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...First thing he does is go to a bookstore. He tries to steal a book. That is how logical this movie is throughout. When we see shelves of books at a time, later, the books seem to be attached to each other. They're like room decorations some people buy in bulk.

The proprietor of this bookstore is, of all people, George Brent. He had a long career. Though this is a noir of sorts and I therefore can't give it a bad rating, let's just say this is hardly a career highlight for him.

Marguerite Chapman is attractive and convincing as his employee. She's stylish and pretty and comes off as nice.

This is an early Diana Dors film. She's decent in it. She gets pulled into some very bad behavior. But she's not a truly terrible character. She's chronically late to work and weak willed.

This isn't a memorable or distinguished film. But it isn't terrible, either. Nor does it hold to any formula. It's mediocre in a unique way.

The Last Page (AKA: Man Bait) is directed by Terence Fisher and adapted to screenplay by Frederick Knott from James Hadley Chase's story. It stars George Brent, Marguerite Chapman, Raymond Huntley, Peter Reynolds and Diana Dors. Music is by Frank Spencer and cinematography by Walter J. Harvey.

John Harman (Brent) is a London bookshop manager who finds himself blackmailed by his busty young assistant, Ruby Bruce (Dors), and her new ex-convict beau Jeffrey Hart (Reynolds), when he foolishly steals in for a kiss during after hours stock taking.

Bookshop Noir.

British Hammer and American Exclusive teamed up to produce a number of low budget crime dramas in the early 1950s, often using American stars and directors blended in with British actors, they were produced in Britain in next to no time. The Last Page is a safe viewing for the undemanding film noir fan. Terence Fisher would become a legend amongst British horror fans (rightly so) for his work on Hammer's reinvention of the Universal Creature Features. Here he crafts a nifty atmospheric melodrama without fuss or filler, while just about managing to stop the flaws and daftness of plotting from sinking the picture.

Story has some interesting noirish characters and themes. The man who begins to pay for a moment of weakness, the young shapely gal in over her head-lured to the dark half by a well spoken criminal element, while some secret passions amongst the staff of this particular bookstore come to the fore once things inevitably go pear shaped. The setting is a doozy as well, this bookstore is perfectly antiquated, so much so you can smell the leather bound novels nestling on the shelves. Walter Harvey's (The Quatermass Experiment) photography ensures that shadows feature throughout, and there's the odd macabre touch that befits the writing of Frederick Knott (Dial M for Murder/Wait Until Dark).

Cast are professional to the last. Brent (The Spiral Staircase) and Huntley (I See a Dark Stranger/Night Train to Munich) are the epitome of gentlemen in a rut, stoic and stiff, grumpy yet gritty, but nicely portraying men we expect to appear in a bookstore noir. Chapman (Coroner Creek) has an abundance of hard looking sexuality and Reynolds has a spiv nastiness about him, very cold but charming. But it's Dors who holds all the aces, she would impress herself upon many a red blooded male during three decades of British film and TV. Here at aged 21, as Ruby, she's a curvy blonde babe with full lips, a gal who understandably turns the heads. The character is tardy as well, hardly a crime, but mostly in Dors' hands she's believable as a girl clearly out of her depth, she's not a femme fatale, she's a weak willed person hurtling towards film noir doom. It's here where this British B noir gets its worth.

It's not a great film by any stretch of the imagination, but it is a good one considering the modest budget afforded it. There's dumb decisions made by characters, holes of plotting and the ending fails to seal the deal after the hard noirish mood eked out by Fisher, Harvey and Dors. However, as film noir time fillers go, it's well worth checking out. 6.5/10

In 1950, before Hammer made a name for itself with a memorable horror output, it set up a deal with American producer Robert L. Lippert to make a dozen or so low budget crime dramas, all of which were to be shot in the UK. In all the arrangement lasted for some five years, and utilised the fading star qualities of such past-their-sell-date American talent such as Dane Clark, Paul Henreid, Lizabeth Scott and George Brent, as well as leading British character actors.

