Blackmail at the Barbican

When considering the many great works of Alfred Hitchcock, the title 'Blackmail' (1929) is, for many, not one that would immediately spring to mind. Far more likely would be those famous household titles, such as 'Rebecca' (1940), 'Psycho' (1960), or 'The Birds' (1963), each having embedded themselves firmly into the fabric of cinematic and popular culture to such an extent that even those who may not have seen these films are well aware of their influence on cinema to this day. Whether this be through the impact of Hitchcock on the world of horror or through countless parodies of his most iconic scenes over the years, people of all ages will be aware of Hitchcock’s most celebrated moments. However, 'Blackmail', a somewhat forgotten gem from Hitchcock’s formative years, seems to have eluded the same degree of fame and commercial attention as those above mentioned movies. A movie which, in my opinion is worthy of equal celebration.

'Blackmail', Hitchcock’s dark and twisted tale of moral ambiguity follows Alice White (Anny Ondra), a woman who murders a rapist in self defence. Her boyfriend, Detective Frank Webber (John Longden) finds what he believes to be the only piece of evidence linking her to the crime. Unfortunately for them, a wanted criminal known as Tracy (Donald Calthrop) is also able to place Alice at the scene of the murder. What ensues is a story of blackmail and ethical complexity culminating in a finale that I will not spoil now for anyone wishing to see the film.

This Halloween I had the great privilege of attending a screening of 'Blackmail' at Barbican Hall. Accompanied by an original score by Neil Brand, performed by the BBC Symphony Orchestra and conducted by Timothy Brock, the results, I am glad to say were absolutely stunning. Brand’s score somehow manages to provide additional tones, textures and layers to the piece, enhancing each of the elements that made 'Blackmail' such a success in the first place. Its moments of impending danger and mystery are rendered all the more chilling by the orchestration of Timothy Brock, with moments of subtle, understated tension offset majestically by moments of sharp, 'Psycho' ‘shower scene’ style power and intensity.

Such moments are typified in the scene of Alice’s rape, with the orchestra raising the overwhelming atmosphere of dread and foreboding. An already disturbing and unsettling scene, the score also brings with it an added depth of sinister tension, as even though the rape takes place behind a curtain and out of the audience’s sight, the sound somehow adds an extra dimension to the piece, causing the minimal on-screen action to feel far more graphic than it actually is. Equally effective is the violent nature of the orchestration framing the following scene in which Alice kills her attacker with a knife. Once again, through the power of the score, the audience is left with a sense of having witnessed more than they really have; such is the visceral nature of the sound in the scene.

The score also creates the effect of dictating the pace of the film, rather than the film dictating the score, a quality particularly evident in the chase sequences between Tracy and the police. As the orchestration builds in tempo, it also maintains that same, constant tone of potential threat around the corner, raising both pace and suspense in equal measure.

Despite 'Blackmail'’s central themes of threat and exploitation, there are also notable moments of humour and romance, both equally underlined by the score’s seamless ability to shift its tone with deft precision. The early scenes of Alice and Frank having drinks together are beautifully accompanied by a light playfulness in the orchestration, therefore bringing a greater sense of danger and tonal contrast to the sequences of rape and murder which are soon to follow.

Above all else, Brand’s score has breathed new life into an already outstanding piece of work. He, along with the combined efforts of Brock and the BBC Symphony Orchestra, has taken each of the film’s signature themes and developed them to an unprecedented degree. At times humourous and sweet, at others threatening and frightening, 'Blackmail', with this score, is surely as powerful and effective as any of Hitchcock’s most acclaimed achievements. A forgotten masterpiece, 'Blackmail' is as vital a part of the Hitchcock back-catalogue as any other, and if you are presented with the opportunity to experience it with this score, I strongly urge you to do so.

The Last Exorcism

Over the past few years, documentary-style horror movies seem to have become a fairly frequent occurrence, often achieving varying degrees of success. On one hand we’ve seen wonderfully terrifying examples such as ‘Rec’ (2008) and ‘Paranormal Activity’ (2009), each, in my view, worthy of standing up as true classics of the genre. Equally, however, some haven’t quite delivered in the same way; 2008’s ‘Cloverfield’ and 2010’s ‘Rec 2’both highlighting, albeit in different ways, just how easy it is to get things wrong when shooting in this style. In the case of Daniel Stamm’s ‘The Last Exorcism’ we find a film that embodies many of the qualities that make this genre so effective, yet also manages to implode quite spectacularly due to a few misguided steps.

‘The Last Exorcism’ takes the form of a documentary, following preacher and ‘exorcist’ Cotton Marcus, played superbly by Patrick Fabian, as he sets out to show the world the tricks of the exorcist trade and to reveal the fraudulent and exploitative ways of the church. Somewhat predictably, this doesn’t quite go to plan.

