Number Seventeen

With a plot that could have escaped from the pages of an Agatha Christie mystery, this early-period Hitchcock, while not in the same league as his later classics, is an enjoyable mixture of satire and suspense. Adapted from the play (and then book) of the same name, the director didn’t want to make it in the first place and later branded it “a disaster” but even though its plot is confusing and characters thin, the delivery is decent.

Much of the tale unfolds in an abandoned house, where the homeless Ben (the fabulously named theatre star Leon M Lion, who is broad but strangely compelling) is hoping to hole up for the night. He is joined by a man Barton (John Stuart), whose identity will eventually become evident, when the pair of them stumble on a dead body. In many ways it’s best not to trouble yourself too much with the narrative here as the characters start to arrive in droves until nobody knows who anyone else is, including us. Who are the crooks and who are not is hard to tell until virtually the end - although you’ll probably guess where the plot is going by that point anyway.

Leaving the niceties of storytelling aside, though, there’s great craft to admire. The house, with its prominent staircase is a perfect environment for atmospheric expressionistic chiaroscuro. The action fairly rattles along and there’s some lovely cutting between freeze-frames of actors which adds a touch of the Gothic - and emphasises Hitchcock’s willingness to break from the norm. Beyond the shadowplay, the sound design, with its train sounds and wind is also evocative.

You can’t accuse Hitch, Alma Reville and Rodney Ackland of failing to open the material out from its theatre origins as the latter portion involves an action sequence on a train, among other things. This, along with a speeding bus ride, is partially achieved with model work that is detailed, endearing and well edited. The scenes on the side of the apparently racing train are also shot with verve. There’s a lot to be said for pace and confidence, if you can stop yourself trying to make sense of Number Seventeen and appreciate the sensation of it instead, you’ll get more out of it.

Number Seventeen will be out to own as part of Studiocanal’s Hitchcock: The Beginning box set, out in the UK on December 16.