Hitchcock: The Beginning

Back in 2022 I decided it was finally time to plug the holes in my Hitchcock knowledge with a full chronological viewing of all his films. Having been a long time fan, I’d seen most of his work already but I was surprised to find just how many hidden gems there were still to discover. So when Studiocanal announced this extraordinary boxset of early Hitchcock films, covering a five year period from 1927 to 1932, I jumped at the chance to revisit the lesser known early works and consume the generous special features.

Hitchcock: The Beginning includes the majority of Hitchcock’s silent films and early sound films leading up to his famous run of British classics that began with The Man Who Knew Too Much and ended with Jamaica Inn, at which point Hitch left for Hollywood and immediate Oscar glory with Rebecca. Only four silent films are missing: The Pleasure Garden, The Lodger, Downhill and Easy Virtue, while only one early sound film is omitted, the critically lambasted but actually very good Waltzes from Vienna. That leaves ten films to discover, two of which include full length alternate versions amongst their extras, as well as a brand new feature length documentary to boot. As you will see, my reactions to the films themselves were mixed but as a collector and wannabe film historian this boxset is a must-have item.

THE RING

Director: Alfred Hitchcock
Screenplay: Alfred Hitchcock
Producers: John Maxwell
Starring: Carl Brisson, Lillian Hall-Davis, Ian Hunter, Gordon Harker
Year: 1927
Country: UK
BBFC Certification: PG
Duration: 108 minutes

After the success of his early silent classic The Lodger, Hitchcock made boxing melodrama The Ring, the only film for which he ever took sole screenwriting credit (although his then-regular collaborator Eliot Stannard is said to have contributed). In terms of story, The Ring doesn’t have much new to offer. A simple tale of rivalry in which a love triangle exacerbates the rivalry between two boxers, The Ring’s basic but reliable plot feels like a mere framework on which to hang directorial flourishes and there are plenty of them, from distorted POV shots to haunting images of taunting heads hanging over the shoulders of troubled fighters. 

At 90 minutes, the film does sag a bit between these memorable devices and occasionally Hitchcock cops out a bit. One notable instance of this is a scene in which a boxer sitting in an office is told he has a long way to go before he can face the heavyweight champion. We then cut to a series of fight posters showing the boxer’s name next to different opponents. With each poster, he moves further up the billing until we cut back to the office and he is told “Now you’re almost ready.” I get it, it’s a visual shorthand but it left me feeling shortchanged and I thought Hitchcock might at least have cut in some shots of the fights, even if they were just fleeting tasters of the action. The Ring is also marred by some ugly racism, something we often expect to find in 20s films but which still took me off-guard as I don’t generally associate Hitchcock’s work with racist stereotypes. Fortunately this egregious inclusion (including a conspicuous N-bomb) turned out to be largely an anomaly.

Ultimately there is much to enjoy in The Ring, particularly a funny performance by Gordon Harker as an uncouth trainer, but it does feel like a step down from The Lodger, although it still clearly points the way to Hitchcock’s growing mastery as a visual storyteller.

THE FARMER’S WIFE

Director: Alfred Hitchcock
Screenplay: Eliot Stannard
Based on the play by: Eden Phillpotts, Adelaide Phillpotts
Producers: John Maxwell
Starring: Jameson Thomas, Lillian Hall-Davis, Gordon Harker
Year: 1928
Country: UK
BBFC Certification: U
Duration: 107 mins

The Farmer’s Wife, supposedly a comedy, seems to have quite a few champions among critics but Hitchcock was not a fan of the film himself and sadly, neither was I. The film begins promisingly enough, with a widowed farmer making a list of potential new wives from the local single women and then heading out to bumble his way through a variety of unjustifiably overconfident proposals. The problem is that none of these proposals, or any of the comedy that surrounds them, are actually funny. The film is repetitive, with the farmer receiving a refusal and then becoming perplexed and angry. In fact, the scenes are more nasty than anything, with the answers of “no” resulting in the farmer becoming wild-eyed and vigorously berating the women. We don’t see what he says but the shots of him angrily yelling are long and quite visceral, yet never funny. If Hitchcock pulls away from intertitles again in these shots, that tendency is not adhered to throughout. The Farmer’s Wife is quite wordy, with some of the best gags being in the witty but overabundant (for a silent film) dialogue. But nothing can really save the film for me and if you don’t see the inevitable ending coming a mile away, it’s ruined on the poster for you.

