“We ought to order tea or something if we’re going to stay here long…”
Based on the novel A Shilling for Candles by Josephine Tey, Hitchcock’s twenty third film takes some liberties with its source material, but manages to offer a reasonably engaging man-on-the-run thriller, of the kind beloved of Hitch. The version of Young and Innocent available on Britbox is also of remarkably pristine quality, so much so that the deep shadows and bright skies of summer really spring out of the screen, maybe more so due to the monochrome.
There’s also a pair of likeable and engaging lead performances from Nova Pilbeam and Derrick De Marney. Pilbeam put me in mind of Maxine Peake in appearance and on the strength of Young and Innocent you’d think that her expressive face would be better known, but as in common with many actresses of the ‘20s and ‘30s she had a relatively short screen career, perhaps with the contemporary attitude being to make hay while the sun shone and then retire gracefully. De Marney has the clipped British tones that really don’t sound like anybody British I’ve ever met, and I’ve lived here all my life, but still, a voice that exists in a certain era of cinema as the heroic everyman centre of films such as these (see also Robert Donat in The 39 Steps).
De Marney plays Robert Tisdall, who like many Hitchcock heroes, ends up having his day go to bollocks just because he innocently got involved in events bigger than himself. You have to wonder how absolutely incriminating the spectacle of him running away from the drowned body is, but those two young ladies do seem absolutely appalled and convinced of his guilt, so what’s a police officer going to do? Sorry Son, that’s enough evidence for me! Down the station with you! Meanwhile, we already know there is a jealous husband out there, who is likely the killer. The bloke has a really noticeable twitch. I’m talking proper full on face gymnastics here. He probably should have got someone else to do the dirty work for him, because with a facial performance like that you just know he’s going to be easy to find later. So, already there’s a plot forming that is likely to keep you committed, as long as you overlook the sillier aspects. While praising the film’s strengths, I also have to mention the miniature model work, which is exceptional. I’m never convinced how much these scenes are always necessary, but Hitchcock stages certain scenes exactly how he liked with visual trickery and it usually convinces very well. Bernard Knowles is the camera man, but not sure who supplied the model work. I’ll get back to you on that.
While the film certainly has its merits, it’s a far lesser offering from Hitchcock than would have been usual, even at this early stage. The stakes never feel high enough and like a less considered Columbo script, the motives and ultimate ‘gotcha’ don’t stand up to scrutiny. As with many Hitchcock films, the ending can catch you by surprise unless you’ve been checking the run time; everything is wrapped up very neatly and swiftly in a few minutes. Would finding the murderer under fraught circumstances really convince him to give himself up in maniacal, laughing declaration of guilt? Maybe, maybe not. Young and innocent is best enjoyed for the two leads and their character’s slowly blossoming affection. Having said that, there are times where the film gives over so much time to quiet, unhurried scenes of their romantic bonding that any sense of jeopardy is all but diffused. This makes Young and Innocent less of a nail biting race to prove a man’s innocence in the mould of The 39 Steps or North by Northwest (to name but two of many) and more of a leisurely holiday in the country with a few road blocks and half-hearted car chases. I felt that if the couple stopped off for cream teas, there would still be plenty of time to evade the police. A sort of To Catch a Thief, but without the colour, vistas and sense of intrigue.
Hitchcock films sometimes present less than plausible or likely motivations and background for the lead character, but then get on with the excitement of the actual story. To Catch of Thief is perhaps somewhat guilty of this as I find the titular thief, John Robie, to be an unlikely character. But what do I know? Maybe retired jewel thieves became internationally infamous in the ‘50s and were likely to enjoy the luxury of living off a vineyard in the South of France. If the makeup of Cary Grant’s Robie doesn’t always particularly stand up to scrutiny, Grant’s natural charm as a leading man will no doubt drag you willingly along for the ride (which, as with the actual car ride in the film, will be fast, fun, thrilling and a little bit sexy).
Robie, previously known as ‘The Cat’, just wants to be left alone with his sun kissed new life tending his vineyards (as all retired jewel thieves, this film begs you to presume). However, when a jewel thief strikes the rich inhabitants of the French Riviera, using Robie’s trademark moves, he becomes the primary suspect and must clear his name.
