NOTORIOUS: Blu-ray (RKO, 1946) Criterion Collection

Few directors of any generation have enjoyed the world-renown of Alfred Hitchcock. Point blank: he is the master; pioneering certain techniques that have oft been copied since, though arguably, never duplicated. If imitation is the cheapest form of flattery, then Hitch’ has been flattered more than any of his movie-land brethren, and rightfully so. By 1946, Hitchcock had reached something of an impasse in his working relationship with David O. Selznick. In his native Britain, Hitchcock had been given a certain autonomy to pursue projects on his terms, and moreover, to direct them as he preferred. Selznick, however, was a fastidious producer with ideas of his own. After having promised Hitch’ his debut, a retelling of the ‘Titanic’ (even, going so far as to purchase a derelict steamship, with plans for refurbishment as a full-sized prop), this project (like a good many Selznick envisioned), was not to pass. And Hitchcock, shortly after his arrival in America, was to quickly learn that although his reputation had preceded him, it was not as immediately regarded in the land where so many exemplary talents currently resided. Indeed, Hitchcock languished under Selznick’s auspices while Selznick became embroiled in countless delays on his opus magnum: Gone with the Wind (1939). Only in hindsight would Hitchcock’s legacy with Selznick serve both men well – even if neither was to particularly regard the other with any great sense of mutual admiration during its tenure; Selznick, free of the epic investment on ‘GWTW’, becoming as entrenched in Hitchcock’s American debut; a big screen adaptation of Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca (1940); the only Hitchcock movie to win a Best Picture Academy Award. Much to Hitchcock’s chagrin, this Oscar did not go to him, but rather, Selznick, as its producer and this, along with Selznick’s constant interventions on the set, became the basis for the curdling of their Anglo-American alliance as the decade wore on.

Throughout the 1940’s, Hitchcock increasingly resented Selznick’s ‘ownership’; Hitch’ under an ironclad contract that afforded Selznick the right to simply loan him out at will, taking a percentage off the top for his ‘services’. Although Hitchcock would be allowed some latitude at RKO, Fox and Universal – even, the opportunity to make his passion project, 1943’s Shadow of a Doubt – it distinctly irked him to know Selznick was calling the shots – even from the sidelines. By the mid-forties, Selznick elected to keep tighter reigns on his ‘star’ director. After all, Hitchcock had made sure-fire box office for others. Between these, there had been misfires too (1941’s Mr. and Mrs. Smith, among them). But Selznick was concerned one of his most identifiable commodities was doing his best for other studios. In hindsight, it is interesting to consider where Notorious (1946) falls into this timeline; caught between Selznick’s private obsession with psychoanalysis, resulting in Hitchcock’s Spellbound (1945), and, The Paradine Case (1947) – the least successful of the Hitchcock/Selznick collaborations; arguably, because Selznick saw it as a 3-hour crime epic, and Hitch’ preferred to keep it an intimate, decidedly ‘English’ affair. In the end, neither of these creatives got what he wanted.  Perhaps, recognizing the need for a break, Selznick loaned Hitchcock out – again to RKO – for Notorious; a taut and tenacious thriller that easily ranks among a handful of truly superior tales of espionage.

Notorious is both frankly adult and uber-sophisticated; trademarks, typifying the best from Hitchcock’s British period, though ironically subdued under Hollywood’s inscribed patina of glamor. It may have been that the governing censorship had dampened Tinsel Town’s thirst for sin – at least, on the big screen. But in Notorious, Hitchcock has it both ways, with his soon-to-be all-time favorite, Cary Grant, startling as the hard-bitten realist, denying himself the love of the proverbial ‘bad girl’, plucked from obscurity by his FBI operatives, to play the part of a double agent and infiltrate a secret Nazi organization working out of Buenos Aires. Notorious offered Grant his meatiest role to date. Indeed, Hitch’ had been greatly impressed by Grant’s ability to toggle from lighthearted scamp to brooding and dangerous ne’r-do-well in Suspicion (1941) – a film for which neither Grant nor Hitchcock preferred the ending imposed upon them by RKO and the Production Code. But now, master and mate were free to explore all of the macho cruelty inflicted upon one Alicia Uberman (the luminous Ingrid Bergman), whose late father’s loyalties to the Third Reich afford Devlin a certain latitude for blackmail, enough to prod Alicia into a loveless marriage as sexual bait for a key player within the organization, Alexander Sebastian (the inimitable Claude Rains). Like most of Hitchcock’s masterworks, the sleuthing derived herein is mere subplot, even smoke screen for the roiling passions of these two conflicted lovers, caught in a perilous ménage à trois.

