À cor et à cri

I SO would have loved this movie as a kid; but being far too young, I'm now only getting into these lesser known Ealings as a middle-aged film lover. Hue & Cry is part of the Ealing Comedy DVD Collection.

From what I've heard from older folk and relatives about the just post- war years, this yarn is plain good old fashioned fun, but one for the boys only, whatever their age. With bombed-out London their playground and comics their fantastical relief, young boys run around pursuing adventure at every turn. This is where I get my Angels with Dirty Faces connection from.

A few disgruntled viewers say that Hue & Cry lacks focus and central characters. This is true - a boy's adventure never runs to plan and if it does, you change it! But, seen as the first Ealing comedy proper, the Studio is still finding its feet and is gathering talented people to direct (Charles Chricton, who directed many BIG Ealings) screenwriters (T.E.B Clarke, who is synonymous with Ealing) and one very accomplished cinematographer, Douglas Slocombe, who here manages some Hitchcockian imagery - such as on a spiral staircase and in a room full of circus dummies. Otherwise, it's brisk, the camera darting about, with a film score every bit as vibrant as the escapades.

No-one ever, though, denies the pull and special attraction of Alistair Sim as the eccentric Comic strip creator, a Scrooge-like hermit living at the top of those scary stairs. That he isn't on screen very much just happens to be one of those things, relish him when he is on, that's all you can do.

The story, now, to an adult takes second fiddle - lots of boyish conspiracies and such, avoiding the police and the occasional fight. Something about a missing page in their favourite comic and they have to use passwords and such, getting caught in gangster Jack Warner's wide- boy gangsterish crook (as far cry from his beloved Dixon of Dock Green!). It is the sights - and sounds - of an almost alien London, only a generation ago that makes it all so watchable - and enjoyable. Unlike today, with our comparatively lazy and health and safety pampered youth, these boy actors literally pour gusto and energy into everything, swarming over a rubbled landscape like herds of buffalo in a western.

The sound is often a bit thin and distorted but the picture quality not as bad as it could be, a little lacking in punch perhaps but surprisingly blemish-free.

Though I don't think this film is particularly well regarded, or even known; this is a splendid little tale of youth as the adult world would prefer it and a rather kindly mentor in the lugubrious shape of Alastair Sim. The plot hinges on the now unknown pursuits of comic strips and collecting vehicle registration (licence) plate numbers.

The humour is more subtle and understated than in the later films, indeed one can feel the transition with the years through films such as The Magnet and The Maggie before we reach the true classics of the genre.

Finally, though many will link the name of the great Alastair Sim with Ealing Comedies, am I right in thinking that this, the first of the Ealing Comedies is the only one to feature him?

Alastair is better known working with other studios I believe.

I found a copy of this movie in my local (Phoenix, Arizona) used book store. Ah, bliss! The sights of old London, albeit somewhat bomb-damaged, before the developers started to build ugly tower blocks. The movie itself is excellent, with good characterization for the 'kids', although Jack Warner's role as the villain seems a little overblown. Alistair Sim's role as the nervous author of comic books is an excellent vignette, showing his trademark nervous twitchy smile. The final chase and confrontation, at "Ballard's Wharf", reputedly in Wapping, was actually filmed on the opposite side of the river, as can be scene in the long shots, where St. Paul's cathedral can be seen.

From director Charles Crichton who made the classic A Fish called Wanda in 1988 is this early effort from 1947, Hue and Cry.

A crime caper focussed on kids who discover a criminal ring that are using a comic strip to send instructions to plan their jobs.

Joe Kirby (Harry Fowler) is a lad who is always in a spot of bother. He is placed by a policeman for a job with a Covent Garden grocer Nightingale (Jack Warner) who listens to his stories of a fur smuggling ring with a filthy laugh.

Felix Wilkinson (Alastair Sim) is the scatty comic strip writer who stories are being manipulated by an insider in the publishers. As the police does not believe Joe's fantastical tale, it is up to him and his gang to take on the crooks.

I must have first watched this film as a teenager. It rather reminded me of those Enid Blyton adventures I used to read as a kid. The post war setting of a bombed out London make the city look like an adventure playground for kids.

It is an enjoyable Ealing comic adventure as the kids take on adult crooks and put themselves in jeopardy. Sim gives an amusing cameo.

Eccentric boys' adventure writer Felix H Wilkinson (Sim) has his copy - "The Enthralling Adventures of Selwyn Pike and his Youthful Assistant Smiler" - altered by master crooks, using a special code through the pages of kids' comic 'Trump'. Only sharp-eyed schoolboy Joe Kirby (Fowler) seems to have noticed, but fails to convince a sceptical Detective Inspector Ford (Lambert).

Undeterred, Kirby enlists the help of a gang of bombsite-dwelling little cockneys, the self-styled 'Blood and Thunder Boys' to up-end the criminals' dastardly plans. Wilkinson is persuaded to alter his copy and catch the robbers, headed by Kirby's boss Nightingale (Warner, cast against type as a baddie), and Trump secretary Rhona Watson (White).

Originally billed with the slogan, "The Ealing film that begs to differ", Hue And Cry is less a comedy (actually, it's Ealing Studios' first acknowledged 'comedy') than a thrilling adventure story for older kids; the occasional punch-up scenes are peculiarly realistic. Director Crichton weaves a fantastic, but bizarrely believable yarn, helped no end by his unsentimental, dedicated cast.

The standout performer is Sim, whose potty writer, despite limited screen time, pretty much waltzes off with the entire picture - whether he's castigating the crooks ("The insolent scoundrels, they've purloined one of my codes - the very code I invented for the 'Case of the Limping Skeleton!'") or tremulously backing out of the deal ("Remember what happened to Nicky the Narc in the 'Case of the Creeping Death'?").

Acclaimed cinematographer Dougie Slocombe makes great use of post-Blitz London locations, including Holborn Viaduct, Docklands, and Covent Garden - particularly for the climactic scenes of hundreds of boys teeming Battleship Potemkin-fashion down the capital's steps toward the scene of the crime. While an almost incidental scene of a small boy re-enacting an aerial dogfight on a bombsite leaves viewers in no doubt about the psychological impact of the World War II on a new generation.