The Cruel Sea (1953)

"You know, when you lose a ship, it's like losing a bit of yourself."

I'm becoming increasingly fascinated by British war films made in the decade or so after the Second World War, after a few years had passed and there had been time for reflection on this extraordinary event that had twisted everybody's lives out of shape for six long years, with unimaginable pressure and stress. There's a lot of action, yes, but also a lot of inherent philosophical musing, humanity, and deconstruction of the "stiff upper lip" trope, which never was straightforward.

On the surface, this is the saga of a ship- well, mostly the one ship- and it's crew, as they live and develop over the six years of the War on an Atlantic convoy, protecting the merchant navy from u-boats. There are bit action set pieces- rescuing mainers whose vessels have sunk, chasing u-boats and, indeed, abandoning ship and trying to survive overnight on a tiny little raft.

Yet this is, more than anything, a film about people, in all their complexity. One of the crew hopes to marry his shipmate's sister, only for her to be killed in an air raid. An officer dies a watery death, knowing his wife is sleeping with another man. The first officer wonders whether proposing to his partner is the right thing or not- is there a place for permanence among the uncertainties of war?

This is by no means one of the very best of its genre, but the cast is solid and the script, if not quite first class, is raised up by its themes and subject matter. And, if nothing else, it taught me how to pronounce "coxswain".

The Red Beret (1953)

 "There are two kinds of men who jump- those who are crazy and those who are stupid."

This is, I suppose, a fairly standard British war film, despite the fact that it happens to have an American star in the person of a notably getting-on-a-bit Alan Ladd. And it's a good, exciting bit of adventure with a nice bit of characterisation- McKendrick is an American pretending to be Ameriucan who has joined the parachute regiment here in Blighty.

Now, I'm a bit scared of heights. Not to extremes- I'll travel by plane (well, maybe, these days I'd have to think about the fossil fuels), but I'll go a bit quiet at takeoff and landing. But there's absolutely no way you'll ever get me in a parachute. I could never, ever, jump off a plane, even with a modern, much safer parachute. But back then... the early scene where the poor instructor "Roman candles" and plummets to his doom is existentially horrifying. The fear of that happening, much more likely then than it would be now, is unimaginable. But these men would do that and then go straight into combat.

There's nothing particularly outstanding about this film, it's no all-time classic, but it impresses simply by being very good and getting the basics right. The cast isn't that stellar but it does the job. The story, characterisation and script are impressive without necessaily being up there with the best. The tyrannical Scottish sergeant major is a nicely done little knowing stereotype. It's short, entertaining and worth a watch.

Julius Caesar (1953)

 "Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life cuts off so many years of fearing death."

I'm utterly knackered today after a long, difficult drive and the emotional drop after dropping Little Miss Llamastrangler back at her mum's after a wonderful half term week, so I wanted to watch something undemanding and... yeah, it's Shakespeare. But I've seen this version before in my youth and was curious to see it again, and this is the play I've seen on screen the most for some reason.

This is, of course, sublime cinematic Shakespeare. James Mason excels as Brutus who is, I suppose, the closest we come to a main protagonist: it was certainly the part later played by Charlton Heston in his later version, not comparable to this but fascinating in its own way. The direction, the sets, all is at once suitably cinematic yet at the same time appropriately intimate in ways that suits Shakespeare who, writing for the Elizabethan stage, focused by necessity on dialogue rather than complex spectacle.

Yet there are two obvious stand-out performances by two truly great actors who, incidentally, both exemplify different schools of acting, both done to perfection- the traditional stage approack of John Gielgud and the method, er, method of Marlon Brando. Gielgud is the perfect Cassius. Yet Brando as Mark Antony steals the show. Antony doesn't have as much prominence in the play as one might think, but he certainly has the big soliloquys. And Brando performs them in a way that may never be surpassed, perhaps showing once and for all that the best of Hollywood can approach Shakespeare with utter confidence. Making no attempt to pointlessly do a fake British accent, Brando brings an intensity to the part that makes the words come alive. It is, perhaps, the single greatest Shakespeare performance ever committed to film.

So, yeah, this is a truly great film. It also shows how the same Shakespeare play can speak to you in different ways each time you see it, perhaps shaped by the differences in direction, performance, version of the text. Here I was struck by the many references to the inevitability of death and how one must manage one's fear and existential dread that we are all mortal. Death is the only certainty in life.

Yet the one line that struck me most this time came not from one of the characters but from the Roman crowd as Brutus makes his speech: "Let him be Caesar!". Brutus and the conspirators do their bloody deed, ostensibly for liberty and so that the Roman Republic may not know another Tarquin, yet the masses utterly miss the point, thereby showing that such scruples are futile in the long run... and, of course, young Octavian waits in the wings, he and Antony dissing poor Lepidus behind his back...

So, yeah. Nice simple film for knackered old me.

Caves of Steel by Isaac Asimov

 Yes, I know. It took me months to read Infinite Jest, rewarding experience though that was, and a couple of days to read this Isaac Asimov comfort food. I loved The Caves of Steel.

