The George Herman Hitchcock project, Chapter 3B: Champagne

Introduction

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2A  and  2B

Chapter 3A


HITCHCOCK
(1928-1930)
continuing from Chapter 3A...

Juno and the Paycock (1930)

The less said about this film the better, but I'm going to say it anyway.

"For the love of Christ, don't watch our film."

Anyone Anything could have directed this movie.  The mildew growing in your shower grout.  Governor Rick Perry's cowboy boots.  A jar of pickled radishes.  An empty shoe box.  A broken headlight.  The only reason I know that Hitchcock directed it is because he said he did.  More on that in a moment.

It's a statically filmed Sean O'Casey play, full of barely directed actors chewing through repetitive dialogue while employing broad Irish accents to portray broader Irish stereotypes.  I think it was supposed to be a combination of comedy and tragedy, but I cringed at the "comedy", laughed at the "tragedy", and fell asleep twice in the middle.

I kept wishing that I had a liter of the rotten potcheen the characters drank, but I would have been better off reading a whiskey label for eighty-five minutes than watching this.  The DVD transfer continually chopped off the actors' heads, which became kind of interesting.  So I pretended that their shoes were delivering the terrible performances.

Ostensibly the story's about a poor Dublin family living in the slums while the Irish Civil War rages around them.  The husband is a drunken, bloviating, layabout.  The wife complains about his inebriated slothly bloviations.  The daughter shames the family by getting knocked up outside of wedlock.  The one-armed son rats on the IRA and gets murdered for it.  There's an A-hole friend.  An A-hole bartender. And a bunch of other A-holes.

I have no doubt the play itself was of interest, but the film is not.  What's most frustrating is that Hitch was just coming off of Blackmail, his most solid film yet, and then turns in this unimaginative lazy turd.

In Hitchcock's own words:

"The film got very good notices, but I was actually ashamed, because it had nothing to do with cinema. The critics praised the picture, and I had the feeling I was dishonest, that I had stolen something." (Truffaut 69)

So what we're trying to say is that it's a fabulous film.

---

Murder! (1930)

Murder!

Herbert Marshall!

Brandy!

A bit of Hitchcock trivia:  Brandy makes an appearance in every single one of his films.  I don't know why.  She wasn't that good in "Moesha".

Zing?

"Listen very carefully to the sound of my handsome."
(pic Source)

There's a murder amongst a theatrical acting group.  One of the actresses is convicted by a jury and receives a death sentence.  One of the jurymen, also an actor, has second thoughts after the sentencing and leads his own investigation to get to the truth before the woman is hanged.

Yes, there are considerable logic issues with the story.  But Hitchcock and company have such a great time toying with reality, theatre, and theatre-reality that I wouldn't doubt some of the hiccups are part of the fun.  Also to be considered, Hitch's previous film was a labored (to be polite) adaptation of a theatrical piece, while this film plays with themes that surround The Theatre itself.

Plus, unlike Juno and the Paycock, the camera keeps moving and the quicker editing is tight.  Hitch even shows off a bit in one scene, dollying between two rooms, back and forth a half dozen times in one conversation, only to have all of that action dismissed by the other characters.

Some more good stuff:
-- Herbert Marshall, acting!
-- The jury: 12 Angry Men?  No, 12 Foolish People.
-- Death sentence handed down offscreen while the janitor cleans up the jury room.
-- Shadow of the gallows rising to mark time.
-- An impressively gruesome suicide.
-- A lisping transvestite mixed-racial acrobat.

And if you can catch it on Netflix (Quickster, R.I.P.) Watch Instantly, you'll get treated to two versions of the ending.

Though not at the same level as Blackmail, Murder! is an enjoyable film, especially if you like The Theatre.  Makes one look forward to the next films on Sir Alfred's slate.


Sources:
Spoto, Donald. The Art Of Alfred Hitchcock. Anchor Books, New York. 1992.
Truffaut, Francois. Hitchcock. Simon & Schuster, Paris. 1984.

