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Charles Laughton looks on with longing as The Hunchback of Notre Dame |
Director: William Dieterle
Cast: Charles Laughton (Quasimodo), Cedric Hardwicke (Jean
Frollo), Thomas Mitchell (Clopin), Maureen O’Hara (Esmeralda), Edmond O’Brien
(Pierre Gringoire), Alan Marshal (Captain Phoebus), Walter Hampden (Archbishop
Claude Frollo), Harry Davenport (King Louis XI), Katherine Alexander (Madame de
Lys), George Zucco (Procurator)
Victor Hugo’s gothic romance–slash-tragedy has been turned
into a film so often, it’s a wonder anything that happens in it remains a
surprise. But this 1939 version is perhaps the most influential, where
Hollywood decided to throw money at the fable and try and make something as
close as possible to the spirit of the book. But of course with a happyish
ending on the end – because, you know, it’s still Hollywood!
In 1470s Paris, the city is caught between the pressures of
religion and new developments such as the printing press. In the centre of the
city is the Cathedral of Notre Dame – where the bells are operated by foundling
Quasimodo (Charles Laughton), a deformed hunchback driven deaf by the constant ringing
of the bells. His benefactor, Judge Jean Frollo (Cedric Hardwicke), is running
a vicious campaign to cleanse the city of the gypsies and beggars that make up
a large part of its underbelly – but he’s hit for six when he falls in love (or
rather lust) with beautiful gypsy woman Esmeralda (Maureen O’Hara). But he’s
not alone – equally smitten are naïve young poet Gringoire (Edmond O’Brien),
arrogant Captain Phoebus (Alan Marshal), and Quasimodo himself. When Esmeralda
rejects Frollo’s advances she soon finds herself in danger – and her only hope
of safety comes from unexpected sources.
Dieterle’s background in German expressionism and silent
cinema shines through in this visually striking and opulent studio production,
with its superbly marshalled crowd scenes, brilliant use of
near-impressionistic shadows and fabulous camera work that drifts over the
impressive (and hugely expensive) set. Dieterle mixes this technical expertise
with a real sense of emotion and character development, helped by some terrific
performances from the cast. It’s a film that motors through the story of the
novel, but skilfully repackages it as both a fascinating semi-romance and a
sort of urban tragedy, as well as a subtle mediation on love and lust.
At the centre of it, you have Charles Laughton giving
probably the definitive performance of the hunchback. Sweating under layers of
make-up and an artificial hump, Laughton is nearly unrecognisable as the bell-ringer.
His triumph is to make a gentle, tragic character emerge from make-up that
suggests more Frankenstein’s monster than tragic hero. Nearly wordless for the first
hour and a half of the film, Laughton does his magic with an expressiveness
that speaks volumes of the loneliness in Quasimodo. Tenderly, he watches people
knowing he can never be part of their lives – and look how excitedly he bursts
out when he finally gets a chance to speak to Esmeralda one-on-one. Suffering
punishment on the wheel, Laughton’s eyes convey the numb acceptance of pain as
his natural state of affairs. But he also manages to bring out the gentle,
childlike qualities of Quasimodo. It’s a wonderful, wordless, expressionistic
performance – a triumph of physical acting and wonderfully judged emotional
vulnerability.
The rest of the cast match Laughton stride-for-stride.
Censor demands at the time required that Frollo be removed from his position
(in the novel) as Archbishop, so the book-version of the character is split in
two here. Archbishop Frollo is the sort of pious bore who can keep the Hayes
committee happy. But Cedric Hardwicke gets to play the invented evil brother
Judge Jean Frollo, the lecherous hypocrite from the novel. An authoritarian
ascetic, Hardwicke’s Judge Frollo is lean, mean and utterly ruthless – and
totally in denial about both his lustful feelings and hypocrisy. Hardwicke is
virtually an archetype of the sinister authoritarian, but he manages to never
chew the scenery. Incidentally, knowing the two characters are basically split
from the original book, does allow moments of fun imaging the moral debates
between the two as a sort of split personality discussion.
But there are plenty of other good performances as well –
not least from Maureen O’Hara, who is charming and engaging enough to make you
believe that the whole male cast is in love with her. Edmond O’Brian goes large
at times with the passionate romance, but he does a very good job in the role.
Thomas Mitchell is good value as the leader of the beggars, Clopin. There are
strong performances across the whole film.
All these performances are framed within a fabulous design.
The trouble and expense that has gone into the construction of the set is
inspiring, the sweeping gothic arches and towers giving every shot something
exquisite to look at. It also gives never-ending options for camera placement
and impressionistic imagery for Dieterle. It works as well – the gloomy,
imposing towers of Notre Dame are captured with real artistry, while the shadow
it casts over the whole city of Paris serves as a constant reminder of the
oppression the city lives in.
Dieterle also brilliantly films the crowd scenes, getting a superb
sense of visceral emersion from these sequences. Whether the camera is in the
mix, or flying above the crowds from the tops of Notre Dame, these scenes look
equally fantastic. Dieterle handles the more action-related scenes with
particular skill – Quasimodo’s rescue of Esmeralda from a death sentence is
particularly well staged in its dynamism and graceful filming.
Not every beat works. The portrayal of Louis IX as a sort of
kindly old uncle seems off-piste from the very start. The early sequences
sometimes get bogged down too quickly in set-up rather than getting into the
action. Alan Marshal is rather wooden as Captain Phoebus, although the film
goes surprisingly far in suggesting the dark desires and predatory sense of
danger that comes from the character. Some of the beggar court sequences get
similarly stuck in kitsch.
But these are minor beats. It’s a film that really
understands emotions and makes the dramatic thrust work. It also has a dark
sexual power, not least in Hardwicke’s Frollo: a seething mess of frustrated
desires. It never loses sight of the sadness at the heart of its central
character’s story, of his loneliness and isolation, and manages to communicate
this brilliantly in every scene where the character appears – he is trapped by
his muteness, his ugliness or his sadness at every turn. It’s a development
that never fails to be engrossing and finally moving. It’s a film that is
brilliantly assembled with real technical skill, very well acted and
wonderfully directed.
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