00 MOORE

LIVE AND LET DIE (1973)

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Eon Productions

In setting-up the preposition for a new 007, Live and Let Die opens with a series of intriguing tableaux prior its phenomenal title sequence. Still with a remaining flush of youth, Roger Moore makes his debut not in the office but in flagrante with a fellow secret agent. Roles are further reversed, with his superior M not waiting for but calling upon him. Thus, we are afforded a tantalising glimpse into James’ private apartment.

Oozing charm, Moore quickly establishes himself as something of an everyman – the screen on which others project. As a geeky, skinny child, even I could dream of escaping every dastardly scheme armed not only with Q’s magnetic watch but also with my wits. Throughout this well-paced adventure, Moore glides through each twist and turn of the plot as if he’s been doing it for years. Which, previously, as The Saint, he had.

The cinematic series takes on a life of its own, separate from the books. Extraordinary, to consider that I’ve never read one of Fleming’s novels although I am fascinated by his life and work. Live and Let Die is packed with iconic moments (at least for aficionados) such as the upper deck of a bus sawn-off by a low bridge. Or 007 stepping-stoning across alligators to escape yet another ingenious but unsuccessful death-sentence.

Meanwhile, the stereotypically ‘American’ sheriff (alas not the only stereotype) JW Pepper who appeared hilarious in my youth seems at best a slight strain and at worst over-played. These days, I’d rather his overly drawn-out scenes were severely edited. What was once – as with so much else – ‘amusing’ in the 1970s now intrudes on what could be a more intensely stylish thriller. What remains is its oddly soothing familiarity... A story played over and over, with which to escape when we can.

THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN (1974)

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Eon Productions

One of my favourites although one of the least popular, apparently. And Heaven knows why. With Christopher Lee as the villain, Hervé Villechaize as his sidekick, the sultry Maud Adams, and the ballsy Britt Ekland, who could ask for ‘Moore’? Granted, there’s not much of a story to go on. Other than the tables being turned: 007 is not the assassin but the target. Who needs a plot when you can immerse yourself in the glamour and accoutrements of espionage?

One of the highlights, for me, is the temporal Headquarters housed in the lopsided wreck of the Queen Elizabeth. It’s all so terribly British. No detail missed, its furniture slotted into diagonal walls and its occupants acting as if nothing’s amiss. The film is all angles, disguise, smoke-and-mirrors, circusry. A crossover between reality and artifice seem much like Moore’s constant reliance on The Charm Offensive. Situations and outcomes are layered as first one thing and then as another. A too-subtle mismatch against the vulgarity of the genre? A vulgarity syphoned, repeatedly, via the charisma of Sir Roger. The masquerade somewhat predictably, though satisfyingly, leads back to where it started. With (like the mindlessly absent Martini) one of many deliciously sharp twists.

THE SPY WHO LOVED ME (1977)

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Eon Productions

The Spy Who Loved Me benefits in no small measure from the sultry, slinky presence of Barbara Bach who was born to play 007’s Russian counterpart. Moore is on top form and as such it’s almost difficult to perceive anyone else playing Bond. The film kicks off with a magnificent ski chase alongside the superb Bond 77 theme performed by Marvin Hamlisch. It culminates in a deathly and prolonged silence, until a Union Jack parachute opens and descends into the silhouetted hands of Maurice Binder’s title sequence – draw a breath! – accompanied by Carly Simon’s classic rendition of Nobody Does It Better. Worth the price of admission alone.

One of the best super-villains ever is the stoically insane Karl Stromberg, as admirably portrayed, with an inner glow of delight, by Curt Jürgens. His undercurrent seething evil is perfectly placed in his eye-bogglingly stupendous underwater lair. The producers shared a subversive (submerged?) thrill in parodying the cinema hits of the era. Thus, not only do man-eating sharks abound but the most memorable and dominant henchman is none too blatantly monikered Jaws. Enter Richard Kiel, replete with steel-daggered teeth, standing at a modest 7’ 2”. A rambling narrative careens along, above and below sea level, across desert plains, and ‘delving into the treasures’ of a beautifully photographed Cairo. Peppered with flashes of drama and essential touches of violence. Throughout which, Bach retains her cool and Moore his effortless suavity.

