On Blu-ray: Alfred Hitchcock's Stage Fright (1950) and Lewis Milestone's Edge of Darkness (1943)

 

In an especially intense time where world events are concerned, it was a bit much to watch this pair of films full of tension and fear, but I enjoyed them for their good qualities, despite feeling thoroughly drained in the end. 

Stage Fright (1950) 

I always do a double take when I see Alfred Hitchcock’s customary cameo in Stage Fright. I think “oh yeah, this is a Hitchcock.” It’s an unusual film in the director’s filmography: less perverse, lighter on the thrills, and more focused on quirky characters. It isn’t a top Hitchcock for me, but I enjoyed revisiting the film on a new Blu-ray from Warner Archive. 

Stage Fright is set in the theater world. Richard Todd is Jonathan Cooper, an actor having an affair with singing stage star Charlotte Inwood (Marlene Dietrich). In the opening scene, she shows up to his flat in a blood-soaked dress and tells him she has killed her husband. He soon finds himself being hunted for the crime and turns to fellow thespian Eve Gill (Jane Wyman), who has a crush on him, for help. 

This is a tricky story, famous for upsetting audiences due to a notorious deception, but it somehow never catches fire. The main appeal is in the cast: Alastair Sim is drily amusing as Eve’s father and actresses including Sybil Thorndike, Kay Walsh, Joyce Grenfell, and Patricia Hitchcock give the proceedings a comic, ghoulish tone. While Todd didn’t affect me one way or the other, Jane Wyman is well-cast as a sharp, but naïve actress, and Marlene Dietrich adds a shot of glamour and sings several songs (she also looks amazing because Hitchcock let her dictate her own lighting, something he seems to have thought she did much better than acting). 

It’s an entertaining if minor entry in the Hitchcock oeuvre. Special features on the disc include a trailer and a short DVD feature-carryover making-of documentary that has major spoilers, so watch after seeing the film.

Edge of Darkness (1943) 

I almost couldn’t bear to finish watching Edge of Darkness. In a time where yet another nation came under attack, it was difficult to watch a drama about the wreckage war has brought and continues to bring in our world. It is an excellent movie: beautifully filmed, impeccably cast, and effectively blunt, but it is brutal. 

While director Lewis Milestone’s breakout film All Quiet on the Western Front (1930) passionately echoed the pacifist message of its source novel, this World War II era follow-up is about fighting back. That said, both films firmly communicate that no one wins in war. The loss and suffering are too great for victory. 

It is the story of a Norwegian village under occupation and how the villagers fight back against the Nazis. The film is relentless in its approach; from the first scene, showing the town strewn with dead bodies to the final, chaotic battle scene. Before that shocking opening moment, there are a few moments of tranquility: a shot of glistening water, snow-covered mountain peaks, and low clouds drifting in the atmosphere. This is how it was before the troubles began. 

The cast is uniformly outstanding, with Errol Flynn a revelation in an atypically reserved performance and Walter Huston is solid as the stubborn but wise town doctor. This is a film for women to shine though; there’s a stunning array of complex, strong female characters. Ann Sheridan, Judith Anderson, Nancy Coleman, and Ruth Gordon are all at their best in devastating and fascinating performances. 

Despite its horrors, Edge of Darkness is a beautifully made film. Cinematographer Sidney Hickox (To Have and Have Not [1944], The Big Sleep [1946]) does his best work here, finding a balance between the fairy tale quality of the village setting and the horrific nastiness of battle. The Franz Waxman score is also magnificent, capturing the heart and spirit of the determined villagers. 

I can recommend this film, but it isn’t an easy watch. As with All Quiet on the Western Front it captures the best of us and the worst of us and that’s a lot to process. 

Special features on the disc include the short Gun to Gun, the cartoon To Duck…or Not to Duck, and a trailer. 

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing copies of the films for review.

Quote: Alfred Hitchcock on Cinema

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The screen must speak its own language, freshly coined.

-Alfred Hitchcock


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TCM Classic Film Festival 2017--The Films Part One: Nitrate and the Newly Restored Egyptian Theatre

Of the many things I looked forward to experiencing at TCM Classic Film Festival 2017, checking out the Grauman's Egyptian Theatre remodel and the four nitrate films to be shown there were at the top of my list.

I have wanted to see film on nitrate for years. Stories of how the format shimmers, and brings out the depth of images fascinated me, not to mention that the stock actually has silver in it. This is literally how the term "the silver screen" came to be.

