À cor et à cri

Caution: Ending briefly described.

A young teenager and his pals discover that a gang leader is using a "boy's magazine" (called a comic, but seemingly more of a pulp-fiction text magazine) to tell his gang what jobs to pull. At the expense of logic, this allows for a nice scene at the beginning where a boy is reading a story and the events he's reading about are simultaneously happening around him. This is billed as a comedy, and there are many amusing scenes. Sim, in a small part, is delightful as the innocent, swishy, eccentric writer of the magazine stories. And there fine comic touches, such as, when they stop to look in a store window while trailing someone, the seamstress inside sticks out her tongue. But, unexpectedly, it's as a noir film that this shines. Many scenes are filmed on-location in war-torn London. At one point the kids descend into the sewers to avoid arrest, and when it seems that they can't get out, one becomes hysterical. The lobby of Sim's building is a complete noir set. The finale, with the boy entering darkness to follow the villain, and their cat-and-mouse fight on the open floors of a bombed building is noir in every aspect; the setting, the action, the lighting, the whole style of filming. The fight is violent, and ends with the boy jumping from the floor above onto the villain's stomach, killing him. It's a brutal death for a man whose crime is handling hot furs, and who the boy had no "personal" reason to kill. These noir aspects are the most striking part of the film, and it might have been even better if they had been even stronger. As it is, this Ealing film is still one of the best British films of the immediate post-war period.

Though I don't think this film is particularly well regarded, or even known; this is a splendid little tale of youth as the adult world would prefer it and a rather kindly mentor in the lugubrious shape of Alastair Sim. The plot hinges on the now unknown pursuits of comic strips and collecting vehicle registration (licence) plate numbers.

The humour is more subtle and understated than in the later films, indeed one can feel the transition with the years through films such as The Magnet and The Maggie before we reach the true classics of the genre.

Finally, though many will link the name of the great Alastair Sim with Ealing Comedies, am I right in thinking that this, the first of the Ealing Comedies is the only one to feature him?

Alastair is better known working with other studios I believe.

I found a copy of this movie in my local (Phoenix, Arizona) used book store. Ah, bliss! The sights of old London, albeit somewhat bomb-damaged, before the developers started to build ugly tower blocks. The movie itself is excellent, with good characterization for the 'kids', although Jack Warner's role as the villain seems a little overblown. Alistair Sim's role as the nervous author of comic books is an excellent vignette, showing his trademark nervous twitchy smile. The final chase and confrontation, at "Ballard's Wharf", reputedly in Wapping, was actually filmed on the opposite side of the river, as can be scene in the long shots, where St. Paul's cathedral can be seen.

Eccentric boys' adventure writer Felix H Wilkinson (Sim) has his copy - "The Enthralling Adventures of Selwyn Pike and his Youthful Assistant Smiler" - altered by master crooks, using a special code through the pages of kids' comic 'Trump'. Only sharp-eyed schoolboy Joe Kirby (Fowler) seems to have noticed, but fails to convince a sceptical Detective Inspector Ford (Lambert).

Undeterred, Kirby enlists the help of a gang of bombsite-dwelling little cockneys, the self-styled 'Blood and Thunder Boys' to up-end the criminals' dastardly plans. Wilkinson is persuaded to alter his copy and catch the robbers, headed by Kirby's boss Nightingale (Warner, cast against type as a baddie), and Trump secretary Rhona Watson (White).

Originally billed with the slogan, "The Ealing film that begs to differ", Hue And Cry is less a comedy (actually, it's Ealing Studios' first acknowledged 'comedy') than a thrilling adventure story for older kids; the occasional punch-up scenes are peculiarly realistic. Director Crichton weaves a fantastic, but bizarrely believable yarn, helped no end by his unsentimental, dedicated cast.

The standout performer is Sim, whose potty writer, despite limited screen time, pretty much waltzes off with the entire picture - whether he's castigating the crooks ("The insolent scoundrels, they've purloined one of my codes - the very code I invented for the 'Case of the Limping Skeleton!'") or tremulously backing out of the deal ("Remember what happened to Nicky the Narc in the 'Case of the Creeping Death'?").

Acclaimed cinematographer Dougie Slocombe makes great use of post-Blitz London locations, including Holborn Viaduct, Docklands, and Covent Garden - particularly for the climactic scenes of hundreds of boys teeming Battleship Potemkin-fashion down the capital's steps toward the scene of the crime. While an almost incidental scene of a small boy re-enacting an aerial dogfight on a bombsite leaves viewers in no doubt about the psychological impact of the World War II on a new generation.

I particularly enjoyed seeing London in its derelict state after WW2, I remember my parents taking me there in those days and seeing piles of bricks everywhere. It was amusing to read a review by an American academic whose main complaint was that the children were all white and there should have been a better balance with black children. I wonder where he thought Ealing Studios might have found such people in 1946/7 - the Empire Windrush did not arrive at Tilbury until June 1948. Indeed looking at the devastation in London in the film it is amazing that Ealing could make anything. This is something that i watched as a kid and have seen many, many times again.