The Silver Fleet

Silver Fleet made in 1943 is a great view.

Set in Holland in a small shipbuilding town now controlled by the Nazis it is a tale of double intrigue and heroism that is surprisingly watchable. The tale of the shipyard owner (Ralph Richardson) who is friendly to the Nazis by day and a hero of another mettle by night is nicely done. What makes this work is the human aspects are not swept to one side but are tackled too.

Ralph Richardson may never had the matinée idol looks of an Oliver but he makes a very good and quite unassuming impact here, there is both suspense, adventure, and wry humour - this film is memorable and the courage is more than propaganda. Richardson always did sneak up on you and here he does so well.

All in heartily recommended.

The first film of Powell & Pressburger's newly-formed company The Archers to see the light of day (shot on a soundstage adjacent to the production of 'The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp') probably represented the final bow of Ralph Richardson (also billed as 'Associate Producer') as an action hero having previously played Bulldog Drummond and a gentleman spy in a bowler hat in 'Q Planes'.

It bears a striking resemblance to Fritz Lang's 'Hangmen Also Die, currently being shot in Hollywood and also set in a fanciful version of Europe under the heel of a wonderful collection of caricature Nazis. Powell was a huge admirer of Lang so the resemblance of the scene were Richardson marks a Quisling with a big letter 'Q' to one in a certain film by Lang is almost certainly not just fortuitous.

Dutchman Van Leyden (Richardson) knows his shipyard will be used by the Germans whether he like it or not, so chooses to play a dangerous double game, ostensibly playing along with the Germans -earning the ire of his countrymen who think he is a Quisling- whilst anonymously organising acts of sabotage under the name 'Piet Hein' -a historic Dutch naval hero.

Powell and Pressburger's film was made as war propaganda and it shows; however it is both a good film in its own right and it portrays the Germans in a less bad light than was originally intended.

The script is credited to Sewell and Wellesley, but the first draft was written by Emeric Pressburger, who had been forced out of Germany by the Nazis and had first hand experience of what they were like. He originally wrote it not only with threats of Nazi reprisals, but reprisals on civilians made real. He refused to have his name put to the script once these had been edited out by Sewell.

The story is inspired by real events; Dutch dockyard workers did hijack a Nazi submarine during WWII. Much of the film was shot at Denham studios, with dockyard scenes in Dundee and some street scenes in King's Lynn. Oddly enough parts of King's Lynn were built with Dutch-made bricks and tiles (they were brought back as ballast by ships exporting wool from East Anglia) so the resemblance to Dutch streets is more than coincidental.

It would have been easy to make every part in this film a mere caricature (as many are) but Richardson's role is much more nuanced than that. Nothing of course could do justice to the many selfless acts carried out by partisans during WWII but this does more than make a token gesture in that direction.

Overall this probably isn't one of P&P's best films but that certainly doesn't make it a bad film in absolute terms; it is a lofty canon. For what it was and when it was made it gets eight out of ten from me.

Released in the midst of 1943, this film emerges not only as a product of wartime urgency, but also as a calculated cultural weapon, forged in the crucible of Britain's effort to consolidate civilian morale and reinforce the mythology of individual resistance against totalitarian occupation. The historical moment of its production permeates every layer of its construction: from its austere mise-en-scène to its economical yet ideologically charged performances. Its technical modesty is unmistakable, yet not without craft; rather than relying on spectacle, the film turns inward, compressing tension into confined spaces and drawing suspense not from battles but from the slow, dangerous rhythm of subversion under surveillance.

The cinematography adopts a utilitarian style, frequently relying on shadow-filled interiors and subdued key lighting to suggest both psychological claustrophobia and the literal darkness under occupation. There is an intentional rigidity to the camera work, avoiding expressive movement in favor of composed, stable framings that mirror the protagonist's need for outward calm and inner calculation. It's in the deliberate absence of kinetic visuals that the film finds its unique tension-an effect enhanced by the sharply defined contrasts, often pushing the image toward high chiaroscuro in moments of moral reckoning. While the visual palette is limited, it is not careless; compositions are controlled, and the lack of visual flourish speaks to a kind of narrative discipline appropriate to the film's thematic core.

Sound design is equally measured, almost ascetic in its restraint. Ambient noise is sparse, reinforcing a sense of social vacuum and isolation under enemy control. The score, used with surgical precision, supports the drama without overwhelming it-a notable difference from the emotionally insistent cues found in many contemporary British productions of the same era. It avoids the overt sentimentalism one might expect, which lends it a psychological gravitas uncommon in wartime films primarily designed as morale boosters.