What makes Moore’s Bond are all that should work against him (slightly too old, slightly too comfy in his own skin, slightly too nonchalant). Despite his looks, he is the conduit through which the viewer can live-out their fantasy. The Spy Who Loved Me marks a period when the alpha-male begins, out of necessity, to send itself up. The wincing moments of sexism seem incredibly old hat but are overplayed by gracious nods to female empowerment. Bach is presented as Bond’s equal, often his better, sniping not with bullets but with as many quips as his. She shares nearly as much screen time, plays him at his own game, and exposes his ingrained sexism redundant.

The film hits the spots that later entries miss. Never mind exploding pens. Who doesn’t want a car that drives into the ocean and transmogrifies into a submersible? Who doesn’t want to sneak behind the ramparts, lifted on giant spider-legs out of the waves? OK, this is not the greatest movie ever made nor by (citing self-deprecating admission) the greatest actors. But it is surely the greatest fun. Pure escapism, as essential as ever. What is ‘great’ for this writer is its capacity to be watched enjoyably again and again. An increasing delight ensues from every familiar scene or snippet of dialogue. That is, ultimately, some measure of greatness despite of or because of its genre.

MOONRAKER (1979)

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Eon Productions

Moonraker is somewhat misaligned by fans. Especially serious fans of which I am not. James Bond in space. Bring it on. Pour that Martini. Granted, it is not in the same league as its predecessor. A bit of a rehash, in fact, guaranteed to fall flat. Yet another psychopath attempting to restart the world, less in his image but with an Aryan race...

Then again, how to follow The Spy Who Loved Me? Who can blame the producers for blasting 007 into the heavens? In parody, though, it swings all over the place. Its main swerve, unsettlingly, between Death In Venice and Star Wars. Its best aspect is Shirley Bassey’s third and, sadly, final theme song written by John Barry and Hal David. Exquisite in a quite different manner from her earlier, brassier efforts.

Apart from being stunningly photographed and expertly directed (by Lewis Gilbert) there’s little more to write of. To write off? To switch off to? Unless you desire, like me, mindless escape. But, alas, it can only merit two stars in comparison with its betters. Moore’s the pity, as Roger is as terrific as always whilst Lois Chiles, if never quite on fire, is feisty and intelligent. However, Drax (the villain, if you can’t guess) cannot touch the menace of Stromberg. There is scant chemistry in opposition for Bond to play off against.

A diversion to Rio does something to up its gain. The carnival sours to a grim masque, alongside Jaws’ re-emergence from under a grotesque clown outfit. Circusry is recurrent in these films, to lend a note of potency. What serves well are generous dollops of wry humour and unabashed glee. Unfortunately, though, a two-hour epic it ain’t. And, mid-way, it certainly sags. A shoot-me-up in space is unconvincing. The imagination can only stretch so far. A nail-biter ending works well but comes not a moment too soon. Over the moon? Just, over.

FOR YOUR EYES ONLY (1981)

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Eon Productions

For Your Eyes Only is marginally akin to the reboot of Casino Royale which in turn followed the critical disaster of Die Another Day. To a greater degree, it works very well. I’d joyfully award it four stars in James Bond Land if anything within that mythical realm was truly great filmmaking. Great entertainment? Definitely.

Despite its comic-book opening, the film gets serious from the start. With the sinking of a spy ship, its premise is soon established. We’re not expecting a power-crazed psychopath missioning a drowned piece of tech. It’s matched by a parallel plotline concerning a daughter avenging her parents’ murder. Carole Bouquet is an erudite and sophisticated ‘Bond Girl’ never reliant on beauty alone. She is one of an ensemble of excellent actors, each lending a sought-after clout to proceedings.

Moore’s trademark humour persists but is newly placed as a natural coping mechanism in peril. No more spaceships. Feet on dusty ground, propelled by force of will. Nevertheless, the too-often-tiresome sidekick reappears: manifest as professional figure-skater-turned-actor Lynn-Holly Johnson. But, unlike other stooges, she is able to add a touch of depth to her role.

The set action pieces are genuinely thrilling, if ever these were wholly convincing – with Moore settling comfortably and attractively into middle-age. However, the narrative keeps strong. As much as James relies on his wits, Roger relies on his mystique. It comes into its own opposite Topol who offers a solid performance as a characterful Greek smuggler.

The film cumulates in a series of ‘cliff-hangers’ at a mountaintop monastery. And why not. Sheer implausibility is bypassed via its stark contrast to Moonraker. It is a balance carefully and pleasingly maintained. For Your Eyes Only satisfies to The End. Rounded off with a typically schoolboyish guffaw but much deserved.