To Catch a Thief is Hitchcock on holiday; this is one of the lighter films in his canon and being in Technicolor, offers some gorgeous, inviting photography of the Riviera. But few things French are as gorgeous in colour as Grace Kelly, here in the last of her three consecutive Hitchcock film appearances. Kelly’s presence dominates every scene she’s in and it remains cinema’s loss that she retired so early. Kelly plays Frances Stevens, a wealthy American tourist, vacationing with her mother, who is attracted by the presence of Robie (who frankly sticks out like a wanted jewel thief in every scene). She offers a sassy charm that easily matches Grant’s (who himself almost retired from films before this film). The result of their pairing is a very believable sexual fission which never really lets up and offers some understated suggestion and not so understated innuendo not entirely typical for the time. This chemistry helps drive the story to its reasonably satisfying conclusion, but with this film it’s more about the ride (whether literal or not) than the destination. Additionally, British actor John Williams (who can also be seen in Dial M for Murder) offers stoic support as Robie’s lawyer and Jessie Royce Landis lends a delightfully sardonic turn as Frances’ mother.
To Catch a Thief is essentially a romantic comedy, although in the hands of Hitchcock it does offer some degree of suspense and thrills, although it does those things at a more leisurely pace than other more sofa arm gripping Hitch films. Also, as good as To Catch a Thief is, the film does tend to pale in the shadow of the other Hitchcock films from this late period, coming straight after the quality double whammy of Dial M For Murder and Rear Window, and just two years before the re-make of The Man Who Knew Too Much and four years before his magnum opus Vertigo. Despite all this revered and much loved contemporary competition, To Catch a Thief is probably still more fun than some of them. As an example of a lighter hearted Hitchcock offering, To Catch a Thief has a lot to recommend it, not least the charming and sexy lead performances and Robert Burns’ picturesque photography. Not top tier Hitchcock then, but nowhere near the bottom either and you’ll like it all the more if you allow its aforementioned charms to do their work.
The enduring feeling after watching The 39 Steps is that I’d watched a film with some very modern sensibilities. This can make it difficult, but not impossible, to imagine how an audience in 1935 would have reacted to it. Nearly thirty years before the first Bond film and nearly twenty five years before Hitchcock’s own North by Northwest, the genesis of the modern suspense thriller may be found in films like The 39 Steps. The 39 Steps is a film that, despite quite obviously being made in 1935, quite successfully transcends its time.
The trope of a man being falsely accused and going on the run, while frantically trying to clear his name, was not a new obsession for Hitchcock but it is here that it is probably first put to its most successful narrative use. Based on John Buchan’s 1915 novel, the film presents the most unfortunate case of a holiday gone to shit, as visiting Canadian Richard Hanney (played with everyman effortlessness by Robert Donat) becomes embroiled in a mysterious and dangerous espionage conflict after he unknowingly takes in a spy after a shooting in a London music hall. The spy, Annabella Smith, is played by Lucie Mannheim who makes enough of an impression that I would have welcomed her as the female lead. But this is a Hitchcock film, so don’t get too attached is all I will advise. Shortly before Smith makes her…er…exit, she entices Hanney with a mention of the titular ’39 Steps’. Are they a place? Actual steps? A set of instructions? Something else entirely? As a McGuffin, it’s one of Hitchcock’s more intriguing and their revelation in the final reel is, in true Hitchcock tradition, neither what most will expect or revealed in the way you would expect either.
Hitch racks up the suspense in a great anxiety fuelled train sequence, (much has been made of Hitchcock’s returning fascination with trains and tunnels, often seen as thinly veiled sexual metaphors). It’s here that we meet Madeleine Carroll as the actual female lead, Pamela, one of Hitchcock’s early ‘icy blondes’. To be fair she thaws pretty quickly once the two leads are reunited later in the picture. Carroll was big news in the mid ‘30s and Donat had started to make an impression in the US, so their casting made economic sense. Her first appearance is so brief that you could be excused for thinking you’ve identified the wrong actress; Hitchcock takes his time setting up the big players in his narrative. For a fairly economical running time, Hitchcock is in no rush to pull this steak off the grill too quickly. This is a slow cooking creation, and as ever with Hitch you have to wait and see how the different elements come together. Questions arise throughout. Who is the man with the missing finger? Is Pamela a help or hindrance to Hannay? You’ll get your answers. If you’re savvy, you’ll remember that Hitch will wrong step you very suddenly; and the answers can arrive unexpectedly.
Despite being a product of the mid ‘30s (the famous sequences where Hannay and Pamela are handcuffed together, traversing the Scottish Highlands and staying the night in an inn, are reminiscent of a ‘30s screwball comedy, likely influenced by the likes of It Happened One Night and its various imitators). But any fashionable tropes work and the chemistry between the leads is strong enough to carry the romantic humour, which never dilutes the jeopardy.
The closing scene is an early Hitchcock masterstroke. If you were paying attention, maybe you saw it coming from the beginning, but either way you won’t be robbed of the satisfaction of the final revelation and righting of wrongs. One enduring criticism of Hitchcock is that his films end suddenly. Perhaps a fair point, but there is rarely any excess, unwanted fat on this perfect steak, so enjoy; this is a superior serving of suspense by a master chef.
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