There’s something very satisfying about a thriller that never leaves the office. Cash on Demand plays like Rope spliced with a dry run for The Silent Partner: one set, one bank, one increasingly fraught Christmas Eve morning as a routine visit turns into something far sharper and stranger. Hammer puts away the fangs for this one and goes full suspense, and it suits them.
Peter Cushing starts in full Grand Moff Tarkin mode as the frosty branch manager, all rules, routines and quiet contempt for the people under him. As André Morell’s “insurance inspector” turns up the pressure, you see the façade crack, then buckle, and the film edges towards a ghost-free Christmas Carol. It’s tight, taut and wonderfully claustrophobic: stark black-and-white, a drab bank, every pause and signature turning the screw another notch.
It’s undeniably stagey, but also brisk and efficient – in and out before most modern thrillers have finished their prologue. No car chases, no gunfights, just two men in suits testing each other’s nerve. On a cold, wet December day, this kind of lean, wintry chamber piece is exactly the sort of thing I’m delighted to stumble across.
'Cash On Demand' is a smashing little heist film, a vault full of script and acting riches. Cushing plays against type as a self-important, nitpicking bank manager, overlooking his own faults all the more to find them in others. Morell is excellent as a suave thief whose meticulous plans to empty the bank take up most of the film's running time. Even better is the ever-reliable Richard Vernon, a humble chief- clerk, seething with indignation at his treatment by Cushing.
Set almost entirely within the bank, it has a theatrical, claustrophobic feel, enhanced by tension, not just of the robbery, but between characters.
Holes start appearing if you think about it too much, but that doesn't stop it being a very enjoyable way to pass the time.