Poet's Pub

This isn't a comedy/thriller, it's a romantic comedy that all of a sudden realises it's meant to be a thriller at approximately 15 minutes to go. It's all set in a hotel in England, owned by Saturday Keith ("he's one of 7 boys, all named after the days of the week!") and its other main players are the various guests that happen to be staying there in one particular week. Reminded me a little of Separate Tables. Now, nothing is explained too well, so halfway through the film you're apt to be thinking "huh? why is so and so doing that?" well never fear because just when it gets thrilling (kidnapping, car chase and all!) near the end, everyone all of a sudden feels the need to explain their story, and almost no one is what they seem. It only runs for about an hour and 10-15 minutes, and even if it's confusing and unexplained for the most part, it still holds your attention (I guess because you're wondering what the heck is meant to be going on), and I found myself really enjoying it. The comedy is splendid, and Joyce Grenfell plays her part to a tee. The romance is sweet, and while some scenes seem a bit ridiculous, it's never tacky or silly. Overall, 9 out of 10. I would have given it a 10 if they'd made things a bit more clear earlier on, and also explained the deal with the play/show/production/thing a little better!

Derek Bond, ex-university champion rower, ex-RAF pilot and aspiring poet winds up the manager of a rural pub. He gently woos Rona Anderson, daughter of John Robertson Justice, eminent professor and literary critic in this amusing screen adaptation of Eric Linklater's novel.

I thought it a jolly little comedy, although its free mixture of town and country, of serious literary issues and low comedy might have been a little early for the sort of comedy that would become a successful sort of movie with DOCTOR IN THE HOUSE. Justice plays what would become his signature sort of role, as a professor of English and critic; Joyce Grenfell is a cheery bluestocking, and Iris Hoey plays Bond's mother as if he is Lord Peter Wimsey.

Perhaps the movie's lack of popularity is due to Bond's character; he is simply too smart, efficient and successful at what he sets out to do to merit much sympathy from the audience. It's a comedy, so we know he's going to succeed; it would be nice if he had some doubts.

In 1950 Rank had a ten million pound overdraft,and it was films like this that largely contributed to it.The film is shapeless and disjointed with characters acting in totally unexplained ways.Derek Bond is appointed hotel manager because he complained!A woman is forcibly kissed,but she likes it!Even the appearance of Joyce Grenfell and James Robertson Justice fail to raise the film above mediocrity.

It is rather unfortunate that I know so little about Director Frederick Wilson's work - he does a magnificent job of directing this exquisite screwball comedy that brims with poetical quotes, garments from the days of chivalry, a most handsome leading couple, acting of the highest order both in terms of diction and of naturalistic delivery, and absolutely delightful cinematography that brings out the beauty of the English countryside and local traditions... including a pub that sees the convergence of persons from all walks of life, including a thief.

That said, love looms large as the loftiest consideration, and the poet cum publican played by handsome Derek Bond is more than perfectly matched by the lovely English rose, Rona Anderson, to me one of the most beautiful and elegant women ever.

Add to the inventive and fast-moving script by Diana Morgan the presence of the great James Robertson Justice - one of the great voices of British cinema - and the flighty Joyce Grenfell teaching others to dance and playing the queen, and you have a glorious dish that deserves to be savored and revisited.

I had a wonderful time watching it.

Eric Linklater's affected effort at wit and sophistication seldom resulted in anything but qualified and superficial nonsense, and this is a typical example. Everything and everyone appears to be serious but no one is, the plot appears to be complicated and screwed up, but it is all about trifles of no sense. The dialog appears to be brilliant in splendour and intelligence, but it is all affected make-believe of silly nonsense, and silliness is the main character of the whole show. The performance is saved to some degree by James Robertson Justice, whose imposing appearance used to grace every film he was in, and Derek Bond is never as silly as he seems but actually tries to make a contribution. The music is the worst of all, bits and pieces of all kinds of truncated tunes, and it is not even funny, just silly all the way, while Rona Anderson is the only one who in spite of all makes the film worth watching.