This novel may not be impenetrable in the slightest, but it’s full of ideas to stimulate the mind. On the surface it’s a murder mystery set in a future society, and a good one, but it’s the thrilling succession of concepts that linger in the mind. Especially for me, as this is the only one of Asimov’s earlier novels that I hadn’t read until now.

It is, of course, of its time. We are thousands of years in the future. Earth once had the drive to colonise other planets, but overpopulation now crams the citizenry into colossal domed cities which people never leave, all rural work being done by robots and, although the subtext . Meanwhile, the Spacers, on their fifty worlds live on other worlds, disease-free, controlling their population by infanticide. We have two fascinating types of decadence… yet the pill hasn’t yet been invented.

The Spacers live for centuries, yet life expectancy on Earth is… well, slightly less than it is in the 2020s. Also, of course, everybody smokes. All the police are men, as is everyone with a job. 

However, the ideas are superb, and this novel is a triumph. And that’s before we even get into its Asimovverse legacy.

The Titfield Thunderbolt (1953)

 "This is dreadful. The next thing we know we'll be nationalised..."

This is not, perhaps, one of those Ealing comedies that are widely regarded as works of genius, yet it's fondly regarded. And I can see why; it's not exactly a laugh a minute but it's pleasant and diverting, and a fascinating glimpse into those last few years of steam rail, when everyone knew the writing was on the wall but hoped that steam's demise would be postponed for a little while.

Stanley Holloway impresses, and so does a slightly pre-screen fame Sid James in a middling role, but the large cast of character actors perhaps fails to quite set the film ablaze despite much enthusiasm. The script, too, is fuller on charm than it is on humour, but it's amusing to see a train-obsessed vicar surely based on the Rev. W. Awdry and the lengths some would go to in order to get around those horribly puritan opening hours. The characters are all of their time and memorable; it all feels very Dad's Army. And the plot- villagers upset at losing their train station decide to buy and run it themselves, despite the dastardly bus company trying to stop them- is just melodramatic enough to provide interest without spoiling the pleasant mood.

This isn't exactly Kind Hearts and Coronets, but it's a pleasantly enjoyable film. And I'm not particularly a rail enthusiast, but there's something awesome about seeing a steam locomotive in its natural habitat. And better to drink a proper pint in a railway carriage than lager in Downing Street.

Second Foundation by Isaac Asimov

Yes, I got through this bloody quickly, but these novels are so damn readable. Again, the prose and characterisation are basic, but nobody cares when the ideas and the plot twists are so good. Like The Jetsons, too, this is a space-hopping future that is a kind of eternal 1950s but, again, we can allow ourselves a brief amused smile and move on. This is bloody brilliant.

The plot is full of revelation and counter-revelation, with both halves of the novel turning their attention to the mysterious and fascinating Second Foundation, a society of rigorously mathematical psychologists- no Freudian quackery here- who are the guardians of the Seldon Plan, desperate to put things back on track after the Mule ruined everything. Everything here is a game of ten dimensional chess, with the truth hidden beneath many layers. The whole thing is profoundly addictive to read and is the perfect end to the original trilogy.

And it doesn’t matter at all that Asimov can’t write teenage girls or dictators’ mistresses for toffee.

I fear I don’t currently have access to the later Foundation novels. But more Asimov is coming..

Robot Monster (1953)

Fool humans! There is no escape!"

I’ve seen Plan 9 from Outer Space. I’ve seen Teenagers from Outer Space. Surely ‘50s sci-fi B movies has nothing more that can compete with these?

Oh.

Doctor Who fans may find this film something of a blatant influence on The Sontaran Experiment, with Ro-Man a cheaper and more crappy named version of Styre. In both cases we have the last handful of humans running around an Earth almost bereft of humans as an alien baddie runs around trying to catch them using the power of robotic strength. Meanwhile, he makes regular video calls to an increasingly exasperated boss who starts to doubt his competence- in 1953, of course, video calls were the future.

I think you’re already expecting me to put this into so-bad-it’s-good territory and, well, yes. Why does the imaginatively named Ro-Man wear a gorilla costume with a vaguely robotic helmet, for example? And antibiotics can do anything: not only have two of the goodies made an antibiotic serum that can cure all disease, it can also protect people from death rays. I’m sure this is entirely scientifically accurate.

The goodies won, sort of, because plot convenience makes Ro-Man fall in love with one of the female humans. There’s some vague attempt at drama and even a wedding. But Ro-Man’s failure causes his boss to take over and, er, shoot rays that cause stock footage of stop motion dinosaurs to rampage across the Earth and “smash the planet Earth out of the Universe.” All seemed doomed. But it was all a dream... or was it?

And yes, that’s all literal. One does not “recommend” this film- let us not pretend it’s anything other than crap. It’s worth watching for a good laugh, but this film should on no account be watched while sober.

The War of the Worlds (1953)

"The Martians can conquer the Earth in six days."

"The same number of days it took to create it!"