---

RUTH
(1917)

(Source)

Ruth's pitching prowess continued in 1917, as did his relative dearth of hitting.  He led the AL in complete games by a considerable distance.  He finished 35 out of his 38 starts, a 92.1% rate, 5th best in the history of the AL up to that point.  He finished 2nd in wins, 2nd in innings, 3rd in opponent BA, 4th in WAR, but led lefties in every major pitching category.

He allowed only 2 home runs, but he hit only two home runs, again.  He led all pitchers in hits, singles, home runs, BA, OBP, SLG, and runs created but not by his previously impressive measures.  He was only brought in to pinch hit eleven times.

Boston did not make the World Series, finishing far behind the White Sox in the American League.  Their pitching continued to be the best in the league, but their hitting was amongst the weakest.  Management was sitting on a offensive gold mine, something they would begin to exploit in 1918, but only after switching managers and losing a considerable chunk of the lineup to the WWI draft.  But in 1917, the team struggled.  Ruth grew increasingly moody, picking fights in the clubhouse and on the field.  This culminated in a famous/infamous game on June 23rd.

Ruth walked the first batter on four pitches, arguing each call by umpire Brick Owens.  As the batter walked to first, Ruth cussed Owens out from the mound.  Owens threatened to toss Ruth from the game.  G.H. Ruth then declared that if he were to be tossed, he'd punch Owens in the face.  Owens made good on his threat.  The Big Bam made good on his.  He charged Owens, knocked over his catcher, and punched the umpire in the head.  Ruth was suspended and fined for his actions.  Meanwhile, Ernie Shore came in to replace Ruth.  The runner on first was caught stealing and Shore retired every single batter that came to the plate.  A perfect game.  With an asterisk.

1918 was to be much different, as mentioned above.  A new lineup.  A new manager.  No umpire punching.  A restless Ruth was going to get to bat, but first he had to prove his worth, next in Chapter 4: The 39 Steps.


Sources:
Creamer, Robert. Babe: The Legend Comes to Life. Simon & Schuster, New York. 1974.
Jenkinson, Bill. Baseball's Ultimate Power: Ranking the All-Time Greatest Distance Home Run Hitters. Lyons Press. 2010.
Jenkinson, Bill. The Year Babe Ruth Hit 104 Home Runs: Recrowning Baseball's Greatest Slugger. Carrol & Graf. 2007.
Montville, Leigh. The Big Bam: The Life and Times of Babe Ruth. Broadway Books, New York. 2006.

Single Malt Report: Ardbeg 10 year

Distillery: Ardbeg
Age: 10 years
Maturation: bourbon barrels
Region: Islay
Alcohol by Volume: 46%

There have been a lot of Islays showing up on the Report recently.  That was unintentional.  They're just what I've been exploring recently.  We'll take a break from this region for a bit in order to continue reporting on a broad range of whiskies.  But before that, here's a whisky that I tried this very week...

Ardbeg is one of Laphroaig's neighbors in southern Islay.  Like Laphroaig and Lagavulin, Arbeg's malts are known for being very peaty.  These distilleries use an exceptional amount of peat smoke to dry out the malting barley at the beginning of the process.  All that smoke from a particularly intense salty peat influences the flavor of the final product.

Ardbeg is an older distillery, having started up in 1794.  They ran for almost 200 years before closing up in 1991.  In 1997 Glenmorangie purchased them, poured millions of dollars/euros/pounds into reviving the place, and have since reaped the rewards.

Ardbeg is well known for their peaty malts, often competing with other producers to create the peatiest whisky in existence.  They like to advertise the fact that their kiln and mill are amongst the oldest working kilns and mills in the world.  It helps create the PR image that their single malts are of the old school variety.

I wasn't sure how or when I'd ever get a chance to try an Ardbeg.  In the US, they're often overshadowed by those two South Islay big brothers.  But in the midst of my fantastic Sunday Night I discovered that the great little Piano Bar had Ardbeg 10 amongst its impressive selection.

The bartender started pouring it neat, looked at the green bottle, declared that it was about empty, then poured the remainder into my glass.  Never a bad thing.  It was priced reasonably too, considering Hollywood Bar prices nowadays.

