THE ALFRED HITCHCOCK CLASSICS COLLECTION: Volume 3 - 4K UHD Blu-ray (Warner Bros., Paramount, Universal 1948-72)

Alfred Hitchcock was a true cinema bon vivant, whose stylistic affinity for chills arguably extended from a deep-seeded and self-professed cowardice. “Heroes don’t make good suspense movies,” Hitchcock once suggested. Perhaps. Hitchcock’s own anxieties stemmed from the now too oft resurrected story about his father, to illustrate his point for being a good citizen, having young Alfred locked in a jail cell at their local constabulary for an undisclosed period of time. Aside: depending on the source consulted, Hitchcock’s stay in the slammer was only for a few moments or a few hours. Either way, the lesson took. In later years, Hitchcock was to recall this incident as his true awakening with a solemn vow, never to return to prison under any circumstances. Thereafter, Hitchcock would instead spend a lifetime illustrating the various ways one might find themselves at the short end of this tether for doing wrong in the world. Hitchcock’s on-camera presence – first, in his movies (born out of necessity in his native England, to evolve into his ‘where’s Waldo?’ signature in American movies), then, on television as arbitrator of the macabre on Alfred Hitchcock Presents…, would forever create the illusion – at least for the public – that Hitchcock had something more sinister to hide.  

There are, of course, elements to Hitchcock’s style long been discussed as essentials. His affinity for ‘cool blondes’ to dominate his scenarios, and, his verve for creating a ‘strong villain’ to counterbalance, but also dictate the trajectory of his stories until ‘goodness’, eventually triumphs. “Blondes make the best victims,” Hitchcock later mused, “They’re like virginal snow that shows up the bloody footprint.” Yet, in hindsight, only one of Hitchcock’s ‘cool blondes’ ever met with such an untimely end; Janet Leigh’s Marion Crane from 1960’s Psycho, quickly replaced by yet another glacial, flaxen-haired ‘type’ embodied by Vera Miles.  Interesting too, and with the exception of Walt Disney, Hitchcock was one of the first legitimate film-makers to successfully transition into television, even as he continued to craft major motion pictures throughout the 1960’s. Hitchcock’s love/hate relationship with TV as an inferior form of entertainment has been noted. Suggesting TV had done much for psychiatry by contributing to society’s need for it, was just one such quip. In later interviews, Hitchcock would compare TV to going to the bathroom. Neither changed people’s habits. They merely afforded them the comfort to use their own facilities at home. But perhaps, Hitchcock’s biggest condemnation was comparing TV to a toaster in which the ‘same thing’ was apt to ‘pop up every time.’ 

The latter is a fascinating snub, if for no other reason than, comparatively, to consider Hitchcock’s verve for crafting taut and suspenseful cinema had, by the mid-1960’s, also begun to mimic his earlier – better – offerings from the early 40’s through late 50’s, with far less finesse. It did not help that many of Hitchcock’s most celebrated collaborators left his employ by this latter epoch. Furthermore, the star system Hitchcock heavily relied upon to fuel his fantastic thrillers had crumbled, forcing the master of suspense to work within a new-fangled indie model in film production he neither embraced nor, arguably, understood. It is not a stretch or an insult to Hitchcock’s sheer mastery and enduring legacy to imply that after 1963’s The Birds, his subsequent pics lost much of this bygone luster. There are few critics of any vintage who would consider the likes of Torn Curtain (1966), Topaz (1969) or Family Plot (1976) besting Foreign Correspondent, Rebecca (both made in 1940) or Saboteur (1942). There is even a shameless rip-off from 1946’s Notorious in 1964’s Marnie. If anything, Hitchcock’s latter-age catalog, some horrendously judged as misfires at the time, did much to tarnish Hitchcock’s reputation with critics and film-goers alike in his own time. In hindsight, such miscalculations in assessing a true artist’s longevity did virtually nothing to prevent Hitchcock’s resurrection after his death.

