Dead Man's Evidence

This is a peculiar thriller which will lead you the wrong way all along. A dead man is washed ashore on the coast of Ireland, and Conrad Phillips is sent over to establish if it is the spy long since believed dead who now really is dead or not. The corpse is too unidentifiable for anyone to be able to identify, but for the case of a ring found on his hand which then is missing. The girl who found the body denies having seen any ring, but then she is upset by finding it has been stolen from her. All these winding threads leading away from the mystery - we actually never learn who the dead man was - serve only to mystify and mislead the audience from any possibility to get on the right track, and Conrad Phillips is most misled of all. There is a conclusion which will take everyone by surprise including Conrad Phillips.

Dean Man's Evidence brings with it a fairly broad cast of performers that have the misfortune of having to work with a rather bland and uninspiring script.

The film's location takes place in Ireland and the cinematography does offer the viewer some beautiful vistas that are quite lovely. Even with a weak script the two male leads are unable to elevate the action as they both turn in rather tepid performances. In addition to the beautiful scenery this film does also include some unique locations as well. However, there is far too little in the way of suspense on display in Dead Man's Evidence that would suggest this as a must see.

I saw this movie on TV when I was 12 and remembered only the beginning and the end, without even realising that they belonged to the same film. Which tells you all you need to know about the uninvolving hour of talk that separates the two.

The makers apparently went to the expense of location filming in Ireland, but you wouldn't know it, since most of the 'action' comprises the usual uninvolving 'B' movie exchanges in hotel rooms and foyers; with the notable exception of an atmospheric night scene in a mortuary.

As usual the women are the most memorable feature, Veronica Hurst as a girl reporter and the late Jane Griffiths in what appears to be a very bad wig as the lady who found the body in the opening sequence; but despite what we are told doesn't seem particularly fazed by it. And I would have liked to have seen more of publican Maureen Halligan, who unfortunately only has the one scene.

Mainly filmed on location in Ireland, where one car a day passes the pub, if you're lucky.

Baxter is sent by his bosses to investigate a dead frogman washed up on the beach. It was found by a young girl, Miss Howard (what was she doing there?), and a reporter and photographer just happened to be on the spot. There's a mysterious beardie in a bungalow who's employing the (female) photographer as a fellow spy. Is the dead man a double agent last seen in Berlin? Baxter and Miss Howard stay in the same rather staid hotel in the nearest town as they wait for the inquest. The reporter and photographer hang around, ostensibly on the scent of a story.

1963 wasn't a great year for fashion, and all the women wear frumpy styles, big coats and awful hairdos. Staff at the hotel and airport have very English accents. The only "Oirish" is attempted by a barmaid and the mortuary attendant. Everybody smokes all the time, and drinks all day. Miss Howard becomes a bit giggly after her tenth gin and bitter lemon.

The sound was so bad that I turned on the subtitles. Miss Howard in particular EMphasized one word in every sentence but died away for the rest. The subtitler gave up on an Irish barman in a lonely pub where the last showdown takes place. We shall never know what he was saying. However, we are helpfully told when the soundtrack becomes sinister, menacing or resolutive.

Overall, it is like a substandard Francis Durbridge enacted by the Charles Vance players (the worst amateur troupe I have ever witnessed). The music is the best thing about this dreary movie - with a few genuinely lovely Irish folk tunes at the beginning.

Secret Agent Conrad Phillips is sent to track down turncoat Ryck Rydon, who's rumored to be in Ireland. When he arrives, there's a corpse on the beach, believed to be Rydon, but he's not sure. While he flirts/interrogates Jane Griffiths, a couple of newshound try to find out the story for their paper.

It's a rather dull spy drama from director Francis Searle, although it does include some nice location shooting by Ken Hodges and a nice twist ending. Everyone seems adequate to the rather boringly written roles, and Phillips is overwrought in this pre-Bond world of spy craft without gadgets. As far too often seems the case in 1960s British dramas, the score by Ken Thorne tries to drum up a sense of excitement that the on-screen action rarely justifies.