Under his loan out agreements, Selznick had enjoyed lucrative revenues for Hitchcock’s services he could reinvest in his homegrown product. The pluses for Hitch’ were distilled into a matter of distance from Selznick’s meddling stream of creative consciousness; let loose, as it were, to pursue and reshape his vision of the finished product according his own tastes. And Selznick too had grown weary of attempting to ‘direct’ Hitchcock – derailed in these pursuits by Hitch’s clever timing. Selznick always seemed to arrive on set during periods of inactivity, resulting in his inability to make ‘suggestions’ on how to improve upon the work.  So, Selznick put together a 'package' deal for Notorious that included the services of Hitchcock, Claude Rains, and, Ingrid Bergman (whose contract Selznick also owned), before farming out the property, lock stock and barrel, to RKO to produce and distribute. Mostly, Hitchcock would be allowed to make the kind of picture he wanted to without outside intervention, even if Selznick did keep a watchful eye on the production from afar. Meanwhile, Hitchcock and screenwriter Ben Hecht concocted a silken caper that could stand on its own.  Selznick had campaigned hard for Joseph Cotten to co-star as Cotten’s contract also belonged to him (ergo, more money for another loan out). Perhaps knowing this, Hitchcock fought for – and was given – Cary Grant as his star instead, RKO’s production exec, William Dozier, invoking his clause to block Selznick’s request.  After Ethel Barrymore and Mildred Natwick turned down the role of Alex’s vicious and conspiring matriarch, Mme. Sebastian, German actress Leopoldine Konstantin assumed the role.

Although the movie in its finished form bears no earthly resemblance to its source material, the impetus for Notorious was John Taintor Foote’s two-part serial, The Song of the Dragon, first published in the Saturday Evening Post in 1921. Hitchcock’s reworked outline for the project met with Selznick’s approval and Hitch’ soon left for New York for three-weeks’ worth of collaboration with Ben Hecht on the script; an uncannily effortless and productive partnership. Alas, by the time Hitchcock and Hecht were ready to present the fruits of their labors, Selznick was in the thick of disastrous rewrites and reshoots on Duel in the Sun – the colossus western he had envisioned to rival, or perhaps even eclipse, his titanic efforts on GWTW. At this juncture, Selznick seemingly lost all interest in actually producing the picture himself and arranged for RKO to do the heavy lifting on an outright purchase deal for a cool $800,000, plus 50% of the profits.  For this, Selznick did receive a certain modicum of input, including hiring Clifford Odets to rework Ben Hecht’s original screenplay; a move that irked Hitchcock and caused Hecht to refer to Odets’ soupçon of high culture as ‘really loose crap’ which Hitchcock, in the end, entirely ignored. Shooting from Oct. to Feb., Hitchcock held absolute dominion inside several RKO sound stages. Even scenes supposedly taking place outdoors were shot using a combination of intricate sets and rear projection – all except for a brief ‘riding sequence’ where Devlin deliberately spooks Alicia’s horse to encourage Alex’s chivalry and thus kick start their ‘cute meet’. This sequence was shot at the Los Angeles County Arboretum and Botanic Garden in Arcadia.

