Thursday, April 23, 2020

The Men Who Knew Too Much

I was a teenager when I first became a fan of Alfred Hitchcock. My parents, bless their hearts, did their best to support my newfound interest. One amazing Christmas, they gifted me with a 4-VHS tape collection of (public domain) Alfred Hitchcock movies and the book The Films of Alfred Hitchcock by Neil Sinyard. At the time I had seen fewer than 10 Hitchcock movies so Sinyard's book did a lot to inform me about those films I had yet to see.

Sinyard's book was something of a 'coffee table book' - an oversized hardcover with big glossy pages of photos from Hitchcock's movies. And yet, it was also full of opinions from the author - not satisfied with merely describing the movies' plots, but frequently subject to the author's own preferences. The coverage was also noticeably skewed in favour of the author's favourite Hitchcock films and to the detriment of those which were not. I liked that book, but I don't know if it was a very good 'first' Hitchcock book; like, the author's opinions about Shadow of a Doubt (which I had not seen when I read the book) seriously interfered with my later enjoyment of the film.

Which brings me to The Man Who Knew Too Much. This is the only time Hitchcock made one of his films twice - first in 1934, again in 1956. As I've learned, this wasn't uncommon among Hitchcock's peers - certainly Cecil B. DeMille, Howard Hawks & Raoul Walsh had no problem remaking their own pictures. But Sinyard's book favoured the 1956 remake and had little to say about the 1934 original. In fact, he devoted only 2 paragraphs to the 1934 movie (and one of those paragraphs was devoted to his opinions on why the 1956 version was better) but gave the 1956 version 2 pages!

The 1934 version came in the VHS set my parents gave me so I had seen that picture and enjoyed it, but it would be several years before I could find a video store where I could rent the 1956 one. When I finally did, I decided I didn't like the 1956 version as much as the original. Over the decades I've now read numerous books about Hitchcock's films and I find that many which were written through the 1990s were convinced the 1956 version was superior; perhaps they simply didn't want to dissent from Hitchcock's own opinion, which, as he informed Francois Truffaut was "the first version is the work of a talented amateur and the second was made by a professional." But I've found in the internet age there is a pretty even split between critics who prefer the original and critics who prefer the later version.

Recently I watched the two versions again and I have a few thoughts I'd like to share about them -- and why I prefer the 1934 version.

THE FILMS

1934: A British couple the Lawrences (Leslie Banks & Edna Best) are on vacation in Switzerland so Mrs. Lawrence can compete in a sharpshooting contest when they meet a secret agent, whom Mrs. Lawrence flirts with to tease her husband. When the agent is killed, the dying man leaves them with information about his case. To silence the couple, enemy agents kidnap the Lawrences' daughter and bring her to England where they are plotting to assassinate a diplomat during a concert at the Royal Albert Hall. Unwilling to share what they know with the police, the Lawrences try to rescue their daughter from the enemy agents.

1956: An Americna couple the McKennas (James Stewart & Doris Day) are on vacation in Morocco when they meet a secret agent, whom Mr. McKenna befreinds. When the agent is killed, the dying man leaves them with information about his case. To silence the couple, enemy agents kidnap the McKennas' son and bring him to England where they are plotting to assassinate a diplomat during a concert at the Royal Albert Hall. Unwilling to share what they know with the police, the McKennas try to rescue their son from the enemy agents.

There are many differences between the two films - the original is in black & white, the remake in Technicolor and VistaVision. The original has a very 'small' feeling with tight sets; the remake has a very 'wide' feeling with immense sets. Even the copies I own have their differences - my copy of the original is on a cheap public domain DVD with spotty quality; my copy of the remake is on a beautiful blu-ray with crisp picture and audio.

The first difference I noticed between the films is in the antagonists: the original film has Peter Lorre as the leader of the enemy agents; Lorre was great! My favourite scene occurs after Lorre has bluffed his way past the police when they come close to finding his hideout. Returning to the hideout, Lorre finds his nervous followers have their guns drawn on him as he opens the door. Amused, Lorre mockingly raises his hands as if to surrender. It's a subtle piece of acting with no dialogue and there's simply nothing comparable in the remake. The leader of the spies in the remake was played by Bernard Miles and he made no real impression on me.

