The edge of the World … The Phantom Light (1935)

"I am a sucker for lighthouses. The lonelier and more inaccessible the better. And I love comedy thrillers. I said yes to this one right away, and never regretted it. I enjoyed every minute. The less said about the plot the better…” Michael Powell, A Life in Movies

This is one of Michael Powell’s quota quickies made when he was learning his trade as a director and helping to keep cinema British at least long enough for the main feature to be shown. With the freedom of a tight budget he manages to work some sense of wonder with this film and there are emerging themes that would later be trademark.

And then there were four...

Based on a play taken from a book, The Haunted Light by Evadne Price, The Phantom Light treads that fine line between humour and “horror” in the same way as Arthur Askey’s The Ghost Train (ithankyou!) and Will Hay’s Ask a Policeman. It’s an unabashed guilty pleasure but with some substance.

Actual Wales

For a start, literally, Powell opens the film in actual Wales, as a train (on the Festiniog Railway no less) carries lighthouse keeper Sam Higgins (Gordon Harker) through southern Snowdonia to Tan y Bwlch station. He’s greeted by a gaelic-speaking old woman in local dress who wishes him “nos da” and leaves him to his own devices.

He comes across a stranded blonde, Alice Bright (Liverpudlian stage-star, Binnie Hale) who looks like she’s fallen off the back of a pre-code screwball comedy. The two meet a railway worker who points them on their way in pure cockney…

Prynhawn da...

They arrive after a bumpy car journey through more landscape in what is now gorgeous Gwynedd to arrive at a very welcoming village inn. Everyone if very keen to greet the new keeper for the Northstack Lighthouse, not just because they are welsh and hospitable but because there’s a ghostly mystery… and the previous two keepers didn’t complete his contract in the most unorthodox of ways…

Fishing in the pub

Alice is also most interested in the Northstack and she is very, very keen to visit it as, indeed, is a business man from down south called Jim Pearce (Hitchcock's silent boxer Ian Hunter) who plies Sam with double rum but to no avail. Alice asks Jim for help too but he’s not buying her little girl lost routine. Not surprisingly, what’s so special about a dangerous, possibly haunted lighthouse?

Sam makes his way over with the local crew including David Owen (Hitchcock's silent blackmailer Donald Calthrop) and a Doctor Carey (Milton Rosmer) who has to see to one of the men, Tom Evans (Reginald Tate), who has developed a fever leading to violent, hallucinatory episodes (yes, I know…). The Doctor decides that he is too ill to leave the lighthouse (yes, I know…) – it is a long way to Ysbyty Gwynedd.

Serious moonlight

Sam is pleased to renew acquaintance with an old mucker, Claff Owen (Herbert Lomas) who is out of his mind with worry about the ghostly light that has appeared, luring a merchant vessel to its doom whilst their own light was mysteriously shut down.

All perfectly reasonable… and then a boat arrives carrying the intrepidly-determined Mr Pearce and, what’s more, Alice has stowed away completely undetected! The seas are now a bit choppy and Alice takes the perfectly logical step of jumping into the water in order to get to the lighthouse (the reason will be apparent in a sec...)

Binnie in her water-proof high-heels

Both safely “on-board” Alice is wet through and there is no option but for her to get undressed in the room with the disturbed Tom in it and then to put on Sam’s Sunday best. Problem is, the trousers are a bit big for her and so she – again – does the logical thing and cuts them as really short-shorts: all the better for showing off the lengthy Hale legs which still retain her high-heels (maybe they’re water-proof?).

So, there we have it, a lighthouse full of mystery – an unwanted ghost, two unwanted guests, a woman in unnecessary shorts… all is set for a final third of nail-biting predictability.

Hunter and Hale

But, all said and done, the film has a little bit of magic, the locations and the lighthouse claustrophobia work well and the performance of Harker in particular. Graham Greene praised his “sure-fire Cockney performance” in The Spectator, reflecting Powell’s own assessment… “Gordon Harker was one of those naturals that every country has – a face to remember… He had one of those flat, disillusioned Cockney faces, half-fish, half-simian, with an eye like a dead mackerel… he could hold a pause as long as any actor I had known. Close-ups were made for him…”

Dead mackerel eyes...

Herbert Lomas is great at evoking wide-eyed terror and sometimes has to stand and wait while the rest catch up. Binnie is very hale and hearty whilst Ian Hunter is an upstanding leading hero (although he was Powell’s second choice after Roger Livesey, whose time would come…).  Whilst there’s a host of excellent character actors in support – I especially liked the relationship between the local bobby Sergeant Owen (Edgar K. Bruce) and the pub landlady Mrs. Owen (Alice O'Day).

Ian Hunter, not Roger Livesey

Roy Kellino’s cinematographic skill helps the director catch those wonderful glimpses of Wales – even the bits filmed in Devon where the actual lighthouse – Hartland Point – was (mostly). There would be much better days ahead for MP but this was a worthwhile stopping point en route to his greater, more personal works.

Powell was already thinking of St Kilda...

The Phantom Light has just been released on budget DVD from Network who are on a good run – unearthing some overlooked and long-forgotten neo-classics of British cinema – quota-produced and fuller-budgeted alike.

Trainspotting… The Wrecker (1929)

My Uncle Duncan was a classical musician who played for the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra and in his spare time he used to make working replicas of locomotives, reducing down his hand-crafted components from the original blueprints in the best equipped back-garden shed in South Liverpool. On a trip to ride behind one of these contraptions I was amazed at the amount of power generated by the steam engine.

When even a scaled down loco lets off steam the result is highly kinetic…  multiply that by a factor of twenty and I can imagine the impact of a real locomotive and can understand why the producers of The Wrecker wanted to crash an actual engine rather than use a model: they wanted to show the full force and to scare an audience of regular passengers with the vision of a spectacular disaster.

An unnaturally-quiet Waterloo...

Southern Railways collaborated fully with the film-makers and whilst they wanted to show the grace and power of their service they also wanted to show its superiority to their rivals on the road. Ignore the fact that their trains were being bounced off their lines by a lone madman but just appreciate the benefits of the “Flying Welshman”: much faster than a road coach and providing a far smoother  journey… That is, unless it met with a large object deliberately left on the rails.

There was in fact only one staged crash in the film but it was used to represent three attacks. Twenty two cameras were positioned around the crash site and a truck laden down with concrete was set in the train’s path along with sufficient measures to ensure the train headed off the rails and didn’t just carry on – a runaway train with no Denzil Washington to stop it…

The effort was more than worth it, especially in the second viewing of the crash and after the coaches were set on fire and the actors were able to scramble over the safer sections. The scene was shot on a Saturday and, amazingly, the line was re-open for business by Monday (match that Network Rail!).

The film was an Anglo-German production, directed by an experienced Hungarian Géza von Bolváry. It was based on the successful play by Arnold Ridley (yes, writer of The Ghost Train and much later the man who was Private Godfrey) and Bernard Merivale but – from its timing – appears to be a truncated version oftheir story. The narrative would suggest as much as the plot is stripped down to the bare essentials – did they assume the audience knew the story that well?  Surely not in Germany?

Joseph Striker, Benita Hume and Winter Hall

The end result lacks a bit of logical exposition and believability especially in the lengths the Wrecker is prepared to go in order to ensure the supremacy of road transport but it's still a thrilling ride.

The railway shots are splendid, not just of the crash but of the day-to-day routine of track, station and locomotion. There are some superb shots achieved through placing a camera on a platform to the side of one locomotive – brave camera work! – and then again when the camera moves seamlessly from an exterior  shot of moving train carriages to the inside of the carriage – never seen that before!

A stunning shot: the camera pans from outside the train to the party in the carriage...

On the people side, Carlyle Blackwell throws pantomime shapes as the barely disguised villain of the piece, Ambrose Barney – a man who works for the railway but has set up the Kyle Coach Company to take their business… with a little murderous help. Head of the railway Sir Gerald Bartlett (Winter Hall) takes an age to spot the viper in his nest and then is rather swifty bumped off by a sniper’s rifleshot.

Carlyle Blackwell - boo!

Joseph Striker plays “Lucky” Roger Doyle who does indeed appear to be the beneficiary of considerable good fortune especially in so quickly gaining the affection of Sir Gerald’s secretary Mary (Benita Hume – who acts most of the rest off the screen as the plucky amateur sleuth).

There’s also a good turn from Pauline Johnson as triple agent Beryl Matchley without whom the Wrecker might never get caught in spite of massively compelling circumstantial evidence!

Joseph Striker - hurrah!

The tone is slightly conflicted:  35 passengers get killed in one crash and yet the film insists on trying to lighten the mood through the hapless antics of useless private detective Rameses Ratchett (Leonard Thompson) who has a running battle with with Hitchcock favourite, Gordon Harker, as one of the rail company’s men. Whilst this is very British it makes for odd viewing – people are dying and we don’t really care if Rameses’s car won’t start or whether it can manage to travel a key five miles without incident.

Harker and Thompson - ha!

Reservations aside, the drama is multi-tracked as events ramp up to the finish with the race on to prevent the worst outrage of all and then chase down the Wrecker before he kills himself and many more…

Benita Hulme - cor!

I watched the restored version which comes with a new musical score from Neil Brand who combines synthesisers and pianos to great effect: sound-tracking so many classic locos must have been a dream come true – their very movement an invitation to sound. There’s also a re-created spoken section as an incriminating phonograph cylinder is played back. The Wrecker was shot as both sound and silent from that period when picture houses didn’t always have the modern kit.

The DVD is available from Strike Force Entertainment who normally specialise in travel heritage programmes and which explains the main market for this film. But, whether you just like steam trains or cutting-edge late silent cinematography, the film is very rewarding.

You can buy the DVD from Cherry Red Records -SFE's distribution partners - and it comes with a nifty set of extras including an abridged home movie version as well as a fascinating featurette in which Mr Brand discusses the score. Our Duncan would have loved it!

A SECR F1 Class locomotive No. A148 (I think?)

The Farmer's Wife (1928) at the BFI with Neil Brand

As a new soccer season gets underway, the Brits begin to obsess about player stats: how many passes,  tackles, “assists” and so on. Statistics of a different kind featured in Charles Barr’s introductory notes* to this screening of the restored The Farmer’s Wife at the BFI.

He points out that some 10% of the shots in this film feature some sort of camera mobility as compared with 2-3% for The Lodger and less than 2% for Hitchcock’s previous film The Ring. Both films have more dramatic impact and better reputations: yet their directorial play-maker was on more cinematically-varied form for this entertaining romantic comedy.

The wedding party

The Farmer’s Wife was based on a very successful play by British novelist, poet and playwright Eden Phillpotts, yet Hitchcock’s production moves the action well beyond the imagined stage. At one point the camera follows Lillian Hall-Davis’ character as she distributes refreshments around a wedding party; it pulls the viewer into the screen and energises what could be formalistic. Great work from cinematographer Jack E. Cox, as well as his multi-tasking director from his own account…

Whilst showing the director’s debt to German cinema in general (and Murnau in particular), it also shows how quickly Hitchcock was beginning to develop his approach in what presents as a confident and well-made commercial feature with enough tricks and turns to still impress.
 

The restoration – superb as usual – obviously helps and the film looks pretty much as clear as it would have done on first showing. It is suffused with Hitchcock’s earthy humour and comes with a roster of quirky characters who run rings around the main protagonist and still, er, ring true.

So, if The Farmer’s Wife is Hitchcock playing it safe and going for commercial goals, he has a funny way of showing it…. and this is indeed one of the funniest silent films I’ve seen that’s not a straight-ahead comedy (most rom-coms being rather lacking in the “com” part…).

Looking out in hope and back in... despair

Eliot Stannard adapted the play and together with Hitchcock helped speed the story up by stripping down the extraneous elements. Very quickly the location and main characters are established as farmer Samuel Sweetland (Jameson Thomas) stares out of his bedroom window into glorious countryside. His countenance shifts as he meets the eyes of his handyman, Churdles Ash (Gordon Harker) and the camera cuts to the interior as he walks away from the window towards his bed in which his wife is clearly dying. Surrounded by friends and their staff, she counsels their housekeeper, Araminta Dench (lovely Lillian Hall-Davis) to always air her master’s long-johns… the camera cuts away to reveal said undergarments in a variety of “airing” situations… it’s going to be that kind of film.

Pants

Next we’re shown the wedding of Sweetland’s daughter - "Tibby" (Mollie Ellis) – which gives her father pause for thought: is it time for him to re-discover love and to replace the irreplaceable. The wedding banquet is well filmed building on the camera-fluidity and introducing the cast of grotesques who will drive the bulk of the comedic action.

A little list...

Being a practical man, Samuel, draws up a list with the aid of the hyper-organised and endlessly patient, housekeeper – “Minta” (a purely naturalistic performance from Lovely Hall-Davis). He seems to have forgotten the missing ingredient for his quest but comes up with the four singletons of a certain age who broadly meet his criteria.

Jameson Thomas with Louie Pounds and Maud Gill

First up in his quest is the independently-minded Widow Windeatt (Louie Pounds) who whilst being friendly enough feels that she would be too strong willed to be suitable for the proposed merger of interests. As she offers her hand in masculine sympathy, Sweetland is angry enough to take a swipe.

