Blackout

I found BLACKOUT to be a routinely-plotted thriller with an interesting storyline. The only problem with it is that it's hampered by a relatively low budget which means there are few memorable set-pieces or exciting moments to distinguish it from other fare. It was put out by the Baker/Berman team at Tempean Films, with Baker himself directing from a script by John Gilling (who apparently never slept during this stage of his career).

The film boasts a great opening sequence which is the definite highlight. Maxwell Reed (THE CLOUDED YELLOW), suffering from temporary blindness, ends up at the wrong address and literally stumbles upon a recently-deceased corpse. You have no idea how this same scenario was used time and again in British B-films but that's because it's a good one. The murderers are still on the scene but, learning of his disability, decide to let him live. He's discovered the next day but of course the police don't believe his story and there's no trace of the murder.

Sadly the film shifts down a gear after this point. Reed regains his sight and becomes the ordinary amateur detective, trying to solve the murder and bring down the criminal gang. I would have preferred him to remain blind throughout and have Dinah Sheridan's love interest acting as his eyes as this would have made for a more unusual and thrilling production. I suppose that would have been too outside the box. Still, the running time is short and the pace is fast, both of which are good things, and the requisite twists and turns of the plot keep you watching.

There's a nice little set-piece in a posh apartment complex involving the concierge, Reed breaking into a room to commit a robbery, and a couple of thugs on his tail. It plays out very nicely. BLACKOUT also benefits from a decent cast. Reed isn't my favourite leading man from this period but he's decent enough here. Sheridan is as classy as ever. Kynaston Reeves plays a crotchety old fellow while Annette Simmonds is an effective gangster's moll-type character. Eric Pohlmann is the slimy villain and the great but underrated Michael Brennan his brutal thug. Ronald Leigh-Hunt and Michael Balfour have cameos, but although Sam Kydd is listed on the IMDb cast page, I failed to spot him this time.

Thanks to some new channels on satellite we are now able to view again many British crime thrillers from the 40s and 50s which were last shown on BBC or ITV about 30 years ago.What is often most interesting about these films is the location shots,so that you can compare London of that era with the London of today.The film is full of actors familiar from that period,including one of my favourite actors of that time Eric Pohleman.He really was a superb villain.The fact that he had a continental accent meant that this made him sound even more sinister to the post war audiences.Also featured is Michael Brennan who must have beaten up more leading men than he had hot dinners.Kynaston Reeves who usually played Judges has a longer part than usual.In all a reasonably entertaining thriller

Many thanks to the other reviewers who have clued us in that Maxwell Reed, leading man of Blackout, was attempting to put on an American accent. Yours truly and the grouchy old wife were speculating on what nationality he was -- perhaps Canadian. His lingo didn't sound like any of the usual British accents, yet he certainly did not sound like an American of any known species. Actually there is no one "American" accent, but at least two dozen distinct dialects. My home state of Texas can account no less than six regional variations on the "Taxsun" dialect, which some people think should be regarded as a separate language -- especially damn Yankees who have recently relocated here. But I digress. Reed's attempt to sound like an American, if that is really what he was trying to do for whatever reason, was quite pathetic. He just sounded like and Irishman with a bad head cold.

No one would ever mistake Maxwell Reed or any other Britisher for an American. Yours truly and the grouchy old lady, as we watch these quota quickies and other British productions, always marvel at how this bunch speaks English, yet is no more like us Americans than Italians or Spaniards or Croats. There can't be any other race anywhere as wooden as the British. Stiff upper lip? They're stiff from head to toe! You have to wonder how they know when it's time to bury one of them. And Maxwell Reed was surely one of the stiffest of the stiff! In no scene of Blackout can he be detected moving any of his facial muscles more than one sixteenth of an inch. Leading lady of Blackout, Dinah Sheridan was not far behind. How does a director direct them to act when none of them would show any more emotion for a hurricane than for a hangnail? Not to say that there were not excellent British actors. But most of them, such as Ronald Coleman, David Niven, Merle Oberon, Greer Garson and Herbert Marshall, were usually to be found in Hollywood. If Reed and Ms. Sheridan had ever relocated to that land of big productions and high salary, it is unlikely either would have ever risen much above the level of bit player.

Not that we don't enjoy the occasional product of fair Albion's cinema. For all its shabby production values and bland acting, Blackout was not such a bad little crime thriller. Pacing was a bit of a problem. Everything rolled along at a continuous breakneck speed with no chance to catch your breath or reflect on the doings. Perhaps they were afraid of running out of film. The score was just background music which did little to enhance the drama or action and was quite irritating at times. However, the cinematography, as with most of these Brit pence-pinchers, was very decent, while the story and the action kept your attention. Enjoyable if you are in the right mood -- and keep a stiff upper lip!

Maxwell Reed, the tall dark, handsome hero, with the Robert Mitchum one liners and 'droopy' eyelids, does a reasonable job of playing the amateur sleuth in his attempt to find the masterminds of a smuggling racket. Reed's portrayal is a direct take from Mitchum's world weary and cynical anti hero, Jeff Bailey, in the film 'Out of the past.' As in so much American film noir of this period, to raise the level of fear and tension, moments of danger are enhanced the use of the camera which presents the main characters in twilight and shadowy situations. Reed's accent is a sort of 'mid Atlantic' and after a while frankly grates on the ears as it's neither one thing or another. His 'Mitchum' sleepwalking demeanour and his cynical quips are shamelessly copied from American film noir, but they seem out of place in 1950's London. It's as if the director is trying to inject some sparkle and excitement into the action. However, on hindsight, it may have been more appropriate to have simply cast a genuine American actor for the part. The film starts promisingly enough with a temporary blind Reed being assaulted and knocked out in an London flat. Reed's encounter with Dinah Sheridan, the sister of the pilot killed in air crash two years earlier, prompts him to pursue his attackers and find out what they were really trying to achieve. But half way through the film, the storyline begins to meander and hence lose its 'punch' and ends up becomes tedious. Eric Pohlmann as usual is excellent, playing the foreign villain, with solid support from Michael Brennan cast as the chief 'henchman.' However, Sheridan is largely a spare part, who seems to spend most of her time getting in and out of cars. There's no sexual chemistry or 'frisson' between her and Reed, thus rendering the relationship as 'flat' and frankly dull. Maxwell Reed reminds me of an early Roger Moore, an average actor who seems to get by with snappy one liners and good looks! Nevertheless, the film is worth a look.

Future Hammer House of Horror legend John Gilling wrote the serviceable script to this creepily crepuscular Brit-Noir about a temporarily blind protagonist Christopher (Maxwell Reed) who quite literally stumbles blindly onto a grisly murder scene, thereby excitingly auguring a lean, well-shot, garotte-tight B-thriller, endowed with a first rate, profoundly engrossing mystery, and the tall, handsomely rugged-looking, twin-fisted lead making for a suitably Stoic, hard-knock Noir hero, and the gripping, circuitously entertaining plot cascades amusingly to a thrill-packed, shadow-steeped, bullet-blastingly boisterous, excitingly staged foot chase at the film's agreeably noisome climax! And it would be greatly remiss to not mention the eye-catchingly vivid use of chiaroscuro lighting effects in the film's doom-laden interiors that rivals the painterly work of world-renowned 'Painting With Light' photographer John Alton.