This popular Ealing comedy is an early draft of national myth making about London's response to the blitz. During the hardship that follows the war, the explosion of a dormant bomb reveals buried medieval treasure... and a deed which indicates that Pimlico isn't part of Britain at all, but a fiefdom of the Duke of Burgundy...
And therefore isn't subject to the austerity laws of postwar Britain. So the locals rip up their ration books and identity cards. The action is staged around the bomb site and the film builds a perverse nostalgia for the war years, when people pulled together.
Given opportunity, leaders emerge. Stanley Holloway wants to use the windfall to develop social projects. Raymond Huntley turns his bank branch into the treasury. Margaret Rutherford shines as the excitable Professor who explains the historical back story. Ultimately the locals accept that deregulation leads to anarchy, and rejoin the UK.
There are the standard motifs of Ealing comedy, like the dreaded men from the Ministry, and the resourcefulness of the community, but the politics is muted. Though a shortish film, the interesting set up is overextended, and the satire is very gentle. However the ensemble cast makes it fun. Don't miss those Brexit parallels!
Only Ealing could dream up something this absurd and make it feel entirely plausible. When a London neighbourhood uncovers an ancient charter declaring its independence from Britain, Passport to Pimlico turns bureaucracy into comedy gold and postwar gloom into a celebration of spirit. The idea’s so ridiculous it could only have come from Britain — and only from Ealing.
Stanley Holloway anchors the chaos with the warmth of a man who just wants life fair and proper, even when borders get blurry. Margaret Rutherford steals every scene as the gleefully eccentric historian who legitimises the madness, her voice quivering with patriotic pride and mild anarchy.
It’s sharp, funny, and quietly defiant — proof that rebellion can wear a cardigan and carry a shopping bag. Beneath the whimsy beats the best of British resilience: polite, inventive, and just a little bit bonkers.