What elevates this film is its central performance, which avoids the typical binary of stoic heroism versus villainous excess. Instead, the lead exudes a kind of moral weariness beneath his calculated composure. His portrayal suggests not just bravery, but the loneliness of acting without visible allies-a subtle register that adds complexity to what might have been a propagandistic cipher. His adversaries, too, are rendered with an unexpectedly measured approach. There is no cartoonish villainy here, but rather a cold, procedural menace that is all the more chilling for its restraint. Secondary characters serve more as ideological functions than psychological portraits, but even within those limits, they are performed with conviction and clarity.

The influence of other wartime thrillers of the period is noticeable, particularly in the way ideological symbols are dramatized on screen. One moment in particular-in which a collaborator is publicly marked with a stark, accusatory letter-calls to mind Hangmen Also Die! (1943), then being produced in Hollywood under the direction of Fritz Lang. While the narrative frameworks differ, both films share a stylized depiction of occupied Europe filled with theatrical, almost ritualized acts of resistance. Given Lang's standing and his admiration among British filmmakers, the visual and thematic parallels are unlikely to be accidental. The gesture toward symbolic justice through visual branding aligns the film, at least momentarily, with the heightened moral stylization characteristic of Lang's exile-period cinema.

One of the film's more intriguing qualities is its tonal ambiguity. Although clearly intended as a work of wartime propaganda, it resists the urge to indulge in triumphalist tropes. Instead, it leans into doubt, portraying resistance not as glorious defiance but as a quiet, grinding calculus of risk. In this respect, it bears comparison to Went the Day Well? (1942), though where that film embraces moments of pastoral disruption and community awakening, this one chooses a more singular, introspective path. Its closest cousin in tone and subject matter might be Tomorrow We Live (1943), another sabotage narrative that leans into the morally gray choices forced upon occupied citizens. Yet this film is far more stripped-down in both style and scope, resisting even the melodramatic flourishes found in Uncensored (1942), which, while thematically similar, ultimately offers a far more conventional arc of resistance and victory.

This stylistic minimalism is in part dictated by the film's production context. The war had entered a new phase in 1943-Allied confidence was growing after El Alamein and Stalingrad, but victory was far from guaranteed. British wartime cinema of this period reflects this dual consciousness: a desire to affirm resistance, but also to reckon with the cost and moral strain of sustained defiance. This film does not offer hope as spectacle; it offers determination as quiet inevitability. It reflects the home front's psychological atmosphere more than any specific battlefield-a subtle nod to the micro-history of war, to the unrecorded acts of sabotage and moral decision-making that take place not in barracks or trenches, but in backrooms and dockyards.

There are, of course, limitations. The film's pacing-so carefully deliberate-occasionally drags under the weight of its own solemnity. In its commitment to understatement, it sometimes lapses into emotional monotony. Secondary characters, while competently portrayed, rarely escape the functional flatness of allegory, serving more as symbols than people. And its refusal to indulge in spectacle may leave viewers yearning for a more visceral representation of the stakes involved. Yet, within the framework it sets for itself, it remains remarkably coherent. The film draws its tension not from the scale of action, but from the gravity of quiet defiance-a slow-burning atmosphere that finds its power in understatement, and in doing so, it captures a form of wartime experience that is rarely dramatized with such internal precision.

During World War II, Holland is occupied by the Nazi's and the populace splits between those who accept, those who actively resist and those who actively assist - called `quizlings'. One such quizling is naval engineer Jaap van Leyden, who the Nazis use to help build U-Boats. However the efforts of the Germany navy are hampered by the underground resistance, led by the mysterious and unseen Piet Hein.

This film suggests a mystery but, if you haven't guessed the identity of the mysterious Piet Hein within 2 minutes of the film starting then you sir, are a monkey undeserving of a banana! However, given that the film then reveals the identity past the very obvious clues, then this isn't too much of a problem. What the film then becomes is quite a good tale of heroism in the face of the Germans, and of sacrifice and personal strength.

While it is a difficult film with no very easy heroism to get behind - van Leyden is a different character for a piece of propaganda, taking the difficult line of being a double. While the film is a slow starter it does get to quite a heroic level towards the end and makes it's point without fireworks or excessive drum beating. In fact the climax is one of quiet strength rather than action - it suits the film and is quite served considering the films of the time.

Richardson does very well with his role. He is a little dry at the start but once his character becomes clearer then he gets better. I had just watched Shine when I watched this film and it was a surprise to find myself watching a Googie Withers double bill! She is good too, although I would have liked to see her struggle more obviously when doors were closed. The support cast of Germans are good - not too nasty to be caricatures but not likeable enough for us to feel pity for what had to be done. The cast of Dutch (or English rather!) are all OK but none really stand out.

Overall this is quite a low key and obvious film but it no less enjoyable for it. For a propaganda movie made in wartime it is surprisingly restrained and measured and has a quite touching climax of stiff upper lip-ness! Not quite as rousing as many of it's genre but different enough to be worth seeing.