La rage au coeur

We watched this on DVD last night despite my wife wasn't keen on the idea, but I assured her that with a cast including Oliver Reed, Susan George and Raymond Burr it had to be good. How wrong I was Reed played the role of a liberal cop putting on a silly American accent, Susan George looked like she had been force fed pies and buns for several months before filming and Raymond Burr was also dreadful seemingly aping "Boss Hogg". Dreadful dialogue and wooden acting, how much were the three cast members I have mentioned paid to take part in this utter rubbish?

Viewed this film only because Susan George had an appearance and I am sure that the director and producer used her to bring people to the box office in 1978. In the early 1970's Susan George was a very hot and steamy actress from England who drew plenty of people to see her in "Straw Dogs" and many others. Stephen McHattie, (Frank) plays the role as a boyfriend and lover to Janie (Susan George) and just goes off and leaves her all by herself and then returns and finds out she is being a kept woman by a very rich man who owns lots of business enterprises in town. Raymound Burr, (Burke) makes a very brief appearance along with Oliver Reed, (Jim Wilson) and both give great supporting roles. There is a scene where Frank asks Janie to go take a shower and make herself clean and then a few close ups of Frank drying her off and telling her how much he loves her and asks her how could she ever sleep with another man. This film is not much of a story and is very drawn out right to the very END; it is only 68 minutes long.

I wrote in my review about The Penthouse (1967) that director Peter Collinson's favourite two themes were violence and aggression. This is another Collinson offering, and once again his emphasis seems to be on the more brutal elements of the story. Tomorrow Never Comes is a mediocre siege-thriller, helped by its surprisingly high calibre cast but hindered by its frequent reliance on viciousness.

The story is essentially a rougher variation on an earlier French movie entitled Le Jour Se Leve. An unbalanced young guy, Frank (Stephen McHattie), goes bananas when he discovers that his girlfrind Janie (Susan George) has been unfaithful. He holds her hostage at gunpoint in a beach cabana, and his plight worsens when he shoots a cop who happens by. Local cop Jim Wilson (Oliver Reed) - on his last day in the job before retirement - must try to defuse the situation before someone else gets killed.

Though the film is far from great, it still features a handful of taut moments. Also, the performances are pretty good, with McHattie, Reed, George and Donald Pleasance all in commanding form. Why did I use the word mediocre to describe the film earlier in this review? Well, unfortunately much of the good work is undone by Collinson's sour, nasty tone. The ending is somewhat grim and, while I don't always like happy endings, this film needed a light climax to relieve the claustrophobic siege scenes that had gone before. The pacing becomes problematic, with too much chat surplus to requirement at the points where excitement should be peaking. And beyond the four really strong leading performances mentioned above, there are an awful lot of weak and under-written supporting performances further down the cast list.

Well worth seeing. The plot concerns the return of Frank (Stephen McHattie) to his home town, as he has been away working. In the meantime his girlfriend, Janie (Susan George) has moved out of their pokey apartment and into a beach-hut of a luxury hotel complex, owned by a rather unlikeable character, played by John Osborne (II).

Frank finds out she's been sleeping with the hotel's owner, and shoots a policeman who's been sent to the hut. Thus ensues a seige, with Raymond Burr, Donald Pleasence, and Oliver Reed sent along to help out.

I don't really know what exactly it is that I like about this film - possibly the naiive and innocent way Frank lives his life; by simply walking into one brick wall after another. Or maybe it's the "one man picnic" Oliver Reed has, where he decides to stage an impromptu beer commercial outside the hut (after they've cut off it's water supply).

Either way, if you've never watched this film before, I recommend you do. It also has an unhappy ending; for some reason, I prefer unhappy endings aswell.

In 1971, Oliver Reed purchased Broome Hall, a picturesque, 56-bedroom manor house nestling on the southern slopes of the Greensand Ridge in Surrey. For the next eight years, Reed was the self-styled Master of Broome Hall; though the cost of the upkeep associated with the building crippled him financially. As such, from the mid 70's onwards, Reed chose to do many films for the pay-check, regardless of their quality; perhaps the only reasonable explanation for his appearance in Peter Collinson's 'Tomorrow Never Comes.'

An impossibly cliched thriller, the film follows Frank, who has just returned to his hometown following an extended business trip. He looks up his old girlfriend, Janie, whom he has been pining for. Rumours abound that she has hooked up with another man, which Frank doesn't like the sound of. After he locates her, proceedings escalate quickly, until Frank finds himself holding her hostage. It is up to Detective Wilson to talk Frank down before any more violence ensues.

Reportedly a tax shelter co-production between the UK and Canada, the film boasts an impressive cast of talented actors; though little else. How the three credited screenwriters- David Pursall, Jack Seddon and Sydney Banks- injected so many cliches and hackneyed ideas into the narrative is actually astounding. Unoriginal is an understatement; the filmmakers seem to think of new ideas as anathema. Moreover, the dialogue is laughably bad, especially the lines spoken by Detective Wilson; who is duller than dishwater. Additionally, to call the characterisation of everyone involved paper-thin would be an insult to paper.

Filmed in Canada, but set in America, it was submitted to the 11th Moscow International Film Festival; where, unsurprisingly, it failed to win any awards. Narratively, the only interesting aspects involve the locals' reaction to the hostage-taking: treating it like a travelling carnival. This creates a few fun moments, satirising the American obsession with true crime. However, it's not an original point, nor is it the focus of the film. We don't care for the main characters, nor the secondary ones; and their story fails to compel, entertain or engage.

In addition, the visuals are uninspired and flat. Cinematographer François Protat fails to create tension or suspense with his compositions, filming proceedings without flair or- seemingly- much interest in the material. There is but one instance where he shows some originality, a scene where he makes clever use of a revolving piece of cut glass; though in a sea of mediocrity, it does little to elevate the impact of his addition to the film. Furthermore, the score by Roy Budd exhibits a tonal inconsistency, which undermines the intensity of the film's violent scenes and subdues the nuances of the actors' performances.

Stephen McHattie stars as Frank, opposite Susan George as Janie and the aforementioned Oliver Reed as Wilson. McHattie is totally credible as Frank, delivering a measured performance of a man overcome by insane jealousy. However, the screenplay lets him down. George performs well, though does overdo it a bit, while Reed's valiant attempts to make his character multifaceted and interesting largely fall flat in the face of the woeful dialogue and his inconsistent American accent.

Additionally, Donald Pleasence seems to be having fun playing a German Doctor, though doesn't provide any for the audience, while Raymond Burr, John Ireland and Paul Koslo do their best to bring life to their roles as cardboard cut-out secondary policemen. Furthermore, John Osborne proves why he is best remembered as a playwright and not as an actor in a thankfully small role.

It is almost impossible to reconcile the fact that Peter Collinson directed both 'The Italian Job' and 'Tomorrow Never Comes.' Narratively uninteresting and unoriginal, featuring inane and stilted dialogue, it is something of a shambles. Visually unremarkable, and with a misjudged score, the attempts by the cast to save this disappointing, dull picture simply aren't enough. In the end, 'Tomorrow Never Comes' makes one wish that, much like its title suggests, the film itself had never arrived. Maybe Ollie should have sold Broome Hall earlier than he did.