One good Alistair Sim film deserves another. And after ear-wigging on someone else's Twitter conversation I was reminded of an old favourite - 'Green For Danger'. Again, the full film is available on You Tube and is well worth a view. If you don't know the film, but you do know your 1930s/40s film actors, here's how to be thoroughly surprised. Don't watch the opening credits. But when Joe Higgins, the Postman, appears have a good look at him. Who do you think is playing him? Have a guess and look for Joe Higgins in the closing credits. The transformation from the character that he is most well known for is amazing.
'Green for Danger' was made in 1946 and is a murder mystery. On the face of it, a straightforward bit of entertainment. But there are oddities. First of all it's a serious film, but Sim often plays his character for laughs. Then, there is the constant presence of the flying bombs or Doodlebugs as they were nicknamed. I'm not really sure why these things need to keep re-appearing after the first one has done it's damage and launched the storyline.
Officially called V1 and later V2 rockets, the Doodlebugs appeared towards the end of the Second World War. They were in effect pilotless planes packed with explosives. They were launched from continental Europe towards south eastern England, and when the fuel ran out, the engine cut and the rocket plummeted to earth, causing devastation. Accounts from the time tell of the kind of fear that they caused, that listening with breath held for the engine to splutter out. This is well illustrated in the film as Joe Higgins listens in the bunker and braces himself for the blast. I think that the Doodlebugs were much more sinister than the Luftwaffe. They were impersonal with their lack of a human pilot. I think that if I were experiencing that kind of warfare, I would have preferred to have been bombed by a human. Not only were the Luftwaffe targeting infrastructure as a priority; there was the potential for human error - that they might miss your city altogether or even that the bomber might make a decision that ultimately saves you. Unlikely I know, but with people involved you have that little sliver of hope. With the Doodlebugs, it was simply a case of if you're in the wrong place at the wrong time, you've had it. Because the V weapons could be launched at any time without risk to a pilot, they came over in the day time, when people were going about their business. You could sleep the night away in an underground shelter, but you have to go out at some point in the daytime to work or shop. People fell victim while working, shopping and just walking down the street.
Back in the film, Sim seems to use the sudden need to take shelter from Doodlebugs to comic effect. He is repeatedly shown dithering outside potential shelters or diving to the ground in a kind of dance. Well, it's comical to us now. But I wonder if the 1946 audience would view it in the same way. To them, it might simply have been a harking back to 12-18 months ago and how their lives were then. It could all be for dramatic effect - this pernicious threat of death from an invisible source, that even he who is meant to be controlling it is at a loss of what to do next. Is Sim the comic relief - or are we a completely changed audience? To really find out, we would need to return to that situation of daily threat of death from the skies. I hope that this film remains a delightful little mystery to us.
Thursday, 22 November 2012
Monday, 12 November 2012
Foxes, Felons and Fillies
I subscribe to an excellent literary quarterly called Slightly Foxed. In each issue a wide range of writers praise lesser known books; old novels and such that probably aren't on your shelves but should be. It's an expensive read - every issue contains at least one book that I feel I must purchase immediately, resulting in ebay and Green Metropolis crawls for the out of print ones. Slightly Foxed has introduced me to books and writers that have enhanced my existence and I recommend it to any fan of old literature.
One recent issue contained an article by Sarah Crowden on a book called 'London Belongs to Me' by Norman Collins. I was interested. But my interest barometer burst its glass when it was mentioned that a film had been made of the book in 1948. A film featuring Richard Attenborough, Joyce Carey and (sharp intake of breath) Alistair Sim. An Alistair Sim film that I didn't know about? I went a bit dizzy and then hastily did a search on You Tube. Thankfully, the whole film is up there. I put the kettle on and settled down in front of the lap top.
And what a film this is, I really can't understand how I could have missed it. Sim takes a fantastic part as a fake Medium, his first scene shows off his delightfully subtle humour to magnificent effect. I had an urge to give it a standing ovation. Richard Attenborough is as excellent as ever too, there are shades of his 'Brighton Rock' role in this multi faceted part. And if you enjoyed Joyce Carey behind the buffet counter in 'Brief Encounter', then you'll appreciate her in this film too.
