Blackmail (1929)

Directed by Alfred Hitchcock; produced by John Maxwell (uncredited)

Rather bored with her boyfriend, a police detective, Alice White (Anny Ondra) makes a date with an artist (Cyril Ritchard). After accepting his invitation to see his studio, Alice is assaulted as she tries to leave, forcing her to kill her assailant in self-defence. But if her action was unseen, her involvement with the dead man is known, and the person who knows it has his own demands.

Famous as the first British-talkie, Blackmail is, as one might expect from the director – not then as renowned as he would become – filled with masterly and, at the time, ground-breaking scenes and techniques. This does not, however, keep it from being dated as entertainment.

The primary problem is the stilted performances of the leads, specifically the two principal male actors: Ritchard, and John Longden as the boyfriend, Frank Webber. Their acting looks to be that of the stereotype silent-era player, though of course Blackmail has sound. Ritchard was, in fact, a great success on stage, both on the boards and behind the scenes - his most famous rôle was that of Captain Hook in Peter Pan - so it may be that his technique simply did not translate to the subtler qualities of film. Longden was used extensively by Hitchcock, so I may be in error about his talents, too.

I initially included Ondra in this category of unsuccess, but discovered that, with her heavy Czech accent, her voice was dubbed (by Joan Barry). This changed matters, as I had thought that Ondra’s actions, expressions and ability to convey emotions to be quite good. It may be either Barry’s vocal acting, or the attempt to combine it with Ondra’s presence that failed.

As is the case in many movies, the supporting players come off better. Donald Calthrop as the blackmailer, Charles Paton and Sara Allgood as Alice’s parents, and Phyllis Monkman as a neighbourhood gossip, are all very good. Their performances are natural and convincing.

The story is partly to blame for Blackmail not holding up. The blackmailer has a connection to the dead man and, while that explains why he was in a position to see Alice with the would-be rapist, the connection, seemingly shady, is not explained. As well, the mere discovery by the extortionist’s victims that the villain has a criminal record has him pointlessly recant his demands, even though Alice would still have great reason to keep her part in the tragedy quiet. The motivation leading to the climax is lacking.

But it may be stated that the direction throughout is first-rate. Though he improved with age, Hitchcock clearly had much going for him from the start. He captures Alice’s trauma very well, spicing it with a tremendous scene in which Monkman’s character’s constant reference to knives is like a nightmare to Alice. As well, the setting of London shows the time and place perfectly, from a slum where a wanted man is hiding out, to a crowded restaurant where customers’ attempts to seat themselves is like a game of musical chairs. And the finale is exciting, featuring what would become a recurring motif of the director: action in a famous location, in this case the British Museum.

While, it is certainly not true that the majority of 1920s movies are too dated to enjoy – City Lights, reviewed in this blog almost exactly a year ago, remains a joy – some elements, often to blame as much in modern films, make Blackmail more interesting to watch than entertaining.