Filles sans joie

Before he became popular directing Charles Bronson films, J. Lee Thompson directed two prison movies based on books written by his future wife, Joan Henry. Glynis Johns does very well as the gambler who is framed for insurance fraud and sent to prison for one year. Here she meets the inmates who relate their stories of crimes that sent them up for time: a shoplifter, a blackmailer, and a neglectful mother. She stops one from stabbing a cruel guard and is rewarded with a transfer to a prison without walls. It's also very touching in the visitation scenes with her fiancé and doctor (John Gregson) how she feels the stigma of her sentence from the outside world. Only beef with the film I have is that there is no flashback to explain what crime her best friend, Betty (Diana Dors) did to serve two years. Her chum is desperate to find a boyfriend, Norman, that never writes or visits.

Glynis Johns is railroaded into prison for insurance fraud, where she initially despairs. However, the knowledge that her young man is waiting for her and the kindly prison warden buck her up. Eventually she is transferred to a 'prison with bars', where she meets, in the words of Anna Russell, all sorts of terribly interesting people, including Diana Dors and Olive Sloan.

It's directed by J. Lee Thompson from a book by Joan Henry, who was one of his wives; it was based on her prison experiences, and she called the Johns character "a bit goody-goody". Indeed she is. Except for one impassioned speech at the end, she's largely a sounding board for others. She's also rather heavy-set and middle-aged looking to add to her anonymity. Miss Dors gets the better role, and does a good job with it. Thompson would work with her later.

As far as women's prison pictures go, this one is far from bad, thanks primarily to fine performances by its British cast. Glynis Johns, who is great throughout, plays a compulsive gambler who's framed by a vengeful casino owner for writing a bad check. That part of the plot doesn't ring entirely true, nor does her romance with her faithful boyfriend, but the assortment of Dickensian criminals she meets in jail are an entertaining lot. Especially wonderful is Sidney James and his family of shoplifters. Compared to some of the overwrought American pictures that have been made on this subject about "caged" women, this one is a real treat.

Although there was probably some serious intent behind the film's premise e.g. the open prison system, social comment on post-war England as class barriers are breaking down which are interspersed throughout, it is the gentle humour that lifts it above the mediocre. Superb cameos from the great Athene Seyler and Sybil Thorndike playing two friends who plot to 'do in' an elderly admirer is made a great deal of by the director. The central story involving Glynis Johns is well told and each of the film's subsequent yarns make for a light but thoroughly enjoyable whole.

A peculiar mixture this, with an attempt to portray something of the reality of contemporary womens' prisons on one hand, combined with comedy flashbacks and a fictional approach to crime on the other.

The story centres around Jean Raymond (Glynis Johns) who is the subject of an elaborate frame when she can't pay her gambling debts. In reality, a half competent barrister could have destroyed the case against her, should it have ever come to court in the first place, but here she's sent down for twelve months. There follows her experiences in the grim Blackdown Jail and then The Grange, a progressive 'prison without bars'. Many of the usual clichés of such films are avoided and the staff are shown as being very strict, but fair. One of the comedy episodes features a comical family of shoplifters headed by Sid James and Olive Sloane; Sid's prominent position in the cast list, despite a relatively brief appearance, is notable even at this stage of his career. Another piece of nonsense has a wooden Sybil Thorndike attempting to murder her husband, and then framing Athene Seyler for blackmail. By contrast the scenes in the prison hospital are more realistic, with Jane Hylton giving perhaps the best performance as Babs, haunted by the death of the baby she had neglected. Though third billed, Diana Dors is not very memorable in what is little more than a supporting role. A couple of years or so later she was to give her finest performance for the same director in YIELD TO THE NIGHT.

The finale, with the orchestra in full flow, is as contrived and sentimental as anything that Hollywood could produce. Despite or because of its various eccentricities, I quite enjoyed this.