The forecourt of the Egyptian

While I have always enjoyed seeing films at the Grauman's Egyptian Theatre, at last year's festival I noticed how threadbare the carpet had become and that parts of the building were beginning to crumble away. It was clear that the facilities needed some TLC. This year I was delighted to find the theatre looking as good as new.

The Theatre Remodel and Restoration

The Egyptian Theatre was last remodeled in 1998, when the not-for-profit cultural organization American Cinematheque took on ownership of the building and launched a massive renovation project. This restoration returned the theatre to its former glory and updated its technology.

However, after nearly two decades of heavy use, the theatre was once again in need of attention. Water leakage caused extensive damage to the ceilings inside and in the portico just off the forecourt of the building. The elaborate Egyptian-themed paintings in the forecourt were faded and cracked by the elements. In addition to worn carpet, the auditorium seats were beginning to show their age.

While not as elaborate as the last restoration, it nevertheless took a major effort to once again restore the theatre. With funding primarily from The Hollywood Foreign Press Association, all these issues were addressed, from restoring the murals and inside paint, to fixing the water damage and ensuring that the building was better protected from rain and other elements.

A gorgeous design and that new carpet smell!

Every seat in the auditorium was recovered and new, custom-designed carpets were installed. One of the most fascinating elements of these new floor coverings is that their design mirrors that of the ceiling details in the auditorium. A semi-circle starburst on the floor of the theatre entry matches exactly with the design inside the theatre.

The ceiling art that was mirrored in the lobby carpet design

In addition to restoring the facility, the projection room was completely rebuilt to accommodate new technology and to enable the safe projection of nitrate film. Fire curtains, high-tech extinguishing equipment and other features will help to ensure that if any nitrate film ignites during a screening, the theatre and its patrons will remain unharmed.

Restored forecourt art

Nitrate Film

In her opening night introduction, Deborah Stoiber, collection manager of the moving image department of George Eastman Museum told the audience that the ability to show nitrate at the theatre, from facilities to films was funded by The Hollywood Foreign Press Association, Turner Classic Movies and The Film Foundation in partnership with the American Cinematheque and the Academy Film Archive. That's an impressive group, offering an amazing experience for classic film fans. It is easy to see why TCM staff were so eager for festival goers to attend the four nitrate films on the schedule.

I liked the films that were selected, because they offered a diverse look at nitrate film. Two black and white and two color films were shown and each was stunning in its own way. There was Alfred Hitchcock's original 1934 take on The Man Who Knew Too Much, the quintessential noir Laura (1944), Powell and Pressburger's visually stunning Black Narcissus (1947) and the odd, but beautiful Lady in the Dark (1944).

I found the format to be a revelation, with sometimes subtle, but often noticeable differences in the way light and shadow appeared on the screen, and images more lush and with deeper dimension. These were among my favorite screenings of the festival, living up to my expectations for an excitingly different cinematic experience.

One of the most interesting things I noticed about viewing nitrate with an audience, was that it was not a unanimously thrilling experience. Some festival goers were rendered speechless by the beauty of the images, while others were completely underwhelmed. I spoke to quite a few attendees who could not see what was so magical about this format. While my seatmates raved about the look of Laura, another audience member was disappointed in the experience and felt it was a bad print. I hadn't expected that division of opinion and still haven't got a theory as to why so many of us experienced nitrate in such dramatically different ways, though you could really say the same thing about tastes in film overall.

The Man Who Knew Too Much (1934)

A nitrate film was shown each night of the festival at the Egyptian. Stoiber spoke about the opening night selection, sharing some information about the film print itself. Struck in 1946 for David O. Selznick, it had been donated to the George Eastman Museum by his son Danny. The producer had been interested in viewing the British works of his contracted director Hitchcock. Stoiber also noted that this was Peter Lorre's first film in English.

Then Martin Scorcese took to the podium to offer a more wide-ranging assessment of nitrate, which I found to be an essential introduction. He noted the drawbacks of the format: that it was highly flammable, did not even extinguish in water and would decompose into powder. He said that by the late forties the format had been replaced by acetate, also known as safety stock. No further feature films were made with nitrate after around 1952. The director told a groaning audience that many nitrate prints had been destroyed so that the silver in them could be removed.

Then Scorsese raved about the look of nitrate: how its high silver content resulted in deeper blacks, and a greater spectrum of greys and how with Technicolor the colors were pressed into the film, as if the images were embossed, making the films highly resistant to fading. He called the format, "a different kind of beauty," with lustrous images and a luminosity to it.