The bar was dark, but using a white light background from my cellphone, I was able to somewhat eyeball the malt's color -- straw, as in hay straw.  This is fascinating because I caught some straw/hay in the nose, hidden behind some nice cream and sugar.  The elephant in the room, of course, is the peat smoke......which actually was mellower than Laphroaig's.  Or maybe I'm building up a tolerance.  It was there, but not punishing.  The ladies I was with thought it was strong, so there's that to consider.  The body/texture was oily.  The actual palate was mellow peat smoke, cereal, grass, and the straw again.  It finished calmly with light pepper.

Then I hit it with a little water; approximately 2 teaspoons.  I figured it could take it.  It was 46% ABV and it was Ardbeg's first unchillfiltered release.  It didn't cloud, but I could see the oils swimming around.  The peat smoke remained in the nose along with considerable fruit sugar and swimming pool.  Yeah, sense memories of swimming pools in Upstate New York.  The palate was all mellow peat smoke and oak.

And curiously, the finish was better -- more pepper and some bitterness.  With two teaspoons of water the finish went from early Mark Twain to late Mark Twain.

Because it sat in one of those wide-mouthed rocks glasses, it was difficult to glean anything more from the ten-year-old.  But I liked it.  I'll bet it would be great with a cigar.  Now I'm torn between the three big southern Islay producers.  I guess I'll have to give Lagavulin another try!

Pricing - Good at $40, Acceptable at $55
Rating - see note below

(NOTE: Second report and updated rating here.)

The Wednesday "What?"

Who’s got fleas?

We’ve got fleas.

OM NOM NOM NOM NOM!

That's messed up, right there.

By “we”, I mean our condo.  And by “our condo”, I mean our condo that has no pets and had no fleas two weeks ago.  I just emptied out an entire can of Zodiac Aerosol Spray on our carpets and upholstery.  I shut the front door behind me, yelling “Goodbye fleas! You’d better be f***ing dead when I get home!”  Please feel free to co-opt that dialogue for any of your future screen- or teleplays.  You’re welcome.

A flea spray accidental high has some pretty interesting side effects.  The world just got very loud and I keep seeing cops everywhere.  That ain’t right.

Oh.  I'm at Starbucks.  How’d I get here?

My brother is in town from the bEast Coast.  The fleas are seriously endangering the pizza-grilling and whisky-sharing that I'd scheduled.  See, nobody wins.

Someday our home is going to be AWESOME.

Right?

In blog maintenance news, I’ve made some minor tweaks to the ‘About Me’, ‘Whisky Notes’, and ‘Declaration of Principles’ pages.  The most important update is that the Whisk(e)y Reports have actual stars in their ratings now.  ★★★★★.  I am clearly an HTML god.

The George Herman Hitchcock project, Chapter 3A: Champagne

Introduction

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2A and 2B


HITCHCOCK
(1928-1930)

It was an admirably busy time for Hitchcock.  He completed seven features and two short  films of varying genres, subject matter, and tone amongst the medium's most massive shift.  In the previous section, I'd covered The Farmer's Wife.  In this chapter I'll cover Champagne (light comedy), The Manxman (romantic melodrama), Blackmail (thriller), Juno and the Paycock (comedy/tragedy stage adaptation), and Murder! (a whodunit).  He also directed segments for the musicals Harmony Heaven and Elstree Calling.  AND he directed a German version of Murder! called Mary.  Sadly, these last three are unavailable for viewing.

He was wrapping up production on Blackmail when the producers came to him with the pitch to turn that silent film into Britain's very first sound feature.  So it was clear by that point, Hitch's previous films' financial successes were significant enough for the financiers to bank on him to deliver such a pivotal film.

Let's take these remaining features one by one:

Champagne (1928)

Hitchcock's next to last silent feature is a very light comedy.  Though Hitch dismisses it as "probably the lowest ebb in my output" (Truffaut 57), Champagne is much more relaxed than most of his earlier films.  Kind of goofy, a cheap sweet bubbly, a trifle that's aware of it's triviality.

A rich man is tired of his daughter's lavish partying lifestyle, so he decides to teach her a lesson and pretend that the family has lost all of their money in the stock market.  She's forced to get a job and be responsible to which she fails and succeeds at varying degrees until the ruse is revealed and she's a better person as a result.

