THUNDER ON THE HILL: Blu-ray (Universal-International, 1951) Kino Lorber

Claudette Colbert, as compassionate nun, Sister Mary Bonaventure and, Ann Blyth, as a convicted murderess, Valerie Carns discover compassion and common ground in Douglas Sirk’s Thunder on the Hill (1951) – a rather stylishly put together crime/melodrama with an all-star cast, to utilize virtually all the Tyrolean bric-a-brac of Universal’s Hollywood Transylvania backlot facades and free-standing sets, seen in countless horror movies throughout the 1930’s and early 40’s. Thunder on the Hill is an immensely entertaining minor programmer, tricked out in all the finery a studio like Universal could effortlessly afford. In many ways, it sincerely feels like a movie made at the height of the war – its saintly religious precepts, female-centric plot, and slightly syrupy romantic subplot, all hold-overs from the days when a primarily female audience dictated studio output. Thunder on the Hill also has William H. Daniels’ high key-lit cinematography and Hans J. Salter’s orchestral bombast to recommend it. But the picture’s greatest asset is undeniably its superb supporting cast, to include – among others – Gladys Cooper as stern, but tender-hearted Mother Superior, Phyllis Stanley (a thoroughly crisp, Nurse Phillips), Michael Pate (as the simple-minded grunt, Willie), and, Connie Gilchrist (chipper Sister Josephine, a newspaper-collecting Dr. Watson to Colbert’s amateur-sleuthing Sherlock Holmes). And true to Universal’s ancient history, as the purveyors of moodily lit and thoroughly haunted delights, Thunder on the Hill opens on a dark and stormy night with the inhabitants of nearby villages driven by the torrential downpour and extreme flooding to seek refuge inside the nearby castle-like convent, perched atop the hillside overlooking Norfolk.

Taking in these bedraggled souls, Sister Mary is informed by Sergeant Melling (Gavin Muir) that among those in need of salvation is one Valerie Carns, convicted of murdering her brother, Jason – a rather infamous local case. Valerie was set to hang within a few hours. That is, until a nearby dike burst, causing the flood waters to wipe out all roads leading into town, and thus, delay her fate. While Sister Mary’s resolute conviction makes her ideally suited for her vocation, she is hardly beloved by all who know her. Though Sister Superior regards Sister Mary as an exceptional nun, Nurse Phillips despises Mary for what she perceives as her ego-driven need to always be right. Frequently, Phillips and Mary clash over matters of policy – more so, during this crisis, as the influx of fearful refugees has added strain on the sisters’ accommodations, and, the adjacent hospital and dispensary, run by Dr. Edward Jeffreys (Robert Douglas) whose wife, Isabel (Anne Crawford) has been made a chronic invalid by her husband’s seemingly doting nature. Offering Melling, Valerie, and her police-appointed matron, Pierce (Norma Varden) her own accommodations – in order to isolate Valerie from the general population – Sister Mary is almost immediately struck by Valerie’s professed innocence. Indeed, Mary knows something of the emotional torture the girl is enduring, having long-since clung to the blame for her own sister’s suicide.

As the town’s residents settle in for the night and the storm rages on beyond the convent walls, Sister Mary is compelled to seek information on the Carns’ case, employing Sister Josephine to gather up all the local newspapers from several months past to have covered the infamous trial in great detail. Meanwhile, while seeing to Valerie’s comfort, Sister Mary is implored to make contact with Valerie’s ex-lover and fiancé, Sidney Kingham (Philip Friend), who resides in the neighboring village, now cut off by the flood. Having overheard their conversation, and ever-devoted to Sister Mary, the convent’s dim-witted servant boy, Willie braves the waters and swims out to an undisclosed location, returning several hours later with a skiff he offers to shuttle Sister Mary into town in search of Sidney. Willie also confides to having discovered a letter, scented in lilac, reportedly written to the late Jason Carns, but kept in his possession ever since the trial. Meanwhile, Sisters Mary and Josephine piece together the particulars of the trial, unearthing clues to point to Valerie’s innocence, including Abel Harmer’s (John Abbott) testimony about two sets of keys belonging to the Carns’ estate. These were duplicates, but were switched out of order, suggesting someone had used them earlier to break into the medicine cabinet and switch Jason’s prescriptions, thus resulting in a lethal administration when Valerie presumed it was mere aspirin.

Sister Mary also learns Jason Carns – apart from being a brilliant pianist and composer – was, in fact, not a very nice man. Indeed, Valerie had wished him dead, a declaration overheard by Willie and relayed in his testimony at trial. Jason, already invalided by a stroke, was prone to drunkenness and despised Sidney, perhaps mostly, as Jason believed he would be abandoned by his sister if she chose to wed. With Willie’s aid, having traversed the murky bog that separates the convent from the nearby town, Sister Mary locates Sidney and, after some consternation, returns with him to the convent where he and Valerie are tearfully reunited. Alas, the locals – narrow-minded and convinced of Valerie’s guilt – are quick to ostracize Sister Mary for her compassion, especially Mr. Smithson (Patrick O'Moore), who previously had implored Mary to look after his pregnant and ailing wife (Queenie Leonard) to ensure the safe delivery of their first child. As Mary was away in search of Sidney at the time of birth, the child’s safety has been placed in jeopardy, its lungs full of mucus which must be painfully extracted by mouth if, indeed, the newborn is to survive. Meanwhile, despite his love for her, Sidney suspects Valerie is guilty of having murdered her brother because of her love for him. Entering the dispensary, Willie lets it slip in mixed company he is patiently waiting to deliver the lilac-scented letter into Sister Mary’s hands; a revelation, immediately to concern Dr. Jeffreys and send Isabel into a tizzy. Heavily sedating his wife, Jeffreys ponders the significance of the letter, now, already in Sister Mary’s possession. Indeed, the unsigned letter is a grand romantic overture to Jason by an unknown woman who passionately resolved to leave her husband for him.

