You know what Hitchcock's early movies make me think? That the quondam artist who painted fancy title cards began almost by chance to direct films and underwent some kind of A-HA! Erlebniss somewhere along the way, between, say, 1925 and 1931. It is said that Archimides got into his bath tub one day and it occurred to him as he watched the water level rise that a body displaces its own volume in water. "Eureka!" shouted Archimides. (Or "Heureka" or whatever.) I get the impression that something like that happened to Hitchcock.
If at first his movies were straightforward and of a kind with others of their period, well -- they still were, but every once in a while, in a wanton mood, he would throw in some experimental technique or some strange shot that indicated more than just story-telling was going on. I mean, for instance, in "The Lodger," the scene where the ceiling becomes transparent and we can see the lodger's restless feet on the floor above. Or here, when two big-eyed doggies nestle their head together and look mournfully at the camera while the farmer's wife is dying. Or, when sound was introduced, his toying with the word "KNIFE" in "Murder." If the films and the plots were a little banal, they were often juiced up by one or another director's trick.
This one, "The Farmer's Wife," is a genteel romantic comedy with some touches of genuine warmth. It's a little slow, it's long, and it's not slapstick. The funniest scene, to me, only lasts a few seconds. A doctor comes to a party and finds himself seated next to a plump woman who begins to complain about her symptoms, inviting him to examine her teeth and her knee, while the doctor fiddles nervously and tries to find someway out.
The plot, briefly, involves the widowed farmer's search for a new wife. He makes up a list of suitable women and visits them one by one. They all turn out to be wrong for him. One rejects him because she's too independent. The next is so excessively shy that when the farmer proposes she trembles all over, blinking constantly, and tells him she'll seek no shelter in a man's arms. The third rejects him because she feels she's too young for him, though she's far from it. He insults her extravagantly -- "You try to dress up your mutton as lamb" -- and she throws an hysterical fit. Finally he realizes that his soul mate is his housekeeper, 'Minta, who has been quietly pining for him too. 'Minta is not gorgeous in any conventional sense, but as Randolph Scott said of one of the leading ladies in his Western, "She ain't ugly." She's plain but honest, and she's thoroughly devoted to the farmer.
Anybody could have directed this -- anybody who was already a competent professional. Hitchcock's idiosyncratic style -- full of POV shots and spectacular swooping crane shots -- was to become manifest later in his career. This one is, as I said, a little long for its message but it's easy to watch and despite the chuckles, it's at times rather touching. Hitchcock was to use comic interludes often in his later movies. Some of them were very funny indeed. (My favorite is Alec MacGowan trying to eat his last gourmet meal in "Frenzy.") But comedies, as genre, were never his forte. "Mr. and Mrs. Smith" is immeasurably dull.
By the way, I'm not so sure about that Archimides in the bath tub business. I'm sure he discovered the principle but I'm not sure he did it in a bath tub, any more than I'm sure Isaac Newton discovered gravity when an apple fell on his head. It's too good to be true, like a Parson Weems tale. On top of that, Archimides was said to be so excited by his discovery that he ran through the streets of Syracuse naked. Now that's not only implausible. It's disgusting.
If at first his movies were straightforward and of a kind with others of their period, well -- they still were, but every once in a while, in a wanton mood, he would throw in some experimental technique or some strange shot that indicated more than just story-telling was going on. I mean, for instance, in "The Lodger," the scene where the ceiling becomes transparent and we can see the lodger's restless feet on the floor above. Or here, when two big-eyed doggies nestle their head together and look mournfully at the camera while the farmer's wife is dying. Or, when sound was introduced, his toying with the word "KNIFE" in "Murder." If the films and the plots were a little banal, they were often juiced up by one or another director's trick.
This one, "The Farmer's Wife," is a genteel romantic comedy with some touches of genuine warmth. It's a little slow, it's long, and it's not slapstick. The funniest scene, to me, only lasts a few seconds. A doctor comes to a party and finds himself seated next to a plump woman who begins to complain about her symptoms, inviting him to examine her teeth and her knee, while the doctor fiddles nervously and tries to find someway out.
The plot, briefly, involves the widowed farmer's search for a new wife. He makes up a list of suitable women and visits them one by one. They all turn out to be wrong for him. One rejects him because she's too independent. The next is so excessively shy that when the farmer proposes she trembles all over, blinking constantly, and tells him she'll seek no shelter in a man's arms. The third rejects him because she feels she's too young for him, though she's far from it. He insults her extravagantly -- "You try to dress up your mutton as lamb" -- and she throws an hysterical fit. Finally he realizes that his soul mate is his housekeeper, 'Minta, who has been quietly pining for him too. 'Minta is not gorgeous in any conventional sense, but as Randolph Scott said of one of the leading ladies in his Western, "She ain't ugly." She's plain but honest, and she's thoroughly devoted to the farmer.
Anybody could have directed this -- anybody who was already a competent professional. Hitchcock's idiosyncratic style -- full of POV shots and spectacular swooping crane shots -- was to become manifest later in his career. This one is, as I said, a little long for its message but it's easy to watch and despite the chuckles, it's at times rather touching. Hitchcock was to use comic interludes often in his later movies. Some of them were very funny indeed. (My favorite is Alec MacGowan trying to eat his last gourmet meal in "Frenzy.") But comedies, as genre, were never his forte. "Mr. and Mrs. Smith" is immeasurably dull.
By the way, I'm not so sure about that Archimides in the bath tub business. I'm sure he discovered the principle but I'm not sure he did it in a bath tub, any more than I'm sure Isaac Newton discovered gravity when an apple fell on his head. It's too good to be true, like a Parson Weems tale. On top of that, Archimides was said to be so excited by his discovery that he ran through the streets of Syracuse naked. Now that's not only implausible. It's disgusting.