That's the whole thing.  Not much actually happens, but some of the comedy is actually funny.  He has game actors (Betty Balfour, Jean Bradin, and Theo van Alten) whom are good with their close-ups.  The characters are all a bunch of shmoes, but they're clear and understandable enough to follow through the 85-minute runtime.  Balfour's character is much less of a coquette than any of the previous Hitchcock femmes, though she dreams up a surprise fantasy sequence wherein the bad guy physically overtakes her.

There are lovely bookend shots of champagne being emptied and action being seen through the bottom of the glass like so:

(Source)

And though there's no sound, the bounty of silent dialogue spoken throughout the film shows some level of subconscious(?) yearning for audio on Hitchcock's part.  Either that or he got a little lazy with this one, which he'd almost admitted.

(On a side note, the crummy DVD had terribly matched random classical music running throughout the film.  It distracted because it never fit any of the action and overlapped scenes and shots.  "Bolero" worked really well when it randomly came up, but that's probably because Ravel's composition feels so cinematic.)

Ultimately, the movie is paper thin, but should not be completely written off as a waste of time.

---

The Manxman (1929)

On the other hand, there's The Manxman.  Hitch had nothing nice to say about this one either.  And neither do I.

In what the great Hitchcock expert Donald Spoto described as "this relentlessly unhappy melodrama" (Spoto 19), a love triangle forms between three friends on the Isle of Man: a sailor, a judge, and a gaspingly irresponsible coquette.  The Flirt's been hooking up with the sailor for some time, but because he's poor he's not allowed to marry her.  So he leaves, declaring that he'll return with great wealth.  She promises him that she'll wait for his return.  She then almost immediately starts shagging his best friend, the judge.  A letter arrives saying that the sailor died at sea.  She declares her undying love for the judge.  Then (for reasons unexplained) the letter turns out not to be true.  The sailor returns home a success.  He gets the coquette's hand in marriage.  Neither the woman nor the judge have the fortitude to tell the sailor.  After the wedding, the coquette reveals that she's pregnant.  But it's not the sailor's child, it's the judge's!  And they still don't tell anyone!  The baby is born.  The sailor raises the kid.  The woman runs away.  She tries to kill herself.  Then everything is revealed in an interminably drawn out court sequence.

The best thing about this movie is that the Director of Photography's name is Jack Cox.  Actually Jack Cox was Hitch's DP eight times.  Jack Cox.

The male leads are from earlier Hitchcock films, each playing similar roles to their previous ones.  Pete the Sailor is played by Carl Brisson, who was the "good guy" from The Ring.  Malcolm Keen, the paranoid police boyfriend from the The Lodger plays Philip the Judge.  Anny Ondra who plays Kate is incredibly cute, but that doesn't distract from the fact that either her character is callous and daft or she's the true antagonist, destroying everything by taking no responsibility for her whims.

The film is frustratingly predictable.  I wound up unpacking five boxes of books while the story lumped along.  I described it to my wife as "The film before Hitchcock got his sh*t together."

---

Blackmail (1929)

The film wherein Hitchcock got his sh*t together.

Or to phrase it less crassly, Blackmail is of great artistic and historical interest.

As mentioned earlier, this was the first British sound film.  Unlike the US's Jazz Singer, Blackmail utilizes sound carefully, imaginatively, and effectively, much like Fritz Lang's M (Germany's first talkie).  There are long periods of silence where dialogue is unnecessary.  The word "knife" is repeated as a POV audio moment as a character mulls over her crime.  A bird chirps incessantly building up suspense.

There's great Expressionist-style high contrast lighting throughout the fast well-edited opening.  And there are fantastic distorted visuals throughout the British Museum chase at the climax.

(Source)

And there's this...

(Source)

...from a scene (34 minutes in) where it feels like Hitchcock has first pulled everything together:  blondes, sexuality, violence, suspense, morality, and questioning innocence.  Negligee and knives. The moment just clicks.  A birth of something new, taken from elements that were already there, like Pete Townsend discovering power chords.  I recommend clicking on the image to enlarge.  Along with the murdered child's balloon caught in electrical wires in Lang's M, this is one of the great visceral visual moments in the early sound era.

