Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the prosecution contends the film before you is an indisputable dud, the weakest film ever made by the Master of Suspense, Alfred Hitchcock. It would be a career low in many lesser careers, so it's more startling the career in question is that of filmdom's greatest director.
A blind war veteran, a pillar of society named Paradine, is found poisoned in his bed. The suspected murderer, his beautiful wife Maddalena (Alida Valli), faces the Crown defended by a smitten barrister named Anthony Keane, played by Gregory Peck, who feels his best chance of winning the case is to let the jury see his client's true character and expose the victim's valet as the real killer.
That whirring sound you hear is Johnnie Cochran spinning in his grave. Your head may be doing much the same before you see this turkey come home to roost. Hitchcock did make some less-then-successful films; "Jamaica Inn," was named one of the 50 worst films of all time by Michael and Harry Medved. But "Jamaica Inn" at least has some fun performances and colorful settings to make up for an undernourished plot. The turgid, static proceedings of "The Paradine Case" require patience and a willingness to overlook plot holes wider than Charles Laughton.
The acting is wooden almost across the board, with only Laughton as an ill-tempered judge scoring occasionally. That's only because he limits himself to raising an eyebrow or suppressing a grin while Peck, Valli, and the rest of the cast alternate between performing their one-dimensional roles in leaden fashion, or else overemoting whenever producer David O. Selznick's script takes one of its hairpin turns.
The script is the worst thing here, with lines that undercut the supposed intelligence of the characters. Peck is given some choice howlers, like when someone raises the likelihood the Crown might try to prove Maddalena killed her husband, having put her in jail for it and all that.
"She's not a murderess," Keane explodes. "She's too fine a woman...I only hope the Crown does try to foul her name once, just once."
There's also nonsensical exchanges like this, between Keane and another attorney played by Charles Coburn, who rivals Peck, Valli, and a young Louis Jourdan for giving the worst performance. "Have you ever thought about what you can learn from photographs?" "Ah, yes, the social footsteps of time." Huh?
The film often seems focused on selling the beauty of Valli, an actress better known for her central role in "The Third Man" but hardly a stunner on the order of Garbo despite her thick accent. When Keane first meets her, the learned counsel is moved to utter: "Mr. Paradine could never have understood the sacrifice you were making (by marrying him.) He had never seen you." Yeah, apart from the money, she was Mother Teresa.
The first half of the film is slow going, helped only by the English upper-class interiors Hitchcock always photographed well. There's some decent early scenes in the trial, but then the proceedings erupt into anarchy and more hammy acting. Revelations fly one after another, while tears and sweat pour down grimacing faces. None of it makes much sense. You really don't care how it ends, just so that it ends.
They say courtroom scenes are surefire drama highpoints in any film, but "The Paradine Case" is a clear exception. You would never think the lead actor in this film would go on to glory in the cinematic courtroom of "To Kill A Mockingbird," or that the director was in the midst of a remarkable 30-plus-year run of making some of the greatest films ever known.
Hitchcock obviously made this under contractual obligation to Selznick, and it shows. You, however, are under no such obligation to view it. The prosecution rests.
A blind war veteran, a pillar of society named Paradine, is found poisoned in his bed. The suspected murderer, his beautiful wife Maddalena (Alida Valli), faces the Crown defended by a smitten barrister named Anthony Keane, played by Gregory Peck, who feels his best chance of winning the case is to let the jury see his client's true character and expose the victim's valet as the real killer.
That whirring sound you hear is Johnnie Cochran spinning in his grave. Your head may be doing much the same before you see this turkey come home to roost. Hitchcock did make some less-then-successful films; "Jamaica Inn," was named one of the 50 worst films of all time by Michael and Harry Medved. But "Jamaica Inn" at least has some fun performances and colorful settings to make up for an undernourished plot. The turgid, static proceedings of "The Paradine Case" require patience and a willingness to overlook plot holes wider than Charles Laughton.
The acting is wooden almost across the board, with only Laughton as an ill-tempered judge scoring occasionally. That's only because he limits himself to raising an eyebrow or suppressing a grin while Peck, Valli, and the rest of the cast alternate between performing their one-dimensional roles in leaden fashion, or else overemoting whenever producer David O. Selznick's script takes one of its hairpin turns.
The script is the worst thing here, with lines that undercut the supposed intelligence of the characters. Peck is given some choice howlers, like when someone raises the likelihood the Crown might try to prove Maddalena killed her husband, having put her in jail for it and all that.
"She's not a murderess," Keane explodes. "She's too fine a woman...I only hope the Crown does try to foul her name once, just once."
There's also nonsensical exchanges like this, between Keane and another attorney played by Charles Coburn, who rivals Peck, Valli, and a young Louis Jourdan for giving the worst performance. "Have you ever thought about what you can learn from photographs?" "Ah, yes, the social footsteps of time." Huh?
The film often seems focused on selling the beauty of Valli, an actress better known for her central role in "The Third Man" but hardly a stunner on the order of Garbo despite her thick accent. When Keane first meets her, the learned counsel is moved to utter: "Mr. Paradine could never have understood the sacrifice you were making (by marrying him.) He had never seen you." Yeah, apart from the money, she was Mother Teresa.
The first half of the film is slow going, helped only by the English upper-class interiors Hitchcock always photographed well. There's some decent early scenes in the trial, but then the proceedings erupt into anarchy and more hammy acting. Revelations fly one after another, while tears and sweat pour down grimacing faces. None of it makes much sense. You really don't care how it ends, just so that it ends.
They say courtroom scenes are surefire drama highpoints in any film, but "The Paradine Case" is a clear exception. You would never think the lead actor in this film would go on to glory in the cinematic courtroom of "To Kill A Mockingbird," or that the director was in the midst of a remarkable 30-plus-year run of making some of the greatest films ever known.
Hitchcock obviously made this under contractual obligation to Selznick, and it shows. You, however, are under no such obligation to view it. The prosecution rests.