Film Reviews by Steve

Harrowing psychological drama about salvage crews operating in the North Atlantic in WWII, suffering what we now call PTSD. Their task is to rescue convoys which have been hit by u-boats, but with pitiful defences. The preface calls these suicide missions. Performed by men unable to process the horror.

Trevor Howard plays the captain of one of these beat up tugs. He's a fatalistic old boozer, surviving on adrenaline and sleeping pills. He is joined by William Holden, a more proactive skipper who presumes that an enterprising approach may delay the inevitable. They acquire the key to a waterfront room; a kind of allegorical purgatory.

While the action takes a realist approach, the crews who operate on the edge of death find their lives assume a mystical dimension. This is personified by Sophia Loren, a sort of delusional saint who comes with the room. She has cared for so many of these doomed men, that she can hardly tell them apart, numb from an overload of memory and loss.

Loren brings dignity to her difficult, spectral role. Holden is fine, but Howard is a natural in this dark, subliminal zone of fear and despair. After a decade of patriotic WWII memoirs, this is war as hell. Censorship issues muddled the final scenes and the metaphysical themes are inevitably vague, but this is an unusual and haunting war-noir.

Philosophical war drama set in Paris in the run up to D Day, which examines the guilt of combat survivors. Paul Massie plays a naive but studious former bomber pilot who was grounded with mental trauma. But because he is fluent in French, he is sent to Paris to kill a traitor. But what if the intelligence is flawed?

There's a familiar plot, particularly the early scenes as the young volunteer goes to assassins school, to be trained by a watchful, avuncular Eddie Albert. When dropped in France, the agent gets too close to his mark and begins to question his orders. But by leaning on his contact (Irene Worth) he may expose her to the Gestapo.

Aspects of the plot are not plausible. It's not obvious why the Resistance doesn't just put a bullet in the supposed collaborator? What makes the film interesting is the clever dialogue that reflects on the action at every stage. Particularly the interactions between Massie and Worth, which are warmed by unspoken maternal love.

When the victim is shown to be innocent, the conscience of the assassin is not reconciled by the fact he merely followed a chain of command. Presumably these issues were still personal to the survivors of WWII, or subsequent wars. There's a wordy script, but intelligent and full of insight, and well acted by the unstarry cast.

One of the more unusual WWII special operations films, loosely drawn from the memoirs of Ewen Montague, who ran the enterprise. A British naval officer (Clifton Webb) leaves a corpse in uniform off the coast of Spain with misleading documents about a plan by the Allies to invade Greece. The idea is to divert defences from Sicily where the actual landing will take place.

The first part of the story is about the creation of a personality for the dead man which will survive Nazi scrutiny. The body is the lead character. These real events are presented respectfully and leisurely. But the film comes to life in the second half as an Irish spy for the Germans (Stephen Boyd) arrives in London to investigate.

This counterespionage subplot was entirely invented by the screenwriter (Nigel Balchin) and there is an impression of a slender premise padded out to feature length. But there's a realistic and an eye-catching production, shot in Technicolor and CinemaScope, with handsome sets of the gentlemen's clubs and offices of ministry.

Clifton Webb is too antiseptic and peevish to be a likeable lead. The film is stolen by the other imported star, Gloria Grahame, who is all emotion as a wife to be of an RAF pilot. The scene where she narrates a love letter for the fake identity of the corpse is a heartbreaker. And the best part of an uneven but interesting war story.

Intense psychological drama, beautifully shot in Vistavision on the Costa Brava. A divorced minor diplomat (Michael Hordern) indignant at being stranded in a Spanish backwater grows to resent the influence of his charismatic gardener (Dirk Bogarde) over his lonely, browbeaten son (11 year old Jon Whiteley).

Bogarde and Whiteley were reunited after making Hunted, four years earlier.  Hordern has the lead role as a repressed, austere functionary who grinds down everyone to obscure his own inadequacy. And he is most convincing. It seems odd today that the rural Spanish house is staffed by British actors, but Bogarde is a natural for these psychodramas.

And he has never looked more handsome, in sumptuous Technicolor. Director Philip Leacock gets another plausible performance out of Whiteley who he first cast as an eight year old in The Kidnappers. The potential for sexual subtext is avoided in favour of a more family friendly experience, but maybe such an approach in 1956 would now date the film.