Next is the shrew-like Thirza Tapper (Maud Gill) who tells the farmer that he is the first to pass her “sex test” in proposing marriage even though she has no ambitions in the matrimonial arena (another cold, asexual character?).

But surely, Sweetland can’t fail with the voluble Postmistress Mary Hearn (Olga Slade) who appeared more than friendly at his daughter’s reception. But it’s not to be, he’s far “too old” for her and she proceeds to laugh herself into hysterics, waiving her arms about in a childish frenzy.

Olga Slade then Ruth Maitland

Each time Sweetland returns to discuss his knock-backs with Minta who, it becomes increasingly clear, has feelings for him of her own. Given the alternatives on offer it’s a mystery why the big penny hasn’t dropped, but perhaps he views his housekeeper as out-of-bounds (even one who looks like Lovely Hall-Lovely…).

Sweetland steals himself for one last try with Mercy Bassett the pub landlady (Ruth Maitland) and all seems to be going swimmingly as they chat away plying each other with drinks…

The penny drops

But he returns home carrying another defeat and sits in the parlour opposite the chair his wife used to occupy. He imagines each of the candidates in her place and none can really pass muster… Minta sits down to help think it all through and then the scales are finally lifted from Samuel’s eyes as we knew they always would be…

That’s not quite it but, needless to say Lovely Lovely-Lovely’s acting the moments of Minta’s own realisation are genuinely moving. It’s no surprise that Lillian was Hitchcock’s favourite actress, she is a  graceful wonder who combined expert timing with controlled and nuanced expression: perfect for the medium.

Isn't she?

Jameson Thomas also rips into the role of the widower who finally re-learns how to love and whilst he gets most of the laughs he also manages to convey the conflicted loneliness at the heart of his character.

Needless to say, Gordon Harker is also superb as the grotesquely curdled Churdles Ash – I felt like cheering every time he came on screen.

Hurrah for Harker!

Excellent accompaniment was provided by Neil Brand who’s sure-footed improvisations where also used in last year’s restoration premier. Mr Brand expertly matched Hitchcock’s tone throughout and the central theme helped bring a tear to my eye (along with Ms Hall-Davis) at the end.

No news on a DVD release but surely it’s coming. The version currently available from Studio Canal isn’t too bad, as you can see from some of the screen shots, but the restored version, like all of the others, is the one you simply must see.

*Taken from his book English Hitchcock (1999)

Hitchcock, Mira Calix + Juice, NFT – Champagne (1928)

Through a glass lightly...

Another week, another Hitchcock restoration premier - not that I'm taking it for granted - and another brave choice of music... Following Shlomo's beatbox score for Downhill, this time the BFI had commissioned electronic composer Mira Calix, who I’d last seen performing a DJ set at Warp Records' 20th anniversary all-nighter.

This time Calix was performing her own music, using a bank of electronic kit, pre-recorded instrumentation and supported by the Juice Vocal Ensemble (Kerry Andrew, Sarah Dacey and Anna Snow).  The four walked on stage suitably attired as jazz babies, almost as if they were taking part in the film as well as providing the music… This could be another combination of sound and vision that might struggle to find the right balance - that's the risk of old meets new - but overwhelmingly they met the challenge very well.

Betty Balfour, Jean Bardin and dancer

There was a moment, as a woman danced furiously behind the main characters, when the rhythm of the music matched perfectly the staccato edginess of her movement… it was a startling connection, as if the rhythm of the dance is a constant over the decades and Calix had just tuned into that continuum with amazing precision.

Ferdinand von Alten, Jean Bardin and Betty Balfour

But then, for a film about youthful nightclubbing, Calix is an astute choice. She’s been a mainstay of Warp’s roster for many years now and has alternated between ambient sound-scaping, IDM, DJ-ing and composition. Classically trained, she has an enviable range and produced an intelligent and very entertaining score full of subtle references and which always reverted to a satisfyingly deep bass: the staple of many a good rave and a simple resonating signifier of the unsettling promise of a good night out.

Juice gave strong voice to her music, all three technically proficient individually and working well in subtle harmony. They threw in sound effects and all joined in Balfour’s quite bizarre hand-dance as the club scene reached its climax… the jazziest of jazz hands and a strange signal to move albeit one rebuffed by her confused and disaffected lover. We knew how he felt... it's an odd film.

Betty Balfour - cross-eyed

I should say that there was a split vote on the effectiveness of the music with my wife finding it intrusive and occasionally jarring. Still, this is my blog… and she’s entitled to comment below!

