A reel-to-reel tape tells us, “The following is a true and full account and hereby sworn by me, Paul Brett, Attorney at Law.” Dang, you had me right up til that last part. The tape continues on, leading into a flashback . . .
Mrs. Cannon-Hughes comes to Brett’s office and tells him she knows of a murder that was committed. He agrees consulting a lawyer is a prudent move and bills her four hours. She begins her story, leading us into the rarely seen flashback within a flashback. Or is it three-deep, with the tape being the first flashback, Mrs. C-H being the second, and her recollection being the third? This is why Inception didn’t win the Oscar vote . . . or did it?
Miss Cannon is a live-in nurse to the elderly Mrs. Hughes. We join the story just as Mrs. Hughes croaks from natural causes (“natural causes” on Alfred Hitchcock Presents = MURDER!). Mr. Hughes keeps her on the payroll until the funeral, then gives her a severance check. It isn’t long, however, before Mr. Hughes gives her a call.
She puts on her white uniform, white shoes and white cap and goes to casa de Hughes. When she gets there, she finds this was just a ruse to get her to go to a concert with him. She eagerly accepts. Things progress quickly through the concert phase, dinner phase, driving to the airport phase, and now he is helping her paint her living room. After a few horizontal strokes of latex — has this guy ever picked up a paint brush before? — he asks her to go away with him. Soon they are married.
Once back from the honeymoon, she feels Mr. Hughes has become “distant, hard to reach”, perhaps fearing another room needs painting. He refuses to let her see her old friends.
One night, she notices he is not in bed. She gets up to look for him, but he sleepwalks into the bedroom. He mutters, “Here, drink this and go back to sleep. I know you took some earlier, but this is doctor’s orders.” He goes through the motions as if giving medicine to his dead wife. So we have a ultra-rare sighting of a flashback within a flashback within a flashback. Or is it . . . nevermind, it’s getting late.
She tells Brett that she suspects murder because he never should have given his wife that medicine; that was her job. Brett suggests that maybe their marriage is an insurance policy — Hughes married her just in case there were questions, and a wife can’t testify against her husband in TV court [1]. She says that if he knew she saw him sleepwalking he would kill her!
I’ll say this for AHP, they get right to it — the next shot is at her funeral with Brett in attendance. Zing! It is staged so that it is impossible to see until the end — this is Mr. Hughes funeral, not hers. Kudos!
On the reel-to-reel, Brett tells us the coroner has ruled Mr. Hughes’ death a suicide. This leaves the new Mrs. Hughes very rich; she asks Brett to help settle the estate. Before long he is touching her hand. Soon he will be making some horizontal strokes of his own; coincidentally, also in latex. [2]
One night after they are married, his wife is having a nightmare. She says, “Drink this, Mrs. Hughes. Have another dose. Mrs. Hughes, I know you took some earlier, but you have to have another dose. Drink it.”
Brett continues on the tape stating that he believes she committed two murders and would kill him if she suspected he was on to her. That is very perceptive as we see him lying dead on the floor as the tape plays. His wife washes the glass that contained the poison, and tosses the tape into the fireplace.
Hitchcock returns for his usual closing remarks. Or was this whole episode a flashback by him? And was that framed in a flashback to 1959 by Hulu? And am I flashing back in recalling it now? And will you flashback as you remember reading this in a few days? Probably a “no” on that last one.
Good stuff.
Post-Post:
- [1] This doesn’t make much sense. How would spousal abuse ever get prosecuted? Or maybe it didn’t in the 1950’s.
- [2] Just an assumption on my part on his part.
- AHP Deathwatch: No survivors.
- Mrs. Cannon-Hughes-Brett gets no first name, but three last names [UPDATE below].
- For a more in-depth look at the episode and its source material, check out bare*bonez e-zine. Jack says Miss Cannon’s first name is Mabel in the original story and Maureen on AHP. I was going by IMDb, which is on thin ice with me anyway after deleting the IMDb Message Boards — now how will I know the worst movie ever?
- Miss Cannon has a roommate well-played by Marlon Brando’s sister. If you grew up with Marlon Brando, could rooming with a serial killer be any crazier?
- There is a strange opening vignette where a cute nurse is taking Hitchcock’s blood pressure. He is lying on a table with a sheet over him. As he ogles her pumping the device, a bulge emerges from his mid-section. This really was a different time.
There is just not a lot to grab on to here, but that is a reflection on my deficiencies, not the segment’s. For almost all of the run time, the only character is 11 year old George and he is very good.
In 1936, Doug and his Aunt Neva are driving through the country. An old man in a dirty white suit runs into the road and flags them down. He climbs into the car without an invitation and tells Neva to drive off because the sun is after them.
Doug says he is thirsty and the old man says, “Thirst don’t describe the state of a man who’s been waiting in the hot mud 50 years [2] and is born but to die in one day. Not only thirst, but hunger!” C’mon, you just had some tar-paper!
They see a little boy in a clean white suit in the road. Neva offers to drive him home. After it gets dark, he leans in from the back seat and whispers to Neva, “Have you ever wondered if there is such a thing as genetic evil in the world?” The car stalls, the lights dim, then nothing. We couldn’t at least get a scream? I think we deserve that.
I have nothing clever to say.
Little things matter. Usually little things matter correspondingly little; but you never know. Thus, it was not taken as a good omen that the packaging for the series was among the worst in history, or at least since the 
The Inside: Opening the case creates two disappointments. The first is immediate as a little black rubber ring falls out onto your lap and rolls under the desk behind the power-strip where it is difficult to reach and you realize how long it has been since you vacuumed (your yardage may vary). This is used to protect the the facing DVDs from scratching each other — that would be the double-sided flipper DVDs with no listing of the Titles on them.
The very first shot is simple but feels perfect — a nicely composed muddy road with the remains of a snowstorm still piled on the sides. An SUV roars by carrying the brain-trust of Point, Lemon, Diego and Navarro. Lemon is taking care of the injured Navarro in the back seat. Telling Diego to stop smoking like a chimney might have helped. We are left to put the pieces together, but it is pretty clear that they had a Reservoir Dog Day Afternoon — just with a lot more flannel.
After a few interesting shots of Lemon dragging the canoe across the snow, they arrive at an old fort. Again, the show exceeds expectations — this is not only a great, substantial wooden fort, it has an unsettling array of animal horns and antlers plastered across its face. As with every show I’ve watched for this blog, the men have no hesitation in opening the door and walking right in.
Virginia, quite the little Rambo, then manages to whack Lemon in the head and string him up by his feet. Point finds a room full of license plates hanging by strings. The girls have been luring men, and not in the good way. What appeared to be pieces that had fallen off the truck were actually junk left in the road by the girls to force stranded travelers to their fort. As long as they feed the creature, it will stay within the fort and not go out into the world. That is the titular sacrifice the girls have made.
Post-Post: