Looking back in film history can sometimes be a challenging endeavour, especially when focusing on a particular subject or convention that may have been emphasized as being particularly noteworthy when in actuality, it was overblown by someone combination of nostalgia and retrospective respect. This often happens when we’re considering certain filmmakers who are widely seen as definitive of their respective eras – it’s always a tricky situation when an artist is elevated to a deity-like status because it creates conflict when we realize that they might not have been as infallible as they appear to be based on their reputation. One filmmaker who has often been seen as the most important in the history of cinema is Alfred Hitchcock, and throughout his impressive career, which extended from the silent era to New Hollywood, he made dozens of remarkable films. However, the subject we’re looking at today is perhaps not one of them – I Confess is often considered something of a minor work for the director, whose career was defined by outright masterpieces, of which this is unfortunately not often included in this group. Yet, this isn’t to imply that it is by any means a lesser achievement, but rather one that was subjected to unnecessary derision at the time of its release and has yet to achieve the critical reevaluation it deserves. Less of an ambitious masterpiece in the style of the films Hitchcock was producing during this era, which was unquestionably the peak of his creative career, but more of a hidden gem that is yearning for more attention, I Confess is a minor masterpiece, a thrilling blend of film noir and religious drama that gives the director a chance to explore unchartered territory through his keen and audacious understanding of the human condition.

Set in Quebec just after the Second World War, we are witness to a murder of a wealthy lawyer by Otto Keller,(O.E. Hasse), a local labourer under his part-time time employment, who was only trying to rob him that evening but had to resort to violence to get away. He is the caretaker of the local church, and upon arriving back that night, he confesses to Father Logan (Montgomery Clift), an idealistic young priest, who is suddenly put into the difficult position of holding on this secret, as his vow precludes him from ever revealing the truth of the crime. The investigation, led by a dedicated veteran detective, Larrue (Karl Malden) brings very little in terms of solving the crime – eventually, the prime suspect turns out to be Logan himself, as he was present at the scene of the crime, and a forced testimony by Ruth Grandfort (Anne Baxter), a local socialite and friend of Logan, proves to place him at the centre of the crime, with the motivation Larrue and the prosecution seeking being found in his activities, with his alibi being seen as insufficient. Everything seems to imply that he is guilty, and not understanding that Logan is forbidden from breaking the oath that he took upon his ordination, Larrue has no choice but to take the priests’ vow of silence as an admission of guilt. Meanwhile, Logan does what he can to prove his innocence without ever going against his promise, but his moral grounding comes into conflict with his strict adherence to the principles of the church, and as suspicions of his guilt continue to mount, he is subsequently derided by the public, with very few understanding the confines of his silence, and the inner conflict he experiences as a result.

I Confess was not a particularly popular film at the time of its release, with many finding its plot somewhat unstable, and not seeing its narrative thrust being particularly noteworthy, especially considering this film was attempting to be an intelligent subversion of the film noir, situating it in an entirely different location while retaining many of the same themes and conventions that made it such an enduring genre at the time. Hitchcock’s theory to the relative failure of the film is one that bears a lot of relevance in the context of understanding why this has struggled to find a place within the director’s greatest works. A dedicated Catholic himself, it was clear that I Confess had some resonance with Hitchcock – the same may not have been said for audiences at the time, in which many non-Catholics may have been bewildered by the fact that the film’s main storyline depended on a relatively weak concept of a priest refusing to break his vow of silence. Perhaps too convenient to blame this film’s lack of success on the part of audiences (who should never truly be considered a scapegoat for a work of art being underappreciated), the theory does hold some relevance. My reaction to this film, being of the same faith as the director, was nothing but admiration – there have been subsequent works that have followed similar plots, and while an intricate understanding of the Catholic Church is by no means necessary nor even encouraged, there’s a nuance to this film that comes about when viewed by those with some experience in the faith.

Hitchcock was one of the few filmmakers that could doubtlessly attract audiences in their droves, where his name became synonymous with quality entertainment – he could sell any film solely on the prestige attached to his name, which forced even the biggest stars to become secondary to the looming presence of the words “An Alfred Hitchcock Picture” – yet, it seemed as if I Confess was demonstrating that even a director whose career was often defined by an ambition to appeal to a wide audience, done through working through many different genres, was intent on making something more personal. This is a smaller production by the director’s standards, both in the story it tells and the way it is executed, and while many of the fascinating characteristics of a Hitchcock film can be found liberally throughout, it does feel far more subtle than what we’d normally expect from a director, whose bold audacity was one of his defining traits and found its way into every recess of his work. This is why I tend to view I Confess as one of the director’s more interesting achievements, because it sees him stepping outside of what he had been known to do, not necessarily in terms of the genre (as he had frequently experimented with form and content both before and after this film), but rather in the intentions – a simple tale of a Catholic priest holding onto his faith, even when his reputation, and perhaps even his entire life, is at stake. It is one of the rare faith-based films that manages to be moving without being overwrought, and where the audience isn’t subjected to moralistic preaching, but rather a glimpse into the beautifully-complex nature of faith. It doesn’t require any religious background to appreciate, with the only requirement being an understanding of individuality and the confines of the soul. Therefore, we can understand the apprehension from audiences who were expecting a more engaging, traditionally-riveting crime thriller, along the lines of what the “Master of Suspense” had offered them regularly.

