Un drôle de flic

A police reservist (George Formby) is desperate to join the Flying Squad his bumbling prevents him untlil he can crack a gang of saboteurs who are seeking to tackle a new destroyer being built for the Royal Navy.

A good fun Formby vehicle with the star running round with plenty of energy in this often funny vehicle, though perhaps a little more slapsticky than most; the finale chase sequence is especially silly, almost spoiling an otherwise enjoyable comedy. This slapstick is probably to capitalise on the popular propaganda dream sequence in LET GEORGE DO IT (also 1940).

my grandfather was the stunt rider in the wall of death scene. i only found out that little bit of info a few years ago when i discovered a lot of family i did not know i had. his name was Frederick William Augustus Cooper aka 'Crash Donovan'. He was born in surrey england on the 16th of august 1912 and he went on to be a world renowned stunt man and motorcycle racer. He worked for great actors like George and John Warwick. If anyone should know anything else about this great man or perhaps has photographs or even film of him please get in touch. i would be most grateful. if you read this before the 19 march 08 then you will have noticed a few changes. thanks entirely to IMDb and the original piece that i placed here my new found auntie Joan and uncle Fred (two of my grandfathers three children) have made contact. Joan has sent me a fantastic picture of granddad sitting astride a dirt track racer C1928 and Fred has kindly written to me explaining some of our family history. granddad held a number of world records in his youth and a very kind gentleman from the Brooklands race track is sending me whatever he has found. sadly i never met my grandfather for reasons that would take far too long to explain here and as he died in 1967 i must hope to meet him in the next life. RIP grandfather, at least i know now where my heavy right foot comes from and your great granddaughter and great grandson are just as bad.

George Formby dates from the era when they knew how to make good comedies in England - a Northern England equivalent of Norman Wisdom in the Southern UK, of Fernandel or Bourvil in France or even Danny Kaye in the USA. The strength of this type of comedy inevitably involves a central character who initially appears stupid, simple and gullible but who ends up being less silly than appears and who generally has the last laugh in the film. I adore this sort of comedy as personnified in films such as The Court Jester, Knock on Wood, Man of The Moment, Trouble in Store, Up in the World, Le Schpountz or La Grande Vadrouille. George Formby is also well known for his Ukelele work and has a wide mouth with plenty of big teeth, just like Fernandel in France. In this particular film ( which resembles many of the Norman Wisdom ones - hardly a surprise since the director is the same old John Paddy Carstairs ) Formby is trying to get into the police "Flying Squad" and unwittingly uncovers a sinister internal plot to blow up a ship on the day of its launching. There are some excellent comedical gags and female support from Jane Grey, all this topped with a superb "ee-by-gum" accent. The film has a feel good effect and Formby comes over as a lovable character, especially when he is playing the UKelele. I had begun to despair that any of his films would be available on DVD ( Many of Norman Wisdom's and Fernandel's films have been edited in this medium but surprisingly hardly any from Danny Kaye ) but I have just noticed that ten or so of Formby's will be issued in May 2007 ( in the United Kingdom ) on two boxed sets. One of Formby's most enjoyable tunes was "When I'm cleaning Windows".

George Formby is a police reservist and a would-be member of the flying squad - motorcycle cops dispatched at a moment's notice. He's sweet on Dorothy Hyson, but falls afoul in his inadvertent frustration of Warburton Gamble, head of a group of saboteurs who want to destroy a battleship before it goes down the ways.

George sings several songs, including "Ukulele Man", "On the Beat", and "I Wish I Was Back on the Farm", and takes part in some rather elaborate physical gags under the direction of the usually reliable John Paddy Carstairs. It's certainly filled with good humor, and George's clueless doggedness persists until thing turn out right again, but the story stops dead for him to strum his ukulele. There's no doubting his charm as a performer, but I think that if they wanted a one-man show about him, it could have been trimmed slightly.

This is one of a handful of Formby films I saw when young, thus imparting an even more rosier glow to the proceedings, although I've always enjoyed nearly all of his stuff immensely. It depicts a Britain in which a minority of traitorous saboteurs (presumably in the pay of the Nazis) are out to destroy British industry, or in this case, the British war machine in the battle for supremacy. The thousands of British Nazis of today only want to destroy people, out of racism and love for what lies beyond death, ie nothing at all.

George as a policeman this time gets implicated in the saboteurs plans to blow up a new warship HMS Hercules awaiting final fitting and launch in Liverpool. His mission, with his statuesque girlfriend Dorothy Hyson and with the entire police force chasing him is to find and expose the Quislings and thus clear his name. The leads both had had long careers - George's first film was made in 1916, Dorothy's in 1917. Along the way he gets to sing Ukelele Man (in the music store), On The Beat (at the police ball – what happened to all those people?), I Wish I Was Back On The Farm (with his not so clever pigeons, at the theatre), and I'm Shy (at the mill, with organ). Favourite bits: George standing on Ronald Shiner's cameo-appearance head; the fiery motorcycle riding trials for the Flying Squad; the chase leading to the Wall Of Death.

Simple fare maybe, but one of my favourite uplifting Formby's. Not a trace of cynicism, filth or violence, which along with it being in 4:3 b&w is why you hardly ever see it on TV nowadays.