"Murder" is a film imprisoned by its time (the early sound period) and place (Britain before the era of the classless society), and largely because of that, quite enjoyable.
As the generic title suggests, you have a murder, a locked-room whodunnit of humble origin that would be pretty much not remembered today if it wasn't an early sound effort by the Master himself, Alfred Hitchcock. An opening shot is particularly effective, as we witness a reaction to a cry of murder (in the entire movie we never see any murder actually take place) along a row of second-story tenement apartments along a night-darkened sidestreet. "A highbrow shocker," it is called by its chief protagonist, Sir John Menier, and it is sort of that, not that it's an especially complex mystery but represents an early effort by a sophisticated directorial mind.
The acting is stilted but effective throughout, particularly the great Herbert Marshall as the lead character, Sir John. Not many films made so early in the 1930s offered such magnetic figures to gravitate around. Marshall is quite charming and plummy as the one man committed to seeing justice is done in the case of a woman who has been, he suspects unfairly, convicted of committing the title deed. You feel Sir John's pain, and enjoy his company, and that's unusual when you consider the fact movie characters spoke only via subtitles less than 18 months before.
I like the mise-en-scenes, particularly one that takes place in a jury room and another one that takes place backstage during a play. The acting isn't always sharp, but the characterizations are, and Hitchcock really allows us to distinguish among many minor roles.
Critics today have noted the attendant snobbery of the film, particularly the way working-class characters unfailingly defer to the noble Sir John. But Marshall is so good you root for his character even despite the class angle. He's so obviously full of good intentions and sensitive to others. Despite a penetrating wit, he's bears a real conscience. You can't help but identify with him in some way. "I found myself caught up in a machine," he confesses to Mr. Markham, who along with Markham's wife he enlists on a crusade to prove the condemned woman innocent.
Actually, I think it's nice having a movie that speaks in favor of Britain's class system; it's easy to do otherwise today, but this period picture usefully exemplifies the predominant thinking of the time. Plus the Markhams [Phyllis Konstam and Edward Chapman] are effective as comic relief, and well-taken care of by Sir John as we discover at the movie's end. Sir John is so considerate, well-bred, and decent that we kind of root for him despite his airs. Maybe we wouldn't resent Britain's noble classes if they all behaved so well. The way he puts Mr. Markham at ease ("Ah, yes, I anticipate your objection," he says as Markham struggles to keep up with the conversation) is one of many subtle humorous sections in the movie.
Also, Hitchcock does take pains to bring Sir John down to size, for example by having the lord spend the night at a policeman's house to get some intelligence on the murder case. There he must content with a morning wake-up call from an affectionate cat who crawls under the covers of his bed, and a huggy toddler who won't let go of her new daddy. Marshall makes us like his character by showing us his humanity, here and elsewhere, and the result is a scene that's charming and rich. (Also cut in many versions, unfortunately.) Hitchcock was very British, but no snob.
SPOILER ALERT [Does anyone watch a movie from 1930 expecting to be surprised by plot twists?] The killer in this movie is a fellow named Handel Fane, who fears his dark secret, that of being half-black, will be exposed. Actually, Fane is as black-looking as Robert Smith of the Cure, and critics are nearly uniform in saying his actual unaddressed secret deals with homosexuality. Esme Percy as Fane comes across as gay as a French horn at Mardi Gras. But Fane killed the victim because he didn't want the convicted killer to know he was in love with her, so that's that for the gay angle.
Still, Percy's fey mannerisms are offputting. So is the thick acting of Norah Baring as Diana Baring, a performance only notable in that her character has the same last name as the actress playing her. A good film when you make allowances for the time, but when you do, you can really get swept up in it. Hitchcock doesn't so much shine here as show an awareness of inner motives and psychology that would stead him well in time. A good movie mostly for discerning the genius to follow, but it does have its moments that shine even today. Watch it without great expectations, and you will be pleasantly surprised.
As the generic title suggests, you have a murder, a locked-room whodunnit of humble origin that would be pretty much not remembered today if it wasn't an early sound effort by the Master himself, Alfred Hitchcock. An opening shot is particularly effective, as we witness a reaction to a cry of murder (in the entire movie we never see any murder actually take place) along a row of second-story tenement apartments along a night-darkened sidestreet. "A highbrow shocker," it is called by its chief protagonist, Sir John Menier, and it is sort of that, not that it's an especially complex mystery but represents an early effort by a sophisticated directorial mind.
The acting is stilted but effective throughout, particularly the great Herbert Marshall as the lead character, Sir John. Not many films made so early in the 1930s offered such magnetic figures to gravitate around. Marshall is quite charming and plummy as the one man committed to seeing justice is done in the case of a woman who has been, he suspects unfairly, convicted of committing the title deed. You feel Sir John's pain, and enjoy his company, and that's unusual when you consider the fact movie characters spoke only via subtitles less than 18 months before.
I like the mise-en-scenes, particularly one that takes place in a jury room and another one that takes place backstage during a play. The acting isn't always sharp, but the characterizations are, and Hitchcock really allows us to distinguish among many minor roles.
Critics today have noted the attendant snobbery of the film, particularly the way working-class characters unfailingly defer to the noble Sir John. But Marshall is so good you root for his character even despite the class angle. He's so obviously full of good intentions and sensitive to others. Despite a penetrating wit, he's bears a real conscience. You can't help but identify with him in some way. "I found myself caught up in a machine," he confesses to Mr. Markham, who along with Markham's wife he enlists on a crusade to prove the condemned woman innocent.
Actually, I think it's nice having a movie that speaks in favor of Britain's class system; it's easy to do otherwise today, but this period picture usefully exemplifies the predominant thinking of the time. Plus the Markhams [Phyllis Konstam and Edward Chapman] are effective as comic relief, and well-taken care of by Sir John as we discover at the movie's end. Sir John is so considerate, well-bred, and decent that we kind of root for him despite his airs. Maybe we wouldn't resent Britain's noble classes if they all behaved so well. The way he puts Mr. Markham at ease ("Ah, yes, I anticipate your objection," he says as Markham struggles to keep up with the conversation) is one of many subtle humorous sections in the movie.
Also, Hitchcock does take pains to bring Sir John down to size, for example by having the lord spend the night at a policeman's house to get some intelligence on the murder case. There he must content with a morning wake-up call from an affectionate cat who crawls under the covers of his bed, and a huggy toddler who won't let go of her new daddy. Marshall makes us like his character by showing us his humanity, here and elsewhere, and the result is a scene that's charming and rich. (Also cut in many versions, unfortunately.) Hitchcock was very British, but no snob.
SPOILER ALERT [Does anyone watch a movie from 1930 expecting to be surprised by plot twists?] The killer in this movie is a fellow named Handel Fane, who fears his dark secret, that of being half-black, will be exposed. Actually, Fane is as black-looking as Robert Smith of the Cure, and critics are nearly uniform in saying his actual unaddressed secret deals with homosexuality. Esme Percy as Fane comes across as gay as a French horn at Mardi Gras. But Fane killed the victim because he didn't want the convicted killer to know he was in love with her, so that's that for the gay angle.
Still, Percy's fey mannerisms are offputting. So is the thick acting of Norah Baring as Diana Baring, a performance only notable in that her character has the same last name as the actress playing her. A good film when you make allowances for the time, but when you do, you can really get swept up in it. Hitchcock doesn't so much shine here as show an awareness of inner motives and psychology that would stead him well in time. A good movie mostly for discerning the genius to follow, but it does have its moments that shine even today. Watch it without great expectations, and you will be pleasantly surprised.