PRODUCTION: 
Director: Terence Fisher Producer: Anthony Hinds Screenplay: Martin Berkeley & Richard H. Landau (story: Alexander Paal & Steven Vas) Cinematography: Walter J. Harvey Art Direction: Wilfred Arnold Music: Malcolm Arnold (played by London Philharmonic Orchestra; solo pianist Bronwyn Jones)
Director: Terence Fisher Producer: Anthony Hinds Screenplay: Martin Berkeley & Richard H. Landau (story: Alexander Paal & Steven Vas) Cinematography: Walter J. Harvey Art Direction: Wilfred Arnold Music: Malcolm Arnold (played by London Philharmonic Orchestra; solo pianist Bronwyn Jones)
CAST: 
Lizabeth Scott, Paul Henreid, André Morell, Mary Mackenzie, Arnold Ridley
Lizabeth Scott, Paul Henreid, André Morell, Mary Mackenzie, Arnold Ridley
Hammer Films came to prominence thanks to the series of bold horror 
films they made in colour from the late 1950s and throughout the next 
decade, the best of which were directed by Terence Fisher. But they both
 got their start making dozens of modest black and white B-movie 
thrillers often featuring emerging , or waning, Hollywood actors. Stolen Face
 is one of these lower berth productions, though it does stand out from 
the mix for the way that it seems to presage many of the elements in the
 company, and Fisher’s, more celebrated later output. In fact, this is a
 real gallimaufry of a movie, combining as it does a slew of (then) 
popular genre elements, including classical music, a romantic triangle, 
plastic surgery,  psychiatry and a wild finish on a train …
From 1951 to 1955 Hammer Studios, through an arrangement with Robert 
Lippert Pictures in Hollywood (and bankrolled by 20th Century Fox 
through a backdoor for quota purposes), became one of the most 
industrious of UK film companies, cranking out tightly budgeted features
 at a prodigious rate. These were mostly thrillers and melodramas that 
helped establish the studio and the production team that would largely 
be responsible for its greater successes later on. But first things 
first. Once upon a time in postwar London, a leading plastic surgeon is very successful but is clearly in need of a rest …
Paul Henreid plays Philip Ritter, a surgeon who seems imminently due for
 sainthood. When we first meet him he is checking the results on the 
latest of a series of free surgeries he has been conducting to restore 
hand movement to a young boy from a deprived background. He then meets 
another potential patient, an aging but very wealthy woman. Recognising 
that she has already been put under the knife by less expert hands, he 
tells her that he cannot in good conscience make much of a difference 
anymore, flatly turning down her offer of £1,000, much to her fury. He 
then heads over to the local prison for the latest in a series of 
operations that have helped many of its inmates become rehabilitated 
though his medical treatment, all of which of course is provided pro 
bono. It is here that the kindly warden (a nice cameo from playwright 
and future Dad’s Army co-star, Arnold Ridley) asks Ritter to 
talk Lily (played Mary Mackenzie though voiced by Lizabeth Scott in a 
nice touch), a persistent recidivist who seems to have taken up a life 
of crime following her severe facial disfigurement during a wartime 
raid. While the scars on her face are severe (and put well on display in
 what would become Hammer’s best manner), Ritter thinks he may be able 
to help her. On the way home he nearly crashes his car – burning the 
candle at both ends has really taken its toll and his partner succeeds 
in making the doctor take a well-earned holiday.
Stopping at a country inn, the romantic part of the narrative takes 
over. Ritter’s sleep keeps being interrupted by the sneezes emanating 
from the woman in the room next door and in the end he puts a note under
 their connecting door, suggesting she take some aspirin and a little 
brandy. She pops a note back to say she only has the aspirin … he takes 
his bottle over and meets concert pianist Alice Brent (Scott). The two, 
having ‘met cute’ in the time-honoured movie tradition, start a 
whirlwind romance in the warm embrace of the local folk, all of whom 
seem to have been won over by the obvious rapport of the couple. Ritter 
declares his love, but the next morning she is gone. Despondent, he goes
 back to work more obsessively than ever, and decides to put all his 
energy into giving Lily a new shot at life with a beautiful new face, 
one that he first sculpts into a statue with all his love and skill. In 
an act of what can only be described as romantic folly, he uses it as a 
guide to give the woman a new face – or rather, one that looks exactly 
like Alice’s, finally giving reason to the title of the movie. Lily 
proves to have a very different personality, no matter whose face she is
 sporting.