With the 4K release of Alfred Hitchcock: The Classic Collection Vol. 3, Universal Home Video effectively brings down the curtain on the remaining thrillers made by the master of suspense, under their distribution since the mid-1950’s. It is well about time too, as this final nod to Hitchcock contains two of his most intriguing thrillers, each long overdue for a ground-up remastering effort.  First up, Hitchcock’s debut as a freelancer – having departed David O. Selznick after The Paradine Case (1947), and, Hitchcock’s first film shot in Technicolor - Rope (1948).  Based partly on the Leopold Loeb case, but more directly derived from Patrick Hamilton’s modestly successful stage play; ‘Rope’s End’, Rope tells the ghastly tale of a pair of homosexual school mates who strangle a straight colleague, just for kicks. They then throw a party for the deceased’s friends and family, serving up drinks and vittles on a handsome wooden credenza, containing these human remains. Hitchcock was utterly fascinated by this crime. But he endeavored to go one step further, creatively speaking, to shoot his movie as a play – in one sustained take. Alas, given the technological shortcomings of the age in which Rope was made, this proved virtually impossible. It did not prevent Hitchcock from trying.

To augment their perversity, the murderous duo responsible for the crime also invite their old college professor, Rupert Cadell (James Stewart) to the gathering: first, as he is supposed to have instilled Nietzsche’s theory of the superman in them, thereby providing the intellectual justification for their thrill-kill, but second, and more directly, as Cadell – at least in the play – has had a homosexual affair with at least one of the killers, thereupon making him indirectly complicit in a bizarre lover’s triangle. Given the climate of censorship in Hollywood at that time, Hitchcock could not offer definitive proof of this affair, although he did succeed in creating a rather sycophantic ‘closeness’ between the two actors who eventually played murderers, Brandon Shaw (John Dall) and Philip Morgan (Farley Granger). Truth to tell, Hitchcock was more interested in Rope as a technical exercise - his second attempt to shoot an entire movie on a single set. This was seen as a gimmick Hitchcock further promoted as a film having ‘no edits’, erroneously to have been shot in ‘one continuous take.’

The premise, while interesting, was wholly impractical and untrue, as only ten minutes of usable film existed in the camera at any given time. Undaunted, Hitchcock endlessly rehearsed his camera movements, closing in on an actor’s back or close-up of a wall at the end of each ten-minute break before reloading for his next reel. Thus, he hoped the assemblage of raw footage would provide for the awkward illusion of continuity – an ‘uninterrupted’ photographic account of the stage play. Regrettably, it also made the viewer acutely aware of the gimmick by exposing the 'edits' Hitchcock was trying to conceal. In hindsight, the chief difficulty with Rope is its central casting of James Stewart as Rupert Cadell, the boy’s criminology professor. Unable to project even the subtext of homosexuality, Stewart places the central premise of Cadell’s complicity in the crime curiously off balance. One cannot fathom any intimate understanding to have ever transpired between Brandon, Philip and Rupert. As such, Cadell is left with a rather mundane task - to detect the crime and bring his former pupils to justice. When Rope was finally released thru Warner Bros., it did respectable business but was, by no means, a resounding success.

From this inauspicious epoch, Hitchcock was to launch into his most successful American period at the movies. The fifties truly were the age of Hitchcock, with the master’s craft wed to Paramount Studios’ newly created widescreen process, VistaVision – embraced by Hitchcock from 1955’s To Catch A Thief until VistaVision’s premature demise, and farmed out to MGM for 1959’s North by Northwest.  Hitchcock’s return to form was also marked by a glance in the rearview mirror of his British period, with a remake of The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956). For years, Hitchcock had toyed with the idea of updating one of his biggest hits. Upon its release in 1956, Hitchcock would suggest his earlier effort had been conceived by an amateur – the latter, by a true master in command of the cinema language Yet, both versions of The Man Who Knew Too Much have merit – the remake actually made to fulfill Hitchcock's contractual obligations to Paramount.