OCTOPUSSY (1983)

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Eon Productions

Critics miss the point that a Roger Moore ‘Bond’ is great fun. And a damn good adventure. Moore precisely recognises the difference between entertainment and art, and it is this which endures. He was so well-established as Bond that in The Cannonball Run his screen persona self-identifies as his alter-ego. Appearing fresher and trimmer than previously, and a tad more convincing on returning to active duty, this goes part way to holding the ridiculousness together. Bracketed as it is with the rusty one-liners, the very measure of self-depreciation lacking from the steel-girdered critics.

The clown makes its macabre entrance, its visual effect as stunning as the film’s overall visuality. Steven Berkoff is stupendous, hamming it up as a crackpot Russian general. Another contrast with For Your Eyes Only but as if it’s never been done before. Louis Jordan is Berkoff’s perfect counterfoil, as icy as 007’s Martini. The viewer like the protagonist is lured to lavish settings in India and to the floating palace of Octopussy herself: leader of an all-female cult. Only in Bond! This time around, as in The Spy Who Loved Me, the fantasies are played out coolly enough to seem ‘real’. The recasting of Maud Adams (mistress of The Man With the Golden Gun) is a gamble paying dividends. Obvious, why Mr Moore admitted she was his favourite.

The slapstick returns with a few cringey moments, attracting said criticism. Following criticism, what else, of a lack of humour in its predecessor. You can’t win. But Moore doesn’t care. He can relate a joke with an eyebrow. It is, in fact, a rare blessing of subtlety which couples with an intuitive ability to mime. The action takes darker turns, not least under the gauche façade of the circus. Potent, when Moore, jester of the series, dons the clown suit himself, it’s not played for laughs. The ending is barnstorming joy. A double whammy, returning to the aeronautical gymnastics of the spectacular opening. All boxes ticked. But who am I to say.

A VIEW TO A KILL (1985)

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Eon Productions

In only a couple of years, Moore seems to calmly ‘return’ to middle age. Affording a disconcerting aura of comfy-old-armchair rather than live-on-the-edge secret agent. For me, though, it seems part of the appeal. Moore himself admitted “I was only about four hundred years too old for the part.” Then again, what’s wrong with an older Bond? As much as we enjoy Helen Mirren in Red for example.

Predictably slated and a pity because in itself it’s rather a good film. A greater pity that Moore couldn’t have made the same when ten years younger. A Bond fan cannot refute affection for the final exchange of repartee between 007 and Lois Maxwell as Moneypenny. Meanwhile, Moore and Patrick Macnee, faint touches of Laurel and Hardy, make quite the double act. Christopher Walken is perfectly cast as the villain. Yet another deranged psychopath, granted, but as expertly played as Berkoff before him. Grace Jones as his love interest affords her mesmeric presence.

For a while, nothing much happens. A slow build of intrigue has no comparison in the series. Its consequence allows Moore wider scope in which to tread those well-worn shoes. His relentless likeability seems a fitting contrast to the unmitigated evil of Zorin (Walken) and May Day (Jones). A View to a Kill is generally slower-paced and a slow-burner. The in-your-face slapstick is noticeably lessened. Its lighter relief in opposition enhances the serious side to Roger’s most famous role.

Tanya Roberts, the nicest of ‘Bond Girls’, adheres brains and beauty as unconvincingly as a 57-year-old spy. Which is what the Eastern-Bloc ‘Dynasty’ styled Fiona Fullerton might say. As if any of this is based in reality. The finale is a superb fight sequence on top of the Golden Gate Bridge no less. A highly memorable Bond moment indeed. On balance, Roger could have trusted his own judgement and called it. As a close to his tenure, it does offer something different.

HITCHCOCK: THE BRITISH CLASSICS

THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH (1934)

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Gaumont British Picture Corporation

It’s difficult to write an honest review in retrospect of the outstanding Stewart/Day remake some two decades later. But these are uniquely different films. Each stand, likewise, for different reasons: both as great as the other. I cannot choose and why would I want to. In this version, for one monochrome reason, there seems greater reliance on the artistry of the lens and its varied effects. 

And so, this remains dark, creepy, intense… and quite horrifying in places. Yet daubed with the director’s rich sense of irony. As if applying pan-stick to the grin of a clown which in turn becomes something macabre. Edna Best is superb as the distraught mother. Hitchcock allows her full-rein and she takes hold skilfully. If (again, in retrospect) this disallows her quite the same level of emotional intensity as her successor.

