Hitchcock Collection: Topaz

Let us not beat around the bush. Topaz is not a good film by any possible measure. I want to state this upfront in case anyone thinks that by attempting a cautious defence I am somehow trying to claim that it possesses any kind of greatness. But it does seem to me that Topaz is the scapegoat of the Hitchcock family, the unloved child that doesn’t even seem to merit a proper Laurent Bouzereau making-of documentary (and this is the man who produced one for Jaws 2.) The problems with the film are legion but somehow, perhaps out of a certain critical perversity, I still rather like it. It’s much too long, the leads are woefully miscast, the story takes an age to get going and the ending is a muddle. But it has enough points of interest for me to rank it, overall, a notch or two above Torn Curtain, even though it doesn’t have any high points to match the stunning set-piece in that film when Gromek is brutally killed. What it does have is one brief but remarkable death sequence, some memorable supporting performances and a couple of well devised set-pieces

The film is based on a bewilderingly successful novel by Leon Uris. It has a basis in truth – there really was a Communist spy working in Charles De Gaulle’s government during 1961-2 – but this doesn’t necessarily make for a good story. Frederick Stafford, an actor in name only, plays Andre Devereaux, a French spy who is used by the CIA to go to Cuba and investigate charges that Soviet missiles have been placed there. He becomes involved with the freedom fighters, led by Juanita De Cordoba (Dor), and the revolutionary Rico Parra (Vernon). However, his efforts to get the information back to the CIA are hampered by the presence of a Russian spy – codenamed ‘Topaz’ - within the French government. None of this is necessarily a bad start for an exciting spy thriller but it would have to be paced much more tensely and economically than Topaz.

What on earth did Hitchcock think he was doing in the endless scenes during which nothing is happening. We’re watching characters drive along and we’re presumably meant to be divining some meaning from their faces but whatever meaning there is, it eludes me. Then, much worse, we have the domestic scenes and occasional tiffs between Frederick Stafford and Dany Robyn which leave the screen oozing with boredom, especially when John Forsythe joins them. At the airport, when Ms. Robyn tilts her head back and declaims “Everything is marvellous”, it’s difficult to hold back an urge to throw things at the screen. Samuel Taylor’s script apparently improved on the one written (at Universal’s insistence) by Leon Uris, but the dialogue is in that flat, expository style which always indicates when a film is in trouble. “There is an arrangement in writing between Russia and Cuba that we must see. Now Rico Parra is in…”, “I can’t talk to Rico Parra. He hates my guts.”, “I know that. Rico Parra has a secretary named Luis Uribe..” and so on, ad nauseum. Imagine North By Northwest written by Jeffrey Archer and you’ll be somewhere close to the script of Topaz.

Yet in the middle of all this laziness, Hitchcock pulls off some stunningly effective strokes. The opening defection scene is suitably tense and nervy, filmed from some interesting angles with good use of crane and mirror shots. It suggests something better than the film which follows. But even here, the dialogue is clumsy and in places it simply seems carelessly post-synched. Thankfully, there are no such problems with the two best sequences. The first is when Roscoe Lee Browne, playing an undercover operative named Dubois, cons his way into a Harlem hotel where Rico Parra is staying and gains access to a vital document. The beginning of the scene is largely played as a kind of dumb show and it’s very well staged. When Dubois meets Parra, things become a bit sticky dialogue-wise but the end of the scene – the snatching of the briefcase – is genuinely suspenseful. The second memorable moment is the now-famous sequence where Rico Parra kills Juanita and she falls to the floor as her dress splays out around her as if the petals are opening on a dark, beautiful flower. It’s a gorgeous image and a perfect coda to a series of remarkable death scenes – the killing in Frenzy is in a completely different style and seems to me to reveal a very different Hitchcockian style to the one we are used to.

The supporting cast helps a great deal and this is one of the ways in which Topaz gets the better Torn Curtain. In the earlier film, there’s not enough to take your mind off the sheer awfulness of the central casting but in Topaz, Frederick Stafford is such a hole in the screen that you begin to mentally void him from the picture and concentrate on the superb actors all around him. The immortal Philippe Noiret, in a tiny role, stands out simply by giving his character some small, subtle changes of expression and a few minute ticks which build into a whole gallery of misdirection. Michel Piccoli is also excellent, although given far too little screen time, and he gives his character some much needed credibility. However, the star player, even though he only appears in one scene, is Roscoe Lee Browne. In his few moments on screen, he brings complete conviction to a thankless role and lights up the whole film with star quality. If only the film had been based around an actor with his talents then we might be talking about Topaz as a genuine Hitchcock classic. John Vernon and Karin Dor aren’t the most exciting actors on the planet but they’re not bad and have the luck to be involved in the Cuban scenes, which are generally the best in the film. But you have to feel sorry for Stafford and Forsythe - if not the plastic Ms Robin. Their style of honest but bland one-dimensional acting is scaled to television and when they are put on the screen with real actors, they visibly wilt.

Then there’s fascinating business with the ending. The way in which this came about is typical of the making of the film. Hitchcock and Taylor couldn’t come up with an ending to the film which satisfied them and the sense of unease and scant preparation which characterised the entire shoot continued right to the finish. Three endings were shot. The first was Hitchcock’s own choice – a duel between Stafford and the Russian agent in a deserted football stadium. The second involved the Russian spy killing himself. The third had the enemy agent surviving. All three endings are present on the disc and the first is clearly the most idiosyncratic and amusing. It’s not really satisfying but it has a touch of genuine lunacy about it which carries the Hitchcock sense of humour. The third ending, present on this version of the film, where the agent is allowed to escape, should be funny and sardonic but the joke is badly timed. The suicide ending is by far the best and it ends with a scene which is one of my favourite bits of Hitchcock. As the Russian spy kills himself, we get a brief montage of the human wreckage left by the power games of the politicians and security services and it’s a stunning moment, as if the comfortable spy games are suddenly given an uncomfortable level of reality. The version of the film I was familiar with before DVD featured this ending and it made the film rather more interesting.

On a technical level, the film is a little more satisfying than Torn Curtain. Although not up to the highest standards of Robert Burks, the cinematography by Jack Hildyard has some colour and snap, and the production design by the reliable Henry Bumstead is more than acceptable. On the debit side lies Maurice Jarre’s uninspired music score, the cheap and shoddy process work and the decidedly lax editing which allows the film to last a laborious and, to be honest, unconscionable 142 minutes. Had Hitchcock got into the ideas of love and betrayal which light up Notorious - a film which runs on similar lines in some respects – then the running time might have been justified. But in Topaz, there’s no central core relationship to keep you interested.

Topaz is frustrating and often virtually impossible to watch. On subsequent viewings, it’s very difficult to stop yourself reaching for the remote control to get you past some of the more embarrassing domestic scenes. But it’s studded, albeit grudgingly, with bits of acting and occasional inspired visual moments; enough, just about, to keep you wondering what it could have been like had a fully engaged Hitchcock made it ten years earlier. As it is, we’re left with something of a ruin but not an uninteresting one and it certainly sees the inside of my DVD player more often than Torn Curtain or The Paradine Case. It was three years later that Hitchcock returned and thankfully, with Frenzy, he reminded us all of how good he could be, even if the films were no longer of a consistent standard.

The DVD

Although it’s a very long way from Hitchcock’s finest work, Topaz looks very nice indeed on DVD. The anamorphic 1.85:1 transfer is delightful with rich colours, plenty of fine detail and no obvious problems. The grain in the opening newsreel footage is the result of using stock footage and the picture becomes smoother after the credits. The mono soundtrack is typically excellent.

The main extra features is a half-hour featurette during which Leonard Maltin makes a heroic defence of Topaz and is quite convincing. It features some good behind-the-scenes photographs and suitable clips from the film. The tone is different from the other documentaries on the Universal discs and it’s quite a refreshing change. The production itself was obviously very unhappy for all concerned and it’s perhaps not surprising that no-one was keen to talk to Laurent Bouzereau about it.

We also get the three alternate endings in full – I still like the suicide one best – and storyboards for the scene with the Mendozas are engaged in a chase with the Cubans. The very bland theatrical trailer – a long way away from Hitchcock’s playful trailers from the past – is also included along with some production photographs and brief production notes.

The film has optional subtitles and, once again, Universal have taken the trouble to extend subtitling to include all the extra features. This is an excellent practise and deserves to be highly praised.

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