Oh dear. This film seems to be well liked. Sorry, but I'm about to give it quite the spanking. Oh, it looks good; the Martians and their craft look great. But this film is a badly written piece of crude religious propaganda with shockingly poor characterisation and hammy acting. Yes, I know it's a melodrama, but it isn't even amusing or gun to watch on a MST2000 kind of way. This is not the worst film I've seen all year, but it is the most disappointing.

Things start on a bad footing with Cedric Hardwicke, narrating and acting as the voice of H.G. Wells, giving us a tour of the Solar System that is shockingly inaccurate even for a time before space probes. Apparently Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune are not gas giants, Mercury is the only planet with no air, and Venus doesn't exist. Yes, that's right. They seem just to have forgotten it.

But then the film itself starts. And it gets worse. Oh, it's essentially just Wells' novel transplanted to McCarthy's America, but the film presents a grim picture of California in 1953, where the only thing to do on a Saturday night is a "square dance", whatever that is, with Coke instead of proper drink and, you know, fun. Life for these people can only improve under their new Martian overlords.

And then there's the stifling and crudely overdone Christian element, far too blatant to be a subtext. Now, I may be a Godless heathen myself, but I have no objection to religious subtexts in films. But this is about as subtle as a punch in the face- even the final defeat of the Martians by bacteria is portrayed as a divine miracle. And I get no sense of any true religious feeling; this is churchgoing as enforced respectability and conformity.

So... yeah. I didn't like this film much. Sorry. Still, I have high hopes for some of the films I have lined up...

The Quatermass Experiment: Part 2 ("Persons Reported Missing")

"Don't. Don't comfort me."

OK, confession time. When I blogged Part 1, last year, I was somehow under the impression that only the first episode existed. Oops. I now realise, having seen it, that the second episode exists too, and is awesome. And I have to admit that  it's even worse than that; I watched all of the original three Quatermass series years ago, except this episode. Oops.

Moving swiftly on, this is a fascinatingly dark episode, as you'd expect from Nigel Kneale. The main plot chugs along as we slowly discover that the surviving astronaut nay (mostly) have the body of Victor Carroon, but he also seems to contain the minds of all three.

All this is grounded in the mystery of whatever horrific thoughts Quatermass is so obviously suppressing, the conflict generated by Paul Whitaun-Jobes' tenacious journalist, Jimmy Fullalove, and most of all by the big reveal that Jusith Carroon had been having an affair and was about to leave her husband. Now she faced a future as a guilt-ridden carer to a man she doesn't love.

This is superb drama, made four years before Sputnik but giving us a believable depiction of space travel even if, being pre-Suez, it shows a superpower Britain as the pioneer. Extraordinary.

The Quatermass Experiment: Part 1 ("Contact Has Been Established")

"It's one of them things. They dropped one."

This is, sadly, one of only two episodes of this six part serial that I will be blogging; the others don't exist. They will never be found, whatever Philip Morris has been up to, as they were never telerecorded in the first place, which is a shame. Television in 1953 was a very ephemeral medium, all of it live aside from a few pre-recorded film sequences. For repeats, the actors would simply repeat their performances. You saw it once and it was gone.

1953 was a long time ago and looks it; the picture quality, naturally, is rubbish and the long scenes are there because it simply wasn't possible to include more than two or three different scenes. Television was very much theatre with a camera pointed at it. There's a scene break here where the picture fades to black and stays black for what seems like ages.

Nevertheless, this is a superb piece of television scripting and production, dripping with atmosphere, however limited the live performers may be, and a reminder of the brilliance of both Rudolph Cartier and the great Nigel Kneale. This is a world in which science is admirable and scientists great men, but only because science is a desperate and fragile attempt to impose order on a terrifying world in which dark things lurk at the edges, not least human nature. It's refreshing, though, to see the scientific talk isn't being dumbed down in any way. And this is an era, what perhaps we can call the Dan Dare era, when it was possible to imagine Britain as a space pioneer. Sputnik lay four years ahead. To people in 1953 the achievements of the British Experimental Rocket Group were scarcely imaginable.

The plot is simple enough- a rocket has been sent into space, gone missing, but has now returned under mysterious circumstances. There is much tension in this scenario, later to be lovingly ripped off by Doctor Who in The Ambassadors of Death. Only in future episodes will it become apparent that something else has come back with Caroon.

And yet, the real unpleasantness is very much on Earth. A useless civil servant busybody is there to annoy and to serve the plot function of being exposited at, while newspaper columnist Jimmy Fullalove (a very young Paul Whitsun-Jones) exhibits all the cynicism of today's red top tabloids. (And this angle, that of the press,would also come to be lovingly ripped off by Doctor Who in The Web of Fear.)

We also have some comedy working class characters and a dear old lady played by Katie Johnson of The Ladykillers fame. She is truly from another age; IMDb tells me she was born in 1878 and made her stage debut in 1894!

Sadly, as but one more episode exists, we won't get to consider the whole thing. We can only judge the first two episodes, but this at least is a brilliant episode. One more to go, though...