The Farmer’s Wife also marks an unfortunate reduction in Hitchcock’s stylistic brilliance, with the repetitive plot mechanics leaving little room for invention (he does manage to insert a couple of good moments, such as the farmer’s potential brides materialising in a chair in front of him as he makes his list). The run of films from Hitchcock’s debut The Pleasure Garden through to his fourth film Downhill showed a rapid growth in Hitchcock’s directorial flair but The Farmer’s Wife scuppers it and unfortunately the following Easy Virtue continued that downturn. Happily, the subsequent Champagne got things back on track.

CHAMPAGNE

Director: Alfred Hitchcock
Screenplay: Alfred Hitchcock, Eliot Stannard
Producers: John Maxwell
Starring: Betty Balfour, Jean Bradin, Gordon Harker
Year: 1928
Country: UK
BBFC Certification: U
Duration: 90 mins

Well, Champagne proved to be something of a surprise, in that having read almost nothing but terrible reviews, I found it completely charming. I can see why some people don’t think much of it (Hitchcock himself certainly didn’t), it is feather-light and a tad lacking in plot but for me it turned both these things into virtues, offering up a confection as bubbly and refreshing as it’s titular beverage.

Champagne is the story of a madcap heiress who’s father, fearing she will make a frivolous marriage to the man he has forbidden her to see, pretends to have lost his fortune in order to force her to reassess her life. Like the earlier Downhill, Champagne has a premise ripe with satirical potential that it doesn’t fulfil but unlike Downhill it opts to have fun with it, rather than deliver a crushing tale of despair with no real moral centre. More importantly, that visual flair that was largely missing from the last two Hitchcock films is here in spades. Almost immediately, for instance, a champagne bottle is opened directly towards the screen, making the viewer recoil from the cork before the screen is soaked with bubbly. There are little moments like this throughout, as well as wonderful throwaway jokes, such as when Hitchcock draws our attention away from a crucial confrontation between the father and daughter and instead focuses on a man trying to get past them on the stairs. He makes several attempts to get round them as the argument continues, before politely excusing himself and going back up the stairs again. Champagne’s willingness to overshadow a key emotional beat with a joke (involving a character we’ve never seen and will never see again) speaks volumes about its easy going approach to narrative, as well as it’s subtly subversive relationship with audience expectations.

Another thing Champagne has going for it is the lead performances. Gordon Harker, so memorable in The Ring, relishes his opportunity to play the larger role of the father, all twitchy frustration and conflicted anger born of a genuine, if overbearing, love for his daughter. As the daughter, Betty Balfour is one of Champagne’s main draws. Apparently Balfour was one of the biggest British stars of the 20s and you can see why. She has an immediate sparkle and instinctive comic timing, as well as an ability to make her character into someone sympathetic when she could’ve been a one-dimensional spoilt brat. She brings Champagne to life even in those moments when the narrative slows and Hitchcock’s steady directorial hand falters.

Champagne may well prove to be the lightest film Hitchcock ever made but it is all the better for it. Though I have been enjoying my trawl through Hitchcock’s little-seen silent films immensely, a lot of that enjoyment has come through fascination rather than straight entertainment. Champagne provided both and left me somewhat perplexed at its utterly dire reputation. I’d watch it again in a heartbeat.

THE MANXMAN

Director: Alfred Hitchcock
Screenplay: Eliot Stannard
Based on the novel by: Hall Caine
Producers: John Maxwell
Starring: Carl Brisson, Malcolm Keen, Anny Ondra
Year: 1929
Country: UK
BBFC Certification: U
Duration: 101 mins

The Manxman was another great surprise in my journey through early Hitchcock. I knew it had a fairly decent reputation but for me this immediately stood out as Hitchcock’s finest film of the silent era, unseating The Lodger from the top spot. I wouldn’t say The Manxman is the culmination of everything Hitchcock learned on his early films because those visual flourishes that were so crucial to films like Downhill and Champagne, and which would continue to characterise his work in the sound era, are largely absent here. What The Manxman represented to me instead was a director who had grown confident enough in his abilities to not have to lean into those showier techniques. Instead, The Manxman is a smoothly told piece of melodrama that entertains thoroughly without drawing attention to itself.

