Spotlight on St Trinians 2

Classic British cinema has long been the inspiration for my writing. Two of my short story collections have focussed on the audience for a specific film (‘A Canterbury Tale’ and ‘I Know Where I’m Going’). Another collection was peopled by a range of characters all affected in some way by the work of Joyce Grenfell.

My intention is that my next short story collection will be connected to Launder and Gilliat’s earlier St Trinians films. These are much loved and also, I think, quite important in their own little way. This time, I also hope to take a step closer to the films in the stories that I write. Rather than focussing on the audience, I’d like the films and their stars to take a bow in some way. How I will do this, I’m not quite sure yet. This proposal is more challenging to me as a writer and involves research into the making of the films, those involved in this and the contemporary scene.

So from this point onwards, The History Usherette will shine her torch on four St Trinians films in a series of posts, perhaps lasting for a year. I’ll share all my discoveries on here and hopefully bring us all a bit of classic film joy along the way.

The Link Between Ealing and Carry On
Coming just after the heyday of the Ealing Comedies and before the Carry On series, the early St Trinians films are a mixture of both. From the Ealing genre, they take a poke at the sheer daftness of the British Establishment. In films like ‘Passport to Pimlico’ and ‘Whisky Galore’, petty bureaucracy causes havoc; while in ‘Kind Hearts and Coronets’ a commoner picks off a line of Dukes in order to claim the title for himself. In many of these films, you are encouraged to want the little man to triumph. What a disappointing ending to ‘The Lavender Hill Mob’, when we realise that the game’s up for Alec Guinness. In the St Trinians films, it is time for the little girl to triumph. Young girls have always been the underdog in traditional British society until very recent times. Here, they eschew prescribed, boring education for an early plunge into economic shortcuts. They outwit the law and the Ministry of Education. They are wicked beyond redemption but we so want them to succeed.

Dennis Price and Eric Barker in St Trinians...after Ealing, before Carry On. Thorley Walters on the left.

Unlike the Boulting Brothers’ films from the contemporary period, there is no underlying message though, this is all for fun. Like Carry On films, which launched a year after the second St Trinians film.  I believe that Carry On does owe a little to the St Trinians series. Not least sharing several cast members (I will explain more in my next post). Where St Trinians became a kind of brand name for a series…Carry On soon followed. I may be proved wrong, but I believe that St Trinians was the first film series with a name repetition in this manner. The difference is of course that each Carry On was a totally different story with the same actors playing different characters (though you could argue that Sid was always playing Sid!). But there is a direct line between the two – a series of brand name films populated by familiar faces playing memorable characters. ‘Flash Harry’ became almost as much a part of our national psyche as Matron (especially when he transformed into Arthur Daley…)

Have a look at my Beginner's Guide to British Cinema

Spotlight on St Trinians 1

I put this blog to bed at the end of last year, but now I have decided to give it a prod with a sharp stick and bring it out of hibernation. But rather than each post focus on a different film, I am about to shine a spotlight onto a cinematic series. Some inspiration for this comes from my blogging friend Graeme, who runs the hugely popular Carry on Blogging site – I urge you to visit it here: http://carryonfan.blogspot.co.uk/

Classic British cinema has long been the inspiration for my writing. Two of my short story collections have focussed on the audience for a specific film (‘A Canterbury Tale’ and ‘I Know Where I’m Going’). Another collection was peopled by a range of characters all affected in some way by the work of Joyce Grenfell.

My intention is that my next short story collection will be connected to Launder and Gilliat’s earlier St Trinians films. These are much loved and also, I think, quite important in their own little way. This time, I also hope to take a step closer to the films in the stories that I write. Rather than focussing on the audience, I’d like the films and their stars to take a bow in some way. How I will do this, I’m not quite sure yet. This proposal is more challenging to me as a writer and involves research into the making of the films, those involved in this and the contemporary scene.

So from this point onwards, The History Usherette will shine her torch on four films in a series of posts, perhaps lasting for a year. I’ll share all my discoveries on here and hopefully bring us all a bit of classic film joy along the way.