This plot development, in which a scientist creates in effect a 
dangerous new person through his surgical skills, certainly looks 
forward to Fisher’s Frankenstein films for the studio, but the movie 
also deserves some kudos for preempting many of the themes and motifs 
that Alfred Hitchcock would use several years later in his classic 
plunge into morbid romance, Vertigo (1958). In scene after 
scene, moments that we remember from the classic Hitchcock movie all get
 their first airing here – first there is the romantic obsession with a 
beautiful but unobtainable blonde who vanishes from a man’s life. He 
then makes another woman over in her image – dying her dark hair blonde,
 than buying her a new wardrobe, obsessing as he tries to recreate his 
lost love. We even get a scene centered on a broach that indicates the 
woman’s criminality, much as we would in the later film. Here though it 
indicates that Lily is in fact slipping back into her old habits – just 
having Alice Brent’s face and marrying her surgeon-cum-saviour seems not
 to have been enough to curb her darker impulses, the story switching 
course again into what would seem to be a crime plot crossed with a 
psychiatric case history about a woman suffering from kleptomania.
But what happened to Alice? We discover that she fled her romantic idyll
 as she has long been engaged to David, an older man (André Morell) to 
whom she feels a great sense of obligation. She travels through Europe 
successfully playing variations on the highly attractive piano concerto 
that Malcolm Arnold wrote especially for the film. As the concert tours 
extends, David realises that Alice is not really in love with him and so
 nobly bows out. All seems set for a reconciliation with Philip – except
 of course he is now married, very unhappily, to a woman that he has 
surgically altered to maker her look exactly like Alice … Scott has a 
great time playing both roles, a traditional good-vs-bad girl triangle 
rendered truly delirious by the movie’s bizarre plot twists. The story 
then contrives to lurch again into another genre as Alice becomes 
convinced that Philip is being driven to murder by the cruel antics of 
his wife, whose behaviour has become ever-more erratic after taking to 
alcohol. The scene is set for a race to the rescue and a climax aboard a
 speeding train.
This being a low-budget movie, there are few scenes in which Scott has 
to appear in both roles at the same time and all of them are handled 
through the use of a double, avoiding the use of time-consuming 
opticals. The results are actually pretty successful in the 
circumstances and the climax builds up some fair suspense as we wonder 
just who will try to kill who. The finale is a little bit too pat and, 
like Vertigo, doesn’t really solve things satisfactorily at a 
plot level, though one could argue that emotionally it is the only way 
the story could go in what is a variant on the story of beauty and the 
beast. Henreid makes for an appealing if rather stiff protagonist and 
it’s a shame that Mary Mackenzie i by necessity only seen int he early 
stages of the film before her surgery as she gives a fiery performance 
that contrasts well with Scott’s smoother style.
Along with two nice performances from the top-billed Scott (who does a 
fair in not completely convincing imitation of a cockney accent), 
Malcolm Arnold deserves a lot of credit for providing the film with an 
extra patina of gloss with his fine orchestra score – those wishing to 
hear a suite can listen to an arrangement for piano and orchestra, the 
‘Ballade’ arranged by Philip Lane and included in the album, The Film Music of Malcolm Arnold Volume 2 released by Naxos.
DVD Availability: The film is available in no frills 
but perfectly acceptable versions in the US and the UK. The former is 
technically the better of the two and is available as part of the Hammer
 Noir box sets released by VCI.
SOURCE:HERE
Images: Marcus Brooks
SOURCE:HERE
Images: Marcus Brooks
 








 
 

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