brian-joplin

This rare and forgotten British Lion comedy of 1934 is well worth the attention of cineastes for the presence of two of its actors. Firstly Frank Pettingell, best remembered now for his major role in the 1940 version of Gaslight, who in this film is seen in comic vein posing as a daft butler with hilarious consequences. Secondly Cyril Raymond, unforgettable as Laura's husband in Brief Encounter, here playing a rakish boyfriend but with a touch of gravitas. In both cases their performances in Keep it Quiet rank as, arguably, the best of their careers. Direction by Leslie Hiscott is slick and serviceable and, together with Michael Barringer's witty scenario, render this as one of the best of the unjustly scorned 'quota quickies' of the 1930s.

By a curious coincidence, two of the only three major films based on the British recording industry were made at Ealing within a year of each other. One was the nowadays rarely seen George Formby vehicle 'Feather your Nest', the other the subject of this review, 'Calling the Tune'. As you might expect, the Formby movie uses gramophone recording as the basis for broad though effective comedy whilst 'Calling the Tune' could not be more different. Here the approach is that of melodrama, the story outlining the rivalry between two recording firms around the time of the onset of electrical recording in the late 1920s. The narrative is well-paced and plausible, and acted with some verve not only by stalwarts of the profession such as Lewis Casson (one of his best screen appearances) but also by newcomers such as Clifford Evans, later to achieve huge box-office success in 'While I Live', or Donald Wolfit, best seen in 'Room at the Top' and the inspiration for Albert Finney's hugely entertaining Sir in 'The Dresser' But the main claim of 'Calling the Tune' to posterity's interest is the line-up of notables who attend the recording studio to cut discs. For aficionados of classical music, the sight of Sir Henry Wood conducting his Queen's Hall orchestra is a genuine delight. For lovers of music hall, there's George Robey performing one of his patter routines. And, perhaps weirdly, Sir Cedric Hardwicke steps forward to declaim some Shakespeare in very much the oratorical style he employs in 'Things to Come' shot at Denham in the same year. As an historical record this movie is absolutely fascinating, but as entertainment it works pretty well too, especially at its exciting climax.

Bruce LaBruce's 'Gerontophilia' exists on one level as a bold and thoughtful exposé of the shocking treatment of geriatrics in some care homes, whereby they pass their days under heavy sedation so as to make them less of a problem to handle. Though well-scripted and acted, this theme is hardly novel, having been seen in many earlier films, including Henry Koster's delightful mixture of the tragic and comic in 'Mr Belvedere Rings The Bell'. What makes 'Gerontophilia' unique is its other level - an unusual account of the developing relationship between the octogenarian Mr Peabody (Walter Borden in a complex and completely convincing performance) and a youthful student, Lake, who decides to intervene and improve Peabody's quality of life. This decision is not, however, completely altruistic since Lake is one of that minority of young males who are turned on sexually by old men. It is to LaBruce's great credit that he treats this controversial subject with just the right amount of restraint, avoiding the lurid, but not being afraid to call a spade a spade. There are no actual lovemaking scenes in bed, but sufficient moments where Lake's attraction to old flesh is made manifest, at the film's ending through the medium of humour, earlier in a poignant scene where Lake sketches Peabody with, as one might say, no holds barred. The film of course has its flaws: Pier-Gabriel Lajoie as Lake is just too impossibly good-looking, though this is to some extent offset by the charisma of his performance and his unerring sense of fun. Also there's the suggestion, inferred rather than stated, that his curious sexual preferences stem from his relationship with his drunken mother, but this comes over as a trite rather than illuminating idea. These, however, are small matters. This movie is a charming and unpredictable insight into a sub-world which is not just French-Canadian but universal, and will be a welcome addition to the programmes of those art cinemas brave enough to show it.