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The 39 Steps (1935)

A review by Damian Cannon.
Copyright © Movie Reviews UK 1999
What is The 39 Steps? Well it's a title, both of John Buchan's original novel and of Alfred Hitchcock's cinematic reworking. It's also a motive, a force giving the film reason to exist; in short a McGuffin, a deception designed to obscure the obvious. What it isn't is a spy story or a thriller, at least not directly. Yes, Hitchcock delivers the elements of such fiction within The 39 Steps but they're nothing but smoke and mirrors. Rather, what he gifts us with is a romance. Starting from the most unlikely of meetings, a forced and quite unwelcome intimacy, Hitchcock proves that love can flower in the harshest of environments. This is his conceit and his triumph.

Fortunately, once safely beyond this simple proposition, Hitchcock does not rest on his laurels, as is the case with some later stints behind the camera. At this point in his career the ambitious young director had much to learn and everything to prove. Thus The 39 Steps innovates in its use of sound and sense of structure. A memorable example of the former: at one point in the story a charwoman stumbles across the corpse of a lady, a knife plunged deep into her back. As the unlucky cleaner opens her mouth to scream, the note transforms into a high steam whistle, transporting us bodily to the next scene. As for the latter The 39 Steps is delightfully circular, looping back time and time again to cross its own bloodhound fresh path. Through this device the film becomes simultaneously linear and non-linear, dynamic without incohesion.

The casualty of such flexibility is any reliable adherence to the principle of coincidence; the idea that while one crossed path can be forgiven, it's a sin to pretend more. Most movies, with varying degrees of success, follow this rule in the belief that an audience can be alienated by any contravention. Not The 39 Steps. Hitchcock happily warps reality in the service of Charles Bennett's script, knowing full well that to act otherwise would doom his tale to stagnation. He wants us to suspend disbelief for the duration, not with the implication that we buy into the trickery but because we want to be entertained. And, if nothing else, The 39 Steps achieves this end with style, humour and good, honest craftsmanship.

Opening in London, The 39 Steps trails in the path of a mystery man as he enters the Palladium. Within the music hall, a world unfamiliar and alien to any modern viewer sidles into view; on stage a dressed-up steward announces vaudeville acts, bowling them to an audience baying and baiting from the stalls. This is real interactive entertainment, a verbal to-and-fro pickled in alcohol, split into easily digested segments. Here Canadian visitor Richard Hannay (Robert Donat) can submerge himself in the overlap of humanity, soaking up anonymous companionship. Brave enough to toss a query at Mr. Memory (Wylie Watson), in the Palladium heat Hannay feels less alone. Unfortunately a brawl erupts, shots are fired and Hannay finds himself thrust rudely onto the pavement, clinging to Annabella Smith (Lucie Mannheim). By such random chance Hitchcock propels his circumstantial tale forwards.

Ironically, given Hitchcock's statement that actors are cattle, The 39 Steps is buoyed by its cast. In the role of an everyman haunted by forces beyond ordinary comprehension, Donat excels. Throughout he displays the mannerisms of a cunning, but not too clever, individual determined to prove his own innocence whilst remaining both vulnerable and naive. It's a heady combination that nevertheless fails to convince unwilling accomplice Pamela (Madeleine Carroll) that his explanation has the aroma of veracity. She's smart and self-sufficient, a surprisingly contemporary character that'll fight for career and relationship success. Elsewhere, fine performances emerge from Peggy Ashcroft, telegraphing her innocence as young crofter Margaret, and John Laurie, her stern, suspicious husband John. The 39 Steps isn't quite an actor's dream but it benefits immeasurably from their talent.

However beyond and above the cast we witness Hitchcock's desire to demonstrate an ability to direct, the capability to take something unworkable and make it work, his sheer native brilliance. He grasps The 39 Steps, a simple story, and adds sexual frisson, comic interludes and an eye for detail. When Hitchcock picks up on the small things that people do, incidents peripheral to a scene yet that make it come alive, the film springs to another level. Yet The 39 Steps is also interesting as a document of the period and as a stepping-stone between the silent and sonic eras; some of the techniques and over-acting are painfully blunt. In this way the movie seems quaint and distant even while remaining vibrant and engrossing. The 39 Steps suffers by its age but there's precious little visible senility.

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