Richard III (1955)

 "Conscience is a word that cowards use..."

Ah, Richard III. Maybe he killed the princes, maybe he didn't. Maybe he was a tyrant, maybe he was a decent bloke and a goodand poular king. Certainly the Tudor propaganda- Shakespeare very much included- doesn't help his reputation.But one thing must be said: Laurence Olivier's mullet here is utterly horrifying. And on the evidence of portraits this is one crime of which Richard III is assuredly very guilty indeed.

This film, though, is as superlative as one might expect, given the director and the cast crammed with first class classical actors, including Claire Bloom, John Gielgud, Ralph Richardson and at least one Thorndike. Not that there isn't actor spotting fun to be had, of courdse. We get John Laurie of Dad's Army fame, plus Michael Gough as a murderer gets a line or two.

The sets are, perhaps, rather more dated than the acting. This is a very brightly coloured, Adventures of Robin Hood take on the late Middle Ages. The direction and cinematography are deliberately conventional and unexceptional, despite some creative use of lighting. Yet the performances and, of course, the words overwhelm everything. And Olivier's Richard, caricature though Shakespeare's Richard always is, remains utterly captivating throughout. Throughout all three phases of the play- the disturbing wooing/gaslighting of Anne, Richard's plotting, and his speedy unravelling and downfall to "despair and death"- Olivier';s Richard is superlative and,perhaps, definitive.

The Wrong Box (1966)

 "Yes, I enjoy an egg myself. They don't make good pets, though."

This splendid film is, yes, a farce, quite literally, and one executed with delicious clockwork precision, the climactic scene at once wonderfully chaotic and utterly orderly in how everything is tied together. This is entirely true. Yet the farce, perfect though it is, is merely the plot as background: this film is memorable for the wit and the performances.

There is, of course, exquisite visual humour, not least at the end whith the hearse chase, the unexpected real funeral, the band. The concept is delicious: a tontine. A sum of money is invested for a large number of young boys, with the last surviving to inherit all. The film begins with a highly entertaining series of, well, stupid deaths, crammed with cameos from British character actors. Finally, we are left with two brothers, played by those great theatrical knights John Mills and Ralph Richardson, both as adept at comedy as one might expect. The peerless Peter Cook and the no less inspired Dudley Moore steal the show, of course, but Michawl Caine is a superb comic straight man.

It's a shock to see Tony Hancock in colour, at this late stage. He is, let's be honest, phoning it in, and past his best. Yet he phones it in with aplomb. Peter Sellers is superb, but that's a given.

This superb cast, though, would be nothing without the sparkling, witty script, of a type that, despite its Vicxtorian setting, is redolent of the era between the satire boom and Monty Python, when British comedy was in glorious ferment, with Peter Cook at the centre of most things that mattered. A masterpiece that ought to be much better known.

The Ghoul (1933)

 "I shall be among the trees, waiting..."

There are quite a few '30s horror films, in the wake of Frankenstein, starring Boris Karloff. They are, as you would expect B movies. They have their charms, I'm rather fond of them, but you wouldn't mostly say they were actually very good.

Except this one.

Plot-wise, it's nothing special: an old man with a stolen Egyptian artifact manages to cheat death by means of ancient yet cursed magic. Yet the cast is startlingly excellent. Not only is there Karloff but also a typically camp Ernest Thesiger, a delightfully dastardly Cedric Harwicke, and even an alarmingly young and splendidly splenetic Anthony Bushelll as our heroic yet delightfully rude leading man. We even get Ralph bloody Richardson.

The film is well shot, certainly more so than one would expect for a B movie in the period. There are some nice touches- the leading lady's friend has a genuinely funny infatuation with a visiting "sheikh", clearly not having got over Rudolph Valentino. There's a comedy vicar who turns out to be not quite what he seems. Most of all, there's genuine suspense so that, despite the slow pace, there's none of the dragging quality often found with these sorts of films. 

An unexpectedly pleasant surprisew. Even Karloff's relatively limited screen time can't spoil this one.

Things to Come (1936)

 "There may be an air raid, but it is not likely to be a dangerous one."

The quote above may have tickled me somewhat, the opening titles may be big and epic in a way that would later be subtly spoofed, not least by the Monty Python movies... but this is a serious film, with what little humour there is of the grimmer sort. It's also rather superb, with superlatively stylish direction, sets and costumes matched admirably by a magnificent cast headed by the highly impressive Raymond Massey.

It's bloody good. That's dealt with. But far more interesting is to look at how the future was seen in 1936 by the seventy year old H.G. Wells. This is no Whig version of future history with uninterrupted progress, but nor do we see the socialist utopia we may perhaps have expected from Wells. Mercifully, there's no hint of any of that eugenics nonsense.

