Under Capricorn

Alfred Hitchcock – 1949 – England

The second of two films – following Rope (1948) – marking Alfred Hitchcock’s coming-of-age into producing his own films, adapting to color, and, most importantly, bolder experimentation.  Although this brief period of his career was technically a failure, it was an essential process leading to Hitchcock’s staggering run of productivity and genius throughout the 1950s.  Rope and Under Capricorn reveal Hitchcock pushing the limits of film’s potential; they are attempts to abandon montage entirely in favor of mise-en-scene as a lone cinematic device.  The experience taught him that montage cannot be dismissed without consequence, and also that bearing the financial burden of such experimental movies is not the wisest business model.  After this he would return to working through the major studios except that he would not be at their mercy as he was while under contract to David O. Selznick in the 40s.  His office would function as a fiefdom within the kingdoms of Hollywood studios, allowing him access to major stars and the highest production values while also pursuing personally satisfying projects.  Under Capricorn is a bit of a hodge-podge, not very subtly alluding to Hitchcock’s own Jamaica Inn (1939), Rebecca (1940) and Spellbound (1945), along with some healthy doses of Jane Eyre.  Ingrid Bergman plays the mentally disturbed (and alcoholic) wife of coarse plantation owner Joseph Cotten in 18th century Australia.  Several sequences are comprised of long dolly shots that wobbly follow or precede characters from room to room.  Awkwardness aside, they are fascinating for their sheer eccentricity and daring.  As with Rope, they also tend to accentuate the plot’s staginess rather than compensate for it.  None of this means that Under Capricorn is a bad film; it is merely a second-tier Hitchcock that offers a lot with regard to film theory.  Great artists typically conceal their trial-and-error processes from the public.  Here, Hitchcock shares it with the audience, just as he would later with Psycho (1960) which is a potent, walking, talking textbook on the cooperation attainable between montage and mise-en-scene.