The Scapegoat (1959)
The Scapegoat (1959) is a marvellous film. It is also a sad film. Sad in its fictional world and sad because of what happened to it and what happened to its director, Robert Hamer. I do not think I have come across anyone who likes the film, although few have seen it.
Daphne du Maurier’s source novel had been published in 1957 and she wanted it to be made into a film. She had liked Alfred Hitchcock’s version of Rebecca (1940),1 but apparently not My Cousin Rachel (1952), and to retain some control over this adaptation she approached Alec Guinness to ask if he was interested in doing it with her. He was, and together they formed a company to produce it and then contacted Michael Balcon, the famous producer at Ealing Studios, to get a professional to work with. He signed up for it.
Ealing was in its final stretch, having just sold its studio to BBC, but they had a cooperation with MGM British to make partly American-financed films in Britain, as well as in Australia, and The Scapegoat was developed as one of these. But then MGM and later Balcon left their associations with Ealing, and the film was in the end not an Ealing release.
Initially though there were two people at Ealing working on The Scapegoat, Balcon and Kenneth Tynan, who was then their script reader/editor.2 They had the story and the leading actor, Guinness, but they needed someone to do a proper adaptation and they needed a director. Balcon thought that maybe some American director on contract with MGM would do, preferably George Cukor. Or possibly Vincente Minnelli. MGM was sceptical, and in any event Cukor and Minnelli were either not available, or willing. Tynan wanted Ingmar Bergman to direct it, but that fell through as well.
While searching for a director, Gore Vidal was hired to do an adaptation, and Balcon then decided to ask Robert Hamer if he could help with the script. Hamer had not made a film for several years, and his latest one, To Paris with Love (1955), had not been good. But the ones he had made before were highly regarded, when he was one of Britain’s finest filmmakers.3
Hamer was an alcoholic and it had gotten worse, which is one reason why he had not been making any films for several years. But Balcon suggested he direct The Scapegoat, as well as writing the script, and Hamer promised Balcon he would stay sober during the making of it. (Whether he kept his promise depends on which book you read, so I do not know.) Hamer took over the scriptwriting duties from Vidal, using his adaptation of the already twisted story and making it darker, and they shot the film mostly on location in France. Both Hamer and Guinness were very pleased with what they had accomplished, as was Balcon.
Unfortunately, MGM was not pleased so they butchered it. Some 30 minutes were cut, a new score was added, and they insisted on a persistent voice over. The last third of the film in particular is damaged by it all. In a memo to MGM, Balcon wrote that after their cuts “a worthwhile mystery picture will result but, alas, not The Scapegoat.”
Yet despite not being remembered today, and often considered a waste of Hamer’s earlier talents, it is in many ways the quintessential Hamer film. It has all the loneliness, sadness, darkness, mirrors, and doppelgängers you would expect from Hamer; the whole film is like a surreal dream. I do not mind the voice over, it is often good, and Guinness has a great voice.
Bette Davis has a small role in the film as a bedridden mother, reeking of venom. According to the film’s original trailer it is “ the most amazing role of her career,” a claim that is ridiculous. And it seems Davis hated the whole experience. She smoked constantly, even accidentally setting the bed on fire,4 and was in general miserable during the production.5
A recurring criticism of the film is that the basic story, of a man taking over the life of another man whom he looks exactly like, is too implausible. But if you, like me, accept that premise, for example as a surreal thought-experiment, the flaws of the film are not due to the story or the direction but because of MGM’s post-production violations. The problem is that so many scenes are now missing from the film. For about an hour it works reasonably well, but then it unravels. It is a shame.
It is extra poignant that Hamer had managed, against the odds, to make the film, one that is, or could have been, as good as his best work, and then it was almost destroyed. The next year he began making a new film, School for Scoundrels (1960), but he was often too drunk to direct and others had to cover for him, until he was finally removed. It is a sad end to a short career of a fascinating filmmaker.
Sometimes films that have been destroyed or cut down in post-production are later partly or fully restored. I wish something similar was possible for The Scapegoat.
Rebecca was Hitchcock’s second adaptation of a story by du Maurier. The first was Jamaica Inn (1939) and the third was The Birds (1963). The latter has little in common with du Maurier’s short story. It is set in rural England and has no Melanie Daniels or any love story, only birds attacking a family in Cornwall, and, according to news bulletins, all of England. I much prefer the film.
Tynan is famous for a lot of things but his short time at Ealing is not among them.
Hamer is not as known as he deserves to be, as are few of his films. Pink String and Sealing Wax (1945), It Always Rains on Sunday (1947), Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949), The Spider and the Fly (1949), The Long Memory (1953), and Father Brown (1954), together with The Scapegoat, form the bulk of his achievements. The three films from 1947 to 1949 are his best.
According to More Than Coronets: Directed by Robert Hamer (2015) by James Howard.
According to all the books I have read for this article.