The 1894 novel by Hall Caine on which the film is based is said to be a soapy affair and that is clear from the story we see here. We’ve seen love triangles between best friends and the woman they both adore many times before and the material may not seem promising but the key is in how the story is told, just as the masterful melodramas of Douglas Sirk could’ve been irredeemable in the hands of lesser directors. Taking advantage of the ravishing Cornwall landscapes (standing in for the Isle of Man, where the story is set), Hitchcock provides an immersive backdrop to this story of loyalty, passion and longing. The cast is absolutely fantastic, with Anny Ondra emerging as a forerunner for the famous Hitchcock blondes of later years with a multi-faceted performance that starts out playful, turns intensely passionate and ends with all the life drained away by circumstances and the cruel gender politics of the time which essentially remove her needs and desires from the equation altogether. Equally fine are Carl Brisson as the man who loves her and thinks she loves him, and Malcolm Keen as the man she does love but whose loyalty to his friend, not to mention his lofty career ambitions, scupper their chances of happiness.

These plot threads are all pulled together in an unlikely finale which, if you can give yourself over to the melodrama, is still remarkably effective. I found The Manxman extremely powerful and sometimes almost unbearably sad. Its characters shamble through their tragic story making wrong choices and prodded into poor decisions by cruel twists of fate. They do not act maliciously and, in fact, care for one another very deeply but that can’t stop them barrelling towards emotional ruin. The final shots of the film are hauntingly sad and stayed with me long afterwards. If you have no stomach for melodrama, The Manxman may not be for you but I thought it was terrific and a real sign of how Hitchcock had found his feet as a director.

BLACKMAIL

Director: Alfred Hitchcock
Screenplay: Alfred Hitchcock, Benn W. Levvy
Based on the play by: Charles Bennett
Producers: John Maxwell
Starring: Anny Ondra, John Longden, Cyril Ritchard
Year: 1929
Country: UK
BBFC Certification: 12
Duration: 76 mins (silent version)/ 86 mins (sound version)

Hitchcock’s final film of the 1920s was a pivotal one. Originally begun as a silent film, Blackmail was quickly retooled to be a talkie to take advantage of the rising phenomenon of sound film (both versions are included here). Wary of the idea, Hitchcock actually completed a silent version and a sound version of Blackmail, both of which are still available to view today. Like most early sound films, Blackmail has some obstacles to overcome. The sound isn’t always as crisp as audiences would become used to, with the odd bit of dialogue getting lost here and there. Another problem arose when Hitchcock’s leading lady, the wonderful Anny Ondra, was forced into a speaking role. Ondra had been wonderful in previous silent The Manxman so it seemed natural to cast her again, but when Blackmail became a sound film, Ondra’s Czech accent was seen as a problem. Even though she could speak fluent English, Ondra was forced into the indignity of having another actor voice her role. Even worse, as dubbing technology did not yet exist, Ondra was forced to mouth along to Joan Barry’s voice as she read the lines from just off camera.

With such a rocky production, you might expect Blackmail to be a clunky film. I certainly felt that way when I first saw it a couple of decades ago. But watching it now, especially off the back of watching the silent Hitchcock films that preceded it, it is immediately clear what a leap forward Blackmail is. A clear forerunner for many of the ingredients that would come to be known as “Hitchcockian”, Blackmail is a taut, effective thriller filled with nicely placed humour and bursts of action, culminating in its famous chase finale. Although it has the distinctive feel of a transitional silent-to-sound film, Hitchcock is already doing interesting things with the sound, from a hauntingly warped, resounding shop bell and taunting voices in the heroine’s head, to a virtuoso opening sequence showing the procedure of capturing and imprisoning a criminal in full, which makes the deliberate decision to remain silent before segueing into sound once the process is complete. This is all exceedingly impressive for what is generally acknowledged as the first British talkie. Most films from this era were still visibly floundering in their attempts to deal with basic sound synchronisation.

Given what she had to work with, Ondra is still very good in the lead role. It is distracting once you know that’s not her voice but the physicality that served her so well as a silent actor still works brilliantly here and it’s just a shame that the arrival of sound probably prevented her from further collaborations with Hitchcock. Another thing that really impressed me about Blackmail was how it approached a sequence of attempted rape. Too often in older films, rapists were depicted as slavering maniacs who you could pretty much justify arresting for the crime before they’d even done anything. Such reductive depictions do a disservice to the seriousness of the subject but Blackmail instead gives us a character who at first appears quite nice, an upstanding, middle class gent in a suit who has a talent for painting and piano playing. In other words, the sort of person many men of that era may have been loathe to admit could commit such a crime. Hitchcock’s films are sometimes justifiably accused of misogyny but Blackmail tackles the attempted rape scene, as well as the depiction of the subsequent stigma felt by Ondra’s character, better than most films that followed, even right into the 21st century.

Nearly a century from its release, Blackmail still stands up incredibly well. Hitchcock fans delving into the back catalogue will probably find it to be one of the most satisfying early works, with numerous themes and stylistic touches that would come to characterise his more famous later work.

