La Mort apprivoisée

This film is an interesting return to the general subject matter of Powell and Pressburger's black and white war films (49th Parallel, One of our Aircraft, etc..), but, made four years after the end of the war, it is a moody piece that focuses on a man disabled by the war. It is typical of their work in that it features brilliantly well-rounded, truly adult characters without easy answers or one-dimensional poses; it is also a departure from their other films of the period in its lack of flamboyance and otherworldly flair. The gritty style - no music, for example, and wonderfully spare dialogue by Pressburger - is perfectly echoed by the intense performances of Kathleen Byron and David Farrar. As always, Powell's keen visual sense is paramount to the brilliance of the Archers' films, and the bomb-defusing scene on the beach makes great use of the setting in its compositions and editing. Although it is not the best introduction to the work of Powell and Pressburger, this film is a keen testament to the capacity of their storytelling abilities in weaving a tale of a man who finds redemption through work and love. Whether their films are explorations of the power of art or the effects of war, I consistently find their work profoundly moving. Let's hope that it is FINALLY released on video or, better still, DVD. (Attention, Scorcese!!!!)

A fine terse drama like this one is inconceivable today for many reasons, most of them having to do with market forces which dictate that only films about superheroes in long underwear and adolescent revenge fantasies are to get financing and international distribution. But the main reason why it can't be duplicated today is the quality of the writing by Emeric Pressburger, an innovative genius who wasn't afraid to leave his mark on material adapted from another medium and to use his imagination to keep things vivid at all times. The film shines in its production values, photography, art direction, casting but most of all in its details and its capacity to involve the viewer in a subject that would seem almost repellent today, a complicated and imperfect man's devotion to his work in time of war. If a film's success is to be measured by its capacity to take the viewer out of the ordinary, this film is certainly a hit. Its success is helped by the talent of the principals, a wise woman every warrior would like to return to (Kathleen Byron) and the most gorgeous hunk of uncompromising masculinity ever to grace a British screen and titillate the female viewers, David Farrar.

Quite apart from its wartime themes, this is the best introduction I know to the world of office politics and power broking. Fans of Ricky Gervais are advised to give this little film a viewing. It has enough story lines to keep everyone happy and the cast is mighty fine at playing a variety of individuals. It's hard to think of a better supporting-role performance from Jack Hawkins, and anything with Kathleen Byron in it always has to be watchable.

I've only just read the novel of the same name, on which it's based (still in print and available, and strongly recommended by the way). Comparing the two, it's easy to see how so much of the film derives from the novel; but this is far more than a film of the book. Powell and Pressburger have done a superb job of focusing and concentrating the novel's strengths.

As I am sometimes less than kind in my comments of the Archers, it was a pleasure to rediscover the other day "The Small Back Room" , a film I had not seen since its original release. Although this is generally regarded as one of their minor works, presumably because of its lack of flamboyance, it takes for once a very serious theme and treats it in a thoroughly mature way; that of the psychologically flawed individual and how he reacts when faced with possibly the greatest challenge in his professional career. Two of Sidney Lumet's finest films, "Equus" and "The Verdict" have the same subject. Sammy Rice, the boffin of "The Small Back Room", is struggling with alcoholism and the mental as well as the physical pain of coping with an artificial foot when he is called upon to discover the way to dismantle one of several booby-trap explosive devices dropped by the Germans over Britain in 1943. The casting of the two central characters is perfect. Although the part of Sammy calls for someone with a James Mason like authority, a much lesser actor, David Farrar, rises to the occasion particularly as he has the advantage of a large lumbering frame that conveys a certain physical awkwardness. As his sympathetic ladyfriend, Susan, Kathleen Byron drops her "Black Narcissus" melodramatics to give the performance of her lifetime as the woman who really knows how to handle Sammy when he is at his lowest. Add to this the fine camerawork of Christopther Challis, particularly liberal in its use of huge closeups that significantly heighten the psychological tension of the narrative, and you have a film well worthy of attention. In only two scenes does it falter. Unfortunately by conforming to the tiresome custom of British films of the period of sending up the Establishment, it presents Robert Morley as a rather silly senior minister. Although this would have probably fitted in the context of a comedy it is out of place in a film as darkly toned as this. Then there is the melodramatic lapse of resorting to Teutonic Expressionism when Sammy is fighting his alcoholism. In this nightmarish sequence he is physically dwarfed by a giant whisky bottle and an alarm clock. This is one of only two scenes to use background music. For the rest, untypically for this period, it does without. It makes for a stronger, more hard-edged experience.

This is a wonderful movie, ahead of its time. The filming has the intense chiaroscuro of monochrome at its best, Kathleen Byron is astonishingly beautiful (even more so than in Black Narcissus), and the undertones are dark and very modern. Susan and Sam (the pain-ridden hero) have no idealised relationship; the film is uncompromising about Sam's alcoholism and, remarkably for its time, clear in its implication that Sue and Sam live together despite being unmarried. There are also many nice well-observed details, such as the scientist who embarrasses a visiting minister by knowing the answer to a sum faster than the calculator they are supposed to be demonstrating, the snoozing officer in the War Room, and the laid-back Strang who clearly is intensely attracted to Sam. I just keep watching this and finding more to see.