It’s actually not that long since I last watched this (though I didn’t review it that time – the old review below is ancient, lol) but I enjoyed it so much that time that I couldn’t wait to reach it and watch it again in this Hitchcock run. Again, I don’t feel it’s right that this is lumped together in this 6-film thriller run in Hitchcock’s filmography, though in this case for a different reason. There’s a slick consistency to the flow of the story here that to me makes it as much a leap in Hitchcock’s development as The Lodger, Blackmail, or the first in this so-called cycle, The Man Who Knew Too Much. Much of this is due to the perfect framing device of the central train journey, which quite literally gives the movie momentum even in the few instances where it’s otherwise lacking. The story hangs on it, never letting up for a moment from start to finish.

The story will be familiar even to some of those who have never seen it (or indeed, any of the remakes) because it’s been redone many times in different modes of transit (Flightplan, for example) or just in parody (no examples occur to me right now, but I’m sure they exist). A young woman meets a sweet old lady while waiting for a train, but once on board the train… well, the lady vanishes. The young woman determines to find the old lady while the rest of the passengers on board deny she ever existed.

One of the many things I love most about The Lady Vanishes is that it is simply so British. This is not limited to the obvious Charters and Caldicott, the cricketing fanatics who provide much of the comic relief in the movie (though one can’t really call it comic relief – comedy is woven throughout the dialogue of all characters)… There’s a wonderful moment when one character enquires of another what the time is and, after looking at their watch, comes to the conclusion that it’s “tea time!” Most brutal of all is the man who’s so sure no one will shoot upon the British that he walks directly into gunfire in the film’s climactic scene.

But even in this dimwitted character there’s the same endearing trait that unites all the passengers on this trip – enthusiasm. Take the doctor, who says of his patient who seems woefully sick but whose “complications” he describes as “fascinating!” And dear old Mrs. Froy herself who, in a hail of bullets quietly carries on her secret mission, calmly explaining to the girl, “Well, I must be getting along now…” (this line got the biggest laugh from me this time round, incidentally, it’s just so random in context…)

The Lady Vanishes also includes one of my favourite things in any film, and that’s that the main character hits her head within the first 30 minutes, right as she steps on the train. Even this moment doesn’t escape the infectious humour, when the girl later explains the incident to her leading man, “Something fell on my head,” he immediately asks, “When, infancy?” But I love moments like this in films like this – what it does (and it’s reinforced by disorienting camera effects) is place the audience entirely in the heroine’s head so we find ourself completely participating in her own doubts that follow – was there a Mrs. Froy? Was it all in her mind? Is this whole train journey only in her mind?

The answer of course is that none of this matters… it is all just a wonderful, hilarious, British mystery that ends with a quaint old lady holding out her arms for an embrace. I adore this movie, it’s the best of Hitchcock’s British output by far, a movie so great that even its obviously phony opening model shot signifies 90 minutes in the company of a storytelling genius.

17th June, 2004:

This is one of my favourite Hitchcock movies. It’s so simple, so British (those two proper gentlemen whose only interest is the cricket score – so British they express genuine surprise when a foreign lady “doesn’t understand” a simple sentence), but also quite terrifying in places. It has a lovely memorable theme tune that turns out to be a huge part of the story, and some fantastic comedy moments.

People talk about “old-fashioned” movies and innocence and “They don’t make ‘em like they used to,” and this movie is a true example of what they’re talking about. From the man who ended up most famous for a horrific shower scene, a sweet old lady on a train with a tune.

Tags: British, comedy, Hitchcock, train

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