MURDER!

Director: Alfred Hitchcock
Screenplay: Alfred Hitchcock, Walter Mycroft, Alma Reville
Based on the novel by: Clemence Dane, Helen Simpson
Producers: John Maxwell
Starring: Herbert Marshall, Norah Baring
Year: 1930
Country: UK
BBFC Certification: PG
Duration: 104 mins

It’s easy to see why Murder! is a film that splits critics, rather than an accepted Hitchcock classic. Having, with Blackmail, absolutely nailed the transition from silent to sound, Hitchcock understandably seems to be struggling to maintain that level of quality at this point. Juno and the Paycock’s stagey feel has diminished a little in Murder! but there is still a heavy dose of that clunky, artificial early-sound feel hanging over it. This time the source material was a novel, not a play, but the results remain stagey.

There is a noticeable return of Hitchcock’s stylistic ingenuity to some extent here. While Juno and the Paycock had virtually been a filmed play, Murder! includes some effective cinematic moments, including an opening pan through a village disrupted by the titular crime and a scene in a jury room in which the cajoling of eleven jurors to one holdout becomes a repetitive, chorus-like chant. Murder! is at its best in these early scenes, with the aftermath of the murder, the introduction of the troupe of actors at the centre of the mystery and the subsequent court case of the accused woman all playing out with trademark Hitchcockian wit. The devious closing scene of the film also suggests that the staginess of the production may have been a self-referential choice rather than just an effect of the transitional era, although this is probably letting Murder! off too easily.

The major problem with Murder! is that it grows duller just when it needs to get more interesting. The set-up is good and that long jury room scene is great, with shades of 12 Angry Men’s later analytical-but-still-dramatic approach. The tortured reflections of Herbert Marshall’s doubtful juror are nicely realised but his subsequent investigation to prove the innocence of the woman he’s helped condemn is where the film begins to drag. Several plot points become ludicrous (with one key one also being racist) and you quickly realise that the mystery itself is the weakest part of Murder! and a whodunnit where you really don’t care about the solution or any of the characters quickly becomes less than entertaining.

Murder! has points of interest and is a good film for a chunk of its runtime, thanks to its playful approach and sometimes incisive script. But ultimately it slips into tedium long before its conclusion and the direction the plot takes is very unfortunate. It emerges as an early Hitchcock curio but I found it weaker than the bulk of his silent work.

JUNO AND THE PAYCOCK

Director: Alfred Hitchcock
Screenplay: Alfred Hitchcock, Alma Reville
Based on the play by: Seàn O’Casey
Producers: John Maxwell
Starring: Marie O’Neill, Edward Chapman, Sidney Morgan, John Laurie
Year: 1930
Country: UK
BBFC Certification: PG
Duration: 96 mins

Hitchcock kicked off the 1930s with what remains his most maligned film, at least by those few people who have seen it. Based on Sean O’Casey’s tragi-comic play about a poor family living in the Dublin slums during the Irish Civil War, Juno and the Paycock’s irreverent tone seems like a decent match for Hitchcock and you can see why he took to the play and wanted to film it. What’s harder to imagine, given the play’s reliance on florid speeches, is that Hitchcock originally planned a silent version. The onset of sound scuppered this plan, and hard to imagine though it is I’d be intrigued to see how a silent version would’ve turned out because the sound version emerged as so static and stagebound that nothing can really save it.

I’ve seen plenty of films that are essentially filmed plays that still work really well but Juno and the Paycock has to struggle with early sound cinema limitations on top of being uncinematic at a basic level. Add to this the decision to cast non-Irish actors in some key very-Irish roles, something I object to less on modern grounds than just on the basic fact that it doesn’t work at all. Edward Chapman, later to become Norman Wisdom’s foil Mr. Grimsdale, is quite terrible and pointedly unIrish in the central role of Captain Boyle, while Sidney Morgan as his friend Joxer is a bit better but still pointedly an Englishman playing broad Irish. There are some decent performances, including a young John Laurie (Scottish) as the wayward son Johnny, and Sara Allgood (Irish. Hooray!) as the titular matriarch Juno, but nothing that comes close to elevating the production anywhere close to watchable.

I take no pleasure in rubbishing Juno and the Paycock. When a film is so roundly panned, I always hope I can be the exception and find something in it that many others didn’t (as I managed to do with Champagne) but Juno and the Paycock is pretty much exactly what I expected: a strained, draggy filmed play that is as dull and unremarkable as its reputation. Without his opening credit, you’d never know it was Hitchcock.

