I Start Counting [dir. David Greene]

I Start Counting (1970) is basically a Hitchcockian plot by way of kitchen sink realism. Specifically Shadow of a Doubt (1943), in which a young girl suspects her charming uncle of being a murderer, seems to have been in the mind of novelist Audrey Lindop when she wrote the 1966 book that became this movie.

Early teen Wynne (Jenny Agutter) is a adopted Catholic girl in a working class family who have just shifted home, because their old neighborhood is slated to be razed. Despite the mother's warnings she repeatedly visits the abandoned old homestead, finding comfort in old memories. Wynne also has a huge crush on her almost 20-years older stepbrother George (Bryan Marshall). She fantasizes romantic scenes with George and follows him about like an attention-seeking puppy. Her attempts to please him are rewarded by remarks like "You're a funny little biscuit". Wynne's ardor is so dominant that when she becomes suspicious of George being the dreaded serial murderer of young women in the neighborhood, she works to destroy the evidence she finds. This causes some conflict with her Catholic conscience. The other major characters in Wynne's life include her rebellious drug-taking second brother (Gregory Philips) whose collection of newspaper clippings of the killings may be more than idle hobby, and the saucy best friend (Claire Sutcliffe) who may be competition for her crush's attentions.

I Start Counting is not bad as low-key suspense dramas go, and Jenny Agutter shows fine form as the conflicted teen, but I found it underwhelming. Unlike the sensational promise of the posters, there's a tame TV movie feel to it (it's shot on 16mm, I think, and has that grainy diffuse look). The emotions are very on the nose, and it doesn't really grip you or get under your skin the way a Hitchcock film could, when he aimed for that. Helmer David Greene leans on the working class style opting to tamp down the drama. Some visual motifs like the White Rabbit doll on Wynne's bed are interesting (a metaphor for her Alice-like journey through the strange Wonderland of adolescence?), but under-developed. There are no bravura suspense sequences of the level that Hitchcock would have concocted. Basil Kirchin's score is prominent and unusual in its incorporation of sitar and tabla with jazz elements, although sometimes it also distracted me from the on-screen proceedings instead of underlying the action.

A few remarks on the UK blu-ray release from the BFI:

Given the modest production origins, the 2K restoration video on the BFI blu-ray is good. There are, I assume unavoidable, source limitations of brightness and density fluctuations. Audio is generally clear with a bold edge to the score. Optional English SDH subtitles are provided, but they may be on the smaller side for some people. Of the extras, which are plentiful, I have so far only seen the Jenny Agutter interview, in which she talks about her experience of making the film (It was a happy shoot with an enthusiastic director and some very helpful co-actors).

Trivia: Phil Collins has a one-scene appearance as an ice-cream vendor whose entire dialog, when asked if he has Neapolitan Tutti Frutti, is "Eh?"

The Lady Vanishes [dir. Alfred Hitchcock]

The Lady Vanishes was one of the last films Hitchcock made in Britain before moving to Hollywood. Apart from this, I have only seen The Man Who Knew Too Much and The 39 Steps from his Brit period and there's a fair degree of similarity between these films, mainly in the relatively frothy carefree spirit that embodies them, and the typical British deadpan humor.

The first act of the film, set in a crowded resort of a fictitious European country where we are introduced to most of our main cast, is primarily a comic act with some racy verbal humor. Apart from Iris (Margaret Lockwood) and Gilbert (Michael Redgrave) whose spicy spats only convince us they'll be in love before long, there is the archetypal sweet old spinster Miss Froy and the cricket crazy schoolboy-minded stiff-upper-lip duo of Charters and Caldicott. This act concludes with the characters getting on a train as they journey to London.

