Innocent Sinners

What a lovely movie. Filled with all the old values which made British Movies so special. I'm glad to say that Talking Pictures TV has included this gem in their schedules.

I was very young when I saw 'Innocent Sinners'. The story and harmonica music by Larry Adler captured an 11 year old. I sat mesmerised in the front row of the ABC cinema in Eltham High Street, south London. Up to then, I'd had to view (Saturday morning matinées were de rigeur) films from America that had nothing in common with my life or the life of any children I knew. This was my first film view which had raw music to underscore a story. Was this combination of music and film an early example of the art? The story was a British story with children who were post-war survivors of the Blitz. I grow a wild flower in my garden in honour of this film about gardening in the rubble. The flower is Rose Bay Willow Herb or 'Fireweed'. The seeds thrive when burnt. The survivors of the Blitx knew the flower only too well on the bomb sites of post-war London.

This is a truly excellent British film from the 1950's and, although hard to locate, is well worth searching for. From the opening credits to the satisfying finale, the film is a joy and one of the very best feel-good movies you will ever see. The story of a young city girl wanting to bring some beauty into the grim post war inner-city environment is gentle, touching and charming in equal measure, but never slips into mawkishness. This is helped enormously by the consistently brilliant playing of the whole cast - there is not a dud performance amongst them. The only puzzling aspect is why the juvenile leads, especially June Archer, never had successful acting careers. This film is unreservedly recommended to all who appreciate first class movie making!

In 1958, at the age of eleven, I found myself scurrying to the Regal in Sidcup High Street three times in the same week to watch the same picture. No film had affected me in such a way before, and none has since.

The first day I saw it, I imagine that my mother had grown tired of me under her feet during a long school holiday, and probably gave me enough money for a ticket and choc-ice. When I reached the cinema, and saw the title 'Innocent Sinners', I thought the film must be something to do with religion, and began musing on what else I could do with the shilling and sixpence in my pocket. Indeed, if it had not been for a sudden downpour, I would almost certainly have sought other entertainment and never have seen the film which has been whirring away on the projector in my head ever since. How I wangled my two other completely secret visits that week, I have no idea, but I financed them from a private hoard of pennies I had been accumulating. The plain fact was that I empathised so much with Lovejoy Mason and felt so much part of her world that I could not wait to get back to it. I was holding my breath with her in the chapel when she was about to pilfer the candle money; I was down on my knees with her in the street scooping up the horse droppings....

Now, at the age of 54, I have just read Rumer Godden's wonderful 'An Episode of Sparrows' properly for the first time - a very belated attempt to discover why the film it inspired meant so much to me.

I can only think that the answer lies quite simply in the inspirational character of the irrepressible Lovejoy (played brilliantly by June Archer) and, in particular, the 'freedom' she won for herself. This young girl, against all odds, and through stubborn persistence and street-wise ingenuity, had created what was quite literally her own patch of freedom, her own escape from an often-wretched grown-up world. However, it was not only adults from whom she had to conceal her tiny retreat. It was a patch of potential beauty too, and therefore had to be kept secret from local gangs of marauding boys. In fact, for weeks no one knew or, in the case of her useless mother, cared, about her first little garden's existence. If true freedom is when no one else knows what you are doing, then for a while she certainly achieved this -and, defiantly, right under the noses of all.

And when that initial horticultural effort was discovered and so mindlessly destroyed, Lovejoy's indomitable spirit shone through as she set to work on a bigger, better sanctuary: one, it turned out, that was going to affect the lives of many people. If all this sounds just a bit too serious, it should be added that the film (and novel) was also at times very funny indeed.

Tony Rand, London, May 2001

A mother, who cares more for backstage glitter and male acquaintances, dumps her daughter Lovejoy with poor relatives. This couple struggle to run a tiny, though elegant restaurant; supporting Lovejoy is a hardship. They don't even have a refrigerator.

The little girl is motivated, zingy and quite disarming. Adamant on obtaining her wishes, she sets up a garden in a bombed churchyard and secures seeds with wit. Her close friend is a quite, steady boy who gladly assists. Lovejoy finds sympathy in a delicate elderly lady who has a weak heart and a no-nonsense sister.

A few shocks enter the story as Lovejoy is sent to a home for unwanted children just as the old lady dies. Not knowing of her passing, Lovejoy arrives at the door of her house, requesting the maid to give the lady her rose bush as she is moving away. The grieving sister holds the plant and sees a new view of life. A change in the old lady's will imparts relief to Lovejoy's relatives who can now decorate the restaurant they visualized. Everything slots in with a warm-hearted, cheery ending. An embracing movie in the classic style.