For whom the bell tolls… Black Narcissus (1947), Cinema Ritrovato XXXVII, 2023 Part 2

If, watching one of the greatest British films, on a fresh 35mm copy (created in 2020 from an interpositive printed from the original three-strip negatives...) and on the biggest screen possible with thousands of others in Bologna’s Piazza Maggiore is not peak Cinema Ritrovato then I don’t know what is… In fairness this is a festival with many summits yet how many of those are introduced by leading Archers-ologist and “friend of the band” Ian Christie and, especially, one of cinema’s finest editors and, for ten years, Mrs Michael Powell, Thelma Schoonmaker.

 

If Ivan was Man of the Week in Silence then surely our Man of the Week in talkies, and some silents, has definitely been Michael Powell as we’ve been treated to restorations of some of his so-called Quota Quickies which in an excellent primer for the series, Christie and Schoonmaker explained were often budgeted on one pound sterling per foot in an attempt to protect British film when the American talkies were just out-competing the domestic industry. An act of parliament resulted which insisted that British films be shown before any imported headliner. They were of varying quality but, as Alexander Korda’s Reservation for Ladies (1932 and recently screened on stunning nitrate stock at the BFI) showed, an able director could do a lot with the right talent available.

 

Powell, who learned his trade in the South of France working in any capacity he could to aid Rex Ingram, first produced a series of silent comedy travelogues in which he played the odd butterfly collector who also did all his own stunts. They’re charming and a vital piece in the projected Powell history I had never seen, slapstick but doing the main job of making the locations look interesting.

Riviera Revels, Michael Powell as Cisero Simp in the snow 

The “quickies” followed and these were definitely a mixed bag each one of which shows the director making the most of cast, crew and budget as well as his tightly regimented small ensembles. First up,  Hotel Splendide (1932) is a fun piece with that well-drilled troupe making the most of classic but predictable misunderstandings; pretty much a farce with extra beats for cross-dressing and criminality. I was less impressed with His Lordship (1932) about an impoverished nobleman who prefers plumbing to the ‘ouse of Lords, it’s still worth watching though for some cheery songs that occasionally rise above mere British “pluck” (code: giving your all on a limited budget).

 

Something Always Happens (1935) was my favourite not least for the easy-going assurance of Ian Hunter whose character Peter always believes his salvation is only just a flash of luck and sales genius away… the stakes rise suddenly when he “adopts” a waif and stray (excellent performance from young John Singer as Billy and then meets an attractive young women, Cynthia (Nancy O’Neil) who encourages him to pitch his revolutionary ideas about forecourt trading to the market leader and notorious corporate killer, Benjamin Hatch (Peter Gawthorne) who is, unbeknownst to Peter, Hatch’s daughter.

 

Nancy O’Neil and youngJohn Singer with Ian Hunter

Peter heads off to the competition and really brings it on the Hatch crew who, at some point are going to have to recognise the man’s business genius as well as the fact that he’s won the heart of hard-hearted Hatch’s daughter.  Powell was pleased, writing in his autobiography, A Life in Movies: “A very good comedy… We played it all out for laughs and great speed, excellent dialogue. It was about a chap who never pays for anything.”

The Red Ensign (1934) was another more successful project helped considerably by the lead actor, Leslie Banks as shipping magnate David Barr. It’s a bit of a propaganda film calling for workers to support the ideas of new leaders as the country fought to revive its merchant navy – those who fly the Red Ensign – in the face of competition from across the globe. Barr has a revolutionary new idea to improve loads and capacity but he needs to persuade his stuffy old directors to invest and his loyal workers to skip the odd payment, it’s flag-waving fantasy but still effective drama. I wonder what happened…

 

Judy Gunn is not impressed with Louis Hayward

The Love Test (1935) was promising with Judy Gunn’s Mary Lee being the leading scientist of a group dedicated to the discovery of flame-proof celluloid. When the time comes and her boss has to resign for his health, Dr Mary is the obvious choice to run the team but, not so, comes the response from all but one of the old school chauvinists who will now be working under her. Rather disappointingly they decide the thing to do is to get one of the team, John Gregg (Louis Hayward) to romance her and put her off the project through his manly wiles… He doesn’t want to do it but former school bullied like Thomson (Dave Hutcheson), clearly have no interest in science just one-upmanship.

 

It's a rather depressing premise and one that threatens to run away with the film in then end… thank Heavens for a classy, brassy secretary Minnie (Googie Withers in her first part?), who outshines most of the dinosaurs. 1935, and industrial competition at a height and these men only want to mess around to bring their female boss down? I don’t think so.

 

On a lighter note, the Phantom Light (1935) is a perfectly serviceable adventure featuring some lovely location work in Snowdonia as well as the classic situation of an isolated lighthouse in a storm with a killer on board. Ian Hunter is in board as is the ace Gordon Harker, so you know it’s going to be well acted. Then there’s Liverpool’s Binnie Hale to prove that high heels are the correct response to any crisis and Donald Calthrop to provide much needed gravitas.

Close to the edge... Eric Berry and Belle Chrystall

By 1937, Powell had achieved enough to be given a larger project, The Edge of the World, to be filmed on the remote island of Foula with a cast including Finlay Currie and the great John Laurie which examined the recent depopulation of the island of St Kilda in the 1920s as the economy dwindled, young folk opted for the mainland and the critical communal mass broke down.

