The sad plight of a twice-wronged woman - first by her husband, then society - gets the silent treatment from Alfred Hitchcock in this early melodrama. Many of the themes of later Hitch classics come up, and in sometimes arresting ways, but the overall impact is a thud.
Larita Filton (Isabel Jeans) finds herself ruined when her brutal husband catches her with a lovestruck artist. Not guilty, but too easily believed to be, she winds up divorced but well-off enough to take her broken heart to a French resort town on the Mediterranean. There she captures the fancy of a young man named Whittaker (Robin Irvine) who insists on knowing nothing of her past. Unluckily for her, his family is not as swept off their feet. Trouble ensues when he introduces her to them as his new wife, her secret unknown but festering all the same.
Hitchcock's silent films are fascinating to watch even when they aren't all that good. For one thing, he had quite a stock company going by this time: Jeans, Irvine, Violet Farebrother (who plays Whittaker's disapproving mother), and Ian Hunter (who plays the attorney who handles the case against Mrs. Filton) all appear in "Downhill," a film Hitchcock directed the year before.
Also, Hitch silents often reveal the unique nature of his approach to cinema in embryonic form. Here, he demonstrates a stylistic acclivity for quick cuts and arresting camera set-ups. Thematically, the sun- drenched French scenes remind you of "To Catch A Thief," while the Whittaker's stuffy estate, "Moat House," conjures up "Rebecca." Farebrother gives off the nasty vibe of every Hitchcock unfair mother to come in his oeuvre. Jeans likewise personifies every sexy-but-troubled blonde Hitchcock would find such reward in making suffer.
What the film doesn't have is an engaging story. Larita is too passive a character, and her romance with Whittaker is so bloodless it's hard to understand. The acting is borderline, with both Jeans and Farebrother especially problematic. Both have good scenes, but also too many overheated moments they play too much with their eyes, which tend to roll like storm-tossed eggs. Finally, this is one time the silent medium really under-serves the story, as many scenes play out in long talky pantomimes with minimal dialogue cards.
You really get the feeling Hitchcock wanted to explore his growing bag of tricks at the expense of intelligent exposition. One early example features Hunter holding a decanter as a key piece of evidence in Larita's divorce trial. This allows for a cut to the same decanter in a scene with the drunken Mr. Filton, but one is left to wonder: What's the point bringing the decanter into the courtroom? It plays no role in the actual climax with the artist. It's just there for the cut.
There's perhaps a more interesting film at work in the corners of the frame. One aspect touched on in ackstasis's October 2007 review is Larita's unsympathetic character once imprisoned in Moat House. She smokes like a chimney, blowing her exhaust in the faces of Whittaker's troublesome sisters. It's perhaps a sign of her liberation, except you wonder before the roof caves in why she doesn't cool it a bit. Given a chance to explain herself to the mother-in-law, she waves her off with a snooty line: "I'm sure the names of my friends would convey nothing to you." If she isn't a Scarlet Woman, and we know she isn't, she acts more than a bit like one.
This might have been better explored if the Moat House scenes were played for more subtlety. Jeans bears a strong resemblance to Helen Mirren, and brings some of Mirren's wounded charm to her role. Alas, the melodrama takes over too quickly. Irvine just seems lost in his key role. I stopped caring early, and just watched for the tricks and the echoes of things to come.
You get plenty of those, anyway. Hitchcock is one of those major figures you want to see even when he's not at his best. That's the only kind of recommendation I can offer for this weak-tea soap opera.
Larita Filton (Isabel Jeans) finds herself ruined when her brutal husband catches her with a lovestruck artist. Not guilty, but too easily believed to be, she winds up divorced but well-off enough to take her broken heart to a French resort town on the Mediterranean. There she captures the fancy of a young man named Whittaker (Robin Irvine) who insists on knowing nothing of her past. Unluckily for her, his family is not as swept off their feet. Trouble ensues when he introduces her to them as his new wife, her secret unknown but festering all the same.
Hitchcock's silent films are fascinating to watch even when they aren't all that good. For one thing, he had quite a stock company going by this time: Jeans, Irvine, Violet Farebrother (who plays Whittaker's disapproving mother), and Ian Hunter (who plays the attorney who handles the case against Mrs. Filton) all appear in "Downhill," a film Hitchcock directed the year before.
Also, Hitch silents often reveal the unique nature of his approach to cinema in embryonic form. Here, he demonstrates a stylistic acclivity for quick cuts and arresting camera set-ups. Thematically, the sun- drenched French scenes remind you of "To Catch A Thief," while the Whittaker's stuffy estate, "Moat House," conjures up "Rebecca." Farebrother gives off the nasty vibe of every Hitchcock unfair mother to come in his oeuvre. Jeans likewise personifies every sexy-but-troubled blonde Hitchcock would find such reward in making suffer.
What the film doesn't have is an engaging story. Larita is too passive a character, and her romance with Whittaker is so bloodless it's hard to understand. The acting is borderline, with both Jeans and Farebrother especially problematic. Both have good scenes, but also too many overheated moments they play too much with their eyes, which tend to roll like storm-tossed eggs. Finally, this is one time the silent medium really under-serves the story, as many scenes play out in long talky pantomimes with minimal dialogue cards.
You really get the feeling Hitchcock wanted to explore his growing bag of tricks at the expense of intelligent exposition. One early example features Hunter holding a decanter as a key piece of evidence in Larita's divorce trial. This allows for a cut to the same decanter in a scene with the drunken Mr. Filton, but one is left to wonder: What's the point bringing the decanter into the courtroom? It plays no role in the actual climax with the artist. It's just there for the cut.
There's perhaps a more interesting film at work in the corners of the frame. One aspect touched on in ackstasis's October 2007 review is Larita's unsympathetic character once imprisoned in Moat House. She smokes like a chimney, blowing her exhaust in the faces of Whittaker's troublesome sisters. It's perhaps a sign of her liberation, except you wonder before the roof caves in why she doesn't cool it a bit. Given a chance to explain herself to the mother-in-law, she waves her off with a snooty line: "I'm sure the names of my friends would convey nothing to you." If she isn't a Scarlet Woman, and we know she isn't, she acts more than a bit like one.
This might have been better explored if the Moat House scenes were played for more subtlety. Jeans bears a strong resemblance to Helen Mirren, and brings some of Mirren's wounded charm to her role. Alas, the melodrama takes over too quickly. Irvine just seems lost in his key role. I stopped caring early, and just watched for the tricks and the echoes of things to come.
You get plenty of those, anyway. Hitchcock is one of those major figures you want to see even when he's not at his best. That's the only kind of recommendation I can offer for this weak-tea soap opera.