There is terrific acting all round. No one overdoes it under the master’s guiding hand. The unforgettable Peter Lorre remains eerily sadistic; he can still sneak under your skin; as if not acting at all but holding a mirror to the psyche. This seems to further reflect in the pewter-grey of London: every building, every space, every grimy cobblestone street and dusky streetlamp appear packed with character. Thus, the viewer is submersed into intrigue via this interplay between a carefully visualised story and the puppets it populates.

THE 39 STEPS Photo: mubi.com/lists/mubi-s-top-50-films-of-1935

THE 39 STEPS (1935) 

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Gaumont British Picture Corporation

What to write about perfection? Or that hasn’t been written before? Other than to attempt to convey its often quite literal filmic brilliance: an unmissable item on every movie fan’s Must-See List.

There is something very special conveyed at this level of film-making. Self-assured and confident, and always in control, the visual dialogue and its often-majestic beauty is again played against the twists and turns of every other form of dialogue and filmic choreography. This film would have secured Hitchcock’s reputation if he had never made another. 

An espionage thriller with Bond-esque moments including a moving-train chase, elements of mistaken identity (as later explored in ‘North by North West’) and windswept Scottish moors... it would make an excellent double-bill with ‘Skyfall’. 

SECRET AGENT (1936) 

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Gaumont British Picture Corporation

How to follow ‘The 39 Steps’? You can’t. And you don’t. This is a different beast which has seemed to have become somewhat overlooked. Again, focused on a central quartet of actors – all of whom give magnificent performances. However, it is, unsurprisingly Gielgud, Carroll and Lorre who dominate the screen. Lorre is an exceptionally versatile actor. Carroll gives a highly affecting performance, particularly when her ship is set adrift.

Likewise, the filmography astounds. Particularly the sharp-cuts between the central murder scene and the wailing of the victim’s dog. Other interplays of sound and vision extend the director’s craft. Simple touches, such as the heroine packing her bag whilst sobbing off-screen are most effective.

The film is a slow-burner which ultimately ignites, and is well-worth the journey. A beautiful movie rendered with pathos and humour which belie the literalness of its title. A match for its predecessor, if underrated, and very cleverly nuanced. Hitchcock at his best.

SABOTAGE Photo: criterion.com/current/posts/4347-graham-greene-on-sabotage

SABOTAGE (1936) 
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Gaumont British Picture Corporation

One of Hitchcock’s darkest films. Never more sinister than its great close-up moment of almost impossible tension. Hitch’s compositional eye, and flair for sharp-cuts, create an indelible visual narrative. Within which, once again, the nastiest side of human nature is laid bare.

It’s difficult to believe that Sylvia Sidney did not win an award for her role. Her screen husband, a Picture-House proprietor, is portrayed by the superb Oskar Homolka. He expertly negotiates a paralleled false respectability, integral as a construct of his twisted psychosis. 

Child star Desmond Tester is perfect as the ill-fated little brother. Both he and the director diminish any over-sentimentality which the appearance of youth may bring. It is achieved with brutality as well as restraint. The same method heightens the conflicted emotions running crossing Sidney’s brow – as her story transmutes to a Disney cartoon. The cruellest of jokes is the laughter of the inner audience of the cinema-inside-a-cinema.

Thus, skewering his deeply-felt irony, Hitchcock unhooks the macabre from the comic, the mind reeling like the film reel… By close, Hitch has taken the entirety of Sidney’s world apart. Only to loosely stitch it back together on whatever hope remains. It is simply another means of undermining the viewer’s wavering sense of stability. Arguably his greatest work thus far. 

YOUNG AND INNOCENT (1937) 
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Gaumont British Picture Corporation

I had a problem with blackface since childhood, exposed to endless repeats of ‘The Black and White Minstrel Show’ on TV. Here, it mars an otherwise wonderful film. Even though so-called ‘minstrel’ acts were part of a long-ago musical landscape. It’s key because it transposes the final scene where a mask is stripped away.

What remains, however, is a great film that demonstrates Hitchcock’s confidence anew. A top-drawer murder-mystery, well-paced and entertaining, in which an albeit gentler aspect of suspense is maintained. The story runs as smoothly as the wide-angled shots from one scene to the next. Hitchcock again goes for a pivotal close-up in which the viewer’s breath is held. Plus, a final sweeping crane-shot; also breath-taking.