RICH AND STRANGE

Director: Alfred Hitchcock
Screenplay: Alfred Hitchcock, Alma Reville, Val Valentine
Based on the novel by: Dale Collins
Producers: John Maxwell
Starring: Henry Kendall, Joan Barry
Year: 1931
Country: UK
BBFC Certification: U
Duration: 110 mins

It has been noted in many reviews that the “Strange” portion of the Rich and Strange title is very much warranted and I can’t disagree. It’s very hard to tell what Rich and Strange wants to be. It’s a comedy but rather a sour one, its uneven tone not helped by an awkward segue into a peculiar romance which almost destroys the central couple’s marriage, before the film drifts towards a disaster movie style climax capped with a racist joke. By this time, confusion, boredom or frustration have probably become the dominant feelings in most viewers. I must admit, the sheer oddness of Rich and Strange did stave off boredom in my case but that didn’t necessarily make it a good viewing experience.

Ultimately, Rich and Strange feels like a film that needed a much bigger budget if its globe-trotting plot was to work at all. Some of the shots of the places the central couple visit recall the then-popular City Symphonies but Hitchcock fails to convincingly integrate this footage in an immersive way and so I never felt like I went on a voyage. The characters in whose company we spend the whole film are also grating. Joan Barry, whose voice was previously heard in Blackmail, does a decent job as the wife but Harry Kendall is woefully inadequate and unlikable as the husband.

There’s an interesting mix of silent and sound styles in Rich and Strange, with a great opening scene that plays out without dialogue and illustrates the hustle-bustle grind of the commute home from work. There are also intertitles throughout, the like of which the growing dominance of sound had all but eradicated by this time. But all this ends up feeling like a director pining to return to the silent cinema he had so convincingly mastered by the time of The Manxman. Blackmail had been a doozy of a first sound film but Rich and Strange still plays like Hitchcock is feeling his way through the early sound era. It’s an inevitable transition but the films from this time have, in my book, mostly been curious failures.

THE SKIN GAME

Director: Alfred Hitchcock
Screenplay: Alfred Hitchcock, Alma Reville
Based on the play by: John Galsworthy
Producers: John Maxwell
Starring: Edmund Gwenn, Helen Haye, C.V. France
Year: 1931
Country: UK
BBFC Certification: PG
Duration: 89 mins

Based on a play by John Galsworthy, The Skin Game is generally considered one of Hitchcock’s worst films. It wasn’t absolute bottom-of-the-barrel stuff for me but it does suffer greatly from a fairly boring plot about a battle over land between two rival families. The Skin Game is often accused of being stagey but with this film Hitchcock has noticeably moved on from the creaky Juno and the Paycock and Murder! He makes the dialogue-heavy, static script feel much more cinematic, with one brilliant scene at an auction that makes early use of whip pans to capture the urgency of the to-ing and fro-ing between the bids. The Skin Game also benefits from a very good central performance by Edmund Gwenn, the actor best known for his Oscar-winning turn as Father Christmas in Miracle on 34th Street. Gwenn collaborated with Hitchcock several times over the years. In fact, he made as many films with Hitchcock as those more famous collaborators James Stewart and Cary Grant. But Gwenn’s appearances are all in less celebrated works, and not always in the lead role, so their collaboration is also less celebrated.

If The Skin Game is a more handsome and cinematic film than Murder!, it also lacks the playful spirit that made that film entertaining for at least a portion of its runtime. The Skin Game is sluggish for most of its length, save for that auction scene and a hard pivot into melodrama towards the end which feels desperate. Notably, Hitchcock’s adaptation changes a key detail to make the story more tragic than Galsworthy’s source play, and the final shot gives the story a satisfyingly sour ending, but ultimately it’s a long old slog to get there, even at only 82 minutes.

NUMBER SEVENTEEN

Director: Alfred Hitchcock
Screenplay: Alfred Hitchcock, Alma Reville, Rodney Ackland
Based on the play by: Joseph Jefferson Farjeon
Producers: John Maxwell
Starring: John Stuart, Anne Grey, Leon M. Lion
Year: 1932
Country: UK
BBFC Certification: U
Duration: 63 mins

I was prepared for the fact that Number Seventeen is a somewhat quirky entry in the Hitchcock filmography but I was also aware that many people have a soft spot for it, or even consider it among his finest British films. Having watched the film, it amazes me that anyone has a kind word to say about Number Seventeen. Hitchcock didn’t want to make the film and retrospectively called it “a disaster.” I’m very much with Hitchcock on this one.

