Number Seventeen

This Hitchcock film is hugely damaged by its Cimrman (or perhaps Monty Python) excessiveness, which tries to surprise with new twists and turns, but at best makes it laughable, at worst downright ridiculous. If it weren't for all the "shocking" revelations and the almost constant barrage of unnecessary dialogue, Number Seventeen could have been even better. (20/07/2016)

I chose the movie purely at random from a collection of old British crime films, so I was strongly surprised by the director's name in the opening credits. After the first ten minutes, I wasn't sure if I was watching a movie or a symphony concert with moving images. I understand that the film is not my grandfather but rather my great-grandfather or great-great-grandfather, but even so, I couldn't bring myself to like it. If this were my first Alfred Hitchcock film, I don't know if I would be interested in any further encounters with his work. The sounds didn't convince me, as they managed to penetrate the often deafening musical backdrop, the setting (neither the staircase nor the train) didn't interest me, and my feelings were further worsened by the captured projectile and extremely bizarre fist fights. Truth be told, my discomfort was also contributed to by the repeatedly dropping internet connection, which only added to the overall sense of failure. As the conclusion approached, the situation certainly did not improve, and the clichéd finale just sealed the deal. I only gave it one star for the experience of being able to see a film from the thirties. / Lesson: "Here we are all Barton" (14/09/2024)