Review: Frenzy

Set in London, somewhat unappealing ne’er-do-well Jon Finch is having a bad time of it. He loses his job at the pub (accused of imbibing on the job by owner Bernard Cribbins). He is now sleeping at a crummy hostel where he needs to keep an eye on his wallet at all hours of the night. He also argues forcefully with his ex-wife (Barbara Leigh-Hunt), and when said ex-wife is strangled, he becomes the prime suspect in the ‘Necktie Strangler’ case. Thing is, he’s innocent, we learn early on that an outwardly charming associate of his (Barry Foster, in no mystery at all) is framing him as he continues to murder pretty young lady after pretty young lady. Anna Massey plays Finch’s only true ally, with Clive Swift his chicken-livered old pal emasculated by wife Billie Whitelaw. Whitelaw believes Finch a sadist because the divorce settlement included accusations of ‘extreme cruelty’, which Finch claims he and Leigh-Hunt made up to speed things along. Alec McCowen plays a copper on the case, whose comic dealings with his wannabe-gourmet wife Vivien Merchant are an amusing sidebar. Jean Marsh plays a secretary, in a choice bit part.

 

1972 Alfred Hitchcock (“Lifeboat”, “Strangers on a Train”, “North by Northwest”) film is considered by most to be his best work post-“Psycho”. Whatever one takes that statement to mean  it’s probably true enough, though I have some admiration for the underrated “Topaz” as well. It’s also a return to his popular ‘wrong man’ theme (think “The 39 Steps” etc). This seedy, nasty little ripper has terrific performances including Finch’s best-ever, and scene-stealing work by Anna Massey, Barry Foster, Alec McCowen, the underrated Billie Whitelaw, and Jean Marsh. Barbara Leigh-Hunt plays her one big scene really well, too. Foster in particular runs off with it as a mixture of young Michael Caine, Paul Hogan, and The Yorkshire Ripper. He’s one of Hitchcock’s best villains.

 

The film has wonderfully grubby characters: The hero’s a pig who makes himself seem guilty, the villain’s a well-dressed sicko smoothie. Meanwhile, Hitchcock employs an enjoyably low sense of humour like the cop whose well-meaning wife is experimenting with cuisine when he just wants meat and three veg. Or the very funny but dark bit where the killer struggles to conceal a dead body beneath sacks of potatoes on a truck. The film does have the faintest whiff of déjà vu, though. A frantic ‘needle in a haystack’-like search is good fun but a bit too derivative. It’s clearly reminiscent of the ‘lighter down the drain’ bit from Hitch’s best film “Strangers on a Train” or the ‘car that won’t sink’ in “Psycho”. Terrific, gritty London scenery captured by Gil Taylor (“Repulsion”, “The Omen”, “Star Wars”), almost making the locales a character of their own. It was Hitch’s first film shot in England in about 20 years. Taylor and Hitchcock also employ close-ups to seriously uncomfortable, claustrophobic effect during the strangulation scenes.

 

Hitchcock at his nastiest (expect a rape and murder or several), naughtiest and darkest here, it’s jolly good sicko fun. Not quite top-tier Hitchcock, but really solid nonetheless. Bordering on black comedy, the screenplay is by the talented Anthony Schaffer (“Sleuth”, “The Wicker Man”, “Death on the Nile”, “Absolution”), from a novel by Arthur LaBern. Schaffer and Hitchock seem to have had a whale of a time on this one, and you might too if you’re similarly bent.

 

Rating: B-