The studio willingly agreed to allow its star director a second bite at the same apple. But they also pressed upon Hitchcock to cast Doris Day - then, a singing sensation at the movies. Although Hitchcock begrudgingly accepted Day as his leading lady, and even conceded to the inclusion of a song expressly written for her – the chart-topping single, Que Sera, Sera, neatly fitted as a pivotal plot point – Hitchcock was to sincerely change his mind, garnering a new-found respect for Day after shooting the scene where it is revealed to her character, Jo McKenna, that her young son has been kidnapped. Herein, Day’s remarkable talent as a dramatic actress completely shone through, her sudden and miraculous escalation from abject bewilderment into a panic-stricken frenzy caused the entire cast and crew to take notice – some, even to applaud. And Day would continue to do some of her very best work throughout the picture, proving a formidable costar for James Stewart. Yet, somehow, despite Hitchcock’s appreciation for her talents, and, the ultimate success of the remake, they would never work together again.

In the remake, Dr. Ben McKenna (James Stewart) his wife, Jo (Doris Day) and their son, Hank (Christopher Olsen) are on holiday in Marrakech where Ben is attending a medical conference. Jo is newly retired from the London stage, but is still highly recognizable to her worldwide following. The McKennas are introduced to Lucy and Edward Drayton (Brenda de Banzie and Bernard Miles), two ‘seemingly innocuous’ admirers who ingratiate themselves into an invitation to dinner and later agree to show the McKennas the bustling market square. The McKennas also meet mysterious Frenchman, Louie Bernard (Daniel Gelin) who offers to act as their cultural liaison. However, when Bernard, disguised as an Arab, is brutally stabbed in the back before Jo and Ben’s eyes, he nevertheless manages to confide an ominous secret to Ben before dying; that a high-ranking political official is to be assassinated somewhere in London. The plot thickens as Ben learns the Draytons have kidnapped Hank and are holding him hostage to buy Ben’s silence until the assassination can take place. After telling Jo what has become of their child, the couple flies back to England where Ben pursues several false leads in the hopes of learning Hank's whereabouts.

Inspector Buchanan (Ralph Truman) encourages the McKennas to wait out their ordeal while the authorities take over. But Jo has already discovered the Drayton's hideaway inside a small church in White Chapel. Ben rushes to investigate and is knocked unconscious by Edward. Now, the Draytons take Hank to the Foreign Embassy. Jo pursues their hired gunman, Rien (Reggie Nalder) to Royal Albert Hall where she realizes the Foreign Prime Minister (Alexi Bobrimskoy) is the intended victim. Her screams foil the assassination and Ben bursts into Rien's balcony box, forcing him over the balcony railing to his death. In gratitude for saving the Prime Minister's life, the Foreign Ambassador (Mogens Wieth), who is also in on the murder plot, invites the McKennas to the embassy as his guests. Reluctantly, Jo and Ben acquiesce and are startled when Jo's song is echoed by Hank's faint whistling. As Jo proceeds to stretch out the verse and chorus, Ben follows the sound of Hank's whistle to an upstairs bedroom where Lucy Drayton is keeping him under lock and key. Ben is confronted by Edward Drayton - only this time he is prepared. The two men wrestle. Edward drops his gun and is thrown down a flight of stairs by Ben, who quickly escorts his wife and child to safety.

The Man Who Knew Too Much is an implausible espionage caper, elegant and full of McGuffins designed to keep the audience guessing. In lesser hands, such material might have foundered. But the screenplay by Hitchcock fav’, John Michael Hayes, is slick and stylish, as are the performances from Doris Day and James Stewart. And Hitch’s cinematic genius repeatedly illustrates why no one else was more adept at telling this kind of story. For the scene where Ben is approached by the mortally wounded Louie Bernard, Hitchcock wanted the actor’s dark facial make-up to come off as he collapses in Ben’s arms, thereby revealing his true identity. Unfortunately, the thick brown pancake simply would not smudge. Eventually, Hitchcock came up with a clever solution – applying flesh-colored make-up to Jimmy Stewart’s palms and finger tips. As Ben catches Bernard’s face in his hands, he smears the flesh-toned palette against the actor's dark face, implying the opposite effect has occurred.