I don't want to give away too much about the plot, but basically it revolves around residents of a large house which has been split into flats. Joyce Carey is the landlady presiding over a mixed bunch of residents as World War Two approaches. As a window on history - well I was most intregued by how some parts of the film were startlingly contemporary. I suppose that I shouldn't be all that surprised, as the film is derived from a novel, and all good novels have something to tell us about the human condition. At one point, one of the characters picks up a newspaper, which features a sensational murder investigation on the front page. He is outraged that the newspapers should give priority coverage to this sensationalist case over reports of the imminent war. Isn't that familiar?
When the perpetrator of the suspicious death in question is up in court and his sentence is discussed, I wondered why he was not being charged with manslaughter. This led to an internet trawl to find out when this particular charge was introduced. This wasn't the easiest search that I've ever undertaken, but I came to the conclusion that it was 1957. I could be wrong. But anyway, that was a historical snippet that I learned. I was never one for a detective/murder mystery novel.
In recognition of the harshness of the murder defendant's treatment a campaign is launched. Again, this brought me right up to the present day. There seems to have been one or two campaigns stemming from the present law's difficulty in keeping up with technology's so rapid advances. And I suppose that at the end of the 1930's deaths associated with a car (as this one was) - with their rapidly growing numbers and speeds - were something relatively new. The campaign shown in 'London Belongs to Me' certainly rang some bells, despite the lack of computer technology. The petition, the march, the banners - we see them now.
One aspect of the film gave away the true age of the story, and that is the portrayal of women. With a nod to my previous posts around Jessica Mann's book, The Fifties Mystique, I can only re-iterate how glad I am to live now. In this film, the women are completely defined by their relationships with men. The landlady is clinging on to precarious respectability on her dead husband's legacy, and is so desperate for male company that she is taken in by the fake Medium. Then there is the mother of Richard Attenborough's character; the wife of another strong male character - and his daughter. The daughter's story revolves around her boyfriends and her parents' hope that she will marry so that her future will be assured and they will have no further need to consider her in their plans. There is one exception. The single woman tenant who has got by on her wits, who has a job and a fair bit of cheek/gumption. But, guess what? She's portrayed as a scrounging, sad slattern that they all despise. She just doesn't know her place.
But I began to wonder about this. We all know that films often take liberties with the original texts that they are drawn from. Were the characters written this way, or does the film do the book an injustice? An interesting thought, given that the film was made in 1948, when women were being pressurised to know their place as mothers and home-makers and give up their wartime work. Have the book's characters been sacrificed to a sneaky bit of propaganda? There's only one way to find out. Better add it to my towering To Be Read pile.
One recent issue contained an article by Sarah Crowden on a book called 'London Belongs to Me' by Norman Collins. I was interested. But my interest barometer burst its glass when it was mentioned that a film had been made of the book in 1948. A film featuring Richard Attenborough, Joyce Carey and (sharp intake of breath) Alistair Sim. An Alistair Sim film that I didn't know about? I went a bit dizzy and then hastily did a search on You Tube. Thankfully, the whole film is up there. I put the kettle on and settled down in front of the lap top.
And what a film this is, I really can't understand how I could have missed it. Sim takes a fantastic part as a fake Medium, his first scene shows off his delightfully subtle humour to magnificent effect. I had an urge to give it a standing ovation. Richard Attenborough is as excellent as ever too, there are shades of his 'Brighton Rock' role in this multi faceted part. And if you enjoyed Joyce Carey behind the buffet counter in 'Brief Encounter', then you'll appreciate her in this film too.
