehensive documentaries of its kind, but there is enough information to make the viewing experience rich and rewarding. It was nice to learn that Criterion decided to port this over from the earlier MGM DVD and Blu-ray releases as this set would have suffered considerably without it.

Conversation between Molly Haskell and Patricia White – (24:39)

Molly Haskell and Patricia White discuss the film’s enduring appeal as well as some of the thematic concerns that contribute to that its ongoing popularity. The conversation is decidedly casual but always intelligent. Unfortunately, it doesn’t delve terribly deep into the themes discussed with specific examples that illustrate their observations. It is certainly a worthwhile addition to the disc’s supplemental package, but one wishes that the conversation delved a bit deeper.

Theatrical Re-release Trailer – (02:23)

One wishes that the film’s original release trailer could have been included here, but is always nice to see vintage trailers included on a disc and this is no exception. It exploits the success of the film’s original release as well as its well-documented awards success.

Disc Two

Daphne du Maurier: In the Footsteps of Rebecca – (55:03)

Elisabeth Aubert Schlumberger’s hour-long documentary about the life of Daphne du Maurier was originally produced for French television and is a multi-lingual production presented in both French and English. Much of the information divulged is revealed through the French narration, but there are a number of English language interviews and some archival footage of the author. One of the more interesting elements featured within the film is the BBC footage of the author taken later in her life.

Those disappointed about the omission of Criterion’s essay about du Maurier can rest assured that the inclusion of this program more than makes up for its absence, as it is much more in-depth and engaging.

Alfred Hitchcock on NBC’s Tomorrow – (44:03)

In 1975, NBC’s Tomorrow devoted an entire episode to the “Master of Suspense” and it is included here in all of its fabulous glory. The director is certainly feeling his age here but he is still an extremely entertaining raconteur. The Tom Snyder interview covers a wide variety of topics, including cockney rhyming slang, his film work, entertaining stories, his then-upcoming film (Family Plot), and a wide variety of other engaging topics. Some of this will be a rehash for a lot of fans, but there is quite a bit of unique material as well.

Joan Fontaine on NBC’s Tomorrow – (17:11)

Almost as great as the amazing interview with Alfred Hitchcock is this incredibly charming interview with Joan Fontaine from a 1980 episode of Tomorrow (again hosted by Tom Snyder). The actress has a dignified grace and an undeniable charm that takes the viewer by surprise. She candidly discusses her rivalry with Olivia de Havilland as well as the production of Rebecca, her then current projects, politics, old Hollywood, and aging. Every word of it is a pleasure to witness, and it is an incredible addition to the package.

Casting Gallery with Notes by Alfred Hitchcock and David O. Selznick

It is nice to see that Criterion has included memorandum between Alfred Hitchcock about casting the unknown protagonist eventually played by Joan Fontaine. These memos discuss various actresses considered for the part in no uncertain terms, and it all makes for instructive reading. The text is illustrated with publicity photos of the various talent discussed. All of this provides strong contextual information for the screen tests that have also been included on the disc.

Screen Tests:

Unlike the previous MGM Blu-ray, this new Criterion release has ported over their entire collection of tests from their earlier DVD release (which is now out of print). These are priceless production artifacts from one of Alfred Hitchcock’s most important film, and it is instructive to see what he and Selznick were up against. In total, there are over 41 minutes of screen test footage from some of Hollywood’s biggest stars of the era!

Here is a list of the various tests included on the disc and their respective durations:

Joan Fontaine – (07:57)

Vivien Leigh (with Laurence Olivier) – (05:03)

Vivien Leigh (with Alan Marshall) – (04:02)

Anne Baxter – (11:48)

Margaret Sullavan – (07:52)

Loretta Young – (04:45)

Hair and Makeup Tests – (03:14)

These hair and makeup tests are presented in a kind of split screen and features Anne Baxter, Margaret Sullavan, and Vivien Leigh in various wigs and make-up designs. There is a short contextual introductory commentary by Leonard Leff that plays over the beginning of this silent footage. It is evident from these tests just how late in the process final casting decisions were made It is an incredible treat to glimpse this sort of test footage from such an old classic!

Costume Tests – (02:57)

Joan Fontaine’s costume tests are equally interesting as they showcase Joan Fontaine in various costumes—some of which weren’t included in the final film. If the actress looks less than enthusiastic, this is due to the fact that she was under an enormous physical and emotional strain during the weeks leading to the production. Needless to say, this raw footage is of enormous value to Hitchcock fans and devotees of classic cinema.

Interview with Craig Barron about Rebecca’s Visual Effects – (17:28)

This Criterion interview with Craig Barron is essential for anyone interested in special effects. The viewer is taken through a number of effects included in the film as they are explained in a very general way. Some will already know much of this information, but others will find it revelatory. It should certainly add to one’s appreciation of the film.

1986 Phone Interview with Joan Fontaine – (20:15)

Joan Fontaine speaks affectionately about Hitchcock and discusses working with the director during the set of Rebecca. She is articulate and incredibly charming throughout the entire length of the interview, and she leaves us wanting to hear more about her days in Hollywood. Fans should be very pleased to have this carried over from Criterion’s earlier disc because it is a very instructive twenty minutes.

1986 Phone Interview with Dame Judith Anderson – (10:42)

Judith Anderson’s interview is equally informative and articulate, and it is really a treat to listen to the actress as she talks about her experiences shooting the film, and the differences between acting on the stage and the screen. I dare say that interviews with Judith Anderson are rather rare, so having this included here is a wonderful treat.

