Hitchcock’s The Lodger Isn’t Worth The Candle

Criterion’s 2K Bluray of Alfred Hitchcock‘s The Lodger popped on 6.27. This 1927 silent is regarded as the first Hitchcock film that showed stirrings of what would become his signature themes and obsessions (a wrongly accused main character, a serial killer hunt in the Frenzy mode, creepy erotic undercurrents under a tidy facade). I saw it two years ago in Prague, and feel obliged to warn anyone thinking of buying the Criterion version that The Lodger simply isn’t that good. Here’s what I wrote:

The Lodger is a vaguely kinky, London-based parlor drama about the terror caused by a Jack The Ripper-type killer, called “The Avenger,” who mysteriously murders attractive blondes on Tuesday evenings. (We’re not told if he’s a stabber or a strangler — maybe he just eyeballs his victims and they drop dead on the spot?) Suspicions quickly surface that a recent arrival at a London boarding house — a tall, good-looking but oddly behaving fellow (Ivor Novello) — may be the killer. Hitch encourages you to weigh this possibility for a good 75% of the film until revealing that Novello is just a queer duck who’s looking to find the man who killed his sister.

Novello’s innocence is first hinted at when Daisy (June Tripp), the daughter of the boarding-house owners as well as a model, begins to feel affection and attraction for him, which understandably infuriates her much-older detective boyfriend (played by Malcolm Keen, who was nudging 40 during filming but looked closer to 45 if not 50) and adds to…well, the uncertainty factor, I suppose.

The Lodger was the first Hitchcock film about an innocent man wrongly accused of a crime. It was also Hitch’s first commercial success (it pretty much launched his career) and was also the first film in which he performed a walk-on. (He’s seen from the rear during a scene in which the presses of a major newspaper are printing news of The Avenger’s latest killing.) But this is a rather stiff and primitive exercise — more “interesting” than good.

Portions are nicely framed and focused, and yes, Hitchcock manages to implant a notion that for certain wackos there’s a kind of erotic charge that accompanies the murder of pretty girls. But he was only 27 during filming with only two or three previous films under his belt, and he just didn’t have enough knowledge or polish at this stage in his life. Not enough, certainly, to satisfy a guy like me watching The Lodger 88 years hence.

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Wrong Side Of The Hudson

I have a rendezvous with Patti Cake$ (Fox Searchlight, 8.18). I missed it in Park City. I missed it in Cannes. I missed a 6.22 screening on the Fox lot. But I will see it soon, I trust. And I will surrender myself to the New Jersey-ness of it, as I was born and raised and suffered through years of adolescent angst in Westfield, New Jersey. Westfield was and is a comfy whitebread hamlet while Patti Cake$ is set in the grim streets of Bergen County — a far cry. But I lived in North Bergen in ’08 and ’09 and suffered once again due to the grotesque antics of the Hispanic Party Elephant, who lived one floor above. I don’t hate New Jersey but it has always brought me some kind of pain or lethargy or discomfort. I’ll never be at peace with it, but I shouldn’t blame Patti Cake$ for being a New Jersey thang. The word all along has been highly positive. (Here’s a good piece by a fellow New Jerseyan.) It’s said to be a spiritual descendant of Hustle & Flow and 8 Mile, both of which I loved. So I’m ready to do it.

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Bears Repeating

The usual grousing about the Oscars, posted last night by JR: “Who fucking cares what the Academy does? I am done with the Oscars, completely done. I am frankly embarrassed that I have given a damn about the Oscars for this long, literally more than 50 years of my life. There’s never been much common ground between my list of the year’s finest alongside the Academy’s Best Picture nominees, and lately the divide has grown much wider.”

Which required my usual patient response: “Once again, it’s not the Oscars as much as The Season. The Oscars are the final event, the grand crescendo, the last stop on the line. Agree with or ignore their picks, but they’re worth their weight in gold because they drive The Season, and thank God and glory hallelujah for that.

“For without The Season (Labor Day to late February) the reach, depth, character and quality of films would never rise above the level of Wonder Woman or the latest Kevin Feige or D.C. Comics fantasia or, at best, noteworthy genre exercises like Get Out. And I’m saying this as a genuine fan of Ant-Man, by the way, as well as one who respects and admires the other two as far they go.”

Clarifying An Awful Truth

Yesterday I posted a riff about Scott Feinberg‘s 7.7 Hollywood Reporter article about the Academy expanding its membership with hundreds of filmmakers from foreign countries (“How the Globalization of the Academy Shakes Up the Race“). At the end I wrote the following kicker: “All hail the policies of inclusion, and down with the dominance of the proverbial 62 year-old white male who used to represent the typical Academy voter.”

This drew a complaint from “BadHatHarry,” to wit: “Does the obviously racist slant of this mean, if the harbinger here is true, that the day may come when one could vocally wish for the sidelining of the ‘proverbial minority female’ who now represents the academy? Or will they be the majority by then, freeing us to weep and gnash our teeth that we don’t hear enough white male voices?”

My reply: “I’m sorry, you’re right — it’s racist to denigrate the proverbial 62 year-old white guy and his supposed preferences as far as Best Picture contenders are concerned. I was just expressing the conventional view of the Hollywood herd, which is basically a healthy notion that the Academy needs to free itself from that 62 year-old white guy mentality by opening the gates to all tribes & agendas — women, people of various shades and ethnicities, LGBTQs, etc.

“At the same time we have to acknowledge that for quite a few years now (remember the early ’70s National Lampoon piece “Our White Heritage“?) the entire urban progressive culture of this country (i.e., hipsters, well educated wealthies, blue cities) has been frowning upon and pitying the history, legacy and attitudes of white culture. At least in terms of public discourse and now Twitter.

“It saddens me to acknowledge this, but the resulting narrative — i.e., it’s time for white culture to cede power to the multiculturals while accepting the lash for its horrid, corrupt history — is probably the single biggest factor (along with too many people hating Hillary) that led to Trump being in the White House. The 2016 election was mainly about race and to some extent misogyny, and was significantly propelled by rural & rust-belt under-educated whites pushing back against the p.c. elites & multiculturals.”

Leni Riefenstahl Did It Better

It can be assumed that between 19% and 20% of America’s population (the percentage of the country that voted for Donald Trump) believes this hooey. President Trump tweeted this video, which is basically Triumph of the Will minus the visual artistry, at 8:57 am this morning. The “Make America Great Again” song was written by Joy Villa, a practicing Scientologist who wore a Trump-inspired dress to the 2017 Grammy Awards, hails from Orange County, and is obviously a cultural traitor of the lowest order.

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