Throughout the 1920s and the early 1930s, it's obvious that the Master of Suspense was still finding his feet. 'The Lodger (1927)' was Hitchcock's first sign of future promise, a truly effective silent thriller, and many of the film-making techniques he experimented with would later form an integral part of his many masterpieces. We are all aware, of course, that the director's specialty always lay in suspense, coupled with his audacious brand of dark humour. Perhaps, at this time, he was still unsure of which direction he wanted to head, or maybe he simply tried his hands at anything in order to maintain an income. Either way, 'Easy Virtue' his eighth film is a rare opportunity to see Hitchcock attempt a melodrama, and the results are interestingly mixed. The story was based on a Noel Coward play, a medium upon which the director would rely heavily for many of his later films.'Easy Virtue' starred British actress Isabel Jeans, who had previously appeared in Hitchcock's 'Downhill (1927)' and would later return in 'Suspicion (1941).'
The story concerns a young lady named Larita Filton (Isabel Jeans), who had experienced a difficult and much-publicised divorce when her infidelity with an artist led to her husband being wounded and the artist's suicide. Frustrated by the constant pursual of photographers, Larita takes a peaceful holiday to France, where she meets a kind and gentle man named John Whittaker (Robin Irvine), whom she soon marries, much to the surprise of the man's family. While John's father (Frank Elliott) and his former sweetheart Sarah (Enid Stamp-Taylor) do their best to accept this new addition to the family, John's stern and suspicious mother (Violet Farebrother) does her best to destroy their relationship. The acting all-round is quite good, particularly Farebrother, whose character immediately evokes an intense feeling of dislike. Jeans is something of a two-sided character; we understand her plight for happiness, and yet she's got such a sense of arrogance about her that we're much more sympathetic towards her conflicted husband.
At just 60 minutes in length, 'Easy Virtue' outstays its welcome by a good quarter of an hour. The centre section of the film drags on without really going anywhere, but is partially made up for by an interesting beginning and end. The court trial in the film's opening was quite brilliant, with Hitchcock displaying the technical imagination that would ultimately make him great. His use of match cuts to lead into the flashbacks such as the judge's swinging spectacles and the grandfather clock, and the focus on the drinks pitcher demonstrate a keen eye for the editing technique, and I would have been happier had more of the film been dedicated exclusively to the trial. The ending is also noteworthy, with the film denying us the usual happy ending, offering us a full serving of bitter pessimism; Larita emerges from the court room, completely beaten, and accepts that her life will never be the same again.
The story concerns a young lady named Larita Filton (Isabel Jeans), who had experienced a difficult and much-publicised divorce when her infidelity with an artist led to her husband being wounded and the artist's suicide. Frustrated by the constant pursual of photographers, Larita takes a peaceful holiday to France, where she meets a kind and gentle man named John Whittaker (Robin Irvine), whom she soon marries, much to the surprise of the man's family. While John's father (Frank Elliott) and his former sweetheart Sarah (Enid Stamp-Taylor) do their best to accept this new addition to the family, John's stern and suspicious mother (Violet Farebrother) does her best to destroy their relationship. The acting all-round is quite good, particularly Farebrother, whose character immediately evokes an intense feeling of dislike. Jeans is something of a two-sided character; we understand her plight for happiness, and yet she's got such a sense of arrogance about her that we're much more sympathetic towards her conflicted husband.
At just 60 minutes in length, 'Easy Virtue' outstays its welcome by a good quarter of an hour. The centre section of the film drags on without really going anywhere, but is partially made up for by an interesting beginning and end. The court trial in the film's opening was quite brilliant, with Hitchcock displaying the technical imagination that would ultimately make him great. His use of match cuts to lead into the flashbacks such as the judge's swinging spectacles and the grandfather clock, and the focus on the drinks pitcher demonstrate a keen eye for the editing technique, and I would have been happier had more of the film been dedicated exclusively to the trial. The ending is also noteworthy, with the film denying us the usual happy ending, offering us a full serving of bitter pessimism; Larita emerges from the court room, completely beaten, and accepts that her life will never be the same again.