The Small Back Room

The Small Back Room (AKA: Hour of Glory) is directed by Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, with both adapting the screenplay from the Nigel Balchin novel. It stars David Farrar, Kathleen Byron, Jack Hawkins, Leslie Banks and Michael Gough. Music is by Brian Easdale and cinematography by Christopher Challis.

As the Germans drop explosive booby-traps across coastline England, Sammy Rice (Farrar) will be tasked with learning the secret to disarming the deadly devices. But first he must beat his private battle with alcohol, his form of self medication due to the loss of one of his feet.

The Archers produce what is in essence a tale of redemption, it's a superbly mounted drama dripping with realism and infused with atmospheric black and white photography. It somewhat divided critics back on release, but that tended to be customary where Powell was concerned, who himself wasn't sure about the validity of this particular piece. Yet it finds Pressburger and himself on sure footings, returning to more grounded human dramatics, their willingness to explore the murky fallibility of mankind is a thing of bold and effective cinematic beauty.

The by-play between Farrar and Byron is sexually charged, but heart achingly poignant as well. The pic is at its best when these pair share scenes, the back drops to their troubled courting veering from vibrant (hope) to dour (despair), the latter always staged at Sammy's gloomy flat and the scene of a brilliantly filmed expressionistic nightmare that he suffers. Elsewhere various military types either stand tall or sit behind desks speaking in correct literary tones, their collective problem being that the pesky Germans have come up with a vile bomb tactic that needs addressing ASAP.

Can Sammy come through for not only the war effort, but also for his sanity? Watch and see, it's great film making across the board. 8/10

This is a wonderful movie, ahead of its time. The filming has the intense chiaroscuro of monochrome at its best, Kathleen Byron is astonishingly beautiful (even more so than in Black Narcissus), and the undertones are dark and very modern. Susan and Sam (the pain-ridden hero) have no idealised relationship; the film is uncompromising about Sam's alcoholism and, remarkably for its time, clear in its implication that Sue and Sam live together despite being unmarried. There are also many nice well-observed details, such as the scientist who embarrasses a visiting minister by knowing the answer to a sum faster than the calculator they are supposed to be demonstrating, the snoozing officer in the War Room, and the laid-back Strang who clearly is intensely attracted to Sam. I just keep watching this and finding more to see.

A fine terse drama like this one is inconceivable today for many reasons, most of them having to do with market forces which dictate that only films about superheroes in long underwear and adolescent revenge fantasies are to get financing and international distribution. But the main reason why it can't be duplicated today is the quality of the writing by Emeric Pressburger, an innovative genius who wasn't afraid to leave his mark on material adapted from another medium and to use his imagination to keep things vivid at all times. The film shines in its production values, photography, art direction, casting but most of all in its details and its capacity to involve the viewer in a subject that would seem almost repellent today, a complicated and imperfect man's devotion to his work in time of war. If a film's success is to be measured by its capacity to take the viewer out of the ordinary, this film is certainly a hit. Its success is helped by the talent of the principals, a wise woman every warrior would like to return to (Kathleen Byron) and the most gorgeous hunk of uncompromising masculinity ever to grace a British screen and titillate the female viewers, David Farrar.

I have often sought out black and white films from the British cinema and was not disappointed when I came across The Small Back Room. Now possibly one of my favourite films of all time, the very good, simple underlying plot is overtaken by the principal characters, played by David Farrar and Kathleen Byron. An excellent supporting cast, including Michael Gough, Jack Hawkins and Leslie Banks enables the viewer to pull the curtains on a rainy afternoon and to lose themselves in a world that is not quite the 1943 in which the film is set and in in some ways is much later than the 1949 in which it was made. The relationship between Sammy and Susan is a deep and powerful, but secret one and is more curious when one has time to reflect and put it into its (early or late) 1940s context. The fact that they keep their feelings from their colleagues is endemic of the times but is a little curious nonetheless. A friend who knows about such things immediately latched onto the way that another male character fixes his intense gaze upon Sammy Rice to the extent that it now makes me a tiny bit uncomfortable in a non-21st century way. Keep watching this film and you will see more and more interplay between people that implies a further raft of professional and social relationships that the film never actually explores or explains. My verdict: Catch a stinking cold and take a day off work. Curl up on the sofa with a hot drink and lose yourself in a world that you will want to keep coming back to.

After the wild fantasies of Red Shoes, Black Narcissus, Matter of Life and Death (and to a lesser extent Canterbury Tales, Colonel Blimp, and Spy in Black) this was a quiet Archers film, but one I enjoyed very much. David Farrar and Kathleen Byron are fine, well-cast, adequate - the supporting players (including Cyril Cusack and a youngish Sid James) are good, and the story, although slight, keeps the interest and is done rather well. Not entirely sure about the hallucination scene, although that in itself is well-done. I prefer the wild colours and textures of other films by the same team, but this is one I'd recommend for a look.