The Films:

·        The Belles of St Trinians (1954)

·        Blue Murder at St Trinians (1957)

·        The Pure Hell of St Trinians (1960)

·        The Great St Trinians Train Robbery (1966)

There will probably be less emphasis on the fourth one. A further Launder and Gilliat St Trinians film was made in 1980, but this falls out of the Usherette’s time frame. And as is the case with the Train Robbery film, many original cast members were missing and it just isn’t the same.  It is generally agreed that as the series progressed, the quality dropped. Star ratings for the Train Robbery film are never generous.

As anyone who knows the Usherette is aware…if Ruby Gates isn’t in it, then, well…what’s the point?

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Sarah-Miller-Walters/e/B00DZPX09U

Read All About It!

‘Miss Robin Hood’ (1952) was made for the Margaret Rutherford fan. She’s as dotty as anything and it’s an utter delight. She is wonderfully supported by Sid James as her taxi driving chauffeur with a penchant for knitting. And I must also mention Dora Bryan as the barmaid, who isn’t in it nearly enough. I always seem to say this about Dora (with ‘A Taste of Honey’ as the exception) – she always leaves us wanting more of her.

The co-star of the film though is Richard Hearne, who I was hitherto unfamiliar with, but apparently he was famous at the time for a character called Mr Pastry. He is well casted, and frankly he is the only believable element of this film. It is fantasy, but a delicious one that you want to repeatedly get lost in. Hearne plays Mr Wrigley, a writer and editor of a childrens’ newspaper. He is most famous for his series of stories about ‘Miss Robin Hood’ – a thieving schoolgirl who is carrying out her own version of justice.  Meanwhile, Miss Honey (Rutherford) wishes to secure a secret drink recipe from James Robertson Justice, whose Great Grandfather stole it from hers. Being a child-like creature, she railroads Wrigley into assisting her in this, believing that the creator of Miss Robin Hood must be a crime expert.  As you can imagine, all sorts of incidents follow on and Wrigley ends up resigning from his post.

But there is a happy ending, of course. And as Wrigley is persuaded to take his job back he is reminded that Conan-Doyle will always be remembered for his series of stories in a newspaper. This is where our history comes in. Think too, of Charles Dickens, whose stories were also serialised before becoming novels. And then there is the wartime film ‘Mrs Miniver’ – a fictional newspaper column by Jan Struther brought to life on screen.

That kind of opening for writers seems to have been killed off. But what better way to sell the product of an ailing industry but to publish gripping serial stories in them? And what an opening for aspiring authors too. Newspaper editors! What have you done? I don’t want soap star gossip! I want a good old fashioned yarn. Just like ‘Miss Robin Hood.’

Have a look at my stories

That's all from me for now. Thanks to all the contributors and supporters of The History Usherette.It's been grand.

Damned if You Don't

‘Child in the House’ (1956) has a fine cast. The child star of the title is Mandy Miller, who so memorably played a deaf child in the film that shared her name. Meanwhile, she is supported by Stanley Baker, Eric Portman, Dora Bryan and Phyllis Calvert. There are also tiny roles for Alfie Bass and Joan Hickson. This roll call alone is enough to send me running to see this film.

Young Elizabeth (Mandy) is sent to live with her aunt and uncle (Phyllis and Eric) when her mother is taken into hospital. Meanwhile, her father (Stanley) is on the run from the law for being a wrong ‘un where money is concerned. It’s all heart-wrenching stuff, only lightened by the presence of the huge-hearted maid (Dora).

What I found most interesting about this film was Phyllis’ role as the aunt. The story opens with her going to collect Elizabeth from Victoria station and we are treated to an excruciating first meeting between the pair. It is obvious from the outset that the aunt has no experience of children and is quite nervous at the prospect of taking care of her niece. It is one of those scenes that is tense to watch and although you want to give her a bit of a talking-to, you can find sympathy for her at being thrust into this unexpected situation.

They arrive home, and luckily for Elizabeth, it turns out that her uncle is a thoroughly nice chap who does know that you can carry on being yourself when a youngster is present, and not have to put on a tense smile the whole time. As the film progresses, you can see them build a rapport. But the aunt’s attitude to Elizabeth spirals downwards, as she is unable to understand the child and therefore handle her. She resorts to shouting and sanctioning. Finally, at a high point of tension, the uncle turns on the aunt, accusing her of marrying him for his prospects while secretly being in love with Elizabeth’s feckless father. It emerges that she has forced him to live in a “loveless home”. The implication here is that she cares only for status and refused to give her husband any children. She is a cold, hard-hearted cow. Just to round off the portrayal of a monster, she breaks the child’s beloved musical handbag.