Number Seventeen is based on the burlesque thriller play by Joseph Jefferson Farjeon. The play was always intended as a spoof of the mystery thriller genre, with a deliberately convoluted plot, clichéd events and stock characters, and the film’s defenders often accuse its detractors of not “getting it” and of taking the material at face value. I was aware of the comedic nature of Number Seventeen going in but I didn’t find any of it remotely funny and the deliberately incomprehensible plot quickly becomes annoying if you’re hoping to connect with the film in any conventional way. Perhaps that’s the key to why some people think this is a masterpiece. Perhaps it is futile to expect anything conventional at all. But as characters reveal they are not who or what they purported to be again and again and events pile up without any real structure or sense, Number Seventeen becomes harder and harder to enjoy. It’s like a tedious checklist of clichés rather than an artful parody or subversion of them.

Attempting to follow the plot of Number Seventeen is all but pointless. I read a synopsis after the film was over to try and clarify what I had just watched and it still makes little sense. The acting is mostly mediocre or, in the case of Leon M. Lion’s overtly comedic Ben, excruciating and even at just over an hour in length the film seems to drag. Its potentially atmospheric old dark house setting is wasted as the characters seem intent on just hanging about on the stairs, while the train chase that closes the film (and is often cited as its saving grace) is frustrating in that its potential is wasted because the lack of any emotional engagement means there is no suspense at all.

I can picture those who loved Number Seventeen reading this review and rolling their eyes at yet another person who has misunderstood this supposed masterpiece. But I went in to Number Seventeen well-armed to understand it for what it is trying to be. I just happen to think it fails to achieve those goals. Earlier in my chronological Hitchcock adventure I would’ve put money on Juno and the Paycock coming out at the bottom of my ranking but I’d much rather watch that again. It seemed to me that Juno and the Paycock was a bad adaptation of what might be a decent play. Number Seventeen feels like a bad adaptation of a bad play.

SPECIAL FEATURES

THE RING

-New: A Knockout Score: Neil Brand on The Ring
-Hitchcock/Truffaut: Archival Audio Interview
-Introduction by Director / Film Historian Noël Simsolo
-Stills Gallery
-Score composed and performed by Antonio Coppola

The extras on The Ring immediately exemplify the excellence of this boxset’s curation, offering three different viewpoints on the film. Noël Simsolo’s introduction is brief but incisive, while Neil Brand offers a lengthier musing on both his experiences as a composer in relation to the film and also his personal thoughts on the film itself. Finally, we hear from the man himself, in the first of a series of audio extracts from the famous interviews Francois Truffaut conducted with Hitchcock. This five minute snippet provides invaluable personal insight about a film for which Hitch still appears to feel some affection.

THE FARMER’S WIFE

-New: Hitch in the Countryside: Neil Brand on The Farmer’s Wife
-Extract from BEHP Audio interview with Ronald Neame
-Hitchcock/Truffaut: Archival Audio Interview
-Introduction by Director / Film Historian Noël Simsolo
-Stills Gallery
-Two different scores:
* A piano score composed and performed by Neil Brand
* A score composed and performed Jon C. Mirsalis

The extras for The Farmer’s Wife give us the same three viewpoints as in The Ring’s special features. Simsolo gives another reliably interesting intro but Hitchcock’s own discussion of a film for which he holds little retrospective interest or pride is less engrossing. Brand, however, provides a warm and delightful glimpse of his own appreciation of the film and the experience of scoring it which is even better than his insights on The Ring. We also get a ten minute snippet of an interview with director Ronald Neame about his encounters with the young Hitchcock at around the time of The Farmer’s Wife, but this discussion is a little bit rambling and stiff.

CHAMPAGNE

-New: Hitch & Champagne: Neil Brand on music for Silent Film
-New: A Heady Cocktail: Charles Barr on Champagne
-Hitchcock/Truffaut: Archival Audio Interview
-Audio commentary by film historian Farran Smith Nehme
-Introduction by Director / Film Historian Noël Simsolo
-Stills Gallery
-Two different scores:
* A piano score composed and performed by Neil Brand
* A piano score composed and performed by Ben Model

