‘The Happiest Days of your
Life’ (1950) is a total joy to watch.
This is because it showcases three of my all time favourite film stars –
Margaret Rutherford, Alastair Sim and Joyce Grenfell. Launder and Gilliat’s action of taking these three
and putting them in a school setting was rather genius. According to Margaret Rutherford’s biographer
Andy Merriman (“Dreadnought with Good Manners”) putting Rutherford and Sim in a
film together was a cracking move. The
relationship between the two became a competitive one, and the pair began to
try and wrestle each shared scene from the clutches of the other. The
beneficiary of this tussle is the viewer, who is presented with a festival of
comic timing and expressive gestures. Grenfell meanwhile delivers comic pathos
in lacrosse-net loads as Miss Gossage, imploring Richard Wattis to “call me
Sossage” in her search for affection in a world seemingly devoid of it. She doesn’t succeed, poor old thing.
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| Alastair Sim by @aitchteee |
The story is set in World
War Two and involves a girls’ school being mistakenly evacuated to the all-boy
Nutbourne College. From the distance of 64 years, it is easy to assume that
this story is entirely contrived for our entertainment. But we shouldn’t be so
sure. As part of the mass evacuation of children from inner cities in the war
years, public schools were also compelled to make arrangements for the safety
of their pupils. Some schools were turfed out of their premises as they were
required for official use. One such school was Penrhos College from north
Wales, whose pupils were moved to Chatsworth House by the Ministry. It seems
that this new use for the country house was common. Castle Howard, Longleat and
Blenheim Palace all served time as schools during the 1940s. Some schools also shared premises – Malvern
moved in with Harrow for example. These
are just the big names that have been written about in the mainstream history
books. What ‘The Happiest Days…’ reminds us of is that there were hundreds of
small independent schools serving the wealthy middle classes that couldn’t
quite afford Eton or Harrow. How they
were affected by World War Two has not received a lot of coverage. But I think that this film holds clues to the
trials that some of them must have faced.
In the grand scheme of
things, their problems probably didn’t add up to much, but it is interesting
all the same to consider what their problems were. It is ably demonstrated that
to the head of each school, their domain was their entire existence. The interference of war and the Ministry of
Education must have been disruptive to a way of life that had been held sacred
over many years. If some of the more
famous schools had to move in together then it is fair to assume that it
happened among the lower echelons too – quite possibly more so as their pupil
numbers would have been smaller. This must have required a great amount of
effort on the staff of the hosts and visitors and also must have led to many a
petty squabble and domain building. It is also evident that the Ministry was
not held in high esteem, as they are the butt of so many jokes and are
portrayed as being utterly useless. I get the feeling that someone derived
immense satisfaction from this portrayal.
Another problem indicated
by the film was staffing. It must have been very difficult to retain and employ
teachers at this time. Domestic staff
also felt able to walk out without any worry of not finding another job. Schools ended up with teachers of retirement
age and beyond, along with those unable to fight due to medical reasons and
those invalided out. This doesn’t sound like a recipe for success in handling a
hundred boisterous boys. And even with all these problems to overcome, they
still had the fee paying parents to answer to, who still insisted that war or
no war, their little darlings should receive a good education. I realise now that to have been the
headteacher of such a school during these times must have been one of the most
stressful civilian jobs going.
At the end of the film, due
to yet another cock-up by the Ministry (and an indication of their infuriating
methods) a rabble of lower class children descend on Nutbourne – a sneaky
indicator of war levelling the classes. Sim and Rutherford realise that the
game is up and that there is no longer any point in pursuing a life that they
once held sacred. War encroached on every corner and backwater of Britain and
secure livelihoods were turned upside down.
I can’t imagine anyone better than this crew to teach us that.
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