Clearly, Phyllis’ character is a monster simply because she has no children. Her state is unnatural and she deserves to be vilified. That is the message that I took from this film role. What’s worse, we are forced into feeling sympathy for the criminal father because he is a father and he loves his child. So that’s alright then; basically he is a sound human being even if he is a thief and confidence trickster. Unlike her, the barren-wombed harpie.

What we are seeing here is a society that placed huge importance on parenthood. After World War Two, the government wanted women to desert the freedom of the workplace and become mothers, thus opening jobs up to returning servicemen and pushing up population numbers, decimated over two generations by bombs and guns. To not produce children meant that you were either a sad lost cause or a nasty piece of work. Because of this, the film gets away with this one-dimensioned portrayal of a woman. It is never explained why she remained childless, we are merely invited to condemn. Being a woman in the 1950s was really not all it’s cracked up to be. It is still an issue that has not been satisfactorily resolved.

I reflected how relatively quickly some things can change. There is a growing movement that is calling for action on population. If global population numbers do not slow down or reverse, one day soon we are all going to be in trouble in terms of resources available. Wouldn’t it be interesting if society and culture began to actively frown upon families with more than one child? One hundred years on from the date of this film, maybe Phyllis’ character and real women like her will be seen as saints...

Click here for more film based gubbins

The History Usherette Presents: The Beginner's Guide to British Cinema

I’ve just released a new book which sums up all I have explored while writing this blog.  Here’s the blurb:

The History Usherette's popular blog looks at what British Cinema can tell us about our social history. This is a summary of how trends in cinema from the 1930s to the 1970s show us what was happening to the British people, and what they wanted to see on screen. It is a starting point for the student of 20th Century British Social History who would like to use cinema as a resource - or a reminder of the Saturday afternoon matinee for those of a certain age...
The chapters are separated out as follows:
1. 1930s - the early talkies and the music hall hangover
2. Wartime - propaganda and escapism
3. Post war- the heyday of our films and screen stars
4. Permissive society - the rise of the 'kitchen sink drama'
5. Television on film- the last desperate gasp
Each of the first four chapters is followed by a spotlight feature on a particular aspect of that period.
A bibliography and a calendar of births, deaths and releases finishes the book off, while pencil portraits of the stars enhance the text.

And here’s a couple of extracts:

(Signs of the Times) Part 1 – Leisure

In the 1930s, leisure time became an important issue for workers.  They were tired out – and World War One had woken people up to the fact that life was all too short.  In 1933, the Mass Trespass on Kinder Scout in Derbyshire highlighted the desperate need for industrial city dwellers to get out into the fresh air.  Throughout the decade, trade unions lobbied for holidays with pay, leading to a government act in 1938.  How people spent leisure time varied according to taste – but of course films reflected popular pastimes of the age.  Mention must be made first of the documentary “Spare Time” (1939) made by Humphrey Jennings, which deliberately shows working people at their rest. This is a must-see if your intention is to explore this subject further. But there is also plenty to be gleaned as incidental parts of the plot in entertainments.  A trip to the seaside resort is of course the main reason why people wanted holidays with pay.  Gracie Fields’ ‘Sing As We Go’ (1934) provides us with a good opportunity to see the resort of Blackpool at the height of its popularity. Meanwhile, in ‘No Limit’ (1935) we take an excursion to the Isle of Man with George Formby. The sea crossing, B&B hotels and seaside entertainments take their place alongside the TT races.

***

Ealing Studios soon became rather good at delivering a more subtle commentary on the times too. Gentle satire on those in power can be picked out of many of the films. For example, ‘Kind Hearts and Coronets’ (1949) ties in well with the social levelling policies of the post war government, as Dennis Price’s character single-handedly strikes off members of an aristocratic family. ‘The Man in the White Suit’ (1951) shows a foolish commerce industry triumphing over science, coinciding with a brain drain as the best British brains were being forced overseas to find work.

‘The Titfield Thunderbolt’ (1953) meanwhile appears in retrospect to give an uncanny prediction of the future. Mass closure of branch railway lines was a decade away, but this depicts the closure of one village’s line – and it being started up again by volunteers.  Community transport services run by volunteers has become a reality in many places.