Although the plot and exposition of the film are both highly derivative and explicit in their influences, for large sections ‘The Last Exorcism’ works beautifully, slowly building up the tension and creating an atmosphere of suspense in a way that’s comparable to that of ‘Paranormal Activity’; specifically the moments in which the camera is focussed on the bedroom whilst the couple are sleeping. With these moments, the fear manifests itself in the form of anticipation, rather than what is actually happening on-screen. Examples of this technique can be seen as Cotton and his team are following an apparently possessed Nell through the house. As she moves into different rooms and out of the camera’s sight, one can clearly draw comparisons with the style employed in ‘Paranormal Activity’. Similarly, the scene in which she is alone behind her locked bedroom door, yet the sounds of another voice and a baby crying can clearly be heard, also make for extremely unsettling viewing . In sequences such as this, Stamm exemplifies just how scary and powerful horrors of this kind can be, with literally nothing other than the audience’s imagination providing the terror.

The quality of the performances from the key cast members also adds to the scariness, with no one over-acting or trying to compensate for the film’s carefully understated tone. Ashley Bell’s performance as Nell deserves particular praise for its vulnerability and sensitivity, making the moments of her possession all the more frightening. It is this obvious technique of less-is-more, regarding the cast’s performances, that undoubtedly provides ‘The Last Exorcism’ with its creepiest and spookiest moments, allowing the tension to unnerve its audience instead of screaming at you to be scared.

How frustrating it is then, when in the film’s final act, it decides to abandon every element that had worked to this point, in favour of an ending which is so preposterously bad that it essentially destroys all of the groundwork which was laid before. The realism of the single camera style of shooting is hurriedly discarded to make way for a number of cut-away and reaction shots that simply don’t add up or make sense if the action were truly being captured by one camera. Furthermore, the ‘twist’ in the plot really is laughable. I won’t reveal the ending here, for anyone that is thinking of seeing the film should not be put off by its final 10 minutes, yet when you come away from ‘The Last Exorcism’, the prevailing feeling is one of disappointment at what could have been, rather than appreciating just how good a film it was for around eighty minutes. Such a shame, as given a little more thought, ‘The Last Exorcism’ could well have been one of the year’s best horrors.

Eyes Without a Face

When looking back over the years at the truly defining moments of the horror genre, one will generally encounter the usual titles; ‘Psycho’, ‘Night of the Living Dead’, ‘The Exorcist’, ‘The Shining’, ‘Halloween’, etc. Each of these films has achieved enormous iconic status within popular culture as well as among horror fans, often the subject of parody and pastiche in comedy, TV and commercials. Even today, one is reminded of the terrifying ‘here’s Johnny’ moment from ‘The Shining’ by Lenny Henry in the equally disturbing Premier Inn campaign. Yet many will be unaware of George Franju’s 1959 cult classic ‘Eyes Without a Face’, a film which has been criminally overlooked and forgotten since its release five decades ago. A film that is both mesmeric and disturbing in its tone and subject matter, it’s hard to define why ‘Eyes Without a Face’ has missed out on the notoriety and success of these other classic titles.

The film is centred on Dr Genessier, a crazed surgeon obsessed with trying to find a new face for his disfigured daughter Christiane, following a car crash for which he was responsible. His attempts to do so involve the kidnapping of young women and the subsequent removal of their face. Meanwhile, Christiane is forced to wear a white, featureless mask to cover her horrendous facial injuries, giving her a haunting, ghostly presence. This darkly sinister premise makes for deeply suspenseful viewing, creating enough tension to easily rival many of those famous horror classics. One of the most important factors in producing this atmosphere is Franju’s technique of not revealing the face of Christiane straight away, and when the shocking moment comes, it is still partially blurred and distorted, leaving the viewer to imagine what her face looks like only through the terrified shrieks of the girl who sees her for the first time.

Franju’s intelligent use of suspense and his skill in allowing the audience’s imagination to provide the horror are expertly offset by the moment in which we witness the graphic removal of one of his victims’ face; an unflinching scene which still has the power to disturb, despite the progression in visual effects and graphic imagery since its release. The cold, surgical manner by which he goes about this appalling procedure is equally as effective as any of the typically over-the-top, gruesome murder scenes from most slasher films. In fact, the clinical, emotionless way in which the Genessier conducts this act is probably what makes it all the more unsettling. It is possible that this scene was one of the reasons to the film’s lack of exposure and success, being simply too explicit in its depiction of facial desecration and therefore turning audiences away rather than drawing them in.

Whatever the reason may be, ‘Eyes Without a Face’ absolutely deserves to be considered alongside the true greats of the genre. It’s utilisation of suspense, atmosphere and cold brutality make for a superb example of how horror movies should be made. Although it may be over fifty years old, ‘Eyes Without a Face’ has certainly lost none of its power or ability to shock and terrify.