I don't know how I would have experienced The Man Who Knew Too Much without this introduction giving me a sort of heads up as to what to observe. I suspect I probably would have thought it was exceptionally filmed or a high quality print. As it was, I saw exactly what Scorsese was talking about, not at first, but as the film progressed.

In this tightly-paced, tense Hitchcock thriller, there are lots of dramatic contrasts in color. I first understood the power of those contrasts in a nightclub scene in which the deep blacks of the men's tuxedos were a stunning contrast to the shimmering glow of the ladies' gowns. I also enjoyed the almost liquid look of the light when it reflected on shiny objects, and in particular the way it snaked down the barrel of a gun in a climactic scene. On the light side of the spectrum, I was spellbound by several profile shots of leading lady Edna Best, where the light on her skin and curled coiffure seemed almost to take on a life of its own.

The most stunning visual effects were in the tense final scene, which took place at night. My first glimpse of the deep blacks on a dark street made me gasp. They were so intense and showed so much detail. Overall I felt more engaged in this film which I had always liked, but not found terribly interesting, because the visual experience was more dramatic.

Laura (1944)

The screening of this Otto Preminger film noir was my favorite of the black and white nitrate presentations. In contrast to the more stark feel of The Man Who Knew Too Much, the look of Laura was luxurious and sensual. I understood what Scorsese meant when he said it was, "one of the most haunting uses of black and white." While the rest of the nitrate films shown tended to have certain moments where the effect of the format was more pronounced, viewing this film was a uniformly mesmerizing experience.

As many in the audience had seen the film several times before, there was a bit of collective disappointment that there were so many breaks in the film. Those who had all but memorized the script were somewhat taken out of the moment by lines that cut out in the middle and other minor breaks. I wasn't too bothered by this, but that was most likely because I had attended the screening with the intention of making the most of the nitrate experience.

Black Narcissus (1947)

In his opening night comments, Scorsese said that he believed this 70-year-old print was one he had seen at the Academy theater in the 1970s. He said he had been late to the screening and sat in the third row, which to him made the film appear like 3D. After wandering the theater with a pair of seatmates as indecisive as I am, we ended up in the second row and got to see the film as he had.

Normally I hate sitting that close, but I suspected it would be an amazing way to see this film, and I was right. This intense story of a group of nuns who attempt to establish a nunnery in the Himalayas, only to be driven mad by the strange environment and mystical feel of the place is best experienced in total immersion.

It was at this screening that I found the most rapt response from the audience. There were moments when I could tell that others were experiencing the same wonder I was. The most stunning moment was in a flashback scene with Deborah Kerr, in which she is standing with a fishing pole in a river. I remember thinking this was a pretty scene before, but the sparkle of the water in nitrate was unreal. You could feel a crowd of hundreds collectively holding its breath. I still think about that moment with wonder, because I never knew film could have such an utterly overwhelming effect.

I also found it interesting which scenes were most entrancing to me in nitrate. While the mountain backdrops were as beautiful as I expected, I found that the interiors most often grabbed my attention, from the play of light on a nun's habit, to the flicker of a young student's eyes. There's one scene in particular that amazed me, where a simple bar cart appeared as perfectly bathed in light as a Vermeer, with the bottles and glasses shimmering and seeming almost to be 3D.

Lady in the Dark (1944)

My final nitrate film was also the last of the festival for me. Scorsese had praised its, "real, vibrant Technicolor," but I had heard the story of this rarely seen film was not to modern tastes.

This was the one nitrate film that most of the audience hadn't seen, and there was an interesting buzz about it afterwards. It stars Ginger Rogers as a emotionally-conflicted magazine editor who is chided by her co-worker Ray Milland for her seriousness and supposedly plain and manly clothes. She struggles to understand her anxiety, and her reluctance to commit to both her longtime lover (Warner Baxter) and a much sought-after movie star (Jon Hall) who takes an interest in her. She begins to see a psychiatrist (Barry Sullivan), who brings all his 1940s male chauvinism to her diagnosis, but does uncover the reasons for her distress.

This is a profoundly sexist film. While I was a little surprised by the pearl clutching by audience members afterwards, after all, as classic film fans we see plenty of plots like this one, I did have to admit that this take on the duties and roles of females was particularly distasteful. Even Rogers' therapist thinks that she'll be fine as long as she eases up on the work responsibilities and starts dressing prettier.

I still adored this film though, because like most films directed by Mitchell Leisen, it is gorgeous. With outrageous costumes by Edith Head, including a show-stopping mink and sequin number that cost thousands, luxurious set dressings and surreal dream sequences that could stand on their own as entertaining shorts, this was definitely a film to soak in on a superficial level. If you can set aside your analysis of 1940s society, it can be an intensely enjoyable experience.

