Alfred Hitchcock Presents: Season Two

Since Alfred Hitchcock Presents debuted on Peacock TV last spring, we've been working our way through the show's entire run. Last July, we reviewed the impressive first season. We recently finished the second season, which--by comparison to season one--was a disappointment. Too many episodes felt like filler material and there seemed to be a disproportionate emphasis on comedic episodes. The low point was a three-parter called "I Killed the Count," which would have been boring at a single episode--much less three! Plus, it wasted the dryly amusing John Williams (once again playing a police inspector).

Still, there were some bright spots among the 39 episodes, with the highlights being:

William Redfield as the murderer.

The Manacled - As a detective sergeant escorts a convicted killer on a train ride to San Quentin, the latter tries to negotiate his freedom. Like several episodes, this is essentially a two-character play, but it's extremely well acted by Gary Merrill as the detective and especially William Redfield as the intelligent criminal who seeks out human weaknesses. The teleplay features dialogue by the great Stirling Silliphant, with my favorite passage being when the killer explains he already knew everything about the man who would escort him:  "I thought whoever it was would be wearing a ready-made suit off of a basement rack, his heels would be run down. Be the kind of man who was living on the installment plan. Doesn't really own anything, just pieces of things. A piece of a cheap car, a piece of an ice box, a piece of a bedroom set. And all the stuff he has pieces of is already falling to pieces. But he'll keep paying on it and paying on it, month after month because that's the kind of man he is. Just a piece of a man."

One More Mile to Go - During a violent argument, a man (David Wayne) kills his wife in a rage. Instead of calling the police, he cleans up the crime scene and puts her corpse in the trunk of his car. His goal is to dump the body, but a malfunctioning tail light and a persistent highway cop cause persistent problems. Directed by Hitchcock, this tense episode opens with an mesmerizing sequence without dialogue as we view the crime through a window from outside the house. 

Jessica Tandy and Robert H. Harris

Toby - Albert Birch (Robert H. Harris) is shocked when his former flame Edwina (Jessica Tandy) contacts him out of the blue. Upon meeting again, their romance is rekindled and Edwina agrees to marry Albert. She also reveals that she has custody of her dead sister's baby, Toby. However, she refuses to let Albert--or anyone else--see Toby. The climatic twist is not unexpected, but that doesn't negate the impact of this low-key, unsettling episode. Jessica Tandy gives a haunting, disturbing performance--seven years before she appeared in a pivotal role in Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds.

Evelyn Rudie and Cedric Hardwicke.

A Man Greatly Beloved - A young girl named Hildegarde (Evelyn Rudie) befriends a grumpy recluse (Cedric Hardwicke), who may be a famous retired judge. Through his friendship with Hildegarde, the man gradually becomes an esteemed member of the community. Again, the twist is not surprising, but this episode is elevated by charming, natural performances--especially young Evelyn Rudie. The supporting cast includes Robert Culp in an early role. Based on a short story by Winnie the Pooh author A. A. Milne. Incidentally, Evelyn Rudie earned an Emmy nomination the same year for an episode of Playhouse 90. 

Vincent Price Disappears...in The Invisible Man Returns

While James Whale's Bride of Frankenstein is widely regarded as a masterpiece, I'm always surprised that his adaptation of H.G. Wells' The Invisible Man (1933) remains largely overlooked. Personally, I may even prefer it over Bride, given its striking visuals and Claude Rains' standout performance (all the more impressive because his face is never shown until the end). Thus, it is somewhat surprising that Universal waited seven years to make a sequel. I suspect the long gap can be attributed to securing the rights to make sequels to the Wells novel.

The Invisible Man Returns opens with Geoffrey Radcliffe (Vincent Price) in prison for the murder of his brother--and just hours away from the gallows. Following a visit from his friend, Dr. Frank Griffin (John Sutton), Geoffrey miraculously escapes from his cell...although the guards find his clothes lying on the floor.

No, that's not Darth Vader--but Jeff
wearing a gas mask.

Frank Griffin, of course, is the brother of Jack Griffin, the scientist who invented the invisibility formula in the original film. Frank hasn't solved the serum's two biggest drawbacks: (1) there is no way to become visible again; (2) the formula eventually causes madness. So, while Geoffrey tries to uncover the real murderer of his brother, Frank tries to create an antidote.

The Invisible Man Returns is a solid sequel, but certainly not on par with its 1933 predecessor. It benefits from a first-rate supporting cast led by Sir Cedric Hardwicke as the villain, Alan Napier as a bribed accomplice, and Cecil Kellaway as a Scotland Yard inspector. (Also on hand is Mary Gordon, who would play Mrs. Hudson in the Universal Sherlock Holmes films.) The film's biggest assets, though, are its star, special effects, and trademark Universal atmosphere.

Cecil Kellaway, the Invisible Man outlined in smoke,
and Cedric Hardwicke.

Vincent Price had appeared memorably in the preceding year's The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex (as Walter Raleigh) and Tower of London (as the Duke of Clarence). The Invisible Man Returns provided him with his first starring role. Just as with Claude Rains in the original, Price's face remains behind bandages for almost the entire film. However, Price's distinctive voice conveys all the requisite emotion as his character evolves from mild paranoiac to egomaniac.

