The Paradine Case

The last and least well-regarded of the Hitchcock/Selznick pictures is this stylish courtroom drama about a dashing young English barrister (Gregory Peck) who becomes infatuated with the woman he's defending (Alida Valli) on the charge of murdering her husband. Far too much of the film's text and subtext is muddled due to the era in which it was made, but this is a terrific film to unpack in terms of its extratextual aspects. Peck's prosperous young lawyer all but throws away his career because of his sexual obsession with his client, a lower-class nymphomaniac who manipulates and shuns him. In addition to all of the "perversions" (as Hitch would say), the story provides the famously police-phobic director with the opportunity to shoot scenes of arrest, confinement, and, most impressively, the inner workings of a courtroom, in ways that are almost fetishistic. Adapted from Robert Hichens's novel by Hitchcock's wife Alma Reville (though Selznick takes screenplay credit), the film features two long-suffering wives, played by Anne Todd and Ethel Barrymore, who each accept the fate of being married to men who no longer desire them. 

 

Unfortunately, Peck is miscast. Not only is he American, but he's also far too stoic for this role. Hitch apparently wanted Laurence Olivier, Ronald Colman, or James Mason, all of whom would have been better choices, especially Mason. It's too bad Dirk Bogarde was too young at the time to be considered, as he could have perfectly captured the psychological aspects of a proper upper-class Englishmen giving into his suppressed carnal obsessions. Charles Laughton turns in a wonderfully slimy performance as the bemused, unimpartial judge who may also be a sadist and is certainly a dirty old man. His embodiment of a lecherous figure of power who must be both tolerated and respected comes across as a kind of Hitchcock surrogate, which is rather astounding considering who was directing him. 

 

The first half of the picture is full of ornate drawing rooms, bedrooms, dining rooms, and the prison—all of which are shot like elegant spiderwebs that trap the various characters in their societal roles. Here you can feel the push-pull between the director and the producer/screenwriter. It's not that the film lacks uniformity, but it feels restrained in terms of narrative and excessive in terms of production design. The second half, all set during the trial, is the strongest, with Hitch pioneering techniques that would become staples of courtroom dramas for decades to come. While the film is not a total success, it's far better than its reputation would lead one to believe.