Once again it was clear why Lady in the Dark had been chosen for the nitrate screenings. The colors really popped, skin looked velvety and touchable and even something as simple as a leather chair had a shimmering wow factor.

I am delighted that my nitrate experience at TCMFF turned out to be as impressive as I'd hoped. Though I don’t know if I prefer it to other formats, I do think it is a wonderful way to view films. I'd love to see more movies on nitrate and hope that TCM will screen the format again in future festivals.

This is a great video with more details about the Egyptian Theatre restoration:



Check out my full TCMFF 2017 coverage here.

All photos property of A Classic Movie Blog

Book Review--Hitchcock, Roar and Manicures in Tippi: A Memoir

Tippi: A Memoir
Tippi Hedren with Lindsay Harrison
William Morrow, 2016

Though she's made her living acting, performing has never been the center of Tippi Hedren's existence. Most famous for the two movies she made with Alfred Hitchcock, The Birds (1963) and Marnie (1964), those experiences were brief, if significant, episodes in a busy, rich life. The actress and animal advocate speaks candidly about it all in a new memoir.

While her family had to be careful with money, Hedren was blessed with loving, supportive parents and the sort of beauty that made opportunity come to her. When she was in her teens, a modeling scout gave her a business card as she walked down the street one day, and it was the first break in a long career. When she began to age out of modeling, Tippi moved to Los Angeles, where commercial work led to her being discovered by Alfred Hitchcock, who she remembers with "admiration, gratitude and utter disgust."

Without fully understanding what she was signing up for, Hedren agreed to enter an acting contract with Hitchcock, eager to find a regular source of income as she was a single mother (to actress Melanie Griffith). The director and his wife Alma groomed the young actress for stardom, and she was shocked to eventually be offered the lead in The Birds.

Hedren in 1965

What followed was an intense experience, full of the perks of stardom, but also horrific because of Hitchcock's unrelenting sexual obsession with the actress. There has been a great deal of criticism of Hedren's revelations about her relationship with the director. I've found it difficult to understand the skepticism, since it was no secret that Hitch was known for erotic fixations on his actresses, and for making inappropriate sexual comments to stars like Ingrid Bergman (who dealt with them by laughing and saying he was a "naughty boy").

No one can account for what happened between Hedren and Hitchcock in private, but it is entirely plausible that the director groomed the actress in the hopes that he would better be able to control her than the bigger stars he usually had in his films. It could easily have been his way of finding both an actress for his film and the fulfilment of his erotic obsessions.

Hedren and Hitchcock in a promo for The Birds

The criticism that Hedren has "changed her story" over the years can be answered by the scorn of the male critics and writers who have commented since the release of the book. Victims of sexual harassment and abuse are inevitably the targets of more abuse and disbelief when they make their stories public. It is always a risk, and talking about it takes great bravery. Often that is why women chose to speak of it later in life, when there is less at stake.

Hedren's experiences with Hitchcock and indeed acting in general are not the focus of her memoirs though. Most of the book is devoted to how she came to love big cats and other exotic animals, and how she has cared and advocated for them throughout her life. This includes providing a sanctuary for homeless animals at her preserve Shambala and working to change laws to ensure their protection.

Another notable effort Hedren made to bring attention to her beloved animals was in her production of the notoriously troubled Roar (1981). Along with her dangerously impetuous husband Noel Marshall, the actress spent eleven years making a film featuring the animals on the preserve. Acting alongside their own children, they and the crew members suffered through life-threatening injuries (they practically had their own wing in the local hospital), lack of funding and even natural disasters to make what was ultimately a financial disaster (it probably would have been worse if they went with their original title choice: Lions, Lions and More Lions).

In addition to her animal advocacy, Hedren has also devoted a lot of time to human rights organizations. During the Vietnam War she took two dangerous trips to visit soldiers. In the war's aftermath, she returned to provide services and resources to Vietnamese refugees.

This led to Hedren taking on responsibility for several refugees who traveled to the States, where she helped them to find training and employment. The women admired the actress's nails, inspiring her to ask her manicurist to train them in the profession, after which she helped them to start their own businesses. With that one effort, she started a billion dollar manicure industry that still thrives today.

Hedren and her daughter Melanie Griffith in 2014

Hedren shares these experiences in a frank, open manner, though keeping the more salacious romantic details under wraps. She is honest about the shortcomings in her three failed marriages, but grateful for the good that came of them. Clearly it is her daughter Melanie who is the true love of her life, and her devotion to her, and candor about the lack of attention she gave her as child in her early years despite her deep affection, are touching and refreshing.