Mary makes her discovery known to Sister Superior who, instead, regards Mary’s fascination with the Carns’ case as morbid curiosity run amok. Now, Sister Superior orders Mary to destroy the letter. When she is unwilling to comply, Sister Superior burns the evidence in her fireplace instead. Meanwhile, Willie is attacked by an unknown assailant after having returned to his bed chamber to discover it ransacked. Sister Josephine alerts Sisters Mary and Superior to the incident and Willie is taken to the infirmary for treatment. Melling is eager to learn how Mary was able to make it into town, but becomes incensed when Mary informs him Willie has since destroyed the skiff used in their transportation as a means to delay Valerie’s return to the village to be hanged. Already suspicious of Dr. Jeffreys, Sister Mary waits in the laboratory while Jeffreys attends to his wife, then quietly sneaks in to confront Isabel with the letter. Under heavy sedation, Isabel confides in Mary – she was Jason’s lover and planned to leave Jeffreys for him at the time of his death. Realizing Dr. Jeffreys is the murderer, Sister Mary confronts him directly. A presumably reformed Jeffreys confesses to the crime, instructing Mary to fetch Sgt. Melling, whom she is told has gone to the tower for a breath of fresh air. Instead, Jeffreys now corners Sister Mary in the tower alone, intent on pushing her over the ledge to her death. Grabbing hold of the bell pully, Sister Mary struggles to ward off her attacker, the sound of the bell, peeling loudly in the dead of night, attracting everyone’s attentions. Sidney rushes up the stairs and, after struggling with Jeffreys in a brutal fight, manages to subdue him until Melling’s arrival. By the steely gray light of dawn, a police boat arrives to collect Melling and Jeffreys, now under arrest for the crime of murder. From the convent’s balcony, Valerie and Sidney embrace. A short while later, Sister Superior confides in Sister Mary her sincere thanks for doing God’s work, in spite of her. Mary’s faith restored, having afforded herself the power of forgiveness for her own sister’s suicide, she now returns to her normal duties, along with the other sisters.

Thunder on the Hill is based on Charlotte Hastings’ play, the screenplay ever so slightly tweaked by Oscar Saul and Andrew Solt. In just a little over 80 mins. Thunder on the Hill manages to cover an awful lot of ground – its concision never to appear forced or making short shrift of these characters’ inner emotions or back stories.  A moment’s pause is due here to mark and celebrate the golden era of movies yet again. For although the intervening decades have arguably improved the technical craft, today’s picture-makers can learn much from the ancient art of storytelling on celluloid. Thunder on the Hill makes its points with deft and skillful construction – each twist and turn, building in an incredible amount of suspense with narrowly a special effect or even a matte process shot in sight. The plot is entirely character-driven. Hence, the picture’s success is owed – chiefly, to excellent screenwriting; also, exceptional star power to lure the audience in and compel us to care about what happens next. Douglas Sirk’s direction here is not of the syrupy high-gloss treatment for which his latter-day excursions at Universal frequently suffered as over-the-top, campy soap opera, tricked out in the uber-sheen of vintage Technicolor. Instead, Sirk takes a fairly intelligent and unvarnished view of his subject matter here, indulging only the, then, prevailing strain in absolutely gorgeous B&W compositions.

Claudette Colbert is excellent as the wounded and devout nun, in search of her own truth as she investigates this crime of passion. Ann Blyth is less successful at conveying the tortured young girl, resigned to fate. A word about Blyth, who so completely and indelibly dazzled us as the unscrupulous Veda in Mildred Pierce (1945) the taint of that grand performance appears to have stuck, not only in our collective memory, but also to Blyth’s ribs going forward in her career. Gladys Cooper, having already donned the habit for 1943’s The Song of Bernadette (only then, as a rather demonic nun), is an exceptional sounding board here. One of England’s irrefutable ‘beauties’ in her prime, Cooper’s Hollywood career was capped off by a chronic spate of stoic sages, meddling matrons, ugly duckling sisters, and, intuitive spinsters. Robert Douglas’ villain is the least evolved of the central performers. There appears to be no arc to his villainy. He goes from a relatively calm and devout physician, employing sedatives to keep his frantic wife in check, to a raving maniac with murderous intent in the climax. It doesn’t quite work. Nevertheless, Thunder on the Hill is an intriguing whodunit wrapped in the enigma of the classic ‘woman’s picture’. Viewed today, it retains much of its intensity and is well worth a second look.

Were the same could be said of Kino Lorber’s Blu-ray. Cribbing from flawed elements provided by Universal Home Video, Thunder on the Hill exhibits a curious and slightly annoying visual presentation. Dirty little secret – the movie has been available for several years in hi-def in France, released through Elephant Distribution and, in a 1080p transfer that, while marginally suffering from a slightly brighter picture element, is virtually void of the edge enhancement that afflicts this Kino reboot. Kino’s transfer improves on contrast. The image is noticeable darker, and blacks are velvety deep and enveloping. However, edge effects are present, particularly in the fine detail of the nun’s habits. The artificial sharpening creates some disturbing halos around background detail as well. Clearly, this is an older image harvest, and while not entirely awful, it is decidedly not up to today’s mastering standards. Nor, does it accurately represent the film-like quality of a theatrical release. The audio is DTS 1.0 mono and adequate for this presentation. There are NO extras. Bottom line: Thunder on the Hill is a fairly engrossing entertainment. The Blu-ray is just a shay above average - what a letdown! Judge and buy accordingly.

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

4

VIDEO/AUDIO

2.5

EXTRAS

0