It must have been challenging to keep the momentum going; following the incredible ‘Sabotage’. It could seem that having the action transferred to the countryside (i.e. away from the ‘Noir’ aspects of the city) somewhat lessens the tension. Then again, neon is no match for former child star Nova Pilbeam's radiance. She carries the narrative superbly, almost as if alone. Leading man Derrick De Marney is a great match: their slow burn endearing, heart-wrenching and ultimately life-affirming. 

It’s impossible to mentally place oneself some 80 years back to a society with hardly any racial integration. Blackface represents racism. Does that make Hitchcock a racist? No. It is a narrative device. An offensive one. 

THE LADY VANISHES Photo: talkfilmsociety.com/columns/beginners-guide-to-alfred-hitchcock-the-lady-vanishes

THE LADY VANISHES (1938) 

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Gaumont British Picture Corporation

“This is a long preamble of a tale!” but thoroughly enjoyable – and necessary – both setting-up and deflecting every preposition of what follows… which is, once more, something of a masterpiece. So good you’d give it 6 stars out of 5 if you could. Further ‘proof’ of the genius of Hitchcock. Especially considering the transfer from humorous debacles in a Swiss hotel to the tense psychological conflicts within the confinement of a moving train.

A very strong cast is headed by the formidable Margaret Lockwood coupled with the personable Michael Redgrave. Alongside the redoubtable Dame May Whitty, you can’t go wrong. An interplay of smoke-and-mirrors is referenced via a literal circus carriage upon which the story takes another twist. To keep us guessing until the end... As worth the watch now as on initial release, it’s easy to see how the pull of Hollywood was imminent. 

JAMAICA INN (1939) 
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Mayflower Pictures Corporation

Consider this a B-movie pantomime and you’ll be fine. But as a progressive part of Hitchcock’s oeuvre? With hardly a trace of his genius evident, fans scratch their heads in befuddlement. Excepting the brief heart-stopping flourish of the final scene, the only comfort is the knowledge that even a master can produce a dud. 

The overall problem is its routine-ness. Laughton is great, yes, but not at his greatest – and dominates proceedings a little too much. Maureen O’Hara is wonderful on screen too – but surprisingly unconvincing as the desperate Irish orphan. Just as Laughton is a little too much, she comes across as a little too nice. The two aspects counterbalance but thus there is no fissure. It is as unconvincing as each plot ‘twist’ rolled-out with turgid doggedness. Likewise, there is no sexual fissure between O’Hara and her leading man. Again: Robert Newton is just too damn ‘nice’.

It’s a jolt, with expectations so high. Not even a score by Eric Fenby or dialogue by JB Priestley can save it. One of the problems being that it’s, like everything else, a little too overstuffed with dialogue. A little too this, a little too that... never straight down the line. There seems no room to manoeuvre Hitch’s visual craft. Gone: silent shots, fast-cuts, suggestion, montage, camera effects. As if he wiped the palette clean. Perhaps it was necessary.

Possibly, the pressure was too much; the artistic freedom overpowered. Perhaps Hitch was constrained by production demands or by the reach of Laughton’s star – instead of the more pliable ‘cattle’ whom he could mould to his needs. A stuffy historic drama, it would appear, was the last thing he needed. Although ‘Waltzes from Vienna’ sparkles in comparison. 

No surprise that Du Maurier hesitated before conferring the film rights to ‘Rebecca’. A pity that ‘Jamaica Inn’ makes a sorry end to a run of classics. And yet… in retrospect, even with some quarters considering it one of the worst of British films, its camp atmospherics render it still in the ‘classic’ mould. Which finally allows it some trace of lingering mystery... if only, as first stated, it is best regarded (though far from low budget) as a B-movie panto.

HITCHCOCK: THE EARLY TALKIES

ANNY ONDRA Photo: the.hitchcock.zone/wiki/Hitchcock_Gallery:_image_3160

BLACKMAIL (1929)

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British International Pictures

‘Blackmail’ is a bridge between the Silents and the Talkies. In making that bridge, Hitchcock creates something of a masterpiece. Also made as a Silent, this film is sometimes regarded as part of ‘The Hitchcock Nine’. It’s possible that the Silent version is just as great.

The visual symbolism is stronger than ever. There is something magical about the literal movement between the two genres... Is it the sparks that fly from the friction? Hitch embraces new possibilities: painting pictures with words as well as imagery. Most famously, the ‘Knife’ scene where the repeated syllable is accented to devastating effect. This is just as effective as the shadow of a window-frame noosing itself around the protagonist’s neck. 

