Night of the Hunter (1955)

"They abide and they endure!"

This film is, I suppose, unique. Yes, it's a '50s film noir...but it feels like something else entirely. But it's a masterpiece, with Robert Mitchum's "preacher", Harry Powell, being surely one of the most fearsome villains of all time.

Incredibly, it was a flop upon its release, hence its being the one and only film that Charles Laughton ever directed. But I suppose one can see why it may not have been what an audience may have expected. It's fairly short, with a fairly simple plot. It shows a bleak and dark West Virginia of the Depression, suffused with poverty, hypocrisy and lurking evil. One mighy expect a film like this to be shot with gritty realism, but no- the camera angles, the framng and... well, the owls(!) owe far more to the German Expressionism of the silent era than anything of its own era.

Robert Mitchum is superb as a serial killer who hides behind the appearance of respectability, and the combination of his performance and the direction push the menace up to truly intense levels. The cellar scene...brr!

The other standout performance, though, is from Lilian Gish, another totem of the silent era, as Rachel, a surprisingly well-rounded, grizzled yet kindly character who feels very real, and stands for hope, decency, forgiveness and understanding. This is a film of grim beauty, of bleakness, a meditation on the suffering that is life... yet it has heart, too. One of the greatest films I've ever seen.

The Private Life of Henry VIII (1933)

 "

I wasn't surprised to see that this film is very, very good- the director and the star meant that would always be likely. What did surprise me, however, is how funny it is- and how relatively frank about sex- in a humourous way, yes, but this is hardly picture postcard humour.

Charles Laughton is, of course, definitive as Henry, with both his performance and the acript showing him as merry yet dangerously capricious. Intelligent, cultured, yet the ultimate spoiled brat, self-indulgent and able to turn on a sixpence.

Yet the film plays this largely for black humour, downplaying religious matters entirely, as well as foreign affairs... although Henry is made to say that "If those French and Germans don't stop killing each other then Europe will be in ruins"- hard not to see as a comment on the Europe of 1933, a decade and a half after the Great War and with Hiller yet to burn down the Reichstag.

I laughed out loud as the opening blurb dismissed Catherine of Aragon as being of "no particular interest", the opening scenes set on the day both of Anne Boleyn's execution and Jane Seymour's wedding to Henry, leaving us in no doubt whatsoever what a callous man he is, with scenes of Anne bravely facing her last couple of hours juxtaposed with Henry and Jane being frivolous... and Henry cynically sees Jane as a "stupid woman".

He is, again, callous as Jane dies in childbirth, caring only for his baby son. Yet the film focuses on the contrast between Anne of Cleves, who plays the game cleverly and ends up divorced, alive and rich... and the true tragic focus of the film, Katherine Howard, whose eagerness to court the king and have a crown eventually results in being trapped into a marriage to an old man, followed by her inevitable doom. These moments are dark, although it is not dwelt upon here that young Kate was only nineteen.

A superb, witty, funny, dark and tragic script all in one, and a strong overall cast with Charles Laughton giving the performance of his life. This is one of the triumphs of early historical sound cinema.

Witness for the Prosecution (1957)

 "I am constantly sutprised that women's hats do not provoke more murders..."

This, like Agatha Christie's other play Mousetrap, is known for its twist ending: indeed, there is a voiceover at the end of the film begging us not to spoil it. I'm not necessarily always so fastidious, but on this occasion Christie's secret it safe with me, seven decades later.

I haven't seen the play, but I read a number of Agatha Christie novels in my youth. I recall her ingenious plots, but also her poor characterisation and unfortunate snobbery- good, but no Margery Allingham. That is not in evidence here, and the dialogue (deliciously delivered by the magnificent Charles Laughton and the sublime Marlene Dietrich) is rather witty. Am I misremembering Christie, or has the script had a bit of a polish?

Nevertheless, this is a triumphant film, and certainly the finest courtroom drama I have ever seen: I can see why Christie herself was so happy with Billy Winder's film. The cast (Tyrone Power is a bit of a weak link, but the two stars are magnificent, and there's a fine comic turn from Elsa Lanchester. It's also fascinating to see the workings of a Crown Court in the 1950s, at least via the medium of Hollywood.

The twists and turns are, of course, sublime, and to say that the ending packs a huge punch is a real understatement. This is quite up there with the great twist endings. Yet beyond this we have a triumph of writing, direction and performance. Sublime.

The Old Dark House (1932)

"Even Welsh doesn't sound like that!"

I've been somewhat remiss in leaving it until now, when I'm forty-two years old, to see this excellent film (who cares about some dodgy attempts at British accents?) which is not at all the different-film-studio-but-pretty-much-Universal-horror type film I expected, in spite of he present of James Whale and Boris Karloff and a fair few chills. This is no horror film.

No; beyond the superficial genre tropes is a substantial script from J.B. Priestley himself, the famed Yorkshire intellectual of the early twentieth century, with fascinating characters and very real-sounding dialogue which now, eighty-seven years after the film was released, brings the past to life in a way few old films can. These people may be from a different age but they feel very real from the argument in the first scene onwards.

The cast is wonderful. Yes, Karloff is wasted as the mute butler in a role similar to last year's Frankenstein, but Ernest Thesiger delights as the extremely camp Horace and Charles Laughton shines as the rich but tragic, and very northern, Sir William. The cast is a collection of grotesques and sympathetic individuals, but it's the characters and cast, rather than the almost non-existent plot, that makes this film sing with atmosphere, pathos, danger and tension, in spite of the Charlotte Bronte madman in the attic. And at the centre of it all is the visionary and magnificent James Whale.