More
Early Hitchcock Gems!
By
Kristin Battestella
It's
Round Two featuring more early British fare and young Hollywood
Alfred Hitchcock diamonds in the rough!
The Lady Vanishes – Only
one lovely train passenger has seen the titular dame, causing rail
car mayhem for Margaret Lockwood (The
Wicked Lady) and Michael
Redgrave (Mourning Becomes
Electra) in this 1938
mystery. Travel delays and assorted languages invoke the tourist
hustle and bustle as our ensemble is humorously introduced – from
the governess rambling about her past charges and country songs or
dances to cranky Englishmen commandeering the phone just to ask the
line from London for the cricket scores. All the rooms are let out in
this hectic hotel save for the maid's quarters, and she comes with
the room, wink! The bellhop is trying not to look at the scandalous
bare legs as our bachelorette orders caviar and champagne, but the
men in bed together is gay in both senses of the word with jolly good
innuendo. This quirky inn comforts the audience yet there are
whispers of pretty American girls and the almighty dollar getting
preferential treatment, newspaper sensationalism, and intensifying
continental troubles. A hit on the head at the train station leads to
a kaleidoscope of confusion, unfamiliar faces, magic tricks, and
slight of hand illusion. Everyone's interconnected – incognito
affairs, musicians, a famous doctor, magicians, and foreign
diplomats. Some genuinely don't recall seeing the woman in question,
but others have an ulterior motive for not wanting the train delayed,
willful gaslighting compounded by lies, lawyers watching their own
back, and that unreliable bump on the head. Tea in the dining car
alone, suspicious wine glasses – complaints about non-English
speakers, nationalism, political secrets, and conspiracies. Who's
really on who's side? Train whistle harbingers pepper the constant
hum of travel, matching the rail montages, impressive rear
projection, and black and white photography. Despite the confined
setting, the pace remains fittingly on the move with perilous comings
and goings between cars. There are stoles and divine hats, too, but
that giant monogram scarf looks more like a napkin stuck in her
collar! Humorous bunging in the cargo with magician's rabbits, trick
boxes, false bottoms, and contortionists is good on its own, however,
perhaps such fun should have happened earlier before the serious
mystery escalates. There are some contrived leaps as well – it's
amazing how all the Englishmen can shoot to kill and do it so easily
– and though not naming the enemy country is understandable thanks
to political relevance then and now, the obligatory bad guys are just
nondescript. Likewise, one can see why the sardonic comedy teams and
shootouts were included, and Flightplan
really steals from this right down to the writing on the foggy
window. Fortunately, the ticking clock race to the border, wrong
track turns, gunfire standoffs, and international chases roll on
right up to the end. But seriously, what it is with Hitchcock and
trains already?
Lifeboat– Journalist Tallulah Bankhead is stranded on the high seas
with torpedoes, sunken ships, u-boats, and Nazis in this 1944
self-contained thriller nominated for Best Director, Story by John
Steinbeck, and Black and White Cinematography. There's no need to
waste time on spectacle with the in media res sinking –
flotsam and jetsam with everything from English playing cards to dead
Germans heralds the nationalism and wartime grays to come amid damp
passengers, dirty sailors, famous dames, mothers, babies, and
injuries. Tallulah's in furs, smoking a cigarette, and dictating what
junk to bridge aboard, and despite the tiny boat space, multiple
conversations happen fore and aft thanks to strategic intercutting
between the immediate wounded and more self-absorbed survivors. Fog
and windswept water sprays accent the superb rear projection, and the
strategic filming captures everyone from all angles with foreground
zooms and background silhouettes. Natural ocean sounds and the
rocking of the ship, however, might make sensitive viewers seasick.
There are numerous colloquialisms as well as accents and
translations, but conversation is all we have – a stage-like
talkative jam packed with insinuating layers, interrogations, and
double meanings. Can you make your own law in open waters and toss
the Nazi overboard? Everyone feels the need to establish who's
American, Christian, or had relatives in Czechoslovakia and France,
and the black cook is surprised he's included in all the decisions.
It's unfortunately expected that Canada Lee's (Cry the Beloved
Country) Joe is the least developed character, yet he's also the
most genuine person starboard. This is also a more diverse ensemble
than often seen in today's movies, and three women talk to each other
about shell shock and lacking supplies but nobody knows the right
prayers for a burial at sea. Cold, wet, sleepless individual
vignettes allow the refreshingly flawed stranded to come clean, and
at the time having a Nazi officer as a realistic character rather
than an evil archetype was understandably controversial. Testy
questions on who's skipper, united sympathies, and diplomatic
delegating drop the formalities, as after all “we're all in the
same boat.” However, information is not always forthcoming and no
one knows the course to Bermuda – except Herr Kapitan. Can you
trust his seamanship? A compass, typewriter, watches, diamond
bracelets, brandy, and newspapers with Sir Alfred in the classifieds
add tangibles and some humor alongside baseball talk, debate on the
superior rowing capabilities of the Master Race, and other unexpected
camaraderie, for “dying together is more personal than living
together.” Repeated “Some of my best friends are...” quips also
address differences as rambling on past regrets becomes veiled talk
about shocking revelations and amputations. Lost material possessions
give way to symbolic shoes, bare feet, shirtless men, and tattoos,
but there's time for intense poker, lipstick, and flirtation. Bermuda
is the macguffin, and storms, hunger, delirium, suspicion, and men
overboard get in the way of getting there. Rather than just special
effects cool, wet and wild action heightens the internal boat
suspense as beards grow and tables turn. They're surrounded by
undrinkable water, rain is precious, fishing bait is nonexistent, and
sudden twists happen with nothing but a splash. Violent mutinies and
shellfire are surprising to see in a forties movie, but Bankhead is a
stunning, strong, sexy older woman able to be kissing or angry in the
same scene – a multifaceted female role few and far between these
days. Once stripped bare by the consequences of welcoming your enemy,
do you accept your fate, continue to row, or laugh at the irony?