I don't want to give away too much about the plot, but basically it revolves around residents of a large house which has been split into flats. Joyce Carey is the landlady presiding over a mixed bunch of residents as World War Two approaches. As a window on history - well I was most intregued by how some parts of the film were startlingly contemporary. I suppose that I shouldn't be all that surprised, as the film is derived from a novel, and all good novels have something to tell us about the human condition. At one point, one of the characters picks up a newspaper, which features a sensational murder investigation on the front page. He is outraged that the newspapers should give priority coverage to this sensationalist case over reports of the imminent war. Isn't that familiar?
When the perpetrator of the suspicious death in question is up in court and his sentence is discussed, I wondered why he was not being charged with manslaughter. This led to an internet trawl to find out when this particular charge was introduced. This wasn't the easiest search that I've ever undertaken, but I came to the conclusion that it was 1957. I could be wrong. But anyway, that was a historical snippet that I learned. I was never one for a detective/murder mystery novel.
In recognition of the harshness of the murder defendant's treatment a campaign is launched. Again, this brought me right up to the present day. There seems to have been one or two campaigns stemming from the present law's difficulty in keeping up with technology's so rapid advances. And I suppose that at the end of the 1930's deaths associated with a car (as this one was) - with their rapidly growing numbers and speeds - were something relatively new. The campaign shown in 'London Belongs to Me' certainly rang some bells, despite the lack of computer technology. The petition, the march, the banners - we see them now.
One aspect of the film gave away the true age of the story, and that is the portrayal of women. With a nod to my previous posts around Jessica Mann's book, The Fifties Mystique, I can only re-iterate how glad I am to live now. In this film, the women are completely defined by their relationships with men. The landlady is clinging on to precarious respectability on her dead husband's legacy, and is so desperate for male company that she is taken in by the fake Medium. Then there is the mother of Richard Attenborough's character; the wife of another strong male character - and his daughter. The daughter's story revolves around her boyfriends and her parents' hope that she will marry so that her future will be assured and they will have no further need to consider her in their plans. There is one exception. The single woman tenant who has got by on her wits, who has a job and a fair bit of cheek/gumption. But, guess what? She's portrayed as a scrounging, sad slattern that they all despise. She just doesn't know her place.
But I began to wonder about this. We all know that films often take liberties with the original texts that they are drawn from. Were the characters written this way, or does the film do the book an injustice? An interesting thought, given that the film was made in 1948, when women were being pressurised to know their place as mothers and home-makers and give up their wartime work. Have the book's characters been sacrificed to a sneaky bit of propaganda? There's only one way to find out. Better add it to my towering To Be Read pile.
Friday, 2 November 2012
Carry On Conscripting
In my last post I mentioned National Service. Following World War Two, UK males were subject
to being called up to carry out compulsory military training, a practice which
lasted until around 1960. One film immediately
springs to mind when National Service is mentioned – and that is Carry On Sergeant.
This was the very first Carry On and it
was made in 1958. Many of
the Carry On regulars are there, along with famous faces such as William Hartnell,
Bill Owen and Bob Monkhouse. I really
don’t like Bob Monkhouse I’m afraid, he sits firmly in my personal category of
smarmy git, but his appearance is more than made up for by a delightful turn
from one of my film heroines. Dora Bryan
plays Naafi Nora, who inexplicably falls desperately in love with lovely Kenneth
Connor’s hypochondriac Horace. Her
attempts to woo him are the hilarious highlight of the film, especially her
line where she describes her love as “painful, yet exquisite” in her inimitable
style. Oh and the bit where she corners
him with her tea urn…I could go on – it’s a fantastic part.
The storyline follows one company of misfits
through their 10 week training under Sgt. Grimshaw (Hartnell). I mentioned in my previous post that troop
movements continued to put pressure on the railways after World War Two and an
early scene demonstrates this. Monkhouse
and Connor’s characters first meet on the train as they make their way to camp –
taking the form of transport that most would have done in an age before mass
car ownership. How far the rest of the
film can be used as historical evidence is difficult for me to say. National Service is something that I know
little about. It has never been a part
of any syllabus that I have studied formally, it’s not really turned up in any
of the books that I’ve read and I don’t know anybody who was called up to serve
it. It’s quite a mysterious subject to
me, so what can be gleaned from the film?