All the hallmarks are in place, from the never-ending staircases to the looming shadows; the detectives in trilbies; the darkening corridors.... The murder scene is a round-sketch for Psycho. A strong cast, with two strong leads, again benefits from Anny Ondra’s spellbinding yet natural presence.

The moment you believe normality resumes, Hitch adds another twist. It is the style of film which would come to define him for a lifetime: the games humans play against each other. Wickedly clever but also stirring, like the ironic cackles which reverberate long after the closing shot. 

JUNO AND THE PAYCOCK (1930)
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British International Pictures

This ‘serious’ drama is based on a stage play which, indeed, seems stagey on film. Then again, there are moments of immense potency which cumulate to an affecting experience overall. The mother and son, played by Sara Allgood and John Laurie, define much of the emotive outcome which by close burns into the mind. 

It’s missing the familiarity of a ‘Hitchcock’. What is pleasing is that it demonstrates his overlooked range. On a personal level, as a film, it’s not quite my cup of tea. There is intrigue more than suspense; passion more than glamour. But having cleared my head of expectation, I realise it merits second viewing. A full restoration would also restore the positive reception it initially received. 

MURDER! (1930)
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British International Pictures

This is one film that has not dated well but which shouldn’t be judged by today’s standards. Its premise is that the protagonist is shielding his mixed-race heritage. Worse, that he uses cross-dressing as a psychological shield. What ‘saves’ the film is that the white female love-interest knew all along. She prefers a death-sentence to exposing her lover, albeit shell-shocked into memory-lapse by his brutal actions. 

Once more, the ingredients for what should be classic Hitchcock. But he runs into problems. Yes, it’s a murder-mystery. Yes, he’d filmed the same previously. And more successfully too. Here, he seems not to have consolidated his skills. The onset of sound must have proved an additional challenge. His first Talkie was a blend of sound-and-silent. His second, a filmed play… In his third, it’s as if he’s simultaneously side-stepping the issue whilst continuing to explore it. Which is, in fact, rather clever. 

Because... it is in this exploratory sense that much of the film-making astounds. Both in the way that sound and image are choreographed – if often for separate purposes. Such as the chorusing voices of the jury. Or the dancing silhouettes of trilbies on a Big Top canvas. The murder scene, filmed in stillness (and silence) is unforgettable. As is the Dreyer-esque symbolism and camerawork in the film's final third: from the stark prison visit to the mesmeric circus.

However, the first part of the film appears routine. The male lead, a do-it-yourself sleuth on whose charisma the story depends, is a perfunctory performance by Herbert Marshall. There’s a thin line between unravelling a mystery and dragging one’s heels. In early black-and-white, it is never thinner. If only someone had the courage or permission, this is one work of Hitch’s which would benefit from a thorough re-edit.

THE SKIN GAME Photo: talkfilmsociety.com/columns/beginners-guide-to-alfred-hitchcock-the-skin-game-1931

THE SKIN GAME (1931)

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British International Pictures

Following a slight dearth, this proves something of a head-fuck. Nasty, brutal, disarming, raw. A dark psychological drama witness to the most appalling side of human nature; intent on tearing its opponents to pieces. Hitch achieves this minus any of the art-house moments of ‘Murder!’.

What is it that he’s abandoned in order to re-discover? It’s the surety of directing a Talkie in perfect balance between action, drama and dialogue. Given time, the film plays-out perfectly. Just when it seems things may again drag, it starts dragging the viewer along instead. Hitchcock is no longer trying. Wide sweeping camera angles. Corridors overlaying corridors, of trees; lanes; driveways; houses... Hallways upon hallways. Doorways opening into new doorways. Each wincing strip of the onion painfully clawed apart. Painfully but effortlessly. 

The cast is terrific. None more so than Phyllis Konstam as the slaughtered lamb Chloe. A heart-breaking reminder of the horrendous way in which some men regard women. Hers is a dazzling and desperate portrayal. No veil for the human animal at its worst. This in parallel with the most beautiful cinematography is quite staggering. In my view, it is a misaligned and overlooked film, and one of Hitchcock’s best. Haunting to the last.

JOAN BARRY Photo: imdb.com/title/tt0023395/mediaviewer/rm1461986048

RICH AND STRANGE (1931)
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British International Pictures

Rich and strange… refers to the Shakespearean idiom of a sea-change, as quoted in the film. Likewise, a more antiquated definition of ‘rich’ underlines its double meaning as explored in this oddest of tales… A story which plays-out in a serio-comic manner, and very successfully too. Although the main characters experience seismic shifts in perspective, the narrative comes back where it started, in a precursory ‘Wizard of Oz’ fashion. All the while, Hitchcock plays the viewer against expectation.