The second act occurs almost entirely in the confines of the train (shot fantastically on a small stage with use of miniatures, rear/front projection, shaky movements to mimic the train's motion...every trick in the book). Iris, who has received a knock on the head from a mysterious falling flowerpot at the station and made good friends with Miss Froy, falls into deep sleep and wakes up only to find that sweet old lady gone. What's more, no one in the train, including the staff and fellow passengers, is willing to admit to the presence of such a person, insisting that Miss Froy is a figment on Iris' imagination. The headstrong girl, even as she starts to doubt her own sanity, is only more determined to dig deeper into the matter for which she must take flighty Gilbert's help, even if he doesn't entirely believe her. This act is classic Hitchcock suspense, with clever sleight-of-hand and deliberate misdirection. While the plot isn't hard to figure out, it's smoothly executed and a delight to watch. There's a canny mix of humor and thrill in the unfolding that engages the senses and keeps the mind from asking those pesky questions about plausibility. The third act is the rip-roaring off-the-rails (heh) climax, where much mayhem ensues before (British) good triumphs over (foreign) evil.

So what we have here is an easily palatable adventure, but with those delightful character touches and deft writing that raise it well above the norm. Parallels have been drawn between the depiction of the British characters in the film, how they choose to ignore Iris' suspicions in favor of "just getting on with it", and how the British government initially dealt with Hitler and the rise of Nazism. The observation does seem relevant, although it is not a necessary component of one's enjoyment of the film.

A few words on Criterion's blu-ray. The video quality is excellent for a 1938 film, with good contrast, grayscale and fine detail. The mono sound is limited but effective. Extras include a decent critic's commentary, a video essay on the film, a short audio excerpt from the Hitchcock-Truffaut sessions..and yeah, an entire other film - Crook's Tour - featuring the duo of Charters and Caldicott (I saw some 15 min of that and got bored).

Charade [Stanley Donen]

Charade with Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant is a lot like its name suggests, not a “born” film but one crafted by miming elements and references from other films. In this case that's not a bad thing at all, because the whole package is devised and presented with such cleverness, good cheer and sparkle it goes down like an exceedingly smooth fruity liquor.

The plot is all manner of silly stuff, a collage of elements mainly from Alfred Hitchcock's Cary Grant films (North by Northwest, To Catch a Thief). Hepburn with her dazzling good looks and sophisticate aura plays a recent widow whose husband is killed in mysterious circumstances and who may have hidden a large cache of stolen wealth. Unfortunately for her some very unpleasant characters who knew her husband believe that she holds the secret to the missing hoard and will stop at little to get it. In steps Cary Grant as her knight in shining armor...or is he? The film's fun comes out of Audrey encountering a plethora of event twists and hidden identities until the poor girl no longer knows what she can believe. It's all in good fun because Charade is really built upon the chemistry between Hepburn and Grant. Of course, even with the script's knowing winks at their remarkable age difference it's a little creepy to see pretty Audrey throw herself upon a distinctly avuncular character. Still charm is both actors' strong point and Charade works beautifully in the scenes of their cheerfully saucy verbal tango. Grant especially is unparalleled at straight-faced comedy. When asked by Audrey if her late husband's tooth-powder tin could contain the stolen money as heroin, Grant takes a whiff and with a look of priceless solemnity exclaims, “Heroin! Peppermint-flavored heroin!”

Which is not to say the other characters are dull. Why no, you have some wonderful support from stars like Walter Mathau, James Coburn and Richard Kennedy (Naked Gun); all of them look like they were having a good time. Apart from romancing his lovely co-star, Cary Grant also gets a little action, and a scene where his character leaves an assailant dangling from a roof with an “American Express” neon sign and then tells Audrey he left the fellow “hanging around the American Express building” recall to mind him being Ian Fleming's first choice to play James Bond.

Charade's not a note-perfect Hitchcock-Grant pastiche. It sometimes tries a little too hard for laughs; The scene of Cary Grant bathing with his suit on is wholly unfunny and embarrassing (admittedly, less embarrassing and horrifying than the prospect of seeing him bathe without the suit). For a film so light-hearted in tone, the murder tableaux are more explicit than Hitch would have gone for: one character has his throat slashed while another is found asphyxiated with a plastic bag. Gruesome.

The other Stanley Donen film I saw and really liked was Two for The Road, featuring Audrey Hepburn again, this time in a tugging bittersweet romance with the brilliant Albert Finney. Now that was a “born” movie.