Blackout in the USA, and the auteur creators Powell and Pressburger (The Red Shoes) thought the American title a better one. The film is effortlessly Hitchcokian. Not many films can say that, as it requires some effort to be Alfred Hitchcock, so many have tried, and so many have failed (Brian De Palma comes to mind). For a film to be Hitchcockian it must not only keep you on the edge of the seat, but be well written, well cast (even in the smallest character roles) and visually stunning in a metaphorical way. Powell and Pressburger achieve this with their eyes closed; indeed much of this film is shot in the dark, as it takes place in London during the blackout — a time very much like our own. But back then they were pulling together against the Nazis — not quite the same as fighting COVID-19 -- one is unmitigated evil, the other quite a mitigated illness; I would say (and be cursed for it) that there are nobler causes for which you might give your life. But when the blackout police scold a man for lighting a cigarette and he yells: ‘Haven’t you got any thing better to do?!’ it reminds me of Toronto police officers who ticket children riding their bicycles in parks today. Contraband makes no sense at all as a title, because this movie has almost nothing to do with contraband, although it is the reason why Conrad Veidt's freighter is stopped. And then, with the sudden appearance of Valerie Hobson as the mysterious and alluring Mrs. Sorenson the chase begins. It’s picaresque, like Hitchcock’s Saboteur (made 2 years later) and though this is an anti-Nazi film, we forget about ideology because Power and Pressburger offer so many visual distractions. It is no wonder that American culture has disintegrated into dumb, name-calling, God-fearing,racist partisanship, for their films of the 40s -- compared to a British film like this — so witty, literate and frankly deep -- are primitive trigger mechanisms in comparison. Hollywood simply loves to make exploitation films. (Back then it was evil suffering desiring women— now it is comic book heroes.) By the time Powell and Pressburger follow Veidt escaping though a shop filled with plaster busts— (I’m not sure if such a shop ever existed) darting in and out between plaster heads - it’s quite heavenly. But you don’t know why, until we return to the same shop at the end, and a dead Nazi’s head lies among the sculpted ones. I don’t know what all this is saying, but that’s not the point, the point is that it’s visually arresting and sparks our imaginations. The other divine moment is when the Veidt opens his pocket watch that plays a Danish folk tune, and it sets the whole Danish restaurant singing; it makes no logical sense in our world, but in the world of this film, where the good guys are good and the bad guys are made of plaster, it’s perfectly right. I’ve been mentioning Conrad Veidt as if was natural as the day for him to star in a film like this; but he was not the first choice and the casting caused considerable consternation. Reviewers were uncomfortable with him because he is both the hero and a spy, and this does not seem right for a man whose eyes are so gentle and whose voice is yes — well I’ll say it — markedly effeminate. Well that's homophobia pure and simple. But even now, a reviewer like J. Kelly Nestruck can suggest that gay playwright Noel Coward can’t write heterosexual love stories. Similarly, Hollywood still wonders — if a man is known to be gay — can he convincingly play a romantic lead? The stated reason is that women don't want to have heterosexual fantasies about gay movie stars because they know gay men have sex with men, not women. Wrong. I have discovered — to my chagrin —that there are many women who fantasise about having sex with gay men. Gay men are are not cast-able as straight romantic leads because they make straight men uncomfortable. Conrad Veidt does exactly that in Contraband. But to suggest that he does not appear to be in love with Valerie Hobson is ridiculous. Sure, it seems like a kinder gentler love than we expect from let’s say. Clark Gable, but love it is, still -- and completely convincing. I set out to discover the exact nature of Veidt’s sexuality; it’s nearly an impossible task. A source as reliable as Wikipedia tells us he was ‘bisexual’ — the two references are from other people’s biographies. One says: “I”ll say frankly that Veidt loved men once in awhile.” The other says (and this is even more revealing): “Veidt’s friends regarded him as heterosexual when sober, homosexual when drunk.” But that is actually the definition of me, and so many gay men. If you are self-hating — as I am, then the only way you can flirt with a man or screw him is if you’ve had a drink or two. So Veidt was gay. He also starred in what is considered the first gay film ever made Different from Others (Anders als die Anderen) a 1919 silent film made in Germany and partially written by Magnus Hirschfeld (the famous sexologist whose institute championed the rights of gay, lesbian, bi, and trans people, until it was closed down by Hitler). Anders als die Anderen was remade in 1961 as Victim starring Dirk Bogarde (another closeted homosexual) 40 years later. Nothing has changed for gay men. Veidt was allowed to play monsters (he became a star after playing the lead in The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari) because he portrayed them with great delicacy and humanity— and is that not what a homosexual, in our culture, essentially is? Nowadays if you’re not the Meryl Streep of gay actors (i.e. Benedict Cumberbatch) you can pretty well count on never being a star unless you work out a deal with The Scientologists like John Travolta and Tom Cruise. Yes John Travolta is gay; a photographer snapped a photo of him kissing a man departing on a plane from Hamilton (where I live). Tavolta claimed he had kissed this fetching young swain because the lucky youth was his children’s nanny. Well it only stands to reason. That is why we fags love fiction so much. After all, we spend so much of our lives making it up.