Campbell Playhouse Radio Broadcast (1938) – (59:54)

Perhaps the most interesting of the three radio adaptations of Rebecca—although each version is interesting for very different reasons—is this first episode of Campbell Playhouse, the radio program produced by Orson Welles. The program followed closely behind the infamous War of the Worlds broadcast and featured Welles in the role of Maxim de Winter, Margaret Sullivan as the second Mrs. De Winter, Mildred Natwick as Mrs. Danvers, Agnes Moorehead as Mrs. Van Hopper, and an assortment of other “Mercury Players.” It also features a music score by Bernard Herrmann (who would go on to score a number of Alfred Hitchcock’s most beloved films).

Those who notice the identical dialogue should be reminded that this isn’t an indication that the film was directly influenced by this radio adaptation because both productions drew directly from Daphne du Maurier’s classic novel. One element of the program that should be of special interest to both fans of the film and the novel is the short television conversation with this esteemed author. It seems scripted and isn’t particularly informative—but what it lacks in information, it makes up for in cheekiness and novelty. It is probably the highlight of the entire broadcast.

Lux Radio Theatre Broadcast (1941) – (59:00)

Following the success of the Selznick/Hitchcock film version of Rebecca was this Lux Radio Theatre adaptation of the film starring Ronald Colman as Maxim de Winter, Ida Lupino as the second Mrs. de Winter, and Judith Anderson as Mrs. Danvers. Interestingly, Ronald Coleman was considered for the role of Maxim in the film version, but the actor chose not to appear in that landmark production.

The program aired on February 03, 1941 during Rebecca’s Academy Awards campaign, of which this particular broadcast was very much a part. (The Oscars were held on the 27th of that same month.) Speaking of awards, Cecil B. DeMille presents David O. Selznick with an award from Fame magazine for his work as a producer at the end of the program.

Lux Radio Theatre Broadcast (1950) – (01:00:35)

In light of the fact that both Laurence Olivier and Vivian Leigh had lobbied quite aggressively for Leigh to win the role of “I” in Hitchcock’s film version, this radio program (which was produced an entire decade later) offers listeners the opportunity to experience the ex-Scarlet in this very different role. It is a rather instructive experience, but most will be quite happy that the part was given to Joan Fontaine after hearing Leigh in this radio version—that is if seeing the screen tests didn’t already convince you. In addition to Olivier and Leigh, Betty Blythe can be heard in the role of Mrs. Danvers.

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WHAT WASN’T INCLUDED?

With such a mind-boggling collection of wonderful extras, it seems almost ungrateful to complain about the few features that haven’t been ported over from previous releases of the film, but one imagines that most people who are considering an upgrade will be wondering about this particular matter.

There are quite a few text-based features from the original Criterion release that didn’t make its way to this new package—including an essay on Daphne du Maurier, the final results of a test screening questionnaire, an article about differences from the novel, and some of the production memorandum. However, most of the memos can be found here in some form. For example, that early release contained a gallery entitled “We Intend to Make ‘Rebecca,’” that featured several pre-production memos. These have all been included as part of the collector’s booklet. The memo’s found in the section of that disc entitled “The Search for ‘I’’’ have been included on this disc to contextualize the disc’s collection of screen tests. Frankly, these omissions aren’t particularly troubling. The same information is covered elsewhere on the disc. For example, the information found in the essay about Daphne du Maurier is more than covered in the included documentary about the author.

There is also a huge gallery of photos included on that release that wasn’t included here, but this hardly seems worth mentioning. The photos are certainly fascinating, but one grows weary clicking through such a gallery—and the same can be said about the aforementioned text screens.

More unfortunate is the exclusion of the 1940 Annual Academy Awards Ceremony Footage (01:37). The footage was silent but a commentary by Leonard Leff was included for this feature. It is strange that Criterion didn’t carry over this short clip.

Even more troubling is the exclusion of the excerpt from Hitchcock’s Interview with Francois Truffaut (Criterion – 07:54) and (MGM – 09:15), which was included in some form on both the earlier Criterion DVD and the MGM Blu-ray release. Considering the fact that their other Hitchcock Blu-rays have included this feature, it is extremely strange to discover that Criterion doesn’t include it here. The excerpt from Hitchcock’s Interview with Peter Bogdanovich (04:20) is also not carried over to this release but was included on MGM’s Blu-ray edition.

It is easier to understand the exclusion of a short featurette from the MGM Blu-ray entitled The Gothic World of Daphne du Maurier (19:02). After all, the documentary that is included in this package (Daphne du Maurier: In the Footsteps of ‘Rebecca’) covers the same territory and in more depth. However, it would’ve been nice to have it included here as it is a charming primer and could’ve made a nice companion to the longer documentary.

One doesn’t miss MGM’s Commentary with Richard Schickel, but it is another curious omission. To be perfectly honest, Schickel’s commentary was incredibly sparse. He seemed bored as he mumbled his way through the track. He didn’t say very much and what he said usually wasn’t rich with information. It’s difficult to enjoy listening to an apathetic commentator. Perhaps Criterion understood this and didn’t want their disc marred by such a track.

Everything else is here and most will agree that this is the edition to own.

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Final Words:

The Criterion Collection’s release of Rebecca covers the film’s production in such a comprehensive manner that it altered our approach to this article. We usually include a rather detailed production history for the Hitchcock films that we review. However, in this particular instance, such an approach could potentially rob certain viewers of the richly rewarding experience provided by this outstanding supplemental package. Both this and the incredible image and sound transfers make this Blu-ray package an easy recommendation. It is absolutely essential.

Review by: Devon Powell