A Flusky Lesson in Love
Icebox reflections on Under Capricorn.
Lady Henrietta (Ingrid Bergman) brings order to the kitchen at Minyago Yugilla. (Warner Bros.)
Alfred Hitchcock often described his occasional plot holes and inconsistencies as fodder for “icebox conversations”: what people talk about “after you've gone home and start pulling cold chicken out of the icebox.” Expanding on that idea, actor and video podcaster Robert Bellissimo hung out in the kitchen to reflect upon his impressions of Under Capricorn (1949). He originally presented this material at HitchCon 2021.— Ed.
I ‘VE NOW WATCHED UNDER CAPRICORN THREE TIMES, BACK TO BACK, and this extraordinary film reminds me that Hitchcock often boasted that his movies’ financial success was due to the audience’s willingness to pay to see them more than once. He declared it was even necessary for the enjoyment of his films because, on the first viewing, they would be caught up in the story and the suspense. Only on a second viewing could they begin to appreciate its craft. (That Capricorn flopped upon its release only proves the point—audiences didn't return for that necessary second viewing.) For me, the third time was a charm. I feel that way about this film, because the relationships are so complex, sagging under the burdens of their history. Lady Henrietta “Hattie” Flusky (Ingrid Bergman) and her husband, Sam (Joseph Cotten), have such a history, and it's revealed over the course of the film. Be warned: this is no typical Hollywood love story. Early romantic moments are hinted at, but those days are long past. This movie is less Boy Meets Girl and more The Boy Who Knew the Girl Too Much. The Girl is a drunk, teetering on the edge of sanity. Even though—or maybe because—their situation is so extreme, I couldn’t help reflecting on my own life and loves.
While there’s no proper flashback—the early days of their romance are described in dialogue—I have clear pictures in my mind of their falling-in-love. For instance, Hattie, heiress to wealthy, landed Irish gentry, fondly recalls how Sam taught her how to ride a horse (along with, apparently, other things about love). Those cherished memories nurture her to the present, melancholic day, providing a solid foundation for an otherwise shaky situation. Sam, meanwhile, was a stable boy. They eloped. What could go wrong? Hattie’s jealous brother, to start. He flew into a rage and chased them down, aiming to break them up. In the confusion, he fired a shot. Hattie fired back, killing her own brother—but Sam stepped up to take the blame. As punishment, he was sent off to exile in the penal colony of Sydney, Australia. Wow, that’s devotion. And yet, this is only one of several extraordinarily harrowing sacrifices made in the name of love. Such selfless acts move me to ponder the quality of love. Sure, many couples make changes to better each other’s life and for the sake of the marriage. But this is of another order. What would any of us do under the stress of such a trial?
After their wedding, Hattie follows Sam to the land down under the constellation Capricorn. During his seven-year prison sentence, her guilt—over the death of her brother and the imprisonment of her innocent husband—ate and ate at her, slowly destroying her. We’re not sure how she got by, but one thing is clear: she went through hell to survive in this foreign land, talking to her husband only through the iron bars of his jail. For his part, Sam showed true strength, paying the price for her crime without complaint. No couple gets through life guilt-free. Guilt is really a part of love. People move through those issues or they let them destroy their relationship. In this case it didn’t destroy their relationship, but it did hurt them, deeply.
After Sam’s release, the couple reunites, but the relationship isn’t the same. How could it be? When Hattie starts hitting the bottle and her behavior becomes erratic, the good people of Sydney want nothing to do with her. Isolated, she withdraws with her alcohol and her private demons, beyond the reach of any help, even from Sam. I loved Hitchcock’s unblinking long takes that place us inside their private chambers to uncover these human realities. While the characters rarely talk about what’s really going on, the camera steps in, as it were, to reveal the truth. For example, when we first see Hattie and Sam together at a party, she’s wobbly, under the influence. The camera moves in as she places her unsteady hands on his shoulders; he returns her touch with such tenderness. There's a sorrow there, a sadness that the relationship is not what it was. Once again, these are all-too-common problems, usually kept hidden behind closed doors. When things are no longer the same between a couple, distance can arise. An element of just not knowing what to do anymore. How many of us have hit a crossroads in a relationship where you either ended it or went on.
Sam Flusky (Joseph Cotten) returns Hattie’s touch. (Warner Bros.)