But the biggest differences can be found in comparing the female leads - Edna Best in the original, Doris Day in the remake. Both women fade into the background during the middle of the picture, then help thwart the assassination in the Royal Albert Hall by screaming at an opportune pause in the music, and help save their child in the climax by using their unique skillset.

Of course, the two women's skillsets are quite different; Edna Best portrays a sharpshooter and she employs that skill in the climax by killing a man in order to save her daughter. Doris Day portrays a retired singer who performs a song within an embassy where she and her husband think the kidnappers may be holding their son; when she begins singing 'Que Sera' her son whistles in response, proving he's there (it's still up to her husband to save their son), but this only works because the villains help them out - the female kidnapper has had a change of heart and encourages the son to reveal his presence.

There's so much to say about these two women; Edna Best has an interesting role to play in the plot - the man she competes against in the contest at the opening is the same man who will later attempt to assassainte the diplomat - which she thwarts - and he's also the man who menaces her daughter in the climax. The assassin wins the sharpshooting contest in the opening because Peter Lorre throws off Best's aim; she later proves her prowess by shooting the assassin when the police are afraid of hitting her daughter. The competition in Switzerland also helps get the Lawrences into the locale for foreign intrigue.

Doris Day's character is so very different; she gave up her singing career for the sake of her physician husband and doesn't really seem to mind that she gave it up. Both women are startled when their child is kidnapped, but while Best appears weak (she faints), Day is given a sedative by her husband before he tells her, a decision which makes James Stewart's character feel alienating to me as a viewer.

But Doris Day's Mrs. McKenna is simply so passive and helpless in the film. At one point, Mr. McKenna heads off to find 'Ambrose Chapel', whom he assumes is a person. McKenna leaves his wife with four of her friends (3 women, 1 man) who want to throw an impromptu welcoming party at their hotel. After he's gone on this wild goose chase, Day realizes 'Ambrose Chapel' could be a place and asks her male friend to look it up in the directory. She runs off to find Ambrose Chapel. When Mr. McKenna returns and learns about the other Ambrose Chapel he gets the address and prepares to follow her, but then his wife phones him to inform him she's at Ambrose Chapel. She waits outside until he gets there, then they both go in and confirm the two people who kidnapped their son are inside. Mr. McKenna sends his wife out of the church to notify the police.

There are so many strange decisions about the events I described in the paragraph above, especially where Mrs. McKenna's decisions are concerned. Not only is she unable to look up an address in a phone directory without a man's help, once she reaches her destination she doesn't do anything until her husband arrives. The only great moment in that series of events -- one which takes advantage of casting Doris Day -- comes when they enter the church and try to blend in by singing along to a hymn. The scene is a redo of one from the original, but this time because Day is such an accomplished vocalist, her voice is so distinctive that she accidentally draws attention when she begins singing.

But considering Mrs. McKenna does nothing until Mr. McKenna arrives, why didn't they arrive together to begin with? Why couldn't he have encountered her in the hallway on his way back to the hotel and accompanied her to Ambrose Chapel? Or if she had to go there ahead of him, why not have her enter the church and recognize the kidnappers but remain inside, afraid to risk losing sight of them; when Mr. McKenna arrives (remember, he was headed there before she called him anyway) he could then take over monitoring the kidnappers while she exits to call the police. It would have been a little more suspenseful, less languid.

The Royal Albert Hall scene in the remake is the one the critics lauded the most in the books I grew up reading, but I really have to say, it doesn't do much for me. The music is great, but there's so little of interest going on in that scene. Heading into it, we in the audience have been told who the assassin is and at what point in the music he will fire at his target. We're a bit fuzzy about who the target will be, and that's about all the suspense that's involved. When the assassin sees Mrs. McKenna at the hall he reveals his presence to her, threatening her son's life. Then he heads off to make his assassination attempt. Once again, the heroes gain a leg up on the villains because of choices the villains make (here, the assassin giving away his identity so that he can deliver a threat). Compare to the original, where the wife knows who the killer is because he's someone she knows and even has a grudge against!

