The House on Telegraph Hill: A Glass of Orange Juice Before Bed

Two women, Victoria (Valentina Cortese) and Karin, become friends in a concentration camp during World War II. Karin, who is frail, talks about her son, whom she sent to America at the outbreak of the war to live with a wealthy aunt. Karin's dream is to be reunited with her son. But, despite Victoria's efforts to keep her friend alive, Karin dies on a cold winter night. Victoria--who has lost her entire family during the war--makes a sudden, fateful decision: She takes Karin's papers and assumes the dead woman's identity.

When Poland is liberated, Karin (the former Victoria) writes a letter to “her” Aunt Sophie in the States. A few weeks later, she receives a telegram from a lawyer informing her that Aunt Sophie is dead. Five years pass before Karin can travel on her own to America. When she arrives in New York City, she demands custody of “her” nine-year-old son Christopher. She anticipates a legal battle, so she is surprised when the boy’s guardian, Alan Spender (Richard Basehart), decides to be reasonable.

A whirlwind courtship ensues, with Karin and Alan getting married within two weeks of their first meeting. All seems to be going well until the newlyweds arrive in San Francisco to live with Christopher in the family mansion on Telegraph Hill. Karin and young Christopher hit it off immediately, but Karin quickly senses that she is not welcomed by Margaret, the boy’s attractive governess. Furthermore, Alan has begun to act strangely towards her…and then there’s the old playhouse in the backyard where that explosion took place.

The House on Telegraph House shares more than a passing resemblance to Hitchcock’s Suspicion, except with a twist. Karin may or may not be married to a murderer, but there is no doubt that she is deceiving those around her. At the core of her deception, she is lying to a young boy and allowing him to believe she is his presumed-dead mother. To be sure, Karin exudes guilt—there are several shots of her staring remorsefully at Aunt Sophie’s portrait. Still, she never tries to remove herself from the situation by telling the truth about her identity. Her apparent reason for doing this is because she has grown to love Christopher…and yet, she is only prolonging the hurt that she may cause him in later life.

The complexity of Karin’s motives makes it a tricky leading role and Valentina Cortese pulls it off fairly well. She excels in scenes such as the one where Karin meets Christopher for the first time—her subtle fear a result of wondering if the boy will somehow sense she is not his mother. Still, Cortese lacks warmth overall, making it difficult for the audience to totally pull for her in a way they might have for a more engaging actress, such as Ingrid Bergman.

Daryl F. Zanuck “discovered” Valentina Cortese in Italy in the early 1950s (she was already appearing in films) and brought her to America in hopes of making her a star. She never connected with American audiences, though, and returned to Europe in 1955. She enjoyed a long acting career there, working with acclaimed directors such as Fellini, Antonioni, and Truffaut. Cortese earned an Oscar nomination in 1973 for Best Supporting Actress for Truffaut’s Day for Night; she lost in that category to Ingrid Bergman in Murder on the Orient Express.

Cortese married her House on Telegraph Hill co-star Richard Basehart in 1951 (they divorced nine years later). Basehart wasn’t the first choice for the role of Alan Spender; Dana Andrews, Richard Conte, and James Mason were among those actors also considered for the part. Basehart was always a solid performer and he’s quite convincing as a murky character that may have ulterior motives. Without giving away any plot spoilers, I will say this: I will never accept an offer of a glass of orange juice before bed.

The ever-versatile Robert Wise directed The House on Telegraph Hill the same year he did The Day the Earth Stood Still. The former film isn’t a beloved classic like the latter one, but The House on Telegraph Hill hold ups nicely today and remains engrossing from start to finish. The title house, by the way, doesn’t really exist—but you can visit the top of Telegraph Hill in San Francisco.