Thanks to Hitchcock’s meticulous planning, the shooting of Notorious went smoothly. Initial apprehensions from Bergman – then, prone to a slight nervousness – were allied when Grant took it upon himself to guide his costar through several rehearsals. This working relationship proved so successful it began Grant and Bergman’s lifelong friendship. Meanwhile, Hitchcock endeavored to circumvent the Production Code by creating a new template for screen passion, extending the Code’s steadfast rule about limiting kisses to 3 seconds by breaking up one long kiss into multiple shots, eventually adding up to 2 ½ minutes. In another instance, Hitchcock deferred to Bergman’s suggestion regarding Alicia’s reaction to Devlin. Indeed, this was a major victory for Bergman, as much of a departure for Hitchcock, whose usual adherence to his calculated designing of every camera angle, set, costume, prop, and even sound cues, prior to arriving on set, was legendary. Nevertheless, Hitch’ broke with precedence for Bergman, allowing her to play the scene her way and openly acknowledging afterward that her instincts herein had been spot on. Meanwhile, Hitchcock consternated over composer, Roy Webb’s score. In hindsight, Webb’s cues remain one of the subtlest – almost to the point of absence – in a Hitchcock movie. Webb was an RKO contractee, noted for his superbly steadfast but understated contributions to Val Lewton’s horror masterpieces. Hitch’ would have preferred Bernard Herrmann in his stead. But Herrmann proved unavailable due to prior commitments.

From afar, Selznick sent memos, suggesting Notorious might benefit from a syrupy love ballad to be pre-sold on the hit parade. Mercifully, in this regard, Selznick was vetoed. But Hitchcock was soon to admire Webb for both his economy and general disregard for the grander musical gestures Selznick so much adored. And although Webb and Hitchcock would never again reunite, their collaboration on Notorious is exemplified by Webb’s ego-less ability to see the picture both as precisely and concisely in musical terms as Hitchcock had assembled it visually. Also, on Hitchcock’s say, Webb would compose no ‘love theme’ to underscore the roiling passions between Devlin and Alicia. Instead, wherever possible, Webb interpolated waltzes and traditional Latin music to offset and compliment this sparsity. In a film fraught with so many lush and evocative Hitchcock touches, not the least being the dizzying rotation of the camera to evoke Alicia’s ‘next day’ hangover, Notorious’ visualized pièce de résistance is undeniably cinematographer, Ted Tetzlaff’s incredible crane shot, effortlessly gliding down a second-story banister into the densely populated foyer of Alex’s home, stealthily zooming in on an extreme close-up of Bergman’s hand, nervously clutching the cellar key she has just purloined from her husband’s key ring. The fluidity of this moment is seamlessly stitched to the mounting and tense exchange of otherwise seemingly innocuous social banter between Devlin and Alicia, the transference of the key from Alicia to Devlin, and finally, their skulking off together, down to the cellar, culminating in Alex discovering them, deliberately orchestrated in a passionate embrace to deflect from their sleuthing behind his back.

Notorious is, in fact, a far more psychologically complex drama than Spellbound – despite the latter’s ‘on the nose’ approach to psychoanalysis. Grant’s FBI operative is perpetually sullen rather than sexy, and emotionally distant. He pimps Alicia out as sexual prey, seemingly without remorse or even an afterthought for her personal safety, but then becomes wounded by a petulant jealousy when she plays the part above and beyond his expectations. Despite Grant’s undeniable ‘drop dead’ good looks, his Devlin is a fairly unsympathetic character – all business, and even cruel and manipulative until the very end when it is almost too late to turn back and become chivalrous. Conversely, Claude Rains – Grant’s physical antithesis (diminutive and unprepossessing) is the more considerate and appealing suitor, leaving Bergman’s enterprising and emotionally scarred double agent deliberately dangling in her loyalties, or as Alicia directly puts it, “once a tramp…always a tramp.”  And one has to sincerely empathize with Alex, whose demonstrative mother is actually the real power behind the throne; an emasculating gargoyle, possessive and hovering over his new marriage until she unlocks Alicia’s secret with all the blissful venom of an insanely envious rival for her son’s affections. “We are protected by the enormity of your stupidity—for a time”, she informs him, with a delicious satisfaction, more so for having snuffed out his chances at romantic happiness. Despite his unholy alliances, it is Rains’ Alex we fear for the most in the penultimate moments, as Devlin gingerly guides an enfeebled Alicia down the grand staircase, past steely-eyed conspirators who have just about decided for themselves that Alex is their weakest link and must be dispensed with to ensure the preservation of their organization.

Notorious opens in a Florida courtroom where Alicia Huberman’s father, John (Fred Nurney) has just been convicted of subversive activities in support of the Nazi party. Departing in haste from the pry of flashbulbs and reporters, his daughter Alicia, promptly retreats to a bungalow to drown her sorrows in a devasting binge-soaked party populated by a carefree assortment of sycophants. T.R. Devlin is a party crasher, toying with his host’s affections as he bides his time, waiting for the others to pass out. In the morning, Alicia awakens to discover Devlin hovering over her with a sobering request; to infiltrate her late father’s organization of spies in South America. Alicia’s past as a fast and loose party girl has preceded her arrival in town. Now, Devlin uses this spurious reputation as leverage, pretending to be repulsed by Alicia. Secretly, however, he harbors a growing sexual frustration to possess her for his own. Devlin's boss, Capt. Paul Prescott (Louis Calhern) observes Devlin's steadily mounting obsession and quietly pulls the plug on their burgeoning romance. After all, Alicia's 'talents' for seduction are needed elsewhere.

Alicia is employed to pursue one of her father's old friends, Alexander Sebastian (Claude Rains); a lead proponent in the Nazi spy ring. Devlin sets up Alicia and Alex’s ‘cute meet’, startling Alicia's horse to encourage Sebastian to play the part of her gallant rescuer. Sebastian takes this bait. Soon, he and Alicia are inseparable. But their faux romance is frequently interrupted by Devlin's need to be near and this, in increments, incurs Alex’s ire and jealousies. Alicia confides in Paul and Devlin that Sebastian has proposed marriage. After some consternation, mostly on Devlin's part, Alicia agrees to wed Sebastian to get even closer to the truth.  At first, Sebastian does not suspect a thing. But during a lavish reception given at their home, Sebastian is led to believe Devlin and Alicia have become romantically involved behind his back. This, of course, is concocted subterfuge to deflect his suspicions elsewhere, as the passionate kiss between Alicia and Devlin he was meant to witness has been orchestrated to throw him off their discovery of uranium found inside one of the vintage bottles inside Sebastian's wine cellar. The rouse works only temporarily. Sebastian learns of Alicia’s truer purpose after investigating the wine cellar for himself early the next morning. Confiding in his mother, Anna decides the only way to save face within the organization now is to slowly poison Alicia and make her resulting death look like an accident.

At first, this slow, steady poisoning goes virtually unnoticed. Alicia grows weaker and is constantly attended to by the kindly Dr. Anderson (Reinhold Schünzel). Devlin suspects Alicia’s paleness to be the result of wild nights, carousing at Casa Sebastian. And even Alicia does not suspect – at first – that her husband and his mother have unearthed her secret and are now, calculating her demise. However, when Dr. Anderson inadvertently tries to drink coffee from a cup intended for Alicia, Alex and Anna’s concerned correction informs Alicia of their treachery. Only now, she is too weak to resist. Collapsing, Alicia is hurried upstairs and placed under surveillance; Anna waiting for the inevitable to occur. Meanwhile, having missed her latest informant’s rendezvous with Devlin, he suddenly realizes Alicia is not sick or even delayed, but in grave danger. In direct violation of orders, Devlin crashes Sebastian’s abode just as the Nazi organization has gathered to discuss their latest plans. Hurrying upstairs, Devlin finds Alicia failing but still alive. He gathers her in his arms and, despite Anna’s objections, now threatens to expose everyone to the watchful conspirators assembled in the foyer. Alex nervously concocts a story about Devlin being summoned to take Alicia to hospital for treatment. However, once Devlin has Alicia in his car, he locks the passenger door, preventing Alex from accompanying them in their escape. Having deduced a fraud afoot, Alex is sternly summoned back into the house, presumably to be ruthlessly dispatched, along with his scheming mother.  