None of the films are of the front rank, being issued originally on the bottom half of double bills. Hammer may not have established itself as a memorable producer of noir on the basis of this transatlantic deal, but the results have been unfairly neglected (being the basis of only a passing reference in the official history of the studio for instance).

Criticism of the films, apart from focusing on their small budgets and hand-me-down leads, has generally dwelt on the success or otherwise of transplanting an American hardboiled genre into a different soil. Certainly the first of those made under the new arrangement The Last Page (aka: Man Bait, 1952) is example. Far too genteel to be successful as more than a mildly suspenseful thriller, its impact is further affected by the unassuming performance of lead George Brent - an actor whom Betty Davies apparently liked as a partner on screen as it was so easy to steal the picture from him! Brent plays the manager of a bookshop, hardly the first choice for a thriller/ noir setting (although one makes a memorable appearance in The Big Sleep) who is blackmailed by the bad blonde of the title - no less than Diana Dors, an early screen role. It was an early credit too for one of Hammer's best directors Terence Fisher, though again this critic, at least, thinks he remains a minor talent. Like practically all the Hammer films in this series, the title was changed for the American market and 'Man Bait' certainly sounds more the job for the pulp world that the films inhabit. It also places Dors firmly at the centre of this film with a fine sense of atmosphere - having worked in the book trade for some years I found the dated interiors and procedures especially fascinating - while some other, equally effective location shooting amidst a now-lost London adds to the charm.

This was the first time I had ever heard of Diana Dors (don't blame me, I'm from the USA and under the age of 40) - but I immediately fell in love with her. The plot centers around a bookstore where Dors' character, Ruby, works. She is the "bad girl" of the office, arriving late and hitting on her boss, played by George Brent. But that's nothing compared to the trouble she gets herself into after going on a date with a man she catches trying to steal a valuable book from the store! He (very easily) convinces her to blackmail her boss and things really go downhill from there. I won't give away more of the plot, because the unexpected twists and turns it takes are half the fun of this film - the other half is provided courtesy of the excellent British character actors who make up the cast. No part is too small to make you notice them! This film noir was directed by the great Terence Fisher for Hammer Films - who together would go on to unleash a slew of excellent Gothic horror films in the 1950's and 60's. A young, brunette Diana Dors easily walks away with the picture harnessing a killer combination of alluring presence and a very natural acting ability.

J. A. Pearson's Bookshop evokes little of the warmth, cosiness or hospitality presided over by Anthony Hopkins in '84 Charing Cross Road'. Stern, pompous Raymond Huntley is frequently falsely accusing chirpy, good-natured Harry Fowler of not doing his job. It's hardly surprising that dutiful, beautiful Marguerite Chapman has no interest in joining him for an after work drink. Whilst ravishing Ruby Bruce (Diana Dors), is a largely late arrival, much to the displeasure of her colleagues. Dapper and decent George Brent ably runs the store, but with a disabled wife (Isabel Dean) to care for, he's clearly feeling the strain.

In a moment of weakness, Brent commits a minor indiscretion with Dors, for which he is profusely apologetic. The matter seems closed until the voluptuous sales girl informs love interest, Peter Reynolds, whose leering, smug, self-satisfied facial expression seems to be constantly inviting.....a deftly aimed fist, to at least temporarily wipe off that nauseating smirk! It is a measure of his despicable character, that rather than being the jealous lover, '£' signs light up in his eyes and he manipulates the naive Dors along a path of extortion and blackmail towards her boss.

A murder on the premises and the accidental, but mysterious death of his wife makes Brent the target of an intense police investigation and he receives little sympathy or support from the humorless Huntley. In what begins to play out like Phase two of 'The Phantom Lady', it's left to the doting and devoted Chapman to clear Brent's name, even at the risk of endangering her own life.

In an era of movie making when justice had to be seen to be done, it's unsurprising that 'The Last Page' concludes with a long sentence. The film is hardly overflowing with novel ideas, but there is sufficient action between the covers to maintain interest.