Millions Like Us

It was not until the invention of photography that we began to know what history was really like. Before that we had to rely on representations through art, writings and imaginings. But with the Crimean and American Civil War we could see the actual people who took part so that their suffering began to take on a poignancy that we never quite experienced from depictions of previous conflicts. Two dimensions were still missing that were to give records of history added immediacy, movement and sound. The first was in place to capture the cataclysmic events of World War I and the second was there to give the period of World War II a vividness that could be grasped by all future historians. As if to back up all that acreage of newsreel footage we have the feature films of the period often shown in the dead offpeak viewing times of morning and afternoon television to give us some idea of what people felt during what is rapidly becoming long ago. Although generally highly fictionalised they gave closeup substance to what in newsreels were extras in crowd scenes. As a boy who grew up in the '40's I feel equipped to vouch for those films of the period that conveyed something of the authenticity of what things were like then. I would rate "Millions Like Us" pretty highly in this respect. As a film it cannot compare with several others such as Carol Reed's "The Way Ahead" or Cavalcanti's "Went the Day Well". It lacks their sense of style, is often clumsy in continuity - the transition from peace to war is none too clearly presented - and has some unconvincing miniature mockups such as the oft repeated shot of a factory roofscape at night with toy searchlights beaming away in the background. Much of the photography has the amateurish look that afflicted much British cinema of the period, that the critic C.A. Lejeune once referred to as "like photographs from a plumbing catalogue". (Someone please let me know if I have got this wrong as I am quoting from vague memory). But in spite of these reservations it gets close to how people looked and spoke in those days, what their homes looked like and how they passed their time. It does it without recourse to caricatures of class stereotypes or sentimentality so that it remains one of the most honest films of its type. I have vivid memories of my mother working part-time in a munitions workshop just along the road from our house in Pinner. It wasn't a vast factory like the one in the film, more like a converted garage. I remember her making a part of a shell just like the ones that Patricia Roc, Anne Crawford and Megs Jenkins made. There was even a foreman figure dressed in the same type of overall as Eric Portman. For me those factory scenes in particular accurately represent a small part of our history.

Millions Like Us is one of the few films made during the 2nd World War which deals with women factory workers. When Celia gets her call-up papers she wants to do something glamorous like joining the ATS. Instead she is sent to a munitions factory.

This movie is part love story and part propaganda-flic. The propaganda elements are more subtle than in many 40s films eg 'The Next of Kin'. However the life of the factory girl is glamourized. This is Celia's escape from the domestic drudgery of caring for her elderly father and allows her to find true love. Also the togetherness of the factory girls is emphasised throughout the film. The contrast between shots of Celia demure and alone that we see at the start of the film and the final scene of her as an integral part of the group is marked. Not only is munitions work vital to the war effort, we are being told, but it also provides companionship, an outlet and fulfillment for women.

A film about and for women in the workplace may sound like a step forward from the usual patriarchal portrayal of the female sex. Yet, at its heart this is a deeply conservative film. Ultimately Celia finds fulfillment with and through a man and whilst the companionship of women is important, all the female characters are searching for a husband.

However, the Directors should be applauded for having done a good job in making an enjoyable, informative propaganda film.

By the way, look out for the shots of Patricia Roc's feet when she is talking to her husband. Is this an erotic charge or fear of chilblains? Watch the movie and let us know what you think.

One of the many war effort films Britain churned out between 1940 and 1945, this one attempted to get women recruited into industry. We watch Celia as she gets her call-up and has to leave her family to work in a factory and stay in a hostel. There she meets college graduate Gwen, flighty Sloane Jenny, and common as brass Annie, amongst others. She grows to like her job, and also finds love with a Scots flyer, Fred Blake. But this being a semi-documentary war film, things don't end up as happily as you'd hope.

The cast is fine - Patricia Roc and Gordon Jackson headline as Celia and Fred, with Anne Crawford as Jenny and Eric Portman as down-to-earth foreman Charlie. There's also a bit for Radford and Wayne to do (an amusing scene where their travelling soldiers in a railway carriage get overrun with evacuees). Megs Jenkins also plays Gwen with some style and pathos. Patriotic hokum it may be, but I like the foregrounding it gives to the women (especially Jenny, who I quite like by the end of it) and the respect it gives to the factory girls and what they did for their country.

To modern sensibilities the title may sound patronising, but if you're tempted to dismiss this as standard WWII propaganda fare, think again. Set among the female workforce of a heavy engineering factory, this perceptive and thoughtful screenplay explores the disruptive effect of Total War upon family life, established behavioural norms and, crucially, the class distinctions that were still dominating British society at this time. As Time Out critic Nigel Floyd put it: "Raises pertinent questions about what exactly was being fought for: the restoration of the old order, or the foundation of a new one? Intelligent entertainment at its best."

