The Manxman (1929)

There is no love triangle quite like this one.

I first watched The Manxman years ago, having already seen several of Alfred Hitchcock’s other silent films. None of those ones had overwhelmed. Though they showed touches of the brilliance to come, they were also the products of a youthful director still finding his footing. They were uneven and, by the standards of late-20s silent cinema, nothing to write home about.

But The Manxman? I loved it. Was transfixed by it. My heart broken by it. Could predict not one moment of it. I told people to watch it, promising they’d have a similar experience. A few did, and most of them agreed. But it remains a film few people know about, available in lousy video copies and rarely mentioned even when Hitchcock’s silent films are (rarely) mentioned.

I like to think BFI is changing that. Its 2012 restorations of the “Hitchcock 9” (the surviving nine silents that the master directed—out of a total of ten) lets these films shine as best they can—eliminating, for the most part, the wear of time, and allowing them to be judged, without qualification, on their artistic merits. Some still fall short. The Manxman, in my opinion, soars.

Blackmail (1929)

Yesterday evening marked the start of the Toronto Silent Film Festival’s Hitchcock 9 screening series—an event that will be executed over several weeks. Could you, by chance, be unfamiliar with the Hitchcock 9? You are not alone.

Alfred Hitchcock directed ten silent films at the beginning of his career, nine of which survive. They vary in genre, theme and style, and they are little known today—in part because they are silent, but also because they’ve long been available, on video, in prints of such a quality that Hitchcock could’ve sued for vandalism.

But things are looking up. In 2012, the British Film Institute (BFI) completed restorations of all nine silents, and by all accounts they look gorgeous. I can vouch for only one so far: the opening film of TSFF’s series: Blackmail.

Easy Virtue (1928)

Before you read my words, read these ones, courtesy the Self-Styled Siren:

This year, we are raising funds for the National Film Preservation Foundation's project, The White Shadow, directed by Graham Cutts and written, assistant-directed, and just generally meddled with in a number of different ways by the one and only Alfred Hitchcock. The goal is to raise $15,000 to stream this once-lost, now-found, three-reel fragment online, free to all, and to record the score by Michael Mortilla. Marilyn Ferdinand, Rod Heath and the Siren are pleased to announce that we now have more than 100 bloggers signed up for this hoedown.


FREE. It's my favorite English word, after "silent", "pizza", "Christina" and "Hendricks". It warms my heart.

Another thing that warms my heart: dedicated bloggers from across the globe, donating their time and talents to the cause of film preservation. I'm proud to be one of them.

You guys, this is our chance to see a rare film, associated with a great artist, made available to all--and in the best condition possible. I will happily write about The White Shadow when it's fully scored. In the meantime, please consider a contribution of cash to this cause. Proper presentation is expensive, and every little bit helps.

I know everyone who reads Silent Volume is gonna be jazzed by this. I certainly am. So jazzed that I'm doing jazz hands. You can't see them, but don't complain--I have no rhythm.

What I do have a new blog post. Below is my review of another Hitchcock early work: a silent adaptation of Noel Coward's Easy Virtue. Donate, then read it. Then donate again. Or just donate.

We're gonna hit that target, guys. Beyond a shadow of a doubt.

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Alfred Hitchcock opens Easy Virtue in a courtroom presided over by a bored judge, who peers down at the proceedings through a monocle. We see what the judge sees: a blurry soup of lawyers, accusers and accused, the public and the press—a few of them magnified and rendered sharp by his circle of glass. Without this lens, the judge couldn’t tell them apart.

 
The eye is the enemy in Easy Virtue. It damages everything it’s turned upon. Curious eyes put lovely Larita Filton (Isabel Jeans) in this courtroom; sued for divorce. Then camera lenses, the relentless eyes of the press, explode her scandal and drive her to the Mediterranean; in search of a new life under a new name. After finding both with the young, rich John Whittaker (Robert Irvine), Larita endures the glares of a new mother-in-law (Violet Farebrother), who suspects much. And the cameras aren’t done with her yet, either.