As in the original film, the woman screams at just the right time to throw off the assassin's aim; unlike the original, where the assassin escapes (to be later killed by Edna Best's character), this time the husband is present as well (instead of being held captive for most of the film as the husband in the original was); Mr. McKenna wrestles with the would-be assassin, who falls over a balcony to his death.

Since the setup for the Royal Albert Hall sequence is "assassin is targeting someone in the audience; woman must somehow thwart him" I think it was a bad call for Hitchcock to tell the audience - and Mrs. McKenna - who the assassin was. A much more suspenseful sequence could have been fabricated if the killer's face hadn't been previously established. Then the scene could have been composed of shots of Mrs. McKenna glancing around the room, trembling each time she sees someone in the audience make a sudden movement. Those watching at home would be in her character's mindset -- where is the killer? How can he be stopped? -- and that would have made the sequence thrilling.

I suppose when I get right down to it, I'm most disappointed in the 1956 version because it is not terribly thrilling or suspenseful. Although both movies are of their time and dated by today's standards, I think the surprisingly-adept female protagonist in the earlier film gives the original movie an edge over the remake. And again, the original has Peter Lorre, against whom there is no competition.

Saturday, April 11, 2020

Mort Drucker's "Gone Is the Gargoyle"

To honour the recently-deceased Atlas Comics artist Mort Drucker, today I'm looking at the story "Gone Is the Gargoyle" from Marvel Tales #127 (1954), one of his earliest comic book credits. The story was featured on the cover, although Harry Anderson drew it instead of Drucker:

The cover has a very whimsical tone which doesn't match the story within, as we'll see. The story is set in Paris, France, nearby Notre Dame Cathedral. Our lead character, a French policeman named Georges L'Agent, witnesses an ugly green gargoyle descend from the cathedral and attack a man in the street. L'Agent does absolutely nothing to stop the creature; once the victim is dead, the gargoyle returns to the top of the cathedral and transforms back into stone (his name might be Goliath). When L'Agent reports in to his superiors he doesn't even mention the death he witnessed.

L'Agent goes home to his wife and we quickly learn she's his second bride; his first wife was killed in the streets. When the new bride brings this up, L'Agent becomes angry and strikes her. The next day L'Agent sees the gargoyle come to life and kill another person. This time another man also witnesses the killing, but L'Agent accuses the man of being drunk and arrests him. However, another witness steps forward and both men insist that not only did they see the gargoyle, they observed L'Agent react to the creature. The police investigate the gargoyles but find nothing unusual - they're simply stone statues, after all.

L'Agent goes out on a stroll with his bride when suddenly the gargoyle descends and attacks the woman. L'Agent draws his pistol and shoots the gargoyle to death. However, the dying creature tells the wife the truth: L'Agent murdered his first wife so that he could marry her. L'Agent is himself a gargoyle and the creature is his son. Realizing his secret has been revealed, L'Agent puts the gun to his own head and shoots himself; in death, his body becomes a gargoyle just like his son.

Thoughts: Although this is early Drucker and not at all like the Mad art he would become famous for, it's still very well-drawn, as professional as any average Atlas artist. The story is a little too complicated, particularly with the business about L'Agent murdering his wife. L'Agent's refusal to kill the gargoyle because he's his son is a pretty typical Atlas twist, but throwing in an off-panel murder of a character we readers never met is a bit too much.

Friday, April 10, 2020

RIP: Mort Drucker

Yesterday comic book artist Mort Drucker died, aged 91.

For decades Drucker was one of the regular contributors to Mad Magazine and his art is instantly recognizable as part of the Mad 'house style' -- to the extent that Mad had any kind of 'house style'. It's bittersweet to realize that Drucker just barely outlived Mad itself, as the venerable one-time institution is now defunct.

Drucker was also a veteran of Atlas Comics and there are precious few of them left alive; tomorrow I'll honour his work with Atlas.

Rest in peace, Mr. Drucker.

Sunday, April 5, 2020

My 11th year with the Inkwell Awards!

I am pleased to announce that for the 11th year in a row, I am serving on the nomination committee of the Inkwell Awards. The Inkwell Awards remain the comic book industry's greatest champion of the oft-overlooked art of comic book inking. The official announcement of the committee can be found here. Keep watching for the 2020 ballot!