Given how much I enjoyed Champagne, I was delighted to see an increased amount of special features associated with it. I was less delighted to find that few of the commentators involved shared my love of Champagne. Still, their lack of appreciation for the film is of little consequence given how interesting they are on the subject of it. Brand, once again warm and likeable, talks for longer about it than the film’s he preferred, and we get a further ten minutes from Hitchcock historian Charles Barr who also refuses to let his lack of enthusiasm for the film curb his passion for cinematic discussion. Simsolo’s introduction is again concisely interesting, and he at least acknowledges that the film is a lot of fun. Hitchcock himself, in conversation with Truffaut, shows scant pride for Champagne but does mention some moments he likes, before segueing into a bawdy anecdote that is predictable but an interesting example of Hitchcock’s famous penchant for dirty jokes. My favourite extra on this disc is Farran Smith Nehme’s feature commentary. I was thrilled that the routinely panned Champagne had been given the honour of a commentary and Nehme is fantastic company, her wealth of interesting information matched by her gentle wit and affable style, which perfectly suits this particular film.

THE MANXMAN

-New: Melodrama à la Manx: Stephen Horne on scoring Hitchcock
-New: Hitch’s Leading Ladies by Davina Quinliven
-Audio commentary by film historian Farran Smith Nehme
-Hitchcock/Truffaut: Archival Audio Interview
-Introduction by Director / Film Historian Noël Simsolo
-Stills Gallery
-Three different scores:
* A new score by Stephen Horne, orchestrated and conducted by Ben Palmer, performed by the Orchestra da Camera di Pordenone
* A score composed and performed by Antonio Coppola
* A piano score composed and performed by Andrew Earle Simpson

Along with another fine Simsolo introduction in which he proclaims The Manxman one of Hitchcock’s silent masterpieces, and a slightly meandering discussion by Hitchcock himself, here we get a second engrossing commentary by Nehme who proves to be wonderful company once again, despite talking about a very different film from Champagne. There are two other excellent supplements from new contributors here too. Davina Quinliven delivers an intelligent and involving 25 minute piece about Hitchcock’s often problematic depiction of women in his films, while Stephen Horne talks with a quiet passion about the pleasures of scoring The Manxman and what effect that score has on people’s growing appreciation of this hidden gem. I particularly enjoyed this extra, especially since it includes sumptuous footage of the orchestra recording Horne’s beautiful orchestra score.

BLACKMAIL

-Both silent and sound versions of Blackmail
-New: Silent into Sound: Neil Brand on Blackmail
-Anny Ondra’s Screen Test
-Extract from BEHP Audio interview with Ronald Neame
-Audio Commentary by Film Historian Tim Lucas
-Hitchcock/Truffaut: Archival Audio Interview
-Introduction by Director / Film Historian Noël Simsolo
-Stills Gallery
–Blackmail (silent version) features a new score composed and performed by Moritz Eggert

As Blackmail is likely to be perceived by most as the real prize of this whole boxset, it’s unsurprising that there are plenty of extras to accompany it. As well as generously offering both the silent and sound versions of the film, there is another introduction by Simsolo and a piece by Brand, both of whom talk enthusiastically about the film. Hitchcock’s discussion with Truffaut is over double the length of most of these extracts, and there is another piece of the Ronald Neame interview that runs to nearly 20 minutes (and is unfortunately as dry as the previous extract). Tim Lucas provides the feature commentary here and, though he lacks the conversational charisma and spontaneity of Nehme, it is rich with historical detail and interesting facts. Also included here is Anny Ondra’s screen test, using her real voice as Hitchcock stands beside her and instructs. Though playful, there is an undercurrent of humiliation here as Hitchcock uses his infamous brand of off-colour sexual humour to undermine Ondra and send her into fits of nervous giggles.

Another generous extra associated with Blackmail is Laurent Bouzereau’s 2024 documentary Becoming Hitchcock: The Legacy of Blackmail. A 72 minute examination of the making of Blackmail and what it meant for Hitchcock’s subsequent career, this documentary plays like a lengthy DVD extra, in that it is informative and interesting but does little to distinguish itself as its own cinematic feature independent of this set. Still, it gets its own disc to itself and fills in some of the blanks left by the rest of the Blackmail supplements.

MURDER!

–Mary: 1931 German version of Murder!
-Alternate Ending
-Audio Commentary by film critic Nick Pinkerton
-Hitchcock/Truffaut: Archival Audio Interview
-Introduction by Director / Film Historian Noël Simsolo
-Stills Gallery

Murder! is the second film in the boxset to offer an entire feature length alternative version as an extra, in this case Mary, the German version of Murder! We also get a ten minute alternative ending that was used in the American version of the film. Hitchcock has plenty to say about Murder!, talking with Truffaut for 14 minutes on the subject, while Simsolo gives us another informative five minutes on the subject. Finally, we get a feature commentary from Nick Pinkerton, who punctuates his informative but occasionally droning style with bursts of playful wit. Just listen to the way he introduces the film, leaning heavily on that titular exclamation mark!

