She'll Have to Go

The comedy farce 'She'll Have To Go' about a pair of brothers who - when their indulgent lifestyle is threatened - plan murder, starts off quite brightly.

The dialogue between the brothers and their butler is fairly sharp and lively with some good chuckles to be had. Alas, director Asher doesn't seem to have confidence in the material as he inserts various 'wacky' visual tricks that are jarring and irritating.

In anycase the film gets weaker the longer it goes on. Notwithstanding Hattie Jaques' amusing performance, her journalist character could have easily been excised from the film without anything being lost. And the final 20 minutes or so are particularly tedious and dreary.

The film does gain an extra level of interest though with Anna Karina's presence and not just because she does well in her role. To see someone who is on the verge of becoming an icon of the cutting-edge French New Wave appear in an old-hat British stage farce mixed with a dollop of 'Carry On' style bawdy humour is curiously fascinating.

Promising start has two idle brothers (Bob Monkhouse, Alfred Marks) living in genteel poverty in their hideous old manor house in Lambering, UK. They have no money but they do have a butler (Dennis Lotis). When a relative dies, they expect to inherit a fortune but discover the money has been left to a distant and unknown cousin in Corsica. They devise several plots to murder her, assuming she'll be an old hag. When Anna Karina shows up as cousin Toni, their thoughts turn to marriage instead. But she has other ideas.

Sort of a take on the classic comedy THE LADYKILLERS, the brothers go through a series of inept murder attempts of which the beauteous cousin seems unaware. Only fitfully funny, especially since Karina and her character are not funny at all. Things liven up a bit when a loony reporter (Hattie Jacques) pops in to get a story for her magazine, but she's not in enough scenes.

Bright supporting bits from Graham Stark as the dour photographer, Peter Butterworth as the myopic doctor, Clive Dunn as the chemist, and Pat Coombs as the lady at the railway station. That might be Dennis Lotis singing the horrid theme song. Story is based on a play.

The premise that a series of murderous attacks on an 'actress' whose main skills are in being foreign and scantily dressed, by a couple of standup comics is lost in tedious script. The attempt to make it funny with a carry-on style score that ranges from intrusive to fairground, to tell us that "this bit's very funny" in case we fall asleep and miss it. Then it's all rounded off with a 'jazzy' song sung by a middle aged youth (presumably) with lyrics that the writer have up on before the end of the first verse. All of the 'comedy sketches' if inserted into a comedy sketch show might raise a titter in the midst of more skilful material, but stacked together they don't distract from the popcorn or the ice lollies. I gave it a 4 because it might appeal to the sort of viewers who might find it more interesting than teleshopping.

Now I could never stand Bob Monkhouse. However I found Alfred Marks screamingly funny, especially on his chat show appearances So here we have one plus and one minus making a definite minus.

This was one of a number of films made at the time where the main plot point was murdering a relative for some good reason.

Based on a play one has to assume that audiences found it funny. If they did this film adaptation does not recreate anyof the fun times had in the theatre.

Following the international success of Brigitte Bardot, a glamorous continental star became de rigueur in many British films of the late fifties and early sixties. Here it's Anna Karina, standing in the way of two fortune-hunting brothers, played by Alfred Marks and Bob Monkhouse, living in unlikely circumstances with their butler in an old mansion on top of a cliff. Marriage or murder are the options, and the brothers decide on the latter. So you can split your sides laughing as Marks laces her cakes with rat poison and fall about as Monkhouse attempts to run her over. Rarely in his distinguished career can he have worked as hard in pursuit of so few laughs. Maybe a more accomplished director than Robert Asher could have wrung some more humour out of the various other assassination attempts that go awry, but such tired business as the revolving fireplace that plays no part in the plot, and Peter Butterworth's short-sighted doctor, look desperate. Far too little is seen of Hattie Jacques, whose eccentric journalist provides the few real moments of fun. Now out on DVD, and described as 'stylish' on the blurb, which was not the first word to occur to me.