The Small Back Room

Quite apart from its wartime themes, this is the best introduction I know to the world of office politics and power broking. Fans of Ricky Gervais are advised to give this little film a viewing. It has enough story lines to keep everyone happy and the cast is mighty fine at playing a variety of individuals. It's hard to think of a better supporting-role performance from Jack Hawkins, and anything with Kathleen Byron in it always has to be watchable.

I've only just read the novel of the same name, on which it's based (still in print and available, and strongly recommended by the way). Comparing the two, it's easy to see how so much of the film derives from the novel; but this is far more than a film of the book. Powell and Pressburger have done a superb job of focusing and concentrating the novel's strengths.

A fine terse drama like this one is inconceivable today for many reasons, most of them having to do with market forces which dictate that only films about superheroes in long underwear and adolescent revenge fantasies are to get financing and international distribution. But the main reason why it can't be duplicated today is the quality of the writing by Emeric Pressburger, an innovative genius who wasn't afraid to leave his mark on material adapted from another medium and to use his imagination to keep things vivid at all times. The film shines in its production values, photography, art direction, casting but most of all in its details and its capacity to involve the viewer in a subject that would seem almost repellent today, a complicated and imperfect man's devotion to his work in time of war. If a film's success is to be measured by its capacity to take the viewer out of the ordinary, this film is certainly a hit. Its success is helped by the talent of the principals, a wise woman every warrior would like to return to (Kathleen Byron) and the most gorgeous hunk of uncompromising masculinity ever to grace a British screen and titillate the female viewers, David Farrar.

I have often sought out black and white films from the British cinema and was not disappointed when I came across The Small Back Room. Now possibly one of my favourite films of all time, the very good, simple underlying plot is overtaken by the principal characters, played by David Farrar and Kathleen Byron. An excellent supporting cast, including Michael Gough, Jack Hawkins and Leslie Banks enables the viewer to pull the curtains on a rainy afternoon and to lose themselves in a world that is not quite the 1943 in which the film is set and in in some ways is much later than the 1949 in which it was made. The relationship between Sammy and Susan is a deep and powerful, but secret one and is more curious when one has time to reflect and put it into its (early or late) 1940s context. The fact that they keep their feelings from their colleagues is endemic of the times but is a little curious nonetheless. A friend who knows about such things immediately latched onto the way that another male character fixes his intense gaze upon Sammy Rice to the extent that it now makes me a tiny bit uncomfortable in a non-21st century way. Keep watching this film and you will see more and more interplay between people that implies a further raft of professional and social relationships that the film never actually explores or explains. My verdict: Catch a stinking cold and take a day off work. Curl up on the sofa with a hot drink and lose yourself in a world that you will want to keep coming back to.

This is a wonderful movie, ahead of its time. The filming has the intense chiaroscuro of monochrome at its best, Kathleen Byron is astonishingly beautiful (even more so than in Black Narcissus), and the undertones are dark and very modern. Susan and Sam (the pain-ridden hero) have no idealised relationship; the film is uncompromising about Sam's alcoholism and, remarkably for its time, clear in its implication that Sue and Sam live together despite being unmarried. There are also many nice well-observed details, such as the scientist who embarrasses a visiting minister by knowing the answer to a sum faster than the calculator they are supposed to be demonstrating, the snoozing officer in the War Room, and the laid-back Strang who clearly is intensely attracted to Sam. I just keep watching this and finding more to see.

This film is an interesting return to the general subject matter of Powell and Pressburger's black and white war films (49th Parallel, One of our Aircraft, etc..), but, made four years after the end of the war, it is a moody piece that focuses on a man disabled by the war. It is typical of their work in that it features brilliantly well-rounded, truly adult characters without easy answers or one-dimensional poses; it is also a departure from their other films of the period in its lack of flamboyance and otherworldly flair. The gritty style - no music, for example, and wonderfully spare dialogue by Pressburger - is perfectly echoed by the intense performances of Kathleen Byron and David Farrar. As always, Powell's keen visual sense is paramount to the brilliance of the Archers' films, and the bomb-defusing scene on the beach makes great use of the setting in its compositions and editing. Although it is not the best introduction to the work of Powell and Pressburger, this film is a keen testament to the capacity of their storytelling abilities in weaving a tale of a man who finds redemption through work and love. Whether their films are explorations of the power of art or the effects of war, I consistently find their work profoundly moving. Let's hope that it is FINALLY released on video or, better still, DVD. (Attention, Scorcese!!!!)