John P. Fulton, who created the invisibility special effects for the 1933 film, returned for the sequel. He earned an Academy Award nomination for his amazing effects (losing to Lawrence W. Butler for The Thief of Bagdad). Fulton would also earn Oscar nominations for his optical tricks for The Invisible Woman (1941) and Invisible Agent (1942). He eventually won two Oscars, in 1945 for the Danny Kaye comedy Wonder Man and in 1956 for Cecil B. DeMille's The Ten Commandants.

The Invisible Man stealing clothes.

Director Joe May, who worked with Fritz Lang in Germany, lacks the visual flair of James Whale. However, he has his moments, such as when Geoffrey steals clothes from a scarecrow against a desolate gray sky. Although May contributed to the script, I suspect the wittiest lines (Geoffrey's girlfriend: "Geoff, when shall I see you?") can be attributed to Curt Siodmak. While his brother Robert carved out a successful career as a director (The Spiral Staircase, The Killers), Curt penned screenplays for horror classics such as The Wolf Man (1940), I Walked With a Zombie (1943), and Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man (1943).

I think The Invisible Man Returns would have worked better as a legitimate mystery with an invisible detective. As it is, there is only one likely suspect and, sure enough, he turns out to be the killer. Still, with a running time of 81 minutes, it doesn't overstay its welcome and the efforts of Price and Fulton make it worthwhile.

Fabulous Films of the 1940s Blogathon: Let Right Be Done in "The Winslow Boy"

Robert Donat as Sir Robert Morton.

When 12-year-old Ronnie Winslow is expelled from the Royal Naval Academy, his father has but one question: Did Ronnie steal the five-shilling postal order? When his son replies that he did not, Arthur Winslow, a retired upper middle-class bank accountant, sets out to prove his son's innocence.

It's a campaign that will reach the House of Commons and evolve into a passionate debate of fundamental citizen rights. Yet, it will also earn the Winslow family unwanted notoriety, put them on the brink of debt, and cause them to question one another's motives (even the normally restrained Grace Winslow accuses her husband of "pride and self-importance").

Cedric Hardwicke.

This 1948 adaptation of Terence Rattigan's hit 1946 stage play succeeds as enthralling drama and social commentary. In regard to the latter, the film's central issue is whether "a servant of the King" can sue the King. When Arthur Winslow's (Cedric Hardwicke) appeal to the Naval commandant fails, he seeks out famous solicitor Sir Robert Morton (Robert Donat). In one of the film's best scenes, Morton cross-examines Ronnie ruthlessly in the family's home. After getting the lad thoroughly flummoxed, Morton turns away to make an abrupt exit. The family assumes that hope is lost--before Sir Robert quips on his way out the door: "The boy is plainly innocent. I will take the brief."

In order to bring Ronnie's case to trial, Sir Robert must secure approval from the Attorney General through a Petition of Right. When approved, the petition is endorsed with the phrase: "Let right be done." Sir Robert's political maneuvering and inspiring speech in the House of Commons would make for an interesting film alone.

The poster stressed Donat's
billing, of course.

However, Rattigan also focuses on the impact to the family. As the legal bills mount, Arthur Winslow withdraws financial support for his older son at Oxford. Arthur's health deteriorates until his arthritis makes him wheelchair-bound. Catherine Winslow's fiance ends their engagement when his father--who finds the Winslow' notoriety socially unacceptable--threatens to stop his son's allowance. Arthur even considers firing the family maid after 24 years of loyal service.

Through all the stress, Arthur and his suffragette daughter Catherine remain the pillars of the family. Arthur's goal is simply to prove his son's innocence. Catherine, on the other hand, believes that the government has ignored a fundamental human right. Her beliefs align closely with Sir Robert's, whom she first perceives as an egotistical lawyer who views the case as an opportunity to press his own agenda. However, just like Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice, Catherine later learns she has misjudged Sir Robert...and, indeed, their sparring seems to indicate a spark between the two.

Margaret Leighton in a publicity still.

Although the entire cast is impeccable, special recognition must be paid to Hardwicke, Donat, and Margaret Leighton as Catherine. A supporting performer through much of his film career, Hardwicke brings determination and depth to his role as the single-minded father who begins to question what he had done. As for Donat, who doesn't appear until 41 minutes into the film, this may be my favorite of his performances--crisp, energetic, and utterly believable. He and Leighton, whose quiet conviction is the backbone of the story, are a delightful pair and their denouement ends the film on a perfect note.

Terence Rattigan based his play on a real-life incident involving George Archer-Shee, a Royal Navy cadet accused of stealing a postal order in 1910. Archer-Shee's case made headlines, just as in The Winslow Boy, and he was eventually acquitted. His family subsequently sued the Admiralty and finally received compensation in 1911.

Although the 1948 film remains the best-known adaptation, there are at least three other versions: a 1997 BBC "filmed play" with Eric Porter (The Forsyte Saga) as Arthur; a 1989 telefilm with Gordon Jackson (Upstairs Downstairs) as Arthur and Emma Thompson as Catherine; and David Mamet's very good 1991 adaptation starring Nigel Hawthorne (Arthur), Jeremy Northam (Sir Robert), and Rebecca Pidgeon (Catherine).

Click here to check out all the great reviews in the CMBA's Fabulous Films of the 1940s Blogathon.