two dr. jekylls & two mr. hydes

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde explores the duality within humans and repression in the Victorian era.  The most famed film adaptations, the Pre-Code 1931 Rouben Mamoulian version and Victor Fleming's 1941 spin, stray a bit from Robert Louis Stevenson's novella, but are influential in their own right.

Fredric March won an Oscar (the first horror film to win an Academy Award) for his portrayal as the dual character: an affable English scientist who creates a potion that turns him into monstrous Mr. Hyde (the racist undertones are pretty evident here in the movie's over-the-top makeup work).  As Dr. Henry Jekyll, he's in love with Muriel (Rose Hobart) who's under strict supervision from her father (Halliwell Hobbes) but as Mr. Edward Hyde he lusts after and pursues prostitute Ivy Pearson (Miriam Hopkins).

There's a certain spontaneity and creativity from early Pre-Code films.  The sexuality of the '31 version is quite explicit (Ivy's bare legs).  The camera work by Karl Struss is particularly vivid, especially since it extensively uses the now oft-imitated POV shot (John Carpenter's Halloween, filmed nearly forty years later, revived the technique).  The film has a lot of spirit and ingenuity for its time, and is probably the best cinematic version, even if it's bogged down in parts with the scenes between March and Hobart.  ***

Victor Fleming followed up his 1939 masterpieces The Wizard of Oz and Gone With the Wind with an elegant but stodgy remake (basically the same plot) of Mamoulian's version starring Spencer Tracy, Ingrid Bergman and Lana Turner.  Despite the excellence of these three players, they all seem miscast.  Turner would probably have been more interesting as the "bad" girl, Bergman as the good, and Tracy is much too sympathetic and plain when he transforms into Mr. Hyde.  Reportedly Bergman had originally been picked to play Ivy but wanted a challenge and asked the studio to switch roles with Turner.  It's a pretty movie, as Fleming's films often are, but in comparison to the ribald '31 take, this one seems weak-hearted.  **1/2

spellbound

Alfred Hitchcock's Spellbound is dated but still a fascinating picture. Made in 1945, in the midst of WWII, the film is one of the first to explicitly deal with the psychological effects of trauma. Gregory Peck, not yet a big star at the time, enters an institute under the guise of a famous therapist, Dr. Anthony Edwardes. Dr. Constance Petersen (another remarkable performance from Ingrid Bergman) takes Edwardes under her wing and unlocks the mysteries of his past and the seed of his psychological torment. What ensues is a theme classic to Hitchcock: the chase.

Unlike the electric pairing of Grant and Bergman in Notorious, the sexual and romantic chemistry between Bergman and Peck intentionally lacks fire. This is a rare instance in a film from the 40s, where our two romantic leads don't quite seem in love with one another at all. Peck is weak and withered, passing out on numerous occasions, while Bergman dominates. I kept wondering, does Bergman's character really love Peck's? Or is Peck's character just another case, another project. It's this ambiguity that adds to Spellbound's strangeness.

This is the second of three pictures Hitchcock and revolutionary producer David O. Selznick would collaborate on. Their two most memorable works together, Rebecca and Spellbound, remain curious oddities to me in Hitchcock's cannon. Unlike other Hitch films from the 40s, such as the stark and understated Lifeboat and Rope, they are lush, noticeably overproduced, and as experimental as Hollywood (under the code) could allow them to be.

Adding to the Selznick atmosphere is the spooky, romantic score (with its moody use of theremin) by Hungarian composer Mikolos Rozsa, which provided the film its sole Academy Award. Hitchcock complained Rozsa's score was too intrusive on his direction. Nevertheless, the music remains a beauty.

Having had successful experience in therapy, Selznick was attracted to the material in Spellbound. The script by the brilliant Ben Hecht has unfortunately lost a lot of luster through the years. The psychoanalysis mumbo jumbo--similar the coda in Psycho--is sprinkled throughout. I couldn't help but notice the similarity in storyline to another but very different psyche drama: Robert Redford's Ordinary People. Both are about freeing the mind from guilt and psychological torment and the irrational malaise society once held (here in the 40s and in Redford's picture, early 80s suburbia) against therapy.

What lures me back to the film, despite the heavy, outmoded dialogue, are the many arresting visuals and rich compositions. There is a fascinating (and fun!) dream sequence, specifically designed by Salvador Dali. A quick, unforgettable image of memory and accidental death (see image above). And a memorable conclusion that involves a gun being pointed directly at the audience--one of my favorite moments in all of Hitchcock's work. ***

-Jeffery Berg

This billboard in Times Square and these promotional materials seems to speak of Selznick's gifts as a producer and a revolutionary producer at the time.

birthday

Happy Birthday, Hitchcock.