Notorious is unequivocally A-list Hitchcock, even more remarkable, as it was made at a juncture in his career when Hitch’ regarded his creativity as straight-jacketed by the studio system and its Production Code. One has to sincerely admire Hitchcock and Ben Hecht for their chutzpah, the daring in presenting American officials as spurious merchants of prostitution, not above sexual blackmail and other amoral devices, toxic and taboo for any movie from Hollywood’s golden age, but particularly one made and released at the height of WWII, when America regarded itself, and was otherwise perceived around the world as the ‘great and virtuous liberator’ of a European hemisphere in flames. In the shadows of this towering edifice to male chauvinism, Hitchcock also gives us with his first genuinely unflattering depiction of motherhood; Anna Sebastian - a thoroughly corrosive viper, inadvertently contributing to her own demise and that of her ineffectual son. The acting throughout Notorious is uniformly superb; particularly Cary Grant, who eschews his otherwise trademarked lovable sex symbol, herein transformed into a thoroughly tortuous figure of self-doubt, loathing and regret.  Hitchcock and Grant would toil together again, in two of the master’s most frothy and fun misadventures; To Catch a Thief (1955) and North by Northwest (1959). But only in Notorious do we get the ‘other side’ of Grant’s persona – the one usually masked from public view.

Notorious arrives on Blu-ray – again – via Criterion’s ‘new’ 4K digital restoration. Before we get overly excited about this, let us make an observation by way of comparison with MGM’s Blu-ray release from nearly 6 years ago. Criterion’s has a lesser bit rate. This does not translate into lesser image quality. On the flip side, overall improvements are marginal at best.  Notorious, this second time around, sports a slight edge in intermittent image sharpness. Also, by direct comparison, the old MGM release now appears ever so slightly horizontally stretched. But you really have to be discerning to pick out these differences. In motion, both discs appear as though derived from the same source. And while, on occasion this new image harvest advances, it is not the quantum leap forward, experienced on Criterion’s updated Blu of Rebecca (1940). Notorious’ image is generally free of age-related artifacts. Tonality is solid with clean whites and velvety blacks. As RKO was not exactly at the forefront of film preservation, the elements here are softly focused (unintentionally). The lossless PCM mono audio bests the Dolby Digital from MGM’s Blu, but again – you have to strain to hear these subtle improvements, most obvious in the spatial spread in Roy Webb’s main title underscore.

Criterion has ported over all of MGM’s previously issued special features, including a pair of audio commentaries from 1990 and 2001, featuring Rudy Behlmer and Marian Keane. Criterion also offers up a host of new and very welcomed reflections: individual, nearly half-hour-long interviews with biographer, Donald Spoto, cinematographer, John Bailey, filmmaker, Daniel Raim, and, scholar, David Bordwell.  The most comprehensive extra is ‘Once Upon a Time…Notorious’; an hour-long documentary from 2009 with highlighted input from Isabella Rossellini, Peter Bogdanovich, Claude Chabrol and Stephen Frears, among many others. Capping off our enjoyment; snippets of newsreel footage, the Lux Radio adaptation, trailers and teasers; plus, a printed essay by critic, Angelica Jade Bastién. Bottom line: Notorious is one of Hitchcock’s crown jewels. In a career richly populated by such gems, it stands apart – even from Hitchcock’s other ‘war-themed’ espionage thrillers; Foreign Correspondent (1940) and Saboteur (1942). Even if you already own the old MGM Blu, you will want to snatch up this reissue, as it not only offers nominal improvements to the overall image quality of the feature, but really delivers the goods with a comprehensive assembly of meaningful extras. Very highly recommended!

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

5+

VIDEO/AUDIO

4

EXTRAS

5+