Perhaps this warning against fatally lumping all together and the
guilty lessons learned in such a no win situation can only be
appreciated in retrospect, as this tale tries to see everything from
both sides, remaining gripping from beginning to end with nothing but
eight people in a boat in the middle of the ocean intensity. It makes
one wonder why nowadays everything is so gosh darn bombastic.
Sabotage
– Buzzing light bulbs go dark in this 1936 caper based on The
Secret Agent by Joseph
Conrad – not to be confused with Hitchcock's previous Secret
Agent or later Saboteur.
Whew! Crowds are both confused and giggling in this blackout, singing
or arguing by candlelit and wanting their money back from the down
picture show. Flashlights, the silhouetted skyline, shadow schemes,
and askew camera angles add to the power tampering suspicion, and
suspenseful notes follow our mysterious man in black as he returns
home, washes his hands, and claims innocence – despite his
neighbor's claims to the contrary. He talks of money coming soon yet
doesn't want to draw attention to his cinema business, but the
professional, public, and domestic are intertwined with families
living above the bustling marketplace. Fine dresses, fedoras, and
vintage cars add to the quaint, however no one is who they seem
thanks to grocers with an angle, Scotland Yard whispering of trouble
abroad, and shadowed men with their backs to the camera conversing
over promised payments. The innocuous movies, aquarium, and pet shop
host seemingly innocent ingredients used for making bombs, and
onscreen days of the week lie in wait while the public is occupied by
the picture show, hoodwinked by what's in plain sight. Creepy
packages, trick bird cages, and threatening “sleeping with the
fishes” coded messages become a tongue in cheek nod to the nature
of cinema and hidden observations as covers are blown and men
scatter. Our wife is clueless abut her husband and oblivious to her
family being used for information, creating an interesting dynamic
for her between the handsome detective and a damn cold, cruel
husband. Who are behind these plans and why? Despite several great
sequences, convenient plot points leave too many unanswered
questions. The busy start is rough around the edges, meandering for
half the movie before becoming eerily provocative as a child delivers
a fatal ticking package in the middle of the crowded market. We know
the route and the time – delaying for street sales, demonstration
detours, and interfering parades ups the suspense alongside traffic
jams, stoplights, and montages featuring clock tower gears, dangerous
flammable film, our innocuous brown papered package, and the puppy on
the bus next to it! A clock on every street corner checks each five
minutes passing amid town criers, newsboys, crescendos, and clues in
the film canister that go for the big shocker while silent visuals
bring the threats home to the dinner table. Although I don't think
today we'd have a cartoon singing “Who killed Cock Robin?” but
that might just be me.
Love
It or Hate It?
Jamaica Inn – Charles
Laughton (The Private Life
of Henry VIII) and Maureen
O'Hara (The Quiet Man)
star in this 1939 adaptation of Daphne du Maurier's novel –
Hitchcock's last picture before his stateside huzzahs. There's
nineteenth century lawlessness, shipwrecks, and the perilous Cornish
coast with rocky buildings to match the blustery and unforgiving
waters and storms. The opening montages are ye olde well done, and
the crashing waves, sailor screams, and squawking seagulls accent the
bleak Gothic mood. The unforgiving start continues with bumpy
carriage rides, dangerous roads, and a spunky niece warned off the
titular lodge only to be wooed with Byron quotes. Creepy uncles, more
lecherous men, and racketeering add more brutality – is someone
double crossing the scheme or pocketing a percentage? Eavesdropping,
spying from above, and perspective camera angles are early Hitchcock
hallmarks along with up close knives, a wrongly accused man, and
winding stairs. Marriage is rough, women both help or hinder the
crimes or remain helpless, and blossoming opposites attract banter
sets off the rescues, ironic twists, surprises, and enemies in
disguise. Unfortunately, it's tough to tell the pirate-esque but RP
speaking henchmen apart, and the back and forth smuggling is overly
chatty plodding delaying the better parts. This should be more
scandalous or scary than it is, and apparently years worth of crime
is just so irrevocably disrupted by a nosy girl in less than two
days? Laughton's fake nose likewise takes over the ham – it's not
quite Doctor Evil with the pinky smirk but close – and those
ridiculously obvious eyebrows are not the kind of hiding in plain
sight we had in mind. Using this villain for some kind of comedic
effect misses the mark because we are so excruciatingly aware of the
scene chewing, which is doubly surprising from the otherwise always
on point Laughton. There is some suspense if you aren't familiar with
the story, but the book is better thanks to the uneven cat and mouse
here. The standard thirties period drama never rises to truly Gothic
ominous, but it can be bemusingly watchable fun if you don't expect
perfection on the scale of Hitchcock and Du Maurier's next venture:
Rebecca.
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