Scotland Yard joue et gagne

An early film from Gerald Thomas, who would later go on to dedicate his career to the Carry On comedy series, this is a very different sort of film. It is a mystery film, and in many ways archetypal, with a web of different events that an innocent man has to work his way through. It is not a brilliant film, especially in comparison to the very best of its genre that was being churned out at the time, but it does the job fairly well, with an intriguing enough plot and good application of music. It is complicated beyond credibility, and the film does not have the power to suspend one's disbelief, however a competent cast working with a competent director find a way to make it work as a satisfying watch.

The film is a remake of a 1956 BBC serial called'My Friend Charles',& as such gallops thru the material in a relatively short time.I found it fast moving,enjoyable & unpretentious.Did anyone else notice the scenes,towards the end,where John Mills was being gassed?-the producers obviously decided to omit the scenes-maybe censorship?,but notice when he's sat by the window of the flat,deep breathing closely followed by similar scenes with the car window open. The Francis Durbridge serials all seemed to inhabit the same universe,that of unexplained happenings,people being not what they seem & the villain being someone close to the hero/victim.A predictable universe in some ways,but one with its own rules & regulations.

When Dr Latimer ( John Mills ) is asked by a friend ,to pick up a German actress, from London airport, and take her to her hotel, he agrees,later when he returns to his flat he finds the body of the murdered actress. This leads Mills into a world of blackmail, murder and a fake passport scam John Mills gives his usual solid performance, and other British stalwarts Derek Farr,Wilfred Hyde-White, Lionel Jeffries and Ronald Culver, make this film well worth watching.

This is the perfect comfort film (and I don't mean Lance Comfort). You've rung in sick, it's raining outside, you've got a big piece of buttered toast ready and then this comes on afternoon telly. Except it doesn't anymore; it's all Jeremy Kyle and his irksome ilk: "I married my lesbian dad."

Anyway, The Vicious Circle stars good old dependable Johnny Mills pants as a doctor caught up in a – erm – vicious circle. It's one of those innocent man gets tangled up in something nasty but he doesn't know who to believe and he ends up questioning his own sanity. Commonplace everyday events become loaded with meaning – or else take on a whole new meaning: a man, Lionel Jeffries, claiming to be a reporter, isn't a reporter and can't be traced; a disembodied voice on the telephone, claiming to be a film director friend, is an impersonator. In the most effective moment of the film Mills returns to his friend's flat (Derek Farr) to find a party in full swing – except it's only a gramophone record of party noise playing in an empty apartment. Oh and there's also a neurotic female patient who says she found a dead body with a candlestick next to it while strolling on the common (the police find the candlestick in Mills' golf clubs.) The building blocks of civilised society – trust and taking things at face value – become eroded and all we are left with is paranoia and fear. Not that you'd know it to look at Mills. It's a stiff upper lip and a nice round of golf all the way. It's how they did things back then, you know.

The problem the film has is that it asks us to trust Mills (would you trust a man who wears a cravat under his polo top?) and so we never doubt Mills' innocence. After the police reveal that they believe him too the suspense drains out of things and we're only left with the question of who's behind it all and why.

This is no minor classic. But I wouldn't dismiss it quite as quickly as my fellow reviewers. It looks and feels rather like one of those British 'Quota quickies' churned out sausage-style by Butchers films in the 1950's and 60's. Which is not a bad thing. It's longer than those efforts, though, and has more 'names' - the star is John Mills.

I enjoy the way that the piece depicts safe, sterile suburban middle class life turned upside down. Well, not quite 'turned upside down' exactly: there's a charming little scene where dear Johnnie takes his mind off the fact that he's a man on the run for murder by playing a few rounds of golf. The film has a most agreeable atmosphere of suspicion and distrust. Certainty and normality fray at the edges. Nobody can be trusted. Your smoothly amiable best friend of longstanding just might have it in for you. Your fiancée may not be what she seems.

There are some very enjoyable performances. I particularly liked Wilfrid Hyde-White as a civilised but sinister late-night caller. In fact, pretty much everybody in this film does civilised and sinister rather well. Mills is his usual watchable self. The direction is largely uninspired but is nicely unobtrusive: events unfold with pace and sharp simplicity.

If you want to catch a true lost masterpiece of suburban British post-war paranoia, look for Lance Comfort's "Pit of Darkness", with William Franklyn as another urbane professional who finds his routine existence up-ended. There's only one moment in 'The Vicious Circle' to match that film for my money. Don't ask me why, but the scene where Mills turns up at a 'social gathering' and finds only an empty apartment flooded with the sound of pre-recorded party chatter unnerves me every time. It seems that there's a tinge of genuine madness and disruption just lurking at the corners of the frame.