As the rest of Hitchcock’s fifties and early sixties catalog has already been explored elsewhere, Uni’s Vol. 3 leaps ahead to Torn Curtain (1966), Hitchcock’s most awkwardly miscast thriller, with pert and plucky, Julie Andrews as Dr. Sarah Louise Sherman, pitted against Paul Newman, as her fiancée/ brilliant lecturer/scientist, Professor Michael Armstrong. The pair are in Copenhagen for a conference when Sarah begins to suspect Mike is a communist defector. As with Lina’s (Joan Fontaine) contemplation over her husband’s belabored innocence in Hitchcock’s Suspicion made nearly two decades before it, Sarah’s assumptions about Michael in Torn Curtain turn out to be false and misleading – the screenplay by Brian Moore, incessantly toying with ‘what if’ scenarios and generally blowing them out of proportion with ironically timed unhappy accidents. From pre-production on, Torn Curtain struck a dissident chord for all concerned.  There are no grand set pieces in it - nowhere for the master of suspense to use his camera as ‘pure cinema’ without weighty exposition. The humorous bits, as in the sequence where a Polish Countess (Lila Kedova) tries to blackmail Michael into becoming her sponsor to immigrate to America, are not funny, while the dramatic moments, featuring a bird-like Russian ballerina (Tamara Toumanova) lack suspense. Worse for Hitchcock, he encountered considerable resistance from his leading man. Paul Newman’s method training was to chronically intervene, Newman questioning the motivations of his character, and, even taking several opportunities to offer ways on how to ‘improve’ the picture.

If Torn Curtain has a memorable moment, it is the extended killing of bodyguard, Hermann Gromek (Wolfgang Kieling) who realizes too late Michael’s defection is a fraud. Here, Hitchcock illustrates just how difficult it is to commit murder – particularly when the adversaries are evenly matched. With the aid of a housewife, Michael attempts to first strangle, then stab, strike down with a metal skillet, choke, and finally gas his assailant inside a small cottage in the middle of nowhere. He is successful only in the last of these methods. In the end, no one was happy with the results. Hitchcock lamented that with Andrews in the cast, everyone kept expecting her to burst into song. As for Newman, Hitchcock quickly realized he had been given an impossible force with whom he could not successfully collaborate. After Torn Curtain’s cataclysmic thud at the box office, Hitchcock took nearly three years off before his next feature, Topaz (1969); a cloak and dagger thriller based on the best-seller by Leon Uris. Alas, the novel proved just as problematic for Hitchcock to adapt; its James Bond-ish/Cold War spy plot, woefully jumbled in Samuel Taylor's convoluted and ineffectual screenplay. Topaz would prove a major gamble in another way too. It contained no American stars to sell it to the public on a marquee.

We begin with the defection of a high-ranking Russian diplomat, Boris Kusenov (Per-Axel Arosenius). After a lengthy prologue in which Kusenov and his family narrowly escape KGB agents in Denmark, the picture settles into a terribly pedestrian and plodding wrinkle. Kusenov’s defection might actually have been set up by the Russians. Enter Agent Michael Nordstrom (John Forsythe), a benign milquetoast who enlists the aid of the more flamboyant, French spy and personal friend, Andre Devereaux (Frederick Stafford) to do a bit of homegrown subversion abroad, involving Castro-esque dictator, Rico Parra (John Vernon).  André accepts the assignment, even though his wife, Nicole (Dany Robin) suspects part of the allure for him has to do with sultry Cuban revolutionary gal-pal, Juanita de Cordoba (Karin Dor) the wife of a dead freedom fighter, but actually a double agent working for the Americans. Andre uses CIA operative, Philippe Noiret (Roscoe Lee Brown), posing as an interviewer for Look Magazine to infiltrate the hotel where Parra and his entourage are staying. Noiret ingratiates himself to Luis Uribe (Donald Randolph). However, the two are caught spying on Parra’s private attaché and Noiret barely escapes with his life.  The plot is then further complicated with the introduction of Andre’s son-in-law, Michèle Picard (Claude Jade) - a reporter who inadvertently uncovers a murder plot - then nearly becomes part of the body count himself.