The principal weakness is a horrible Hollywood ending which strays far from AJ Cronin's source novel. All conflicts are resolved after a frantic catharsis in a climactic thunderstorm, which feels awkwardly drafted in from gothic melodrama. But what lingers in the memory is the triangle of emotive, but well judged performances, and the rich photography.

Overlooked, ultra-stylish police procedural which is one of the great British crime dramas. Jack Hawkins plays the dedicated, seen-it-all Scotland Yard detective looking into a number of related safe jobs which eventually lead to murder. Director Charles Frend tells the absorbing story brilliantly, with a realist approach and crisp noir visuals.

Hawkins is ideal casting as the dedicated, waspish Superintendent. World weary, but not quite cynical. He's a conspicuously British presence in a wonderful cast of familiar stalwarts, with Ursula Howells a stand-out. The locations and sets are just right and there's a persuasive impression of a bustling London.

There are a few genre staples, like the experienced cop paired with an enthusiastic beginner (John Stratton). The twist here is the new boy is scarily competent. Also, the senior detective is married to his job and neglects his wife and boy and goes off chasing leads in the middle of dinner. But these conventions are made fresh and alive.

It's a late Ealing film which hits all the right notes. The excellent, laconic script is witty without being flashy and unfolds at a knockout pace. Sometimes funny, but then succinctly moving. It's an understated, unpretentious cop flick and a genre masterpiece which should be far better known.

Faithful adaptation of a memoir by Captain Stanley Moss about an audacious special operation exercise on Crete in WWII. British agents imbedded in the island's resistance movement kidnap a General of the occupying Nazi army and smuggle him across the island through a manhunt, before making their escape by sea to Egypt.

Dirk Bogarde plays Patrick Fermer as a most debonaire leader of the enterprise. David Oxley plays Stanley Moss. The Cretan resistance performs a supporting role, with much of the drama focusing on the mind games between the British officers and the General (Marius Goring) as they negotiate the photogenic mountains.

This was the last film directed by Powell and Pressburger together, and Michael Powell later expressed his disappointment in the outcome. The problem today is principally the bucolic Greek resistance is presented in part as comic relief, mostly played by British actors. Though the script is respectful of the Cretan's bravery and sacrifice.

But this is also an exciting and imaginative war film of an astonishingly intrepid operation. The mountain scenery is dramatically photographed in b&w in gorgeous Vistavision, augmented by Cretan folk music. Apparently Fermer loved Bogarde's charismatic portrayal, of a gentleman hero who functions on a regime of adrenaline and ouzo, apparently without fear.

British crime film with a classic noir premise and location. A bankrupt tycoon (Rod Steiger) is chased from New York to Mexico by the law. By chance, he encounters another passenger on a train with a similar look. So he gets his unlucky double comatose on whisky and sleeping pills and dumps the body in the desert.

Of course, the ruthless businessman takes on the identity of his victim, but discovers that down in Mexico, this man is a rebel wanted for an assassination. So the impersonator steps into the shoes of an archetypal noir fall guy. Spain stands in effectively for the Tex-Mex border, mostly populated by British character actors

The first half of the film is a stylish thriller. As the fugitive leaves the train, he finds himself presented with the discarded man's dog which has been tied up in the luggage carriage. And this being an adaptation of Grahame Greene story, it becomes clear that dog moves in mysterious ways. It represents an interventionist god... and the border town is purgatory.

And the frontier bridge is the path to redemption! Burdened by all this symbolism, the later scenes aren't as as successful. But it is still an atmospheric journey through Greene's catholic subtext. Steiger leads effectively in a role which dominates. But the film is ultimately stolen by the dog, which gives one of the great canine performances!

Strange anti-war blockbuster which was taken by many to be a remembrance of the suffering of POWs in Japanese prison camps, but now looks a lot like the counter-culture war spoofs of the sixties. The principal British characters are so exaggerated that they undermine the moments of gravity. And William Holden's constant stream of cynicism sends up the action.

Alec Guinness plays a dogmatic, obsessive British Colonel who builds a railway bridge for the Japanese to demonstrate the proficiency and discipline of his men. Jack Hawkins is the gung-ho special operations officer who is sent into the Burmese jungle to blow it up. Holden is the sardonic Yank who gets tangled up in the madness.. 