It's a bit disturbing how unaware Hedren seemed of the danger she caused others with the frequent escapes her big cats made, sometimes into residential neighborhoods. In one passage she seems more concerned about the trouble her preserve could face if one of her escaped cats were to attack someone, rather than fearing for an innocent victim. She seems to have come around though, and even worked to enact legislation which would protect humans from the dangerous, natural impulses of these animals.

Hedren has had so much handed to her because of her beauty and strong family background and she could have had a much simpler, easier life. That she has chosen the harder, more fascinating road and used her privilege to help others throughout her life is inspiring and admirable. In fact, in a further act of generosity, all proceeds from her memoir will be used to fund the Shambala preserve.

It's a fascinating read from an independent, adventurous and big-hearted woman.

Alfred Hitchcock's Suspicion (1941) on Blu-ray

Following The Wrong Man (1956) and I Confess (1953), Warner Archive has released yet another Alfred Hitchcock film, Suspicion (1941), on Blu-ray. This film has the distinction of containing the only performance in one of the director's films to win an Academy Award. Leading lady Joan Fontaine took home the Oscar for that year and Cary Grant is well-matched with her as a man who steals her heart and upends her life.

Fontaine is Lina, a timid, wealthy woman who has yet to find the love of her life. She meets the notoriously irresponsible Johnny Asquith in a train carriage. He is handsome, and judging from a photo she sees of him in the social pages, catnip to the ladies, but there's an early red flag when he bums a stamp off of her to upgrade his third class ticket to first.

It turns out the two circulate in the same social circles, and Johnny quickly sets his sights on Lina. Being the object of romantic affection thrills her, and soon they are married. It is then that the new bride realizes just how irresponsible her husband can be, as in his quest for wealth he bets, steals and lies, and all without a bit of shame. Before long, she begins to suspect he is also willing to kill to increase his bank balance.

I've always found Suspicion a well-made, but difficult film. It's so painful to watch Lina being constantly disappointed by Johnny. She is so desperately in love and she wants to believe in him, but he continues to let her down. He has as little chance of playing it straight as she does of leaving him.

There are plenty of pleasant distractions to help manage the discomfort of Lina's situation though: beautiful landscape shots, lux interiors and two of the most beautiful and fascinating stars to ever work with Hitchcock.

Grant and Fontaine could be incredibly sexy together. In an early scene where he's pinning up her hair, the way he briefly touches her neck is simultaneously erotic and calculated. Both the sensuality and his intense, if somewhat devious focus on her pack a charge. 

These oddly-matched characters are a perfect fit for Grant and Fontaine. It seemed impossible for Cary Grant to play a part in which he wasn't handsome and full of confidence in himself. Even in Bringing Up Baby (1938) he is impossibly hunky in his geeky glasses, and sure of his intellectual prowess. On the other hand, Fontaine, one of the most beautiful women to ever appear on the big screen, was expert at convincing audiences she was actually mousy and entirely lacking in self confidence. I can't think of anyone else who could play these roles. 

The supporting cast helps to keep the tension from becoming too unbearable. As Johnny's bumbling friend Beaky, Nigel Bruce is the perfect palate cleanser and mood lightener. It's also amusing to see Dame May Whitty and Sir Cedric Hardwicker playing Lina's humorously rigid parents. As a murder-obsessed crime novelist, Auriol Lee is amusingly morbid.

Painful or not, the film works as an exploration of a woman's experiences with suspicion. It plays with perception throughout, putting the audience in Lina's unsteady shoes. It's a much different take on the story than in the original novel Before the Fact, by Anthony Berkeley (written under the pen name Francis Iles), in which Lina's suspicions have a more chilling basis in fact.

While the notorious ending may seem like a cop-out, I tend to see it as courting danger in a different way than in the novel. It's hard to believe that someone as morally corrupt as Johnny would suddenly find a way to change himself. Perhaps he might not be a killer, but that doesn't mean he can't still be a psychopath.

The Blu-ray image is nicely balanced, with a bit of softness, but not so much that it lacks the necessary definition. Special features include a trailer and a short featurette about the film, a carryover from the previous Warner DVD edition, which has some interesting theories about how Hitchcock really wanted to end the film.

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.