Oh yeah, there's a story in this film too.  PLOT SPOILERS HERE ON IN!

Alice (Anny Ondra, again, hot hot hot) ditches her detective boyfriend for another man; a horny artist that tries to take advantage of her.  He sexually assaults her, she defends herself with the above blade.  Then he quite dead.  She runs away.  The body is found.  While combing the scene the policeman-boyfriend finds her gloves.  He pockets the evidence, trying to shield her.  But there's a criminal who had witnessed her leaving the scene.  He blackmails both her and the policeman.  The policeman pins the murder on the blackmailer.  The police chase the blackmailer, who then falls to his death.  Alice goes to the police chief to confess, but their conversation is cut off.  And her boyfriend leads her away, her confession never delivered.

The film isn't perfect (it takes much too long to get going) but it's full of so many visual and auditory flourishes that it stands a full head over The Lodger.  But Blackmail's flourishes serve to bolster the storytelling of the film.  The aforementioned "knife" scene gets the viewer into Annie's head as she obsesses over her crime.  The heightened imagery of the chase sequence illustrates the twisted moral morass of the moment.

But I must stress this because it's an important part of Hitch's cinema:  In Blackmail, he is never asking us to meditate on society's ills.  He's crafting a piece of grand entertainment.  So if you like this particular flavor of cinematic ice cream, I recommend this film.

---

In Part B, I'll cover the last two films from this period, as well as George Herman Ruth's 1917 season.

TO BE CONTINUED...


Sources:
Spoto, Donald. The Art Of Alfred Hitchcock. Anchor Books, New York. 1992.
Truffaut, Francois. Hitchcock. Simon & Schuster, Paris. 1984.

I really gotta get out more

Can’t remember the last time I had such a lovely night as this.  Hung out with three happy brilliant beautiful ladies.  Ate a great burger.  Shopped at Amoeba Music.  Found street parking!  Walked around the neighborhood of my old drinking haunts in the neon Hollywood night.  Went to a new bar (Piano Bar) and was able to get a great seat.  Tried a new whisky, Ardbeg 10.  Shared some Oban 14 with Mona.  Caught up with friends.  Grooved to fantastic live music (Brother Sal!).  Saw an awesome award-winning TV star.  Took two freeways that I’d never travelled before and they were both EMPTY.  Saw the high rises of Downtown enveloped in fog.  Drove over the bridges of the Port of Los Angeles, the new DJ Shadow CD thundering over my car speakers.  This isn’t the literal order of events, but I’m remembering everything simultaneously.  It’s nice to get out of the condo once in a while.

[Ed.: I wrote this at 1:45am, 100% sober. Haven't edited a word. Will update with pics if or when possible.]

Single Malt Report: Bowmore 16yr 1994/2011 Signatory

What?! Two single malt reports in a row? Yep, just a little something to leave you with for the weekend...

Distillery: Bowmore
Age: 16 years 11 months - April '94 to March '11
Bottler: Signatory Un-Chillfiltered Collection
Maturation: bourbon hogsheads
Casks: 565+567
Bottle: 196 of 773
Region: Islay
Alcohol by Volume: 46%

Hope you appreciate the clean kitchen background

Here she is.  I will be sad but wiser when she is gone.  This was the first peaty Islay malt that I fully enjoyed (not just appreciated).

I purchased this bottle at the wonderland known as Royal Mile Whiskies during our May trip to London.  700mL (UK size) as opposed to 750mL.

There's no artificial coloring and no chillfiltering.  Most of the major distillers chillfilter their whiskies in order to keep them clear-looking through all kinds of temperatures.  Whiskies that are not chillfiltered cloud up in cooler temperatures or when cold water is added to them.  I love when that happens, so I'm a fan of the un-chillfiltered whiskies.

Established in 1988 by Andrew Symington, Signatory is an independent family-run bottler that pioneered single cask bottlings.  Good on 'em, because I've really enjoyed following them and their releases.  In 2002 they actually bought the Edradour distillery from Pernod Ricard, but more on that when I report on an Edradour.

Back to this Bowmore.

As you might be able to see in the picture, the natural color of this whiskey isn't gold or copper or any of the usual tinted whisky tones.  Instead the shade sits somewhere between ginger ale and chardonnay.