What there is, though, is a war beginning eerily close to when the Second War would actually start, perhaps not hard to guess at the time: the international politics is kept intentionally vague, but the identity of the enemy was, I suspect, clear to the original audience. The devastation of the bombing of the city reflects, perhaps, a "the bomber will always get through" mentality and the prediction that there would be no declaration of war (such barbarism!) predicted not so much the Second War but every single war ever fought since then.  

The war lasts for twenty-six horrifying years, and is followed by a plague- interesting viewing in 2021. We see a near-collapse of civilisation with much warlordism and philistine dismissal of culture and technology as everything declines... until a bunch of grim, sonorous airmen save us all with their friendly chemical weapons. We then get a progress montage until it's 2036, mankind is set  to fly around the Moon for the first time... but a load of luddites riot against progress for some reason.

Yes, it may be described as po-faced. But it's gripping, really well-made and a fascinating look at a time, eighty-five years ago, when the future looked like this and a wife could say that she wanted to "serve" her husband and make him "heppy" without raising too many eyebrows. A unique and wonderful film, and a true visual triumph.

Tales from the Crypt (1972)

"Who's next? Perhaps... you?"

At last I get to see a proper Amicus portmanteau film; I’ve been meaning to for ages. And this one certainly doesn’t disappoint. The format means the film never flags, and the top notch cast and direction make for a superbly unsettling experience.

I’ve never read any of the EC comics upon this was based (although I certainly do know that Dr Fredric Wertham smelled of poo, and was a quack to boot) but I get a distinct impression of the lurid style here, and highly entertaining here. The framing device is simple; a bunch of tourists get lost in a crypt and accosted by a sinister monk, who speaks with the actorly tones of none other than Ralph Richardson, who is having enormous fun here. We hear their sinister stories one by one until the conclusion gives us a delightful twist.

All of the stories are compelling, although some more than others, and there are standout performances from the likes of Peter Cushing in one of his best roles, but the segments are carried well by the likes of Joan Collins, Ian Hendry and an unrecognisable Richard Greene, too old for Sherwood Forest. There are powerful moments- the Balentine’s Card scene is heartbreaking- and the comeuppance of the mean major by the blind men he’s been mistreating is glorious. I’m not sure it’s an obvious leap from EC Comics to a film directed by Freddie Francis and crammed with British character actors, but it really works.

Time Bandits (1981)

"Four foot one! That is a long time, isn't it?"

This isn't really all that brilliant a film, in spite of some splendid individual bits of comedy, but it's a fascinating record of Terry Gilliam at this point in his career, with stylistic signs of his later directorial career yet with one foot very much still in Python- the film just feels very Monty Python, not surprisingly as Gilliam co-wrote it with Michael Palin, and both Palin and John Cleese get some splendid cameos: I love Cleese's version of Robin Hood as Prince Charles. And, as with the Python films, the owner of Handmade Films, one George Harrison, is involved, in this case providing a rather good song.

Also brilliant are Ian Holm's height- obsessed Napoleon and Sean Connery's noble and charismatic Agamemnon, complete with the Caledonian tones which were, I'm sure, de rigeur in ancient Mycenae. David Warner is, as ever, a magnificent baddie and the great Ralph Richardson is, literally, God, although he phoned in his performance somewhat.

The whole concept of a portal in young Kevin's bedroom, a portal into other realities that does not abide by the laws of science, is so very reminiscent of British children's fiction, from Alice to Narnia. The dwarves, put in charge of shrubbery by the Supreme Being, remind me a bit of Slartibartfast from the then-recent Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy, while also providing a good employment agency for dwarf actors.

It's not as good as I remembered; individual scenes are good but as a whole it drags a bit. Still, it's a fascinating film to look back on.

Battle of Britain (1969)

"So don't threaten or dictate to us until you're marching up Whitehall. And even then we won't listen."

Well, that was strangely underwhelming. I'm British. I hate the Nazis. The real, historical Battle of Britain puts fire in my belly. So why is it that this film leaves my belly distinctly cold?

What's especially surprising about this is that the film has an extraordinary cast- Lawrence Olivier is particularly superb as the drily realistic Hugh Dowding. Yet none of the characters have enough screen time, or are sufficiently fleshed out, to make a difference. Michael Caine, in particular, is wasted on a role that doesn't give him anything to do and then suddenly killed off. The only exception to all this is Curd Jurgens' charismatic general, and he's a bloody Nazi. Still, at least Ralph Richardson gets a magnificent speech in his cameo.

It must be said, too, that this film is a little deceptive in implying that Britain would have been finished if it had lost the Battle of Britain. It wouldn't. Just Google "Operation Sealion" for why. Large parts of the country are out of German bombers' air range, for a start, and there's the entire Home Fleet waiting at Scapa Flow, in an age where accurate bombing of ships was simply not a thing.

There are a couple of nice moments- I like the bit where German POWs are made to clear up their own mess- but sadly this is a film that fails to raise my patriotic heckles. A slow, meandering missed opportunity.