There’s much to love about what is essentially a Talkie made by a silent movie-maker. Replete with title-cards and why not. It is Hitchcock pulling-out all the stops. He abandons the stifling claustrophobia of ‘The Skin Game’. Instead opting for a fast-paced, fast-cut, and essentially visual narrative. It is a splendid travelogue, rich indeed, and as painstakingly choreographed as ever. The blast of the opening sequence makes for a stand-alone Art House short, evoking instant recognition from any Londoner. Just one of many exquisitely-crafted filmic events. 

There are many enjoyable twists. Some baffling, some funny, some terrifying. Joan Barry is a pleasure to watch. Like Anny Ondra before her, she possesses a natural beauty and presence upon which the film comes to rely. A pity her husband (played by Henry Kendall) behaves like a pig. Despite which, as their trials deepen, we find ourselves rooting for the couple. The ending, a happy one, further atones; being far more hard-won than can be predicted.

“Doth suffer a sea-change / Into something rich and strange…” is what Hitchcock strives for with every new work. A highly memorable film, with a pleasingly poetic arc.

NUMBER SEVENTEEN (1932)
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Associated British Picture Corporation 

‘Number Seventeen’ also commences as a silent movie before broaching into an effective ‘picture of sound’. It further strays into Film Noir but with a healthy dash of the director’s dry wit. 

It’s a great ensemble cast if no one member – apart from Leon M. Lion as the roguish hobo – stands out. This may be a saving grace though, considering the interwoven story-lines. Indeed, the main character in the first half is the shadowy and rickety staircase. This is replaced when all action transfers onto the outside of a thundering train. Whilst the narrative steams along relentlessly…

Part Whodunnit, part before-its-time action movie, part spy thriller… Cinemagoers were perplexed. But witness Hitch’s delight in keeping them on the edge. By today’s standards it gains ground. I found it terrific fun. 

WALTZES FROM VIENNA (1934)
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Gaumont British

Can’t say I was looking forward to a period drama, least of all a light romantic comedy, even less one of the ‘Operetta’ films fashionable at that time. This is not truly a musical either, as nearly all performances from the popular stage-musical version (concerning ‘Waltz King’ Johann Strauss Jr) were dropped. This allows Hitchcock’s humour to be expressed on both visual and aural planes. Besides, there’s the brilliant score by Korngold which gradually consolidates aspects of the most famous of waltzes... Somewhat bizarre? It’s that which saves it. 

Unlike anything of Hitch’s before or again… An improbable scenario becomes, in Hitch’s lens, quite charming, due to his absence of over-sentimentality. He simply presents the characters and their lives as given. Dark undertones belie an otherwise pretty picture but prevent the plot from frothing away. Namely: the familiar shadows of sexual manipulation; self-conflict; parental interference. Once again, the ladies take the limelight in almost a two-hander. The personable Fay Compton, as the world-weary countess, pits her wits against the young and talented Jessie Matthews; the small-town girl convincingly lost in a classic love triangle.

Love, and music, thankfully, save the day. It is under Hitch’s direction that the disparate threads accord. He termed this film his “lowest ebb” on the excuse of keeping him in work. We’ve all been there. To far lesser degrees. This is nobody’s worst film.

THE HITCHCOCK NINE

THE PLEASURE GARDEN (1925) 

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Gainsborough Pictures

An emergent visual style recognisable, its initially dreary narrative strengthens and darkens in the second half, with touches of terror near the end. At times feels like a long hour’s worth of nevertheless very good silent film-making. A cinema organ score by Lee Erwin on the Rohauer restoration is horrible – un-listenable – choose your own music instead. 

THE LODGER (1927) 
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Gainsborough Pictures

Hitch’s third film (his second ‘The Mountain Eagle’ is lost) ...is classic Hitchcock already. As if he knew he had to up-his-gain. A career-defining moment at this early stage. And a defining film of the silent era. Mesmeric, suspenseful, atmospheric – an affirmation of great things to come. Ashley Irwin’s 1999 Herrmann-esque, narrative score completes the magic (I’m disinclined to sit through Nitin Sawhney...). 

THE RING (1927) 
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British International Pictures

Great film. If not as great as ‘The Lodger’, I enjoyed it as much if not more. ‘The Ring’ itself a double-symbol of the conflicts within a marriage. Lillian Hall-Davis is quite the star, and perfectly matched opposite Carl Brisson. Beautiful cinematography follows a clearer visual narrative than its predecessor. Hitchcock begins to more blatantly exploit social-sexual tensions to play characters off against each another – as the suspense heightens.

