setsuled: (Skull Tree)


Films noir are, in part, reflections of the psychological impact of the horrors of World War II. Few films noir show this more explicitly than 1947's They Made Me a Fugitive in which a former RAF pilot and prisoner of war turns to a life of crime. Constantly finding himself getting more than he bargained for and being punished for crimes worse than he's committed, Clem finds himself in a painfully murky realm. Reflected in great visuals of drenched, grimy stone alleyways, the sense of being trapped by new realisations of the human capacity for cruelty is reasserted again and again. This effective film also spends a great deal of time focusing on how women fit into this world as victims and as perpetrators of crime.



Trevor Howard, especially bitter and dishevelled, plays Clem, whom we meet after the gang who recruits him. Led by an unambiguous psychopath who goes by Narcy (Griffith Jones), short for Narcissus, they use a phoney mortuary to move stolen goods in coffins. Narcy brings in Clem because he says they need someone with class, something he says Clem was born into.



This statement is immediately brought to the ironic turn of Clem's introduction where we see him completely sauced at a tavern with his girlfriend and partner in crime, Ellie (Eve Ashley). He sobers up for the job, though, so he has the wherewithal to argue about the first of many things he doesn't like--the stolen goods turn out to be drugs.



Before long, he's framed for murdering a cop and Narcy's stolen his girlfriend. In prison he meets Sally, played by Sally Gray who's billed before Howard in the credits. She's really good--beautiful, cool, and with a constantly simmering edge. She visits Clem, claiming to the guards to be his sister, despite knowing him only by reputation. She's connected to Narcy's gang through her friend Cora (Rene Ray), girlfriend of the man who killed the cop Clem took the fall for. It's not really clear why Sally's so fascinated with Clem except she's the only one who knows how Clem's been railroaded without having a reason to feel thankful for it.



Unsurprisingly, Clem doesn't really believe she's trying to help him. With all the bad breaks he's had, it's no wonder he doesn't trust anyone and Howard conveys this bitter, well-earned pessimism convincingly with a perpetual harsh grin. All this distrust doesn't prevent him from running afoul of another murder frame, this time from a woman (Vida Hope) who rightly observes she can easily pin crimes on a guy the world already has pegged as a killer. This is nicely juxtaposed with him telling her about how his role was defined for him when he wore a uniform. Now he finds himself being drafted into the role of killer but more blame put on his head for it.



Sally and Cora both suffer a lot of abuse and both, Cora in particular, have to bear a burden of knowing they hurt someone and feeling responsible even if the alternative was taking a beating. The film makes its point pretty sharply before concluding with a fantastic, messy fight sequence in the mortuary. Involving several people, it's wonderfully edited with seamless shifting from one point of view shot to another establishing who's lost a gun, who's reaching for a gun without someone else noticing, who's exposed to potential gunshots or punches. No-one in the scene fights like Superman, the fist fights dissolve almost to tumbling that's never ridiculous because an atmosphere is kept up reminding you how deadly serious it all is and how precariously everyone's perched on the edge of doom.

setsuled: (Doctor Chess)


I'm often surprised by the light-hearted attitude 1940s British comedies take towards World War II. A vivid example being 1946's I See a Dark Stranger, a comedy spy thriller about a naive Irishwoman who becomes a spy for Germany during the war. The film is a finely crafted enough comedy by Sidney Gilliat and Frank Launder and I couldn't help feeling affection for the characters even as I felt its treatment might be a bit too breezy. On other hand, maybe something like this wasn't wholly a bad idea at a time when Britain, Ireland, and Germany were trying to find a way of being at peace with each other after bitter conflict.



The film's opening scene is really remarkable for its context. Set in a pub in an Irish village, an old man tells a story of fighting in the Irish Revolution and stirringly describes killing English soldiers. Mind you, this is a British film. If the Irish characters here seem a bit buffoonish, they're no worse than the English characters shown later on. In fact, they're a bit less buffoonish.



Deborah Kerr, whose Irish accent sounds a lot more natural than her American accent, plays Bridie Quilty who's been raised on the stories of the revolution, her father having fought in it. It being her twenty first birthday, she decides to go to Dublin and meet with her father's old comrade, Michael O'Callaghan (Brefni O'Rorke), to join the IRA. To her disappointment, O'Callaghan has come to accept peace with Britain and tries to convince her to do likewise. O'Rorke plays the character as calm and wise in contrast to Bridie's youthful rashness and I suspect part of the motive with this film was to reassure British audiences that Ireland was an ally and dissenters were sentimental old men and adorable young fools. On the one hand, it's a nice idea to put everyone at ease with each other, on the other, it's a bit patronising. Still, O'Callaghan comes across as easily the wisest character in the film.



Spotted in a bookshop buying books on learning the German language, Bridie's recruited by a German spy who goes by the name of Miller (Raymond Huntley). Of all places, he puts her on assignment in an English town with a statue of Oliver Cromwell, whom Bridie takes every opportunity throughout the film to curse.



And, wouldn't you know, Miller has her seduce a British officer named David Baynes (Trevor Howard) who says he's there because he's working on a thesis on Cromwell. As with the explicit details of World War II and the Irish Revolution, Bridie never manages to say precisely why she and everyone back home hate Cromwell so much. Discussing slaughter at the hands of Cromwell and his men at Drogheda would risk making Bridie not seem so foolish.



Because the German agent is a buffoon, his assumption that David is an intelligence officer based on the fact that David says he's not in town to fish turns out to be utterly wrong. This puts Bridie into a rage after she's wasted a whole afternoon falling in love with David. Miller's not nearly as buffoonish, though, as the leader of the German spies in England we meet later played by a portly Norman Shelley in a ridiculous check sport coat and boater hat.



Witnessing his interrogation technique of slapping someone in the face a few times can only seem insultingly trite at this point.

But meanwhile, the British COs in the Isle of Man, where Bridie and David end up, are a strange pair of philandering big men with matching moustaches and bald heads who routinely fumble in their jobs.



The film actually shows some British military police getting shot so I wonder how comfortable war veterans were laughing at this movie. But many of the gags are very good and the leads are charming.

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