In order to engage and entertain the first Carry On
audience, then the film has to include elements that were recognisable to an
audience that would have been familiar with National Service. It’s also a fair assumption to make that
several people involved with the making of the film had done their own
spell. So there has to be some real
history in here somewhere. If I had to
pick out one element of the story that rings with the most truth, that had been
the catalyst for the original storyline, then it would be the character
mix. It would have been difficult to
gain exemption from this conscription – only a handful of professions were
exempt, including coal mining and farming.
It would have therefore brought together men from various walks of life –
one of those acts of social levelling that World War Two is credited with in
continuation. The characters found in
the film’s Able platoon may not be all that exaggerated, you may well have
found the academic, the factory worker and mollycoddled mummy’s boy all in one
barrack room. This can only have led to
friendships and changes in outlook that have lasted a lifetime. But it is obvious that rose tinted spectacles
have been put onto the camera lens. In
the film, differences and weaknesses are overcome to succeed – the required view
of the era. In my many years of
observing human nature, I’m sure that this wasn’t always the case. I expect that there were many fights,
prejudices re-inforced and bad examples set.
The film also shows us the types of activities
carried out by National Service soldiers – the sort of activities that you
would expect. How to put a gun together,
running at the enemy with a bayonet and taking part in obstacle courses are
probably basic soldiering skills and so fairly accurate. I also wouldn’t be surprised if some of the
characters were based on real people encountered by the writers or the actors
interpreting their words. It’s a taste
of National Service that we should take with a pinch of Naafi Nora’s table
salt, and use as a stimulating starting point for further study.
Wednesday, 24 October 2012
People So Busy, Makes Me Feel Dizzy
I have
an old railway poster print on my wall.
Well, actually, I have a lot of old railway poster prints on many of my
walls. I’m incapable of leaving the National
Railway Museum shop without at least one.
They are my favourite art form of all, especially those commissioned by
the “Big 4” companies, London Transport and early British Railways. Imaginative, idyllic, colourful – I find them
the perfect thing to break up the monotony of a bare wall. Anyway, one of those posters depicts Waterloo
Station with the legend
“A centenary of uninterrupted
service during war and peace.”
I
recently watched two films in a row which upheld this proud Southern Railway
statement; a company which must have been giving out a dying gasp as the
railways were privatised at the beginning of the centenary year (1948). The first of the films was ‘Bell Bottom
George’ (1945) starring George Formby.
George, who has accidentally joined the navy, returns to the docks after
playing his ukulele on a BBC radio
show in London Waterloo
A
couple of days later I watched ‘The Good Die Young’ (1954), a forgettable film
featuring a young Joan Collins. This is
about the only notable thing about it.
Oh, and that the boxer character (Stanley Baker) looked like Morrissey’s
more handsome older brother. However,
there is a scene on Waterloo station.
One of the characters is a member of the US Army and is in the process
of being posted to Germany
This
serves as a reminder that even though World War Two had ended, the railway
still had much to do – bringing troops home; ferrying GIs and National Service
soldiers about; taking ordinary workers into the City and fulfilling their
expectations of peace time holidays and days out. It managed to do it with very run down
infrastructure. This certainly
substantiates the Southern Railway poster’s declaration.
There
are a few other scenes in ‘The Good Die Young’ for transport enthusiasts - for
example a depiction of what happens if you touch a third rail (ouch) and the
interior of an early airport (boo). It
might pass on a snowed-in afternoon.
Tuesday, 16 October 2012
With His Little Ukelele in his Hand
I put on a couple of George Formby films while carrying out a few chores the other week. I like to have these playing in the background, rather than actually sitting still and watching them. I tend to get a bit frustrated with him in some parts and get a strong urge to chew my cardigan sleeve and yell out "OHFORGOD'SSAKEGEORGE!! JUST TELL THEM!!" But to make up for this I always have a laugh at the way he wins everybody round with his double-entendre riddled songs; and that despite having a face that only a mother could love and being extremely gauche as well, he always gets a very pretty and intelligent girl. And there is always the potential for interesting location scenes.