Under Capricorn takes place in 1830 in the freshly-christened Australia, a British colony that’s only been around for a few decades. An Irish governor arrives to maintain order, and his cousin, the Honorable (but penniless) Charles Adare (Michael Wilding) comes along too, intent on making his fortune. At a dinner party thrown by Sam, the host figures that Charles could be of use to his wife, that being around someone from her home country could help bring her out of her alcoholic funk. His plan works well. Too well. As soon as Charles meets Hattie, sparks fly. Upon the first viewing, I wondered, is he attracted to her? It becomes clear that he is. It’s a love at first sight, but not according to the Hollywood norm. We see a love story develop between them—sort of. She's been drinking heavily, and she’s depressed and guilt-ridden. Still, the heart wants what it wants. And, clearly, he sees her through the eyes of a true love that sees her illness now and the beauty and constancy underneath. It’s complicated—erotic and Platonic—and not what we usually see in movies. How often do we fall for people when they are at rock bottom? We usually fall for people when we see them at their best. As we get to know them better, the love grows or it doesn’t. What’s most beautiful to me is that he falls for her when she's at her lowest.
A favorite scene: ashamed of what she’s become, Hattie hasn’t looked at herself in the mirror in years. Charles leads her to a window and drapes his coat behind her to better allow her to see her reflection in the glass. Striving to keep his feelings in check, he rebuilds her confidence.
Hattie Regards herself in a makeshift mirror. (Warner Bros.)
Later, they give into temptation and kiss. She pulls away, saying that this is not right and that she can’t go on. Is she talking about the kiss—or is she just expressing her feelings about her life itself? As with many moments in this film, there’s more than one way to interpret this scene. I don't think that she was really falling for him. Nevertheless, feelings, which he’d been controlling, came out. This lapse notwithstanding, Charles indeed proves himself noble, respecting the Fluskys’ marriage while performing a seeming miracle, getting her back on her feet and reminding her of what she's capable of. Things happen. Do we ever mean to fall in love or does love befall us?
Nevertheless, Sam starts to get suspicious of Charles’ motives. Lashing out in his jealousy, which I think is also fueled by his own insecurities, he resorts to name-calling—“You’re trash!”—and accuses her of wanting to leave him for Adare. How often do our own jealousies and resentments stem, not from our partner’s behavior, but from our own weakness boiling up?
I also want to mention the housekeeper, Millie. Hopelessly in love with Sam, she isolates Hattie from her husband and worms her way into his affections by abetting Hattie’s alcoholism—if not actually coercing her. It’s a slow-motion death; an ambiguous blend of murder and suicide. What she does is evil, but, again, in the fraught and ambiguous morals of the down-under penal colony in which they live, I can’t say that Millie herself is truly evil. How many of us, in the throes of love or infatuation, have wanted to drive a wedge between our love object and their partner? In this film, stakes are raised when Millie actually tries to poison Hattie.
Meanwhile, the conflict between Sam and Charles heats up and Sam accidentally shoots the Irish nobleman. Because he’d already once been convicted for murder, he would now be hanged. That’s when Hattie intervenes, with the truth. Unfortunately, by admitting that she killed her brother and not Sam, she now has to go back to Ireland for a trial! Still driven by insecurity and jealousy, Sam thinks that she’s doing this as a ploy to go back to Ireland with Charles. Self-pitying, he begins to regret what he's done for her all of these years. We’ve seen those moments in relationships, when suddenly things are not working out and one person gets angry, regretting every little thing they’ve done for their partner.
As his anger subsides, Sam comes to his senses, realizing that his wife has been faithful and honest—and Millie realizes she's going to have to kill Hattie to get what she wants. The now-reunited couple catch Millie trying to put a fatal dose of sleeping medicine in Hattie’s drink. They also discover that Millie has been putting a shrunken head on Hattie’s pillow, exposing the housekeeper as the source of Hattie’s frenzied “hallucinations.” On second thought, maybe Millie is truly evil.
Sam is nothing if not sentimental. His affection for Millie has its roots in Sam’s own past as servant, and the common ground they share, that they both “come from the same place,” as he says to Charles. At this point his wife is still very distant and I think Millie brings him the comfort of familiarity. How many of us have had fish-out-of-water moments, causing us to gravitate toward someone else who reminds us of ourself and our past?
Sam, Hattie and Charles, their love and friendship reaffirmed after trials by fire. (Warner Bros.)
Eventually, Hattie urges Charles to tell the governor that Sam shot him accidentally. He now faces a choice. He can either lie and say Sam shot him intentionally, which would likely finish off their marriage and leave him a clear path to winning Hattie’s affection—or he can tell the truth and lose her. Spoiler: he does the right thing. He returns to Ireland without a fortune and without Hattie, but he does it gracefully, with his honorableness intact. In the final moments, as they see him off—three friends whose bonds have been refined in the fires of human error within and cultural tyranny without—it's an extraordinary portrait of strength, dignity and loyalty.
Under Capricorn has been painstakingly restored and is available on Blu-Ray. Just be careful: it will cause you to look at your own reflection in the window and question your views on love and the relationships in your life. Especially, I imagine, upon the fourth viewing.