It is also unusual for the era in its unabashed portrayal of young women as actively sexual beings with a healthy, even predatory, interest in men. The sole - and glaring - exception to this model is the central heroine, Celia. Patricia Roc's portrayal of her is so overwhelmingly timid, self-effacing and prudish, it comes as little less than miraculous that she manages to bag Fred: a young Airman in the shape of Gordon Jackson. Mind you, he's no firebrand either: together, they make an infuriatingly ineffectual couple.

Far more interesting is the spiky relationship of social opposites Jennifer (Anne Crawford) - privileged/haughty/indolent - and no-nonsense factory foreman Charlie (Eric Portman). In this pair's uneasy mutual attraction and verbal sparring we see echoes of Shakespeare's Beatrice & Benedick.

N.B.: Watch out for a lovely cameo by Irene Handl as the newlyweds' landlady.

Some of Britain's best Second World War films had equivocal origins as 'suggestions' from the Ministry of Information (i.e. propaganda) under its mischievous and mysterious chief, Brendan Bracken. 'The 49th Parallel', 'The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp' and 'A Matter of Life and Death', Powell's and Pressburger's productions, were all begotten by a Whitehall daddy whose name was kept off the birth certificate.

Ditto 'Millions Like Us' by another talented duo. Launder and Gilliat, well established as scriptwriters, ventured into feature direction (the only time they took a joint credit) with this episodic and fascinating study of life on the home front.

It centres on the long, dull hiatus between the Blitz and invasion scares of 1940 and the forthcoming relief of D-Day in 1944. The propaganda purpose was to rededicate civilians who were becoming bored with the seeming stalemate: Hitler no longer menacing us, we not yet able to take the war to his camp. Women were targeted for morale-boosting. The film aimed to convince these 'millions' that their conscription into factories, often seen as unglamorous by comparison with uniformed service alongside the fighting men, was essential for victory.

Thus Patricia Roc, the shy home-keeping daughter of a domineering working class widower, dreams amusingly of heroics as a nurse or airwoman, and dreads being called up for industrial work on a production line in a strange town. But she makes friends, is good at her work, marries a nice flight-sergeant in the Royal Air Force and endures the vicissitudes that follow. Other girls from widely different social backgrounds muck in and do likewise.

So much for the uplift. Rarely has a pill been so deftly sugared, however. The scene-setting in the widower's house is an index of the film's almost obsessive determination to avoid overt uplift.

Rumours of war on the wireless are exchanged for dance music on the other channel. Patriotism does not visibly improve among the younger generation once hostilities begin. One daughter is man-mad, entertaining the troops not wisely but too well; another whose husband is serving in the Western Desert is a lazy, grumbling, neglectful mother. The old dad (Moore Marriott, gruff and unrecognisable as the antic dotard of the Will Hay classics) does his bit in the Home Guard but moans inconsolably about being 'deserted' by his daughters when the country whisks them away.

At the factory a socialite drafted to turn a lathe strikes up an uneasy friendship with her gruff northern supervisor; but he tells her she'll never be better than mediocre at the work, that she might not be good enough for his proletarian family and that he isn't ready to propose to her because they may be too different. "Ooh aye, ooh aye" she mockingly replies. This brilliantly crisp little exchange seems in retrospect to predict the bombshell Labour victory of 1945, when the people of the 'People's War' gave the upper crust its quittance and the rising technocratic class took control.

Laced with verite footage of crowds at play at the seaside or entering and leaving factories, the film plays like a fictionalised version of Humphrey Jennings's 'Spare Time' and 'Listen to Britain'-- with perhaps a conscious homage in the canteen community singing of the moving final episode. And through it runs the music of Beethoven, as if to acknowledge that the enemy has his good points: here it anticipates another Jennings classic, 'A Diary for Timothy'.

The acting, especially in the home sequences, is low-key in the same manner as Lean's 'This Happy Breed'. A far cry from the stagey histrionics of pre-war British cinema, it anticipates the naturalism of TV drama. There are no big speeches or characters, just commonplace folk muddling through. The interpolation of Naunton and Wayne, whom L&G had made a crosstalk team in 'The Lady Vanishes', is the only concession to a 1930s conception of entertainment.

Miss Roc, torn between father, duty and the dream of a domestic life, is a credible symbol of young British womanhood. Recent research, contrary to earlier feminist assertions, has established that most women were both glad to escape the parental home to aid the war effort, yet were not reluctant to become housewives once the fighting men returned. In this and other ways 'Millions Like Us' has a ring of truth absent from histrionic efforts such as Selznick's 'Since You Went Away' and retrospective looks at Riveting Rosies such as Demme's 'Swing Shift'.

That such a presentation could be achieved while the dilemmas were being experienced, and under the auspices of a government fighting total war, is a huge tribute to the integrity of the British film-making community. It remains a quietly, gradually engrossing pleasure to watch.