Alfred Hitchcock's I Confess (1953) on Blu-ray

The swooning sadness of romantic yearning hangs over I Confess like a lonely specter. Not what I expected from an Alfred Hitchcock film, especially one featuring a priest and the Catholic church. This lesser known drama from the master of suspense is a departure for the director in many ways, though still familiar in theme and style. I recently had the chance to view the film on the newly-released Blu-ray from Warner Archive.

Montgomery Clift stars as Father Michael Logan, a priest who lives in the charmingly old-world Quebec City. Late one night, Otto, a German immigrant who works as a handyman with his housekeeper wife at the church where Logan lives confesses to his employer that he has murdered the man he gardens for on the side. The dead man turns out to have a significant connection to Logan and his former love the wealthy Ruth Grandfort (Anne Baxter), and he soon finds himself under suspicion for the crime. As a sharp-eyed police detective, Karl Malden is especially wary of this reserved man of the cloth. Still, though things don't look good for Logan, he refuses to tell the police what he knows about the crime.

Whether or not Father Logan will betray Otto isn't a significant part of the conflict, at least as Clift plays the role. Of course he will keep a secret told in confession, even if it means he will hang for it. This makes him a simultaneously passive and heroic character. Without the ability to expose the true murder, and also being unwilling to risk the reputation of his former love, he is forced to observe an unjust situation without comment. Nevertheless, he is strong, because he never wavers in his devotion to his vows, always sure of what he must do as much as he wishes to save himself. If he breaks his promise to his faith, his whole purpose in life will be destroyed, so why save himself?

Clift was a fragile soul, and he appears especially vulnerable in I Confess. While he plays a reserved, unemotional character, the actor is such a sensitive performer that he's able to say all that he needs to with a brief, eye-crinkling smile or a pensive flash of the eyes. No matter what role he played, those eyes always seemed to say "help", he was not the sort for heroic parts and he was well cast as the anxiety-ridden Father Logan.

That Clift was able to accomplish such a subtle performance is due to a careful balancing act on the set. Hitchcock didn't like the star's method acting, or the way his acting coach was always hiding in the shadows, waiting for the actor to look to her for approval. Monty's drinking problem would also complicate filming; especially in an emotional scene with Baxter where he was so glassy eyed the actress struggled to make a connection with her costar. The confrontation-averse Hitchcock relied on Clift's old friend Malden to intervene, and his advice to the actor helped keep the production on track.

Anne Baxter was a last minute replacement for Anita Björk, who horrified Jack Warner when she arrived in Hollywood with an illegitimate child and her lover. It was too soon after the Ingrid Bergman scandal to take the risk on the director's first choice. Baxter was clothed in Björk's costumes, agreed to dye her hair a lighter blonde per Hitchcock's request, and felt that perhaps she was not as pretty her director wished.

That sense of unease serves Baxter well. Though Ruth has married well, she still feels overwhelming love for Michael, whom she lost to the church after he got the calling while serving in World War II. She always seems to be on the edge of her seat, never relaxing into the life for which she has settled. Her dreams of Logan haunt her.

In their scenes together, it is heartbreaking to see Ruth overwhelmed with lust for a man who no longer belongs to her. The lush romance of their youth together has disappeared and she cannot find another path to happiness. As he potentially faces the loss of his own love, an enduring connection with the church, Logan seems to understand her grief.

From the supporting actors to the bit players, this is one of the more interesting casts Hitchcock has assembled. The sharp wit of Malden's inspector is a fine contrast to the more gentile gloss of Brian Aherne as Crown Prosecutor Robertson, who tries Logan's case. In a performance even more sensitive than Clift's, German actress Dolly Haas is heartbreakingly vulnerable as the murderous Otto's wife Alma. That name was a direct reference to the director's wife; the film is in many respects a tribute to her personal and professional support of her husband. I also enjoyed a pair of school girls in bit parts as witnesses from the night of the murder. The way they played off of each other was quirky, natural and a nice bit of humor in an otherwise deeply serious film.

Hitchcock makes effective use of the elegant Quebec City locations. The old world feel enhances the feeling of romance, both in the heat of the moment and when it is only a lingering memory. It is a novel setting to explore the director's common theme of the wronged man, its beauty a contrast to the darkness of the story.

I'm glad I finally saw I Confess. I enjoyed it more than I expected. While it is a well-crafted story with strong performances, I found that I liked it most because it put me under a sad, sweet spell, infused with loss and longing. While this sort of mood is unusual coming from Hitchcock, he managed that different tone well.

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.

