Tonight’s Saturday Night Cinema is very early Hitchcock. So early it’s silent – an underappreciated art-form that few have the patience for. More’s the pity. Hitchcock finds visual invention everywhere. Thanks to FilmStruck and the Criterion Collection, we finally get a chance to see decent prints of Hitchcock’s earliest available works, and discover that there was much more to the Master than his murderous masterpieces.
Hitchcock’s style is very much in evidence here, especially the early influence of German Expressionism. Brief scenes, as when Roddy goes down into the Underground after being cast out from his father’s house, and again as his shadow casts across the stairs as he ascends to his apartment, recall images from Nosferatu and Metropolis, while the club scene owes a debt to The Last Laugh. There’s no doubt that this is a young filmmaker experimenting with what the camera and the frame can do, but there’s an assuredness to the images that reminds us that Hitchcock never used flourishes without a purpose. (SASRO)
Downhill (1928): Hitchcock’s Fourth Film, Based on Play by Ivor Novello and Constance Collier
November 11, 2012 by Emanuel Levy
Shot in the U.K., Hitchcock’s fourth feature, “Downhill,” was based on sketches by two actors, Ivor Novello, who had starred in the director’s former film, “The Lodger,” and Constance Collier, adapted to the screen by Eliot Stannard.
In the .U.S., the film was released as “When Boys Leave Home,” though “Downhill” is more appropriate because it is literally an exploration of downward social mobility and moral decline.
The film introduced a theme that would recur in Hitchcock’s future work, the shared guilt, or the transference of guilt from one person to another. An opening title states: “two boys made a pact of loyalty—and one kept it at a price.”
by Douglas Messerli, World Cinema Review:
David L’Estrange (Ivor Novello and Constance Collier) (screenplay), Alfred Hitchcock (director) Downhill / 1927
Alfred Hitchcock’s 5th movie, the silent film of 1927 Downhill, strangely enough is one of his very best. I characterize this as somewhat “odd” simply because several later films, far better known and admired by his audiences, are simply not as innovative and cinematically brilliant as this early work.
The story, based on a play by the film’s star, the beautiful Ivor Novello and Constance Collier under the shared alias David L’Estrange, is far less important than Hitchcock’s cinematic telling of it.
Roddy Berwick (Novello), his school’s star Rugby player, has a flirtatious relationship with a local waitress, Mabel (Annette Benson). On one such visit Roddy brings along his school friend, Tim Wakely (Robin Irvine) who takes the relationship with Mabel much further than the dances Roddy engages her in; and soon after the boys are called into the office of the school’s head, where Mabel sits, explaining that she is pregnant and that the father is Roddy, a lie told, in part, because she suspects she can get more financial support from Roddy’s wealthier parents. Tim must get a scholarship if he is to go to Oxford.
Roddy accordingly takes the blame, although he knows the truth, and is not only ousted from his school but his family as well.
As the title suggests, the rest of this film portrays his “downhill” progress, as he works, first, in Paris as a bit actor, marries one of the major actresses of the day, Julia Fotheringale (Isabel Jeans),
suddenly receives a financial windfall from a relative, and loses it through Julia’s extravagant spending. She has also continued her affair with her former sleazy boyfriend, matinee star Archie (Ian Hunger).
Psycholocially broken and mentally and physically ill, Roddy ends up in a Marseilles fleabag hotel room, pitied by sailors who agree to “throw him to the rats,” in this case, shipping him back home.
In the interim, his parents have discovered the truth, and have been desperately searching for him, so all ends well.
But the director tells another story, filming his images in sickly colors of pea-green, yellow, brown and blue to help us perceive the nauseous journey that our hero must undergo. More importantly, Hitchcock,
particularly in the later nightmare scenes, overlays images, focusing on machine parts and other mechanical devices that might make even Fritz Lang envious, creating a generally vertiginous sense of reality that he would not return to until the middle of his career with Vertigo and North by Northwest.
Finally, the casting of pretty gay-boy Novello as the hero is brilliant because, just as in The Lodger of the same year, it makes the audience totally sympathetic with a character who otherwise might simply be seen as a spoiled schoolboy, or in the other film as a dangerous murderer. Here he becomes a tortured beauty who we hardly can take our eyes away from. Hitchcock was brilliant in this, often using handsome gay actors—Montgomery Clift, Cary Grant, Farley Granger, and Anthony Perkins to name only a few. One might argue that by using gays as potential or actual villains the great director was simply playing into the prejudices of the day; but I’d argue that he chose these beautiful figures in order to challenge and make us question our easy assumptions. And the many subtle homosexual relationships that Hitchcock concocted in his films help also to force us to query assumptions. Are Roddy and Tim, in Downhill, more than simply “friends,” and mightn’t help explain why Roddy allows himself to become the guilty figure; after all he is later betrayed yet again by his wife; he is clearly a weak man who nonetheless attracts all those around him.
Betrayal is, in fact, the common theme of this work. To the outsider Roddy has betrayed his school, his sport, his family; and he, in turn, is betrayed by his best friend, his school, a local girl, his parents, and his theater-star wife. Even though the Marseilles sailors ultimately save his life, they too are ready to present him with whatever fate might await, why they describe it as “throwing him to the rats.”
It is not a happy tale, despite its restoration of the hero by the film’s end to his loving family. It is perhaps already too late in Roddy’s now ruined life to allow him to return to normality. As in so very many of Hitchcock’s works, life after accusation, mistaken identity, inexplicable assault, or, especially, actual criminal involvement, can never be the same again. In film after film, Hitchcock presents us with figures whose lives are forever altered by accident, chance, or simply involvement with the wrong people at the right time. And it is almost always a journey, by train, plane, or simply through the courts and conscience to a world you will never wish to return to.
Like a “downhill” skier, the good-looking kid of Hitchcock’s 1927 masterwork will probably never be able to be lifted to the top of the mountain again.
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