A couple of fleeting though now unfortunate racial references are uncomfortable through today’s lens, if redolent of the era. Not knowingly malicious, these could be edited-out without impacting the film. Also due the positive portrayal throughout by a black actor (uncredited from an ‘all British cast’) as central in the protagonist’s circle.

Would love to see the restored version. This is highly watchable and gripping stuff – and that is despite the bad and poorly cropped print currently available.

DOWNHILL Photo: suddenlyashotrangout.com

DOWNHILL (1927) 

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Gainsborough Pictures

Once again mesmeric, and beautiful, and masterfully shot; the cinematography is stunning. Strikingly evident: Hitch’s use of architecture as an emotive metaphor via both physical build (particularly staircases) and the physical features of actors. Likewise, Novello is better photographed than in ‘The Lodger’ – and shines as a true star. More a redemptive tragedy than a suspense, but an easy favourite and a masterpiece of silent film. A startlingly clear print is well-worth the watch.

THE FARMER’S WIFE (1928) 
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Associated Picture Corporation

I love this film. A true gem. It has everything. In spadefuls. Humour, poetry, beauty. Handled with the knowledge and integrity of a master. Hitch opted for a change of style and setting to further extend his craft. Very successfully too. Funny yet poignant, flippant yet emotive. Not to be missed. 

A welcome return by Hall-Davis – a part played-out to perfection – five years prior her tragic demise.

EASY VIRTUE Photo: brentonfilm.com

EASY VIRTUE (1928) 

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Gainsborough Pictures

I enjoyed this film, if it appears lacklustre compared with previous efforts. What’s missing from this loose adaptation of Coward’s play is the witty dialogue. The remaining skeletal plot cannot sustain the visual demands of a Silent. Despite which, some of the cinematography, as to be expected, is just wonderful. Isobel Jeans also holds our attention. 

Overall, though, the outcome, more than engaging the viewer, seems an exercise in style. The familiar Hitchcockian darkness kicks-in by the last third but is only passingly suspenseful. That written, is it to judge by long-established expectations? A poor-quality print doesn’t help. The now-familiar theme of maternal intrusion unsettles from the start. The unavoidable interest, from today’s perspective, is what comes next…

CHAMPAGNE (1928)
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Associated Picture Corporation

Overall, this film is witty, fast-paced, and visually stunning. Hitchcock consolidates his visual language which, as we now recognise, will hold him in very good stead. This is achieved by innovative camera shots, precise sequential editing, and the way in which the actors move and gesture. Evidently, the director is by now acutely aware of such intricacies of pictorial storytelling. The effect is engaging and entertaining, and elevates the melodrama above its origin. Like its predecessor, its plot meanders along of its own accord, although Hitchcock conjures a subtle element of intrigue during its final quarter.

Betty Balfour is a talented actor, hugely charismatic, with adept comic timing. She is part of a terrific ensemble-cast of four. It’s great to see Gordon Harker playing the straight guy so masterfully. Hitchcock’s second comedy may not be as great as ‘The Farmer’s Wife’ but remains a pleasure to watch. A crystalline print benefits from an excellent narrative piano accompaniment. 

ANNY ONDRA Photo: Wikipedia

THE MANXMAN (1929) 

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Associated Picture Corporation

Beautiful, poetic, tragic, haunting, unforgettable. Hitch’s last Silent is probably one of the best Silents. Wonderful: to see Carl Brisson return in a more nuanced and emotive performance than ‘The Ring’. Once again, a strong central quartet of actors carry the narrative – and do so admirably. Each portrays their role convincingly. Czech actress Anny Ondra appears luminous yet natural on screen. The director veers away from melodrama to the darker edges of pyscho-drama. This is ever more effective alongside the gorgeous cinematography. Thus the film remains sublimely potent, from first to final and heart-breaking shot. Ahead of its years, it leaves the soul quietened. The best things, like fine wines, age well.

Of ‘The Hitchcock Nine’, ‘The Lodger’ is unmissable and ‘The Farmer’s Wife’ a must-see. However, ‘The Manxman’ makes a spellbinding conclusion to this circumstantial series. It is in these Silents – within the purest form of cinema – that we witness the budding of a genius. This film is an essential footnote to the blossoming of Hitch’s craft.