Capricorn (1949) We held off so long in reviewing this that we had to re-watch it to jog our addled movie memories.
As a lifelong Alfred Hitchcock fan, we're sorry to report that the passage of time hasn't made this film any better. It easily stands among the worst of his efforts.....talky, static, ponderous in its plotting and, we hate to say it.....visually a colossal bore.
The director's only real contribution here comes from his ongoing flirtation with long, long extended shots.....which everyone hoped his one-take experiment with "Rope" the year before had cured him of that gimmicky obsession.
Set in early 19th century Sydney Australia, 'Capricorn's a turgid, overcooked melodrama without a scrap of suspense or mystery that Hitchcock became famous for. It's the kind of soaper that's right up Douglas Sirk's alley, but how this material attracted Hitchcock....well, you're more than welcome to figure it out.
Irish wastrel Charles Adair (Michael Wilding) lands in Sydney as excess baggage for his cousin, Sir Richard (Cecil Parker), the new governor of New South Wales. Oddly enough, Charles finds himself in a land deal with wealthy businessman Sam Flusky (Joseph Cotton).
Flusky was one of thousands of ex-convicts transported to Australia by Britain, who used Down Under as a continent-sized Alcatraz. Having served his sentence and made his fortune, the taciturn land baron lives a lonely life with his neurotic, depressed and frequently drunk wife Henrietta (Ingrid Bergman, Lady Henrietta's cared for by vaguely sinister housekeeper Milly (Margaret Leighton) who's nursing an unrequited crush on Sam.
Flusky, desperate to bring Henrietta out of her funk, foolishly encourages Charles to befriend her. Charles, of course, falls head over heels for her......and both men remain unaware that Milly, much like the cold-hearted housekeeper of 'Rebecca' is driving Henrietta into madness, plying her with liquor and sedatives, then terrifying her by leaving a shrunken head on her pillow.
The plot thickens like mud when it's revealed that Sam and Henrietta share a tortured, tragic backstory of forever star-crossed lovers, We won't go any further describing this mess, other than to say it's somehow resolved, after much jabber-jabber-jabber from everyone involved.
To no one's surprise, the film tanked on its initial release and don't hold your breath waiting to catch it on any Hitchcock retrospectives. 75 years later, it still stinks. (And you shouldn't waste your breath looking for at least one of the director's startling flourishes, like Karin Dor's robe spilling out like a pool of blood in the otherwise dead-on-arrival "Topaz"
For all Hitch completists (like us) see it once and no more. You might forget about it while you're actually watching it. 1 star (*).
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