JUNO AND THE PAYCOCK

-New: Hitch & The Irish Players – An Interview with Charles Barr
-Hitchcock/Truffaut: Archival Audio Interview
-Stills Gallery

Given how rare it is to hear anyone say a kind word about Juno and the Paycock, it’s hardly surprising to find it is the film with the fewest special features. Even Simsolo is absent from these extras. Still, given the terrible quality bargain basement editions that have been released previously, it is good to finally have even one or two supplements to this most derided of works. Charles Barr returns to talk for fifteen minutes about the film, while Hitchcock himself manages to squeeze out about three minutes on the subject. It’s probably about as much as you could expect for such a weak film but those interested in the whole Hitchcock filmography will be grateful for these insights.

RICH AND STRANGE

-New: Unexpectedly Personal: Charles Barr on Rich and Strange
-Audio Commentary by film historian Troy Howarth
-Hitchcock/Truffaut: Archival Audio Interview
-Introduction by Director / Film Historian Noël Simsolo
-Stills Gallery

Another fifteen minutes from Barr here, which again proves enlightening and detail-rich without being quite as engaging as the similar discussions with Neil Brand. Hitchcock and Truffaut, who both like the film, have an interesting eleven minute conversation about the film and Simsolo returns for another effusive introduction, having managed to duck his duties on Juno and the Paycock! The audio commentary this time comes from Troy Howarth, whose opening self-deprecating gag immediately settles the listener in for an enjoyable experience. Given that I’m not a big fan of the film itself, Howarth’s company proved extremely agreeable, giving the impression of a cosy chat as opposed to a dry lecture.

THE SKIN GAME

-New: Alma Reville: Jo Botting & Natalie Morris in Conversation
-Hitchcock/Truffaut: Archival Audio Interview
-Introduction by Director / Film Historian Noël Simsolo
-Stills Gallery

The Skin Game is not a film Hitchcock himself cares to talk about, managing a negligible 39 seconds in his discussion with Truffaut. Simsolo does not seem enthused by the film either, to the point that his introduction contains factual errors (he identifies The Skin Game’s star Edmund Gwenn as having appeared in two further Hitchcock films when in fact he appeared in three, and Simsolo then goes on to name one of the wrong ones!). The best extras here is Jo Botting and Natalie Morris’s half hour discussion of the oft-overlooked Alma Reville, Hitchcock’s frequent collaborator who also happened to be his wife. Given that no-one can find much of note to say about The Skin Game, it’s a great opportunity to delve into the details on this fascinating and talented woman.

NUMBER SEVENTEEN

-New: From Silent Film Idol to Superman: John Stuart by Jonathan Croall
-Audio Commentary by film historian and critic Peter Tonguette
-Hitchcock/Truffaut: Archival Audio Interview
-Introduction by Director / Film Historian Noël Simsolo
-Lobby Cards Gallery

It’s a shame Charles Barr wasn’t asked to speak about Number Seventeen as, given that this is my least favourite Hitchcock film, his indication in an earlier feature on this boxset that he is a fan piqued my interest. Instead, we get a discussion of the film’s star John Stuart by his journalist son Jonathan Croall. It’s a nice and moving little extra which also touches on the reasons Number Seventeen is so messy and silly (deliberate sabotage by a disgruntled director, unsurprisingly). Simsolo’s introduction is no more complimentary, although he delivers it beautifully with the Frenchest lighting of a cigarette as a glorious opening gambit! Hitchcock’s thoughts on the film also peg it as an utter disaster and Peter Tonguette’s commentary is a tad stumbling and dry.

FINAL THOUGHTS

If you cast an eye over the average star ratings I’ve given most of the films in this set, you might expect a much lower overall rating. But, aside from the fact that there are at least three films I love here, Hitchcock: The Beginning is just a marvellously put together boxset, targeting the collector who places as high a premium on the fascination of filmmaking and cinema history as they do on the individual films themselves. The copious and excellent extras offered here have given me hours of pleasure and even the films that I deemed failures have something interesting about them that may well lead to future rewatches. Studiocanal should be applauded for making available beautiful copies of these harder-to-find Hitchcock films, some of which have long languished in states of almost unwatchable disrepair. Fans of the Master of Suspense will definitely want to add this one to their Christmas lists.

Hitchcock: The Beginning is released on Blu-ray by Studiocanal on 16 December 2024.