Hitchcock's The Wrong Man (1956) on Blu-ray

I found a real-life story more terrifying than any fiction...this is it!--Alfred Hitchcock

The downbeat, but moving The Wrong Man was Alfred Hitchcock's only film to be based on a true story. It is also perhaps one of his most personal films, focusing more intensely on the director's mistrust of police and authority which figures often in his other work. Henry Fonda and Vera Miles star in what would be among the strongest roles for both actors in this tense drama that is now available on Blu-ray from Warner Archive.

Fonda stars as Christopher Emmanuel "Manny" Balestro, a musician who really was the string bassist in a jazz combo at the Stork Club. In 1951, only five years before the release of The Wrong Man, he was accused of a series of hold-ups because he so closely resembled the real thief. As he struggled to clear his name, the musician's wife Rose (played by Vera Miles in the movie) began to lose her sanity, leaving him with another, more complicated problem to face.

Balestro's story first became public in the 1953 LIFE Magazine article A Case of Identity, written by journalist Herbert Brean. Brean wrote a film treatment for the story, which he then sold to Warner Bros. Hitchcock then hired playwright and screenwriter Maxwell Anderson to write the screenplay, which would stay very close to Manny's true story.

This fidelity to reality can also be seen in the way Hitchcock films The Wrong Man. While he made liberal use of sets, there are many fascinating location shots of mid-century New York, including a few noir-worthy nighttime shots of the city and a couple of scenes filmed in the actual Stork Club.

This is one of Hitchcock's most subtle works. He seems more in tune with the emotions of his characters and less preoccupied with games and plot twists. It is as if he feels deeply for his subject, and in a way identifies with him.

In fact, Hitchcock had faced what he viewed as wrongful imprisonment as a five-year-old. Having misbehaved, the young Hitch's father sent to the local police station with a note that instructed that he be locked up so that he may be taught a lesson. Though the boy was only behind bars for a few minutes, that experience haunted him throughout his life, and it is assumed is at least part of the reason his films so often featured people who were wrongly accused or targeted.

You can see the director's empathy with his terror-stricken characters in the details he chooses to highlight. He notes the way the arresting detectives hook their hands onto Manny's arm, depriving him of his freedom, and the way he reacts in silent horror to the fingerprinting ink on his hands. As he is searched and methodically relieved of his personal belongings, the camera steadily observes his increasing humiliation and helplessness.

Hitchcock is equally attentive to Miles, as she silently and often in complete stillness communicates the deterioration of Rose's mental health. The director was remarkably in simpatico with the actress, always knowing how to frame her for maximum emotional impact. She in return accomplishes one of her best performances. I still wish I could have seen what this remarkably sensitive performer could have done with the lead role in Vertigo (1958), but she became pregnant and could not accept the role.

Fonda is also at his best here in an equally subtle performance that I feel has been underrated because he is so understated. He plays a man who draws suspicion to himself not just because he resembles the real criminal, but also for his lack of outward charm. He is an introvert, sensitive, a bit tense and always with a serious expression on his face. Manny is the kind of man who gets lost in his own head and doesn't realize the fear he can cause when strangers wonder what he is thinking. Fonda communicates all those characteristics with delicacy, creating a character who is complex and intriguing not despite his remarkably clean-cut ways, but because of them.

And Manny is thoroughly decent, surprisingly so for a musician who makes his living in nightclubs. He doesn't drink, he goes home right after work and he is an attentive father and husband, despite his unusual schedule. Hitchcock gives you plenty of time to like him before the trouble begins.

For those reasons, the idea that he could be suspected of being wrong is utterly confusing to him. That hint of doubt in Rose, the thought that her seemingly gentle and religiously devout husband could be guilty seems to play as much of a role in her breakdown as the stress of the accusation.

Hitchcock lavishes loathing on the system that fails these decent people. The detectives rush to blame Manny, never asking him for an alibi or even giving him the opportunity to call his wife so that she knows why he hasn't come home on time. They seem determined to find him guilty, so they can close their case and gloat over their investigative skills. His lawyer, while often helpful, can also be insensitive, laughing with a colleague as he endures the boredom of another trial while Manny looks at him in mute disbelief.

Bernard Hermann matches the low key tone of the film with an unusually subdued and menacing, jazz-tinged score. He features the double-bass, Manny's instrument, as if to always make the musician's presence felt, even when he is not in a scene. It gives the music an interesting depth, as if it is also a character.

The Wrong Man is a slow, excruciating and deeply compelling film, that ends up being more touching than you would expect because of the loving, if ultimately troubled family at its core.

While the picture has a bit more grain and softness to it than in the typical Warner Archive Blu-ray release, the image quality is consistent and suits the gritty setting of the film.

