The Silent Playground

Roland Curram is a kind-hearted young man who is not very smart. He gives what he thinks are sweets to the children at a playground. What they actually are is very a very strong drug to control his mental problems. At these dosages, they can kill young children.

As a straight thriller, it's moderately well done, with some interesting editing by Peter Musgrave and a nice performance by Rickford Harris, who gets his friend to the hospital and waits around for the news, good or bad. Musgrave's editing reflects his more usual job of sound editing, with some nice and clear cuts to different sounds and levels with scene shifts.

Where this movie fails is in its attitude towards the situation that leads to the situation and in some cases, the tragedy. Is the system for dealing with the mentally handicapped up to its tasks? Do people take their responsibilities seriously? Considering the deaths, is the happy woodpipe music at the end at all sensible? Or is a matter of "case closed, and onto the next"? Whichever it is, it's rather slovenly.

There is something distinctly haunting about this rather terrifying drama. Roland Curram is "Simon", a mentally ill man who knows the effects of his medication on himself, and so - perhaps benignly - administers these powerful barbiturates to young children. Needless to say, this action has pretty devastating effects and he is soon scared and on the run, being chased by his doctors and the constabulary. The drama builds well towards an, admittedly, expected conclusion but a larger role than usual for Desmond Llewellyn (Dr. Green") and a solid one from the always reliable Jean Anderson as his mother deliver as much of a public service message as an interesting drama about mental illness here. We are clearly being advised of the dangers of allowing sweetie-loving children near colourful pills and capsules.

This is one of the best British B features I have ever seen. It is a masterpiece of great writing,acting and direction. It is in my view amongst the top ten B features of its era but is very little known. Hopefully that will change as TPTV are about to give it an airing.

THE SILENT PLAYGROUND is part of a British sub-genre of films in which the authorities hunt down somebody threatening the streets; however it's no pervert or maniac this time around, merely a mentally ill young man who's got it into his head to feed street kids his medication, causing them no end of ill effects. It's an obviously low budget production that nonetheless has a gritty, on-the-street kind of vibe, with naturalistic performances throughout and a kind of toughness that works. Desmond Llewellyn plays a kindly doctor and the same plot was utilised for a Children's Film Foundation feature, SEVENTY DEADLY PILLS, made the following year.

Roland Curram gives the performance of his life as mentally disturbed Simon Lacey, who gives out his prescription barbiturates to children thinking they are sweets because they're normally administered to him by his mother. How sad his screen career ended in crap soap Eldorado - "The Lowly Grail".

The cop on the case is the ever reliable Bernard Archard, who appeared as the main cop in many of the contemporary Edgar Wallace Mysteries. In contrast to the rather pedestrian interpretations he gives in the EWs here he is positively hyperactive, chasing Simon through the streets and alleys of London.

Other acting honours to (naturally) Jean Anderson as Simon's mum and Desmond Llewelyn as the doctor in charge; and (unnaturally) John Ronane who is usually too belligerent for my taste but a real sweetie here. A special accolade must go to the uncredited black child actor whose (white) best friend is one of the victims.

Like several of my favourite films, this was filmed in the freeze/thaw/freeze winter of 1962/3 and makes excellent use of snowy parks and streets, deserted playgrounds, tower blocks adjacent to 1930s housing and the river Thames.

Criminally, this film is not available on DVD; but it is available from BFI to rent for a preposterously reasonable £2.50 for 48 hours of unlimited viewings of a very crisp print. 9/10 (1 point deducted for sometimes twee and intrusive music) Mark James Burden