With the success of the James Bond film franchise in the back of his mind, Hitchcock dove deeply into this espionage caper. Tragically, Uris’ detailed narrative proved too involved and complex for him to unravel. Given the engaging subject matter, the movie’s glacial pace and utterly dull and uninspired vignettes are a grand disappointment. Hitchcock’s first sneak prevue of Topaz was an absolute disaster, universally panned in response cards. In planning another ending, Hitchcock made two compromises, neither completely satisfying – the latter with André and Nicole departing on a plane for France with their seemingly shattered marriage brought back into perspective, the other involving the off-camera suicide of Claude Martin (John Van Dreelan) – the suspected head of the international cartel who has had an affair with Nicole. To suggest Hitchcock’s more studio-bound directorial sensibilities are painfully out of touch on Topaz is perhaps a tad harsh. However, film critic, Leonard Maltin’s soft touch - that Hitchcock was making a more personal film, not in tune with immediate public tastes, though solid entertainment nevertheless – is far too forgiving a critique than any screening of Topaz, then or now, allows. The movie is sluggish and confusing, particularly during its final reels. Visually, it sinks like a stone, perhaps the one truly unforgivable blight on Hitchcock's American film-making career.  Topaz is not only a bad movie. It is a horrendously un-Hitchcock-esque one!

Hitchcock would return to form - marginally - and to his roots - definitely - with Frenzy (1972) a competent and moderately enjoyable thriller to take the director back to England. At its best, Frenzy is a modestly-budgeted thriller with solid performances throughout. At its worst, it caters to the crass, B-budget exploitation, having eclipsed the stylish murder mystery. Hitchcock panders to this trend by upping the ante in screen violence. The murders in Frenzy are not merely brutal – they are, on occasion, grotesque. Based on Arthur La Bern’s novel, Farewell Piccadilly, So Long Lester Square, Frenzy is Hitchcock at his most uncharacteristic and undeniably gruesome. In many ways, the film is a throwback to the kind of entertainment Hitchcock had made in Britain. Shot on location in the UK, Frenzy opens with the discovery of a naked female corpse floating face down in the Thames - the latest victim of The Necktie Killer. After Hitchcock’s prerequisite cameo as just a face in the crowd of observers, the narrative constructed by screenwriter, Anthony Shaffer settles on the firing of bartender, Richard Blaney (Jon Finch), caught by his employer attempting to steal a swig.

Blaney’s girlfriend, barmaid, Babs (Anna Massey) encourages Richard to keep a stiff upper lip while searching for another position. Richard is next seen strolling through Covent Garden by friend, Bob Rusk (Barry Foster) – the actual serial killer. Rusk suggests Richard move on to greener pastures. But all Richard can think about is revisiting his past, estranged wife and employment counselor, Brenda (Barbara Leigh-Hunt). Shortly thereafter, Rusk also pays Brenda a call – one that ends with her becoming the next victim of the Necktie Killer. Implicated by the police in Brenda’s death, Richard takes up temporary residence with Babs, only to have Rusk murder her as well – thereby solidifying him as the only suspect in both crimes. Richard is eventually incarcerated, though not before he has had the opportunity to figure things out for himself. The killings in Frenzy are perverse, inserting gratuitous nudity into several key sequences to titillate and repulse in tandem with the failed prospect of exploitative erotica turned upside down. Lust escalates into violence, then sadistic death. A financial success, Frenzy introduced scores of younger filmgoers to Hitchcock, even though it had become quite apparent to his most ardent fans his best works were now sadly behind him.

In 1979, a badly ailing Hitchcock attended the AFI’s tribute dinner flanked by his wife and long-time collaborator, Alma, their daughter, Pat, and, virtually surrounded by an aged sect of Hollywood titans he had helped to make famous. The luminaries, too many to effectively list in a review, were rounded out by a heartfelt Ingrid Bergman who had appeared for Hitchcock thrice: in Spellbound (1945), Notorious (1946) and Jamaica Inn (1949). During her moment as presenter, Bergman told of an incident on the set of Notorious where Hitchcock instructed her how to employ a little gold key as her prop. When Bergman suggested the impracticality of what she was being asked to do, Hitchcock wryly offered, “Darling, fake it” – direction, Bergman then went on to infer was immensely useful when plied to other facets of her life later on. Receiving a hearty chuckle from the audience, Bergman then descended the stage to present Hitchcock with a gift – the same ‘key’ that had necessitated their discussion so many years before. A tearful Bergman and gracious Hitchcock embraced – ostensibly, for the last time. Hitchcock dying on April 29, 1980 – just four months after receiving a knighthood from the Queen of England.