Its theme is the absurdity of war. Though the early scenes are grimly realistic while David Lean establishes the Colonel's heroic stupidity, it soon becomes a moral tale, way ahead of its time. And an epic of great length and ambition, with spectacular photographic flourishes and an iconic score.

The main star performances are splendid; subversive while still almost plausible. Some felt that Lean was not respectful to real POWs. But it just isn't that film; this is a black comedy about the pity of war, not a tribute. It engages our sympathy for the men, but because war is futile, not heroic. It was a risky venture, but received a huge box office pay-off.

Revised and recast from Ted Willis' ITV Playhouse production. And it does feel like a television drama of the period, with its gritty kitchen sink realism set in tiny flat on a postwar council estate. But with better production values and familiar leads. Anthony Quayle is a middle aged, white collar wage slave repelled by his wife's slovenliness.

And attracted to his young secretary's tranquil, unblemished beauty. Sylvia Syms gives an astute performance as the other woman, with the promise of her uncritical tenderness spoiled by a speck of entitlement. But it's Yvonne Mitchell's film and she creates one of the outstanding performances in a British film as the vulgar, scatterbrained, traumatised wife.

There is a raw vulnerability to her disintegration which is harrowing to watch. Like we are seeing her emotional skin peel away, leaving her abandoned, humiliated and unable to understand why. Mitchell doesn't give anything as gaudy as a star performance. She's too painfully, heartbreakingly real.

The direction is extremely unsubtle. Willis' script still stands up despite covering attitudes that have greatly changed. Like the British new wave films this predates, it revels in its ordinariness. There's a familiar story but it delivers a huge emotional impact; the kind of domestic social realism that would one day be explored by Mike Leigh.

The sequel to The Quatermass Xperiment gets tangled up in the same snag. In editing a three hour BBC serial to an 80m feature film, it is writer Nigel Kneale's beguiling pseudo-scientific detail which inevitably gets cut, leaving behind a low budget sci-fi concept similar to those produced by Hollywood B studios.

There's a bigger budget than Xperiment and the effects are better, though still rudimentary. But the extra money wasn't spent on the cast, as the ensemble support is quite disappointing. Brian Donlevy is back as the Professor, more of a battering ram than a super-brain, but he actually carries the film pretty well.

The set up is similar to Invasion of the Body Snatchers, which the BBC version predates. An isolated research complex in Cumbria is bombarded with small missiles which house an alien lifeform. These take over a human host and form a compliant hive intelligence. Its reach goes all the way up to the top- a satirical barb from Kneale aimed at the Tory government.

With the official channels suspect, the alien HQ is assaulted by an angry mob waving sticks! The Quatermass films are landmarks in British sci-fi, and this is another engrossing episode, imaginatively directed with limited resources. The release of the monsters from their incubator is a thrilling horror moment. And yes, it's the first ever sequel to be numbered.

Short satirical comedy made on a shoestring on a single studio set, adapted from an obscure play. Yet this is a small gem with a clever script, which gives lead roles to some much loved character actors.

There's a simple three act structure- situation, conflict and resolution. Gordon Harker is a crafty old waiter in a modest hotel restaurant who is passing on the tricks of the trade to a novice (Janet Munro). Appropriate casting as this was Gordon's penultimate film and Janet's debut.

Harker gets in trouble with head office who send in a replacement (Billie Whitelaw) to challenge his dominion of the Jolly Fiddler. So the great finagler has to take down the newcomer, mainly with the help of a resident magistrate (Marie Lohr). The other key role is a splendidly indignant Irene Handl as the cook.

The fun is watching the old hand bend the unwelcome agencies of progress to his advantage. And it's nice to see the workers repel the march of corporate Britain, even momentarily. There are many laughs over its brief 57m. This is a modest film, but far better than the promise of its meagre budget.

Dark, gloomy melodrama surely influenced by the poetic realism of prewar France, with its fog and pessimism and doomed romance. In a destitute South American port- where an accordion plays and the company of a woman can be bought- a lusty mechanic off a ramshackle cargo steamer (Pedro Armendáriz) smuggles a shoeless waif (Elsa Martinella) on board.

