Where Has Poor Mickey Gone?

As befits such a quizzical title like ships that pass in the night the paths of Alf Garnet and Boysie crossed in this fanciful little oddity that probably qualifies as an early home invasion film.

What follows promises to be a fairly commonplace tale of a bunch of yobbos victimising a senior citizen, but when one of the intruders curiosity gets the better of him the film changes gears and the tables are turned as the boys discover themselves out their depth.

The quietly sinister ending when it comes will have you wondering what on earth just you've just been watching and frankly my dear I'm as in the dark as you are.

Three young hoodlums and a hanger on commence their evening's recreation by being forcibly ejected from a jazz club, regaling the two burly, built like a brick bog-house bouncers with a torrent of abuse and threats, as they depart, smashing the club sign for good measure, before scarpering into the darkness.

They're not looking for trouble; they know exactly where to find it! Next up, a brutal, unprovoked attack upon a courting couple, leaves the man lying unconscious and the girl deeply traumatized.

A quick visit to the local chippy, followed by a further bout of taunting teenage girls and the night's work seems to be winding down.....until, peering into a dimly lit, low brow warehouse, they discover an Aladdin's cave of fairground attractions and novelties, presided over by slight, balding, middle-aged proprietor Warren Mitchell, checking the day's takings, prior to heading home.

With a suddenly rejuvenated, kid in a sweet shop mentality, they are instantly using and abusing both props and equipment, destroying Mitchell's livelihood and potentially, one fears, his life. He has, however, a single outside chance to outwit his assailants.....and that's magic!

With the action taking place entirely by night, pretty much in real time and with a constant sense of threat and menace, 'Mickey' evokes an inherently noirish tone. Throw in a title song performed by Ottilie Patterson, with support from Chris Barber and Sonny Boy Williamson and you have an intriguing period piece. A long lost movie, a significant find.

Tony Tenser and Michael Klinger, who ran Compton-Cameo Films, famously gave several young directors their first opportunities. One of them was Gerry Levy, who came to them with a script he'd written under the name Peter Marcus. The story of four tearaway lads who break into a fairground novelties warehouse and terrorise the owner (Warren Mitchell) before getting their come-uppance has a horror comic feel to it, but not a great deal of suspense. The business of a posh boy (Christopher Robbie) joining the other lads in their drunken spree takes up a lot of time but seems of marginal relevance. (Levy's brother has confirmed to me that this material was added to increase the running time, thereby qualifying the film for the government's Eady fund). Nevertheless this is a very unusual independent British spook film of the period. A good deal of time and effort was spent on it and this includes a lot of night shooting in London's Soho, the renting of a studio for the interiors, and a title song written and performed by Ottilie Patterson. Because it has few exploitable elements it was shelved after it was made in 1963 and eventually released as a second feature in 1966. Levy went on to direct "The Body Stealers" for Tenser's Tigon company, but then became a production manager. "Mickey" disappeared until a tattered print, with at least 20 minutes missing, turned up at BFI Southbank in 1997. A very good copy of the complete version is currently on the Talking Pictures channel. Two other points of interest are that it was Patricia Quinn's first film (can anyone confirm that she's one of two young women who come out of Portland Mews and reject the advances of the boys?) and that it was originally classified "X" but is now "U". The original certificate must have been awarded solely because the BBFC was still obsessed in the 1960s with the alleged influence of films showing juvenile delinquency.

For a long time the 'holy grail' of 1960s' low-budget British genre movies that I longed to see appear as an official DVD or Blu-ray release was the Edward Judd sci-fi oddity Invasion (1966), but that was finally issued by StudioCanal in 2014. Since then, another film from the same period has taken its place on my 'must have' list - Gerry Levy's little-seen and much underrated debut b-movie Where Has Poor Mickey Gone? (1964); the full cut of this film has played a handful of times on Talking Pictures TV over the last year or two, though it still shows no signs of a DVD release on the associated Renown label.

The tale of four nominally 'juvenile' delinquent lads who break into a fairground supplies shop in pursuit of vicious kicks, only to receive a chilling comeuppance at the hands of Warren Mitchell's troubled magician, it mainly resembles a prototype episode of Tales of the Unexpected (complete with a creepy twist ending not unlike something from novelist Roald Dahl's The Witches). Despite some obvious padding included to bring it up to the usual one-hour second feature running time and thus qualify the film for the Eady Levy, it remains a compact little 'short story' that benefits from a genuine sense of mystery and from Mitchell's committed (if not always totally convincing) lead performance.

The quartet of youths are three ne'er-do-well Cockneys and a 'posh nosh' hanger-on, who bully courting couples and pick fights with nightclub bouncers before deciding to give Mitchell's 'The Great Dinelli' a lot of trouble for no reason other than their own boredom and mean-spiritedness. Though Mitchell initially appears cringingly terrified of the boys, he's actually the guardian to some seriously powerful supernatural forces, and it is of unleashing them that he is actually most wary. In this way, the film almost invites the audience to enjoy the eventual fate of the 'boys', which isn't really difficult given that they are well-characterised as genuine assholes, despite being very 'weak beer' by modern standards (remember the days when ASBO kids wore ties and jumpers? Eden Lake this ain't), and the perhaps slightly lacking casting. John Malcolm, who plays the titular gang leader Mickey, was around twenty-seven when the film was made but with his dopey trilby and chronically receding hairline he looks nearer forty (Malcolm continually calling Mitchell 'Pop' seems silly because the two men appear to be the same age - Mitchell was in his late thirties and despite playing a feeble codger, he doesn't really look any older than that). Other members of the gang will be familiar to Tom Baker-era Doctor Who fans; Christopher Robbie was the Cyberleader in Revenge of the Cybermen, whilst John Challis more notably played the nasty Scorby in The Seeds of Doom, although he's obviously much better known as Boycie from Only Fools and Horses.

Levy had a lengthy career in the movies, eventually working as a production manager on 1980s' A-pictures like Out of Africa and Cry Freedom. His only other movie as a director, however, was the Tigon stinkbomb The Body Stealers (1969), a film as lame-brained, unpersuasive and un-scary as Where Has Poor Mickey Gone? is quietly compelling and eerie. Another plus is Ottilie Patterson belting out a great little title track, but unfortunately, Where Has Poor Mickey Gone? didn't see immediate release following its completion and apparently only went out as support to Polanski's Cul-De-Sac in 1966, before vanishing from circulation for over thirty years. Now that it is back doing the rounds, if it turns up I'd advise that you try to catch it.

This 'X' certificate short was originally shown at UK cinemas with Roman Polanski's 'Cul-de-Sac'. It's unavailable commercially but I've now had the chance to see it at last, having obtained a copy on video for private viewing. It tells a neat, effective story which holds the attention, with Warren Mitchell giving a memorable performance, and a very young John Challis (now well-known as a television and stage performer in the UK) as one of the thugs who terrorise him. The pay-off is really clever and satisfying. It's a pity this film has never turned up on television and is virtually a 'lost' movie. It's well-worth seeing.