'Bell-Bottom George' and 'I Didn't Do It' (both 1945 - busy boy!) were the films that I selected this time. Both involve cases of mistaken identity - and are ideal examples of why I feel the need to shout at him. In 'I Didn't Do It' George stands accused of murder, even though he patently couldn't murder a pint of beer. Luckily the policeman in charge recognises this. And George sings the very funny 'She's Got Two of Everything.' So it's all alright. But I always think that there are some sinister undertones to a film like this, when you realise that, back then, a convicted murderer might well hang. And without scientific advances that we have made such as DNA sampling, it makes me shudder to think that people were hung on what we might consider to be flimsy evidence. But of course Formby films don't go that deep and the fate of a convicted murderer isn't really covered. As I mentioned in a previous post, George's main objective is to poke fun at society in general. This time, it's Agatha Christie and her ilk that are being sent up.
'Bell-Bottom George' meanwhile is a piece of wartime propaganda, aimed at raising the morale of serving sailors and portraying the services as the salt of the earth, if you'll pardon the pun. George accidentally joins the Navy when he exchanges clothing with a sailor, who then gets caught up in an air raid. Whenever he attempts to escape to change back into civilian clothing he's picked up by the police and taken to the docks. Again, this shows something a little more darker than you might expect. It's a nod to the loss in civil liberties that took place in World War Two. As a whole, Britain is looked upon as a noble, free nation that was battling against those who would have us all obeying a rigid set of rules - or facing the consequences. This is true in a way, though our rigid class system meant that this freedom is not the sort that we would recognise as such now. But the onset of total war necessitated a curtailing of that freedom. People were given identity cards and ration books. They were conscripted into the services and movement was restricted. Many were unable to divulge what they were doing to their own families. George is closely watched in this film and is unable to get back to normality - just a small reminder to the lack of freedom for the duration. Each time he's arrested, you can get the feeling that it's a big metaphorical wink to the audience a "You can't do anything these days can yer lads?" But it is through the temporary curtailment of civil liberties that we eventually achieved more freedom than George's contemporaries would have dreamed of. The film is telling people to hang in in there, sing a slightly mucky song and one day it'll all be over.
More on 'Bell-Bottom George' next time.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nSc-e-QffTs
'Bell-Bottom George' and 'I Didn't Do It' (both 1945 - busy boy!) were the films that I selected this time. Both involve cases of mistaken identity - and are ideal examples of why I feel the need to shout at him. In 'I Didn't Do It' George stands accused of murder, even though he patently couldn't murder a pint of beer. Luckily the policeman in charge recognises this. And George sings the very funny 'She's Got Two of Everything.' So it's all alright. But I always think that there are some sinister undertones to a film like this, when you realise that, back then, a convicted murderer might well hang. And without scientific advances that we have made such as DNA sampling, it makes me shudder to think that people were hung on what we might consider to be flimsy evidence. But of course Formby films don't go that deep and the fate of a convicted murderer isn't really covered. As I mentioned in a previous post, George's main objective is to poke fun at society in general. This time, it's Agatha Christie and her ilk that are being sent up.
'Bell-Bottom George' meanwhile is a piece of wartime propaganda, aimed at raising the morale of serving sailors and portraying the services as the salt of the earth, if you'll pardon the pun. George accidentally joins the Navy when he exchanges clothing with a sailor, who then gets caught up in an air raid. Whenever he attempts to escape to change back into civilian clothing he's picked up by the police and taken to the docks. Again, this shows something a little more darker than you might expect. It's a nod to the loss in civil liberties that took place in World War Two. As a whole, Britain is looked upon as a noble, free nation that was battling against those who would have us all obeying a rigid set of rules - or facing the consequences. This is true in a way, though our rigid class system meant that this freedom is not the sort that we would recognise as such now. But the onset of total war necessitated a curtailing of that freedom. People were given identity cards and ration books. They were conscripted into the services and movement was restricted. Many were unable to divulge what they were doing to their own families. George is closely watched in this film and is unable to get back to normality - just a small reminder to the lack of freedom for the duration. Each time he's arrested, you can get the feeling that it's a big metaphorical wink to the audience a "You can't do anything these days can yer lads?" But it is through the temporary curtailment of civil liberties that we eventually achieved more freedom than George's contemporaries would have dreamed of. The film is telling people to hang in in there, sing a slightly mucky song and one day it'll all be over.