The ultimate judge of silent movie scores is how well they meld with the film and I felt that, in addition to the visceral impact of the bass lines the music served to bring out the quirks and the comedy...it's all about the timing!

Champagne was not one of Hitchcock’s personal favourites and is a-typical in terms of its light-hearted storyline. It still has his visual flair with a number of striking sequences, but there’s little drama or threat… although The Man - none of the characters are named - retains an air of menace to the end.

Betty Balfour and Jean Bardin

Ultimately any film staring Betty Balfour is going to be a giggle. Described at the time as Britain’s Queen of Happiness and compared with Mary Pickford, she is certainly an energetic performer. Her mobile features enable her to switch expression with unpredictable swiftness and Hitchcock often lingers on her face as she moves the story along with a laugh that emphatically becomes a frown and vice versa...

Not your conventional movie star she had huge expressive eyes and a winning disposition... it’s not surprising that she went on to sustained success in Europe.

Betty plays a spoiled little rich girl who begins the story by flying out to rendezvous with her boyfriend (Jean Bardin) on a cruise ship. She’s been forbidden by her Wall Street banker father (a frowning Gordon Harker) from marrying the boy, but she’s not to be thwarted…

Ferdinand von Alten and Betty Balfour

But at the same time, she is also spotted by a predatory man (Ferdinand von Alten) who begins to pursue her – interrupting her attempts to make love to her beau.

The Girl’s father finds out about the stunt and follows her to Paris in a fury… she’s reckless, a good time girl and with no sense of fiscal responsibility… Even the Boy is frustrated by her relentless party-time as she makes fun of her assistant’s dowdy clothes at an impromptu fashion show with her socialite chums.

Gordan Harker... who's the Daddy?

But then dad turns up and reveals that the party has to stop, he has lost all in pursuing her to Europe and his business has gone bust. She’s not a bad girl though and immediately offers to sell her mound of jewellery to help them yet, in a superb sequence focusing on bodies below the head, we see her being robbed in the street – they have nothing. This is deft stuff from Hitchcock who keeps the narrative moving with economy and grace – we don’t get bogged down in exposition.

The girl attempts to look after her father in a mean little apartment… she’s ill-equipped. Then she tries to get a job and ends up as a flower girl in a dubious night club… she’s innocent and it takes her many wide-eyed shocks to understand the dynamics of the place. All of which Hitchcock relishes… in so many of these early films he ends up taking us to similar venues of adult entertainment.

 

The scenes in the club are the fulcrum of the film - this is where the champagne really kicks in. The main characters are constantly interacting with the crush around them and always in danger of being over-showed by these lively lights. This could be any club at any time and Hitch directs the chaos really well – the relentless energy and high spirits of  a champagne fuelled good time.

Amidst all this, The  Boy returns to rescue The Girl but they fight and she takes up The Man’s offer of help… they head off on a cruise ship back to her home in America and, to her surprise, she is joined by her true love.

It is now that the truth is finally revealed as her father arrives to explain that he hadn’t lost his money and had been trying to teach her a lesson all along. What’s more, we learn that the Man has been in Daddy’s employ all along: charged with luring her away from her boy.

All confusion passed… the girl agrees to marry the boy and all look set to live happily… Hitch can’t resist a few sinister stares from the Man who looks at the Girl through the bass of his champagne glass.

Jean Baldin and Betty Balfour

Champagne is a slight and oddly constructed comedy with a wonderfully quirky performance from Betty Balfour… part innocent, part irritant… she is unpredictable and usually emerges from each crisis with a beaming smile. There are times though when her eye-balls-to-the-wall performance throws up a frown of sorrow and you can understand why she retained the sympathy of the British public – she may be a brat but she’s not malicious and is ultimately humble and a quick learner!

Betty Balfour

The rest of the cast perform their parts well, with Ferdinand von Alten standing out for his menace even at the happy ending. Gordon Harker is good at looking grim but he still looks more like a fairground boxing promoter than a financier!

Champagne is currently available on DVD but this restoration is something else and well worth the wait for the eventual release.

For more information on the marvellous Ms Calix visit her official website here.

Postscript: As usual the film was introduced by the BFI’s Keiron Webb who pointed out that a 22-year old Michael Powell had been involved with Champagne as a still photographer, nice to think of our two greatest directors working on the same silent film.

As he spoke about the restoration work, it struck me how extraordinary the BFI’s efforts have been this year and how much I’m going to miss these events. The big finale is still to come with The Manxman but what are the BFI going to do to follow this?!

Betty ponders life beyond the Hitchcock 9...