Sapphire

The real problem with television broadcasting is that the better movies of the last century are held from the viewers. SAPPHIRE could be shown as a double bill with AN INSPECTOR CALLS. There are not enough movie buffs to push some of these classics so that they can be shown to today's audiences ..which would really appreciate them.

I was amazed by the shocking brutality of the racism in this film. In America, we are rarely presented with such casual racism; in films of the 50s, race is practically never dealt with in films, as Todd Haynes "remake" of Douglas Sirk's All That Heaven Allows tries to make up for. And current films about the 50s present such two dimensional characters that it is easy to tell the racist villains from the open-minded heroes. In Sapphire, filmed in Britain in the 1950s, one of the most interesting characters is Michael Craig's detective, supposedly our hero, but constantly making racist remarks. His comments are always countered by the more reasonable older inspector, but this allows his gradual transformation throughout the film. Although some of the film is a bit heavy-handed, ultimately the message is sadly still relevant. 4 out of 5.

At first glance, SAPPHIRE seems to be your usual police procedural murder mystery thriller, with the superintendent and his supporting inspector (both played with bullish charm by Nigel Patrick and Michael Craig) investigating the discovery of a murdered girl in the local park. Indeed, their investigations initially take them down the usual alleyways as they explore the girl's social group, her relationship with a local lad, and some less-than-salubrious locations she was involved with.

However, where SAPPHIRE becomes something much, much more is in its context: race relations in Britain, circa 1959. It turns out that Sapphire herself was actually of mixed race, despite looking white. The discovery of her racial origins underpins the whole story and it's up to Patrick and Craig to unpin the build up to her brutal death. This is a shocking film, exploring the ugly face of racism in its matter-of-fact hatred of blacks and their creed. There's something grippingly realistic about it which makes it all the better film.

The supporting cast is very well picked. Nobody does shifty better than Paul Massie, the primary murder suspect. Earl Cameron is the model of race and refinement as the dead girl's brother. Yvonne Mitchell is superbly twitchy and Bernard Miles convincingly bigoted. Robert Adams supplies the one moment of true humour with his great cameo as Horace Big Cigar. As a film, SAPPHIRE is never less than thoroughly impressive, working well as a piece of social history as well as a fine detective story.

I saw this movie (for the first time) when cable TV was new to Birmingham, Alabama. It was aired on a channel out of Chicago. Throughout the years, I have tried unsuccessfully to find a copy. Then...about three months ago, I found a collector with a copy in mint-condition. It has been well worth the money I spent. I watch it at least once a week. The cast worked very well together and the soundtrack is still hypnotic. The subject matter is addressed with a level of cinematic respect that makes the viewer sit up and take notice: no cursing and no lewd scenes...just raw and compelling acting. Like a bottle of old wine, Sapphire gets better and better as it ages. I'm hoping that no one will insult those of us who truly love this film by screening a cheesy re-make. That would be an insulting.

When a young woman's body is discovered on London's Hampstead Heath, the ensuing investigation quickly focuses on racial bigotry and hatred in 1950s Britain, exposing the prejudice amongst those under investigation AND those investigating.

Like so many other films from the 1940s and 1950s, Sapphire is yet another piece of groundbreaking British cinema now long forgotten. A little clunky and overly reliant on stereotyping by today's standards, but still a fascinating exploration of the fears and struggles inherent in a newly mixed-race society. Dearden has brought together an interesting cast here, cleverly giving matinée idol Craig a fairly unsympathetic role as a racist police officer, and being superbly served by Mitchell - her final scene is at once both compelling and distressing. Too many British cinema actors of the 40's and 50's have now been forgotten, and Mitchell is a prime example of why individual and collective reappraisals and retrospectives are long overdue.

Interesting companion piece to 1961's Flame In The Streets, then, and definitely worth catching if you can.