More on 'Bell-Bottom George' next time.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nSc-e-QffTs
Thursday, 4 October 2012
(Don't) Carry on Caning
'Carry on Teacher' (1959) is one of the earlier Carry On films, and I think that there is a tendency to overlook it. Yet it deserves attention as one of the series with real substance to the story. Granted, you're not always looking for substance from a Carry On film. And 'Teacher' still offers enough slapstick (the itching powder scene) and double entendre (the film stars Leslie Phillips - say no more) to satisfy someone in search of light-hearted banter. But it also offers more. Ted Ray puts in a brilliant performance as the Headteacher of Maudlin Street School. He is thinking of moving on but the children don't want him to go, resulting in some genuinely touching scenes. The acerbic exchanges between Kenneth Williams and Charles Hawtrey are so realistic that you can't help feeling that you are witnessing something of their real life relationship. (According to Wes Butters, the pair were not unfriendly, but were very competitive.) And, as all the best cinematic comedy does, the film gently mocks important issues of the time. In Teacher's case, progressive education ideas are offered up as the Aunt Sally. Leslie Phillips' character is one of the peddlers of those airy-fairy child centred education themes. He has the stuffing knocked out of him at Maudlin Street School, and towards the end of the film he proclaims that all these ideas are alright for other people's kids. The film really comes down on intellectual outsiders and government officials interfering with schools and teachers, who are the ones that really know what they are doing.
But even more interesting than this is the tackling of corporal punishment. The head is firmly against any form of physical punishment, while Hattie Jacques' character bemoans the lack of it within the school. I feel sure that this must be a reflection of the wider debate that was brewing at the time. Corporal punishment was banned in UK schools as late as 1987 but I have no doubt that debate raged for many years before this. Changes to cultural ideas such as this don't happen overnight and this film is evidence of this. The film comes down on the side of the headteacher and of not caning children. I think that unusually for a film of its time, it shows children as intelligent and aware small humans, whom adults should take time to understand rather than lash out at. I find this stance admirable. I'm pleased to say that I wasn't ever at the receiving end of a cane, but I do remember seeing the headmaster of my primary school giving a boy the slipper - and the unpleasant look of enjoyment on the head's face has stayed with me forever. I have subsequently never had any respect for this particular man.
So, as well as being a Carry On film with substance, it shows insight and attitudes ahead of its time. Viva Carry On!
But even more interesting than this is the tackling of corporal punishment. The head is firmly against any form of physical punishment, while Hattie Jacques' character bemoans the lack of it within the school. I feel sure that this must be a reflection of the wider debate that was brewing at the time. Corporal punishment was banned in UK schools as late as 1987 but I have no doubt that debate raged for many years before this. Changes to cultural ideas such as this don't happen overnight and this film is evidence of this. The film comes down on the side of the headteacher and of not caning children. I think that unusually for a film of its time, it shows children as intelligent and aware small humans, whom adults should take time to understand rather than lash out at. I find this stance admirable. I'm pleased to say that I wasn't ever at the receiving end of a cane, but I do remember seeing the headmaster of my primary school giving a boy the slipper - and the unpleasant look of enjoyment on the head's face has stayed with me forever. I have subsequently never had any respect for this particular man.
So, as well as being a Carry On film with substance, it shows insight and attitudes ahead of its time. Viva Carry On!