When sampled neat, the nose is softly peated, medicinal (but less salty/briny than Laphroaig), and has a little cowhide leather.  The palate is peat forward but smooth.  Light cream and sweet potatoes.  The finish is hot and cayenne peppery.  It takes a second to sneak up on you, but then it hangs out for a while.

With a few drips of water, the oils release but there's a minimum of clouding.  The peat and medicine almost disappear from the nose, and some menthol opens up.  Conversely, in the palate, the peat smoke is all that remains.  Everything else is gone.  The finish is cooler, but still present with some lingering black pepper.

I really recommend this with sea-salted dark chocolate.  There are only two or three more drams left in the bottle and they will all be partnered with that dessert.

You can compare this with the notes on the three Bowmores reported on two weeks ago.  But frankly, this one wins.

Sadly, I can't find this bottling online anywhere in the world (Master of Malt has a younger batch of '94).  So I guess I swiped this one just in time.  Here's how the pricing is built: (Price - VAT + Shipping) * (conversion rate in May 2011).

Heck, if you can find it, it's a treasure.

Pricing - Bargain at $70
Rating - 93

Single Malt Report: Laphroaig 10yr

Distillery: Laphroaig
Age: 10 years
Maturation: bourbon barrels
Region: Islay
Alcohol by Volume: 43% (US)

Ah, Le-Froyg.  I had no intention of reporting on you.  Hell, I had no intention of ever drinking you again.  But I am because I did.

I'd tried Laphroaig twice about four years ago with two different sets of friends.  Both times I wanted to wash my face after sipping this Islay.  The first sensation that came to my mind was "it's like drinking piss out of an ashtray. With iodine."  Never again.  Never ever ever again.

So there I was, sitting at the Belmont Brewing Company bar last night, watching a few innings of the World Series.  I glanced at their whisky shelf......not bad considering that it's a beer place.  I didn't want the two usual Glens.  Lagavulin 16, splendid though it may be, was a little rich for my wallet.  Strathisla, interesting.  Laphroaig.  Hmmm, I'll be here for a while...maybe I could add a little water?

The bartender brought me the BIGGEST WHISKY POUR that I have ever received at a bar.  Thank you, Melissa.  I looked at the drink.

Now I'm really in for it.

I took a sip.

Hmm.  I took another sip.

---

Here are the tasting notes that I typed furiously into my Blackberry:

(NEAT)
Color - Gold
Nose - Wet peat, burning plastic, wood embers, Atlantic Ocean, ash at the end of a fire, an evening in a small town on the British Isles
Palate - Menthol, cinammon, brown sugar, salty peat smoke, less iodine than I remember
Finish - Long, sweet but also dry (is that possible?)
Your burps will taste like cigarettes.

(W/ WATER)
Nose - Sweetness moves to the fore, maybe even maraschino cherries?, much less peat
Palate - Menthol has vanished, iodine gone, fire put out, just wet peat and a bit of sweet, a mite of sourness too (Ed.: How lyrical of me.)
Finish - Hushed

---

I finished the big drink without a problem.  I'm such a big boy.

The massive nose and palate are very specific to this single malt.  As I'd mentioned in my big Bowmore report, the Laphroaig distillery (similar to its neighbors Ardbeg and Lagavulin) dries their barley out for a long period of time under salty peat smoke.  Through this peating process and the spirit's contact with the American oak of the bourbon barrels this strange chemical miracle plays out.

Laphroaig's flavor is so intense that it can mute anything else you have over the next half hour (which is really unique for a whisky at 40% ABV).  So if you want to follow it with something, don't do another whisky because you might not taste it.  I had the brewery's bitterest ale afterwards.  This big Islay cut through the bitterness revealing everything else that was going on with the ale.

Do I recommend Le-Froyg?  Unless either you've enjoyed other peaty malts or you chew cigarettes for breakfast, the answer is no.  When you do try it for the first time, add about a teaspoon of water (or more, depending on the pour).  But first, try it neat.  Then curse me for suggesting so.

Pricing - Bargain! at $35-45  (Ed. note, 1/1/14: oh, for the days when it was $35)
Rating - 87