m_fehle

The greatest movie of all time this isn't. I don't think it ever tried to be. It's a vehicle of George "oooh, mother!" Formby and his ukelele, in an era when Vaudeville was coughing up blood and there was a pool of talent going idle (assuming you consider the ukelele a talent!). It's lots of fun, and entirely predictable - underdog battles the odds, has a few scrapes, but gets the girl (and other things) in the end, baddies roundly thrashed, and all to the strains of the obligatory musical numbers that permeate the movie. I grew up on the Isle of Man and used to marshal on the TT course - there wasn't a year went by that at least one rider didn't have his machine painted in the Shuttleworth Snap checkerboard pattern, such is the legacy of this movie in the road-racing fraternity. Filmed almost entirely on location, it cuts in archive race footage (amazing to see what's changed and what hasn't) and it's sublimely ridiculous. If you're a road-racer, or know people who are, this is a must. For everyone else, it's a maybe. Bizarrely, in the scene at the beginning of the big race, there is a swastika flag flying from the grandstand. It's customary to fly the flags of all of the countries that the competitors are from, and I guess in 1936 there were German riders - still, it's a little strange to see it there, looks out of place.

Growing up in England we are blessed to have the comedic genii of the Boulting Brothers and Ealing Studios. Films like Kind Hearts & Cornets, the Lavender Hill Mob, and School for Scoundrels, comedies that make us root for the crook even though we know (thanks to censorship) that they won't get away with it. Private's Progress (the precursor to I'm Alright Jack) is in the same mould. The sublime Ian Carmichael, the Machiavellian Terry-Thomas, the spivvy Richard Attenborough, the slightly otherworldly John LeMesurier - perfect stereotypes of post-war Albion. Movies like this are made to be watched on wet Sunday afternoons, cozy slippers and a pot of tea, perhaps even a biscuit or two or a slice of rich fruitcake dense with candied peel and other goodies. Safe to watch with your Auntie Doris (no sex, violence or swearing, no sir), a film that carries itself purely on a clever script and a rattling pace. Complete fluff, of course, but just the ticket as the winter's evening closes in and you're dreading returning to work on Monday. File under pretty much anything from that era with Alec Guinness (may his name be praised), Sink the Bismark, Ice Cold in Alex, Rommell, or Dambusters. British through and through, and a jolly good thing too. They don't make movies like this anymore, more's the pity.