Wednesday, 26 September 2012
Funny Men and Fast Cars
While on the subject of Will Hay, I was compelled to return to 'Ask a Policeman' - an old favourite of mine. Along with 'Where's that Fire' and 'Oh, Mr Porter', it is, in my opinion, one third of Hay's top triumvirate of film.
This time, Hay and his sidekicks (the old one - Moore Marriott and the fat lad - Graham Moffatt) are useless thieving policemen in a sleepy village. After they get mixed up with a smuggling ring the film finishes in a magnificent chase through the southern English countryside into London. It is really only during this chase that any potential history appears. Obviously, Hay and friends don't depict what it was really like to be in the police force in the 1930s. Having said that though, the famous speed trap scene does encourage you to think about how traffic crime was managed before speed cameras.
The chase begins in the depths of the Home Counties, in the middle of the night. The most notable thing about these scenes is the sheer darkness. I have never seen a road as dark as those depicted in this film. At one point the smugglers turn off the lights on their lorry in an attempt to shake the policemen off. Sure enough, the lorry disappears from sight. It's so hard to imagine this. I'm sure that there are still pockets of total darkness in the UK - but I can't say that I've ever seen one. Although I'm not a one for getting out and camping in the wilds. Center Parcs is the closest I get to the great outdoors. But you can see that there are no street lights and no glow from neighbouring towns. I'll bet that this is not the case at this location now - there will probably be a permanent orange glow in the sky from the direction of London.
When the chase reaches suburban London, Hay commandeers a Routemaster bus and pursues the villains along busy streets. Here we do get some old street views - but tantalisingly few. The finale takes place at Brooklands race track in the middle of a race. I'm guessing that this must be a golden scene for vintage racing car aficionados The cars certainly look very different to F1 versions. Not that I take much notice so I'm not really qualified to comment. I find motor racing the height of stupidity - all those resources wasted in driving round in circles - barmy! Why should I struggle back from the local shops on a Saturday morning trying to be 'green' by shopping locally and leaving my car at home when F1 is allowed to happen? But I suppose I feel a little bit affectionate towards Brooklands as a lost symbol of early 20th century leisure architecture. Well, here, again just a tantalising glimpse is offered of early modern life.
This time, Hay and his sidekicks (the old one - Moore Marriott and the fat lad - Graham Moffatt) are useless thieving policemen in a sleepy village. After they get mixed up with a smuggling ring the film finishes in a magnificent chase through the southern English countryside into London. It is really only during this chase that any potential history appears. Obviously, Hay and friends don't depict what it was really like to be in the police force in the 1930s. Having said that though, the famous speed trap scene does encourage you to think about how traffic crime was managed before speed cameras.
The chase begins in the depths of the Home Counties, in the middle of the night. The most notable thing about these scenes is the sheer darkness. I have never seen a road as dark as those depicted in this film. At one point the smugglers turn off the lights on their lorry in an attempt to shake the policemen off. Sure enough, the lorry disappears from sight. It's so hard to imagine this. I'm sure that there are still pockets of total darkness in the UK - but I can't say that I've ever seen one. Although I'm not a one for getting out and camping in the wilds. Center Parcs is the closest I get to the great outdoors. But you can see that there are no street lights and no glow from neighbouring towns. I'll bet that this is not the case at this location now - there will probably be a permanent orange glow in the sky from the direction of London.
When the chase reaches suburban London, Hay commandeers a Routemaster bus and pursues the villains along busy streets. Here we do get some old street views - but tantalisingly few. The finale takes place at Brooklands race track in the middle of a race. I'm guessing that this must be a golden scene for vintage racing car aficionados The cars certainly look very different to F1 versions. Not that I take much notice so I'm not really qualified to comment. I find motor racing the height of stupidity - all those resources wasted in driving round in circles - barmy! Why should I struggle back from the local shops on a Saturday morning trying to be 'green' by shopping locally and leaving my car at home when F1 is allowed to happen? But I suppose I feel a little bit affectionate towards Brooklands as a lost symbol of early 20th century leisure architecture. Well, here, again just a tantalising glimpse is offered of early modern life.
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