Universal’s Alfred Hitchcock: The Classics Collection Vol. 3 is truly a cause for celebration. Not only are each of these movies remastered in full 4K UHD, but virtually all have received ground-up restorations, either from original Technicolor separation masters or original camera negatives. The results are astounding. Universal, who received a lot of hate mail over the slapdash way all of these were handled on standard Blu-ray, has heeded the call to do better.  Uniformly, color density and saturation mark a quantum leap forward. But the most startling transformations take place on Rope, The Man Who Knew Too Much, and Frenzy.  Rope was shot in 3-strip Technicolor. All previous video incarnations were derived from a combined element. For 4K, Uni has restored each of the separation masters, re-combined to yield a level of image clarity never witnessed before.

On The Man Who Knew Too Much, Uni has finally restored the original Paramount VistaVision opener and end titles. It’s about time! The Man Who Knew Too Much has, irrefutably, been one of the worst looking home video releases ever. This 4K is, therefore, a huge revelation. Not only is color density and overall image clarity miraculous, but contrast is superb, and detail and grain levels astound. Viewing Frenzy in 4K was like seeing the movie with fresh eyes for the very first time. Colors popped, contrast advanced to a finite level of precision, and, film grain was, at long last, accurately represented. All of the aforementioned accolades are also noted on Topaz and Torn Curtain, although arguably, to a lesser degree. Topaz’s color spectrum is startlingly bold. Torn Curtain’s ‘soft focus’ cinematography is far better resolved in 4K and now appears more indigenously to a 35mm element, not homogenized, fuzzy and slightly out of focus digital transfer.

Another pleasure to behold: in their search for original elements on The Man Who Knew Too Much, restorationist, Robert Harris and archivists at Universal Studios also discovered the movie’s original Perspecta 3-channel directionalized ‘stereo’ soundtrack. This has NEVER been heard on home video and is more than a minor revelation, easily to best the 2.0 mono downmix. Note: Perspecta has oft been dubbed ‘the poor man’s stereo.’ But actually, it was a rather ingenious way to camouflage an inherently mono mix with directionalized music and effects, a process created by C. Robert Fine. Perspecta's appeal for studios boiled down to this: it was cheap – and not to require a new sound head for the projector. Discreet sound separation was not the aim here; rather, three sub-audible tones, mixed and embedded in a monaural optical soundtrack, lending to the illusion of stereo, with a carefully modulated and panning mono mix across 3 channels.  As there was no room for magnetic stereo soundtracks on a VistaVision camera negative, Perspecta proved a blessing to the format’s claim of ‘motion picture hi-fidelity.’

The rest of the movies in Vol. 3, have all had their soundtracks ‘sweetened’. That said, none have been given 5.1 DTS upgrades. All are 2.0 mono, as released theatrically. Extras are all imports from the previous standard Blu’s and offer hours of ‘making of’ documentaries, deleted sequences, storyboards, publicity junkets and trailers. The one ‘new’ extra is on The Man Who Knew Too Much – a five-minute + reflection on the Herculean task of restoring this movie, hosted by restorationist, Robert A. Harris. Now, for the singular disappointment. Although Uni has deigned to include Blu-rays with this set, virtually none are derived from these refurbished elements. They are previous Blu-ray editions. Oh well…can’t have everything. Bottom line: with Alfred Hitchcock Vol. 3, Universal has invested much in the Hitchcock catalog it owns that, until this 4K set had been allowed to languish in pretty abysmal quality for decades. If you do not own a 4K player I simply cannot think of a better reason to run out and buy one! Each movie in this set is presented in reference quality. Very – VERY – highly recommended!

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

Rope – 4

The Man Who Knew Too Much – 5

Torn Curtain – 2.5

Topaz – 2

Frenzy – 4

VIDEO/AUDIO

Uniformly 5+ on 4K

Uniformly 2 on standard Blu

EXTRAS

3.5