And the pouting teenager inflicts maximum distraction on the salty, multinational crew. She ingratiates herself to the infatuated, middle aged captain (Trevor Howard), but really, he's too numb to open up his heart again... Eventually the ship's engine overheats and explodes and deposits the exploited girl and the crew into the ocean...

It's a hot, moody drama and the loneliness of the men settles over the action like a sombre mist. We are human cargo, enchanted by beauty and desire. Nothing can end well. Howard's oppressive, poetic melancholy is as much an ambience as a performance. Martinelli is most affecting as the pitiful stray. And sexy too, naturally.

So it's a ship of archetypes and a familiar plot. But the atmosphere is everything, and thankfully the desolate fatalism survives all the way to the fade out. There's a splendidly hot blooded script and artistic black and white photography of a make believe world where lost souls medicate their isolation with whisky and ribaldry. 

Patriotic version of a historic incident in 1949 when a British warship- the Amethyst- was shelled by a rebel army during the Chinese Civil War. The film takes great care not to be critical of British actions and instead delivers an exciting action film as the crew survive a long siege before making a daring escape.

There's a documentary style approach with East Anglia standing in for the Yangtse River and the Navy supplying actual battleships, including the Amethyst. The b&w photography is rather gorgeous. Eric Ambler's script covers the incident in great detail including tortuous negotiations with a Chinese Colonel (Akim Tamiroff under heavy makeup).

After the bombardment, Richard Todd arrives to co-ordinate the escape and patronise the survivors. He gives the film a big boost with his natural screen presence amplifying the officer's methodical command. William Hartnell emerges with the most dignity from the lower ranks, despite some idiotic- and racist- comic relief.

There is a preface which claims that the events are all absolutely true, though it doesn't define whose truth. But, setting this aside, and certain attitudes which are of their time, there remains a handsome and professionally made war film with excellent, realistic battle scenes and a rousing finale.

Eccentric and very British comedy thriller which was started during WWII and completed afterwards, which perhaps accounts for its uneven tone. Eventually the tension gets lost in farce. Deborah Kerr is a haughty Irish teenager who wants to join the IRA but gets exploited instead by Nazi spies on the mainland. Trevor Howard is the bystander who gets swept up in her misadventure.

A problem here is that Kerr's screwball capriciousness rather subverts a serious political stalemate, which was Ireland's neutrality in the war. Consequently the script searches for a balance which it never really finds. It mocks attitudes which were live problems for many.

The girl is portrayed as radicalised. Launder and Gilliat actually create an interesting pastiche of an extremist; the girl has no self-knowledge or sense of humour or nuance. Everything offends her. But mainly the English. And yet the comedy is mostly drawn from this stubborn fanaticism, which feels awkward.

The pacing is slow for a suspense film. But there are laughs in the witty innuendo expertly delivered by the young star. There is stylish noir photography, and more railway locations from Launder and Gilliat, which take the story all over the British Isles. As often with these writer-directors, there's a lot of Hitchcock, but the master might have stayed clear of the political tangle.

The first screen adaptation of Christopher Isherwood's autobiographical Berlin stories which would be more famously made into Cabaret. Julie Harris reprises the role of Sally Bowles which won her a Tony in the Broadway production. And her star performance is the best part of the film. Laurence Harvey as a prudish Isherwood is the main shortcoming.

This is such a cleaned up revision that it undermines the purpose of the original book, about a group of British expats living self absorbed, insouciant lives in decadent Berlin, oblivious to the rise of fascism. The film even evades Isherwood's homosexuality, which was the reason his circle was there at all. The possibility that Sally is a borderline sex worker is also omitted.

But there are tantalising episodes when the drama plugs in and turns on. There's a sensational scene when Sally and Christopher take a week's rent to a luxury restaurant which she blows in an instant. When her fatuous, hedonistic delusions come into focus. And Harris gives us a glimpse of what might have been.

Eventually, Isherwood addresses the Nazi threat as Hitler is about to come into power. Most of the film is pitched as a comedy. But, no matter how diluted the divine decadence- or limiting the lack of location footage- it is still a curious portrayal of a fascinating, careless subculture at a crossroads in history.