With illustrations by the usherette’s artist in residence, Howard Taylor, why not take a quick trip into the projector room with us…

Click here to download or order a print copy

Working Lives

‘The Lamp Still Burns’ (1943) is a wartime nursing drama, based on a book by Monica Dickens. It stars Rosamund John and Stewart Granger – although I particularly enjoyed seeing John Laurie and Joyce Grenfell in smaller roles.

The whole point of the film is to show how the nursing profession was in need of an overhaul at that point in time. Back then, becoming a nurse was a lifetime commitment – almost akin to becoming a nun. Discipline and order were demanded and there was no time for life outside the hospital. Marriage and children were seen as impossible for a working nurse. Hospitals therefore struggled to recruit and retain nursing staff. As we now know, change did eventually take place.  Some might argue that we have gone too far the other way and we should re-introduce matrons and their disciplinarian ways. The matron in this film (Cathleen Nesbitt) was shown in rather a good light – I wouldn’t argue with her (or Hattie Jacques’ matron!) being in charge of a hospital. So perhaps there is something in this argument, but not being a medical professional I cannot comment further.

The other location in ‘The Lamp Still Burns’ is a factory, which is being run by Stewart Granger’s character. Our heroine trainee nurse (John) starts the film as an architect, who argues with Granger about the need for a larger medical room at the workplace. The factory is indeed the site of first one accident (which John attends at the beginning of her studies) then later on an explosion, when Granger is severely injured. This chimes in with something that I recently learned from talking to someone who was employed at the railway works in Derby during the 1950s and 1960s. He told me that it was such a dangerous place to work that there were doctors and nurses permanently on site – and a works ambulance. Granger’s medical room also got a lot of use. This film didn’t comment on that aspect – where employers fully expected workers to get injured or sick at work and quite often because of it.

We still have much to complain about – but at least we now have health and safety at work legislation to protect us from being killed or maimed at our jobs. For now, anyway...

Click here to see my book of Grenfell inspired stories 'Joyce to the World'

Coming soon! The History Usherette Presents ‘The Beginner’s Guide to British Cinema’…watch this space…

Burning Issue

In recent times I’ve been trying to trace the life of Thorley Walters. I started by tracking his family tree to see if we are related. He was born in Devon and my Walters ancestors are all from Somerset and Devon; so I thought there may be a chance that I shared some DNA with someone who had worked at the Old Vic under Lilian Baylis, appeared in St Trinian’s films AND was a Hammer regular. Alas I found nothing definite, although it turned out that his grandparents had been married in the next village along from where my bunch were living…so I cling to this in the hope that it shows that there MUST be a diluted connection somewhere. Surely there weren’t that many Walters families living in Somerset at this point.

Youthful Thorley

Anyway, then I moved onto Thorley’s career and discovered that after his spell at the Old Vic in the early1930s, he moved into film roles – though only in a “blink-and-you’ll-miss-him” way. His very first film was the 1935 quota quickie ‘The Love Test’. I was interested to see this because for one thing it co-starred my fave Googie Withers; and it was directed by William Powell before his partnership with Emeric Pressburger. Finally, someone shared this film onto You Tube and I was able to see it. 

Thorley has a role as a chemist who is working away in the background and I only got a definite sighting of him in the very final scene.  The story involves these chemists seeking a formula to prevent celluloid from bursting into flames (with a bit of romantic shenanigans thrown in). This is an interesting piece of history – and one that relates to cinema itself. Celluloid was a widely used material – in the film they are carrying out tests on dolls made from the substance – a hideous and astonishing thought that children’s health was put at risk in this way. However, in 1929, just six years before this film was made, 70 children were killed at a cinema in Paisley. The cause of the disaster was celluloid film, which has begun smoking in the projection room after being placed on top of a battery. The combination of fumes and crush led to the horrible tragedy. But many ordinary household and personal items were also made from it – including jewellery and cutlery handles. And what with the prevalence of open fires back then it must have been the cause of several accidents in the home.

The search for a non-combustable material to replace celluloid must have kept many chemists busy. This is something that we have forgotten now…but I don’t think we should. So many of us collect old artefacts from the 1920s and 30s – we perhaps need to bear this danger in mind before putting our prized collections on display in our homes, or wearing the jewellery.

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