The disc includes a trailer for the film and the making-of documentary Guilt Trip: Hitchcock and The Wrong Man, which is an interesting exploration of the drama's themes and elements with particularly thoughtful insight from Peter Bogdanovich, Robert Osborne and film critic Richard Schickel.

Check out the LIFE Magazine article that inspired the film here.

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.

Quote of the Week

Dialogue should simply be a sound among other sounds, just something that comes out of the mouths of people whose eyes tell the story in visual terms.

-Alfred Hitchcock

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Quote of the Week

If I blew a line or made some other mistake, and apologized — "I’m sorry, Hitch" — he would just say: "It’s only a mew-vie, only a mew-vie."

-Farley Granger, about Alfred Hitchcock


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For the Love of Film III Fundraiser: Vertigo Retold by Its Heroine

About the fundraiser, from the Siren herself:

This year, we are raising funds for the National Film Preservation Foundation's project, The White Shadow, directed by Graham Cutts and written, assistant-directed, and just generally meddled with in a number of different ways by the one and only Alfred Hitchcock. The goal is to raise $15,000 to stream this once-lost, now-found, three-reel fragment online, free to all, and to record the score by Michael Mortilla.

With over 100 bloggers participating, I know we can reach this goal. Why not donate now? Here's the link:

 

For my entry, I have posted a slightly-revised version of a book review I wrote last month. It is the fascinating, devastating story of Judy Barton, the tragic heroine of Vertigo (1958). I would recommend this book to any fan of Hitchcock:

The Testament of Judith Barton
Wendy Powers and Robin McLeod
2011

I felt like the embattled heroine of The Testament of Judith Barton when I started reading this book. I meant to read only a few pages, but then it sucked me in.

There are few movie characters I’ve felt more empathy for than Judy Barton in Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo (1958). The poor woman comes to San Francisco alone, ready to begin her life, and it’s as if the men of the town are waiting to destroy her, grabbing at her like the animated trees in The Wizard of Oz.

First, she’s seduced and abandoned by a wealthy man, though it is never clear whether it is money, passion or both that drove her to him. Then, when she thinks she’s met a decent fellow, he not only won’t acknowledge her identity, but totally strips it away from her until he believes he has recovered the apparition that obsesses him.

The Testament of Judith Barton tells the story of this young woman from Salina, Kansas. It takes her from childhood to the conclusion of the filmed Vertigo story in a rich, troubling and engrossing tale.

Due to a remarkable dispensation by the Hitchcock estate to use quotes from Vertigo in the book, the voice of the film haunts the story, but it somehow does not overtake it. I think this is primarily because the authors set up their own world before diving into the elements that are more familiar to fans of Hitchcock’s film.

I thought I would be impatient with the early scenes in Judy’s life when I started reading. After all, I was interested in the book because I wanted to see Vertigo through her eyes, not necessarily the rest of her life. As her story developed, I found that I liked that background story as much, if not more than the San Francisco narrative connected to the movie.

Judy is portrayed as a straightforward small town girl. She’s a tomboy, who loves her jeweler father and spending time outdoors. Though she’s the opposite of her more feminine sister, they have a close relationship and her mother is supportive and loving.

It was interesting to get to know the young Judy, and the people she knew in her early life. She has a bit of edge, but not so much that it obscures her sensitivity and decency. I relished Judy's interactions with her family and friends, and the details about gemstones and jewelry that were woven into the narrative as she learned her father’s trade.

Once Judy began her life in San Francisco, I became more critical, even skeptical of the direction the story was taking. Little details irked me, mostly when I thought that the Judy I knew in the movie would not have behaved in a certain way. I wish I would have just trusted the authors, because they make it work.

Vertigo is not a very plausible story, and this novel cannot be expected to be either, but in so many ways it is. I believed Judy could have been the way she is portrayed, and I felt for her as if she was a real person. Even knowing her fate, I kept hoping that something would change, and that was entirely due to the hold this riveting tale had on me.

Thank you to Wendy Powers for providing a copy of this book for review. Purchase information here.

Please consider helping the White Shadows effort by clicking on the image below and making a donation. It doesn't have to be much. Pennies don't come from hell!

Quote of the Week

Always make an audience suffer as much as possible.

-Alfred Hitchcock

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TV Tuesday: Alfred Hitchcock on The Dick Cavett Show

Alfred Hitchcock discusses on set love affairs with his typical dry humor in this 1972 clip from The Dick Cavett Show. I think it's funny how corny the Master of Suspense was.