There is nothing ordinary about this tongue-in-cheek thriller, arguably on par with Hitchcock's more well-known earlier classic, "The Thirty Nine Steps", a true masterpiece of the suspense genre.
The bulk of the action takes place in a train where a matronly lady by the name of Miss Froy suddenly and mysteriously disappears without a trace, the only witness to the fact that she even existed in the first place being a young lady named Iris who by chance befriended the old woman just prior to departure.
Undeterred by the fact that none of the other passengers will admit to any recollection of seeing the missing lady, Iris is determined to solve the mystery and in the process is forced to enlist the help of a free-spirited musicologist named Gilbert, who in their initial encounter the previous evening only succeeded in arousing her utmost antipathy (and visa-versa). Gilbert's infectious insouciance is admirably contrasted with Iris's single-minded severity, and the resulting blend provides a wonderful counterpoint to the taut suspense that propels the action-- somewhat reminiscent of the engaging repartee between hand-cuffed Robert Donat and Madeleine Carroll in "The Thirty Nine Steps".
As they say, a film is only as good as its minor actors, and the Fellini-esquire montage of bizarre and enigmatic figures that populate the various berths and compartments of our train excel. Of particular note is the Mutt and Jeff duo of Caldecott and Charters, whose obsession with cricket scores just has to belie a more sinister motive, or does it? And the scuffle with the magician Signor Doppo amidst an array of false doors is priceless (pay special note of the three rabbits in the hat). Miss Froy just had to be hidden behind one of his props!
The only unequivocally sinister figure in this mish-mash is a certain Dr. Hartz of Prague, splendidly caricatured by Hungarian Paul Lukas. His unctious medicalese and feigned concern for Iris' obsession with finding Miss Froy couldn't be a better foil to the more light-hearted excesses of most of the other characters. And his final lines provide a penetrating epilogue to this off-beat thriller.
I've always contended that the best of Hitchcock's early British talkies were generally superior to the more conventional suspense yarns of his Hollywood years, most of which never quite had the staying power of the earlier films. Needless to say, the marvelous combination of wit and suspense present in "The Lady Vanishes" goes a long way in proving my point.
The bulk of the action takes place in a train where a matronly lady by the name of Miss Froy suddenly and mysteriously disappears without a trace, the only witness to the fact that she even existed in the first place being a young lady named Iris who by chance befriended the old woman just prior to departure.
Undeterred by the fact that none of the other passengers will admit to any recollection of seeing the missing lady, Iris is determined to solve the mystery and in the process is forced to enlist the help of a free-spirited musicologist named Gilbert, who in their initial encounter the previous evening only succeeded in arousing her utmost antipathy (and visa-versa). Gilbert's infectious insouciance is admirably contrasted with Iris's single-minded severity, and the resulting blend provides a wonderful counterpoint to the taut suspense that propels the action-- somewhat reminiscent of the engaging repartee between hand-cuffed Robert Donat and Madeleine Carroll in "The Thirty Nine Steps".
As they say, a film is only as good as its minor actors, and the Fellini-esquire montage of bizarre and enigmatic figures that populate the various berths and compartments of our train excel. Of particular note is the Mutt and Jeff duo of Caldecott and Charters, whose obsession with cricket scores just has to belie a more sinister motive, or does it? And the scuffle with the magician Signor Doppo amidst an array of false doors is priceless (pay special note of the three rabbits in the hat). Miss Froy just had to be hidden behind one of his props!
The only unequivocally sinister figure in this mish-mash is a certain Dr. Hartz of Prague, splendidly caricatured by Hungarian Paul Lukas. His unctious medicalese and feigned concern for Iris' obsession with finding Miss Froy couldn't be a better foil to the more light-hearted excesses of most of the other characters. And his final lines provide a penetrating epilogue to this off-beat thriller.
I've always contended that the best of Hitchcock's early British talkies were generally superior to the more conventional suspense yarns of his Hollywood years, most of which never quite had the staying power of the earlier films. Needless to say, the marvelous combination of wit and suspense present in "The Lady Vanishes" goes a long way in proving my point.