Part of what makes I Confess such a remarkable film is the presence of Montgomery Clift. There are few actors of his generation who possessed such a nuanced control of the character, in which he could play tormented, fragile men without invoking pity or derision, but rather the contrary, where his everyman sensibilities, contrasted with his fierce determination to evoke the truth in any character he was given to play, allowed the audience unfettered access into his mind. Clift was a tragic Hollywood figure, which is made all the more upsetting when we see how his reputation was not unearned, but that he was effortlessly talented, regardless of the role or the film he was in. I Confess gives him yet another wonderfully complex character, a priest who is holding onto his faith, even being willing to be accused of a crime someone else committed, only to prove his devotion to his religion, and to honour the vow he made. His expressivity, combined with his remarkable ability to convey the most poignant message with nothing more than a subtle gesture or quiet whisper, makes this film a truly profound character study, and one that finds Clift venturing below the veneer of the archetypal character he was given to play, going in seek of the very human core of Father Logan. There aren’t many actors during this era that could so successfully play a man torn apart by his inner demons, while still maintaining composure and never appearing as if his actions are disingenuous. The wonderful performances by Anne Baxter (whose incredible monologue is the key to understanding the story, and the motivation of the characters) and Karl Malden only bolster the film and demonstrate how the fundamental aim of I Confess wasn’t solely to be a fascinating thriller, but also a profoundly meaningful character study, where each of the people at the core of the film evade stereotype by being fully-formed, complex individuals, through which the underlying social and moral commentary could be channelled.

There is a sub-genre of cinema that bears particular relevance to I Confess, namely the “priest in peril” storyline, in which we are presented with a holy figure who finds themselves undergoing a considerable crisis, whether it of faith or their morals. This film covers both of them, while still asserting some of the director’s more notable characteristics in order to give them an environment in which to flourish. I Confess is both a terrific social drama and a wonderfully thrilling film noir, where the central crime story works symbiotically with the more complex religious elements that underpin the film. The oscillation between the innocence of the main character (which only the protagonist and the audience are aware of), contrasted with the clear opinion that he is guilty, takes up the majority of the film, whereby the execution of this crime story is different from other similar films, particularly in how the majority of what we see is the various reactions to an event that the majority perceive as being the action of one perpetrator when in actuality its the contrary. It evokes the theme of innocence in a literally Biblical sense, with the character of Logan frequently positioned to be a proverbial martyr, maintaining his beliefs, regardless of the consequences that will occur. Arguably, while it would be wrong to advocate for a more bleak conclusion, the resolution to the film is perhaps the weakest element, as it felt somewhat rushed, and clearly done to give it a more traditional ending. Had the original conclusion been retained, I Confess would be a truly harrowing, but exceptionally powerful, statement on the intersections between faith and society, and how they are only compatible when the broad tenets of each don’t impinge upon the other.

I Confess is a film that demonstrates the challenges that come with the intermingling of traditional belief and societal progression, which are not always as easily-defined as most would be lead to think. Alfred Hitchcock puts together a beautifully poetic story about one man’s faith and his undying devotion to what he believes to be right. Anchored by an incredible leading performance by Montgomery Clift, who is supported by a small but memorable ensemble cast,  the film is a poignant character study that extends far beyond the cheap thrills (even if the director does once again prove how he is able to derive masterful suspense from even the most hackneyed situations, as the climax of this film demonstrates). It may have suffered from some slight inconsistencies on the part of the studio interfering with what Hitchcock intended, which was a more brooding tale of crime and punishment, in which the underlying tension was resolved in a far bleaker manner, but that doesn’t distract from the very clear motivations that the director had for making this film. It is a remarkably elegant tale of one man’s struggle to do what he believes to be right, and it is just ambiguous enough to allow the viewer to come to their own conclusion as to what his course of action should have been, while not being too assertive in how it conveys his inner strife and its relationship what his own moral background. I Confess may not be as exceptionally brilliant as some of Hitchcock’s other films, and it may pale in comparison to his masterful crime films, but it is still a worthwhile endeavour to look into this film, with its powerful message, terrific cast and thrilling story, buttressed by some fascinating commentary, being sufficient in making this a perfectly enthralling experience.