 

Here Powell is the anti-Flaherty – the two we not on good terms as per Ian Christie - with the Englishman preferring to use actual actors for his acting and presenting a way of life in more pointed and honest ways. EOTW is about as political as Powell gets as he highlights the failure of government to support the islanders as they drown their dogs and cut their losses in the saddest of circumstances. I wonder what happened to the folk of St Kilda, Rachel Johnson, the last of the native St Kildans, died in April 2016 at the age of 93, having been evacuated at the age of eight… what stories did she and other tell of their traumatic changes?

 

It’s a beautiful film to watch with highly-skilled cinematography, consistency of tone and vision, "Edge" is infused throughout with Powell's trademark mysticism. It clearly features many of the signature elements that would underpin his wonderful career. Made over many difficult months in the remote and inhospitable environment of the island of Foula, having been refused permission to film on the deserted St Kilda, the making of the film was an epic adventure in itself. ("200,000 feet on Foula" was Powell's original title for his book on the making of the film and references the immense amount of footage shot.)

 

Apart from Currie and Laurie there are smart turns from Eric Berry as the gifted engineer Robbie Manson who wants to use his skills in the wider world; Belle Chrystall, as his sister Ruth (possibly the only woman with plucked eyebrows in the whole of the western isles...) who is being romanced by Niall MacGinnis’ Andrew Gray. The three are the future of the island and that’s on or off depending on the outcome of a treacherous cliff race and the immovable object of Laurie versus Currie’s gentler but no less resolute pragmatism.

Findlay and John

It's a film to relish on the big screen as is Black Narcissus which looks simply remarkable for a film of its vintage and which was filmed largely in studio and in England… across every element this is near perfection from Powell and Pressburger, Jack Cardiff and Alfred Junge with W. Percy Day's eye-boggling matte painting. The colours are stunning, the images sparkle, and Deborah Kerr, Kathleen Byron, David Farrah and company are all magical. The film manages to convey an eerie sense of place, huge scale and yet all crowded in by the distance all around and the endless wind pushing through everything, a restless force that crushes all but the hardiest of souls.

 

There’ll be more time to examine all of these things in more detail for the BFI’s Autumn Powell Festival but this selection, and the stunning centrepiece, really whetted the appetite not just for a broader appreciation of Powell and Pressburger’s work, but also the director’s separate projects. It’s going to be a fascinating programme and likely one which will make us see the Archers and their most frequent collaborators in a different light: the best of British Cinema operating at a high level less than a decade after we almost lost the industry for ever. Thank goodness the Government of the day intervened and that we still had the talent to make the most of the opportunity offered.

 

See them all at the BFI in October, meanwhile thanks to the Cinema Ritrovato for showing the international appeal of Britain’s greatest film makers.

 

*I missed just one film in the strand, Her Last Affair (1936), something to save for London especially as it features another show-steeling turn from Googie Withers not to mention John Laurie.

W. Percy Day's craft and 

Special relationships… Separate Tables (1958), BFI Dual Format

Featuring a mighty cast list including a host of great British character actors, Separate Tables famously saw David Niven win a long overdue Oscar and Wendy Hiller deservedly winning Best Supporting Actress. This adaptation of Terence Rattigan’s play – or rather plays – is a “home game” for the Brits and no one is over-shadowed by the glamour of Rita Hayworth or the muscularity of Burt Lancaster, strangers in this strange land of repression and ancient manners… the film was however, shot entirely in Hollywood.

In his commentary, director Delbert Mann, says that a sound stage was the only way of creating a cinematic narrative based on a play with originally just two sets: the living room and the dining room with those separate tables. Harry Horner’s innovative design used a lot of glass which not only gave an impression of the hotel space it also showed action around the characters. Even as the film begins, and the camera pulls towards the hotel, we can see the characters moving inside and, many times after this, action continues beyond the glass either inside or outside. As Burt Lancaster’s character goes outside we can see Rita Hayworth’s already following him – this constant motion creates a very fluid rhythm for the film as characters move from one scene to the next and the narrative baton is passed directly onto the next runner.

Wendy Hiller, a midfield general moving the narrative through Harry Horner's glass set

The glass also allows for some sublime lighting both from without the “rooms” as well as within; for example, one room is darkly lit for an intimate scene between Burt and Rita but with a glow from outside the walls reminding us of the pressures of their circumstance.

It’s such a well-controlled and thoroughly entertaining film that it’s hard to believe Mann was initially reluctant about directing given the “Britishness” of the story. He was duly sent to Bournemouth to find out more about the largely-retired population that informed Rattigan’s work – the writer’s mother lived there along with other inspirations for his characters – and this re-assured him that, fundamentally, this was a universal story about loneliness and fear.

Rita Hayworth and Burt Lancaster sitting at their own tables

Separate Tables was originally two separate stories featuring the same two actors playing the four leads with only the hotel manager, Miss Cooper, playing the same character across the two parts. Mann merged the two narratives together and had Rattigan re-write with help from John Gay. The result is a masterclass of ensemble playing honed not only by the theatrical experience of the largely British cast but also Mann’s insistence on rehearsing for three weeks before shooting. His camera direction and placing of the characters in the controlled space of the set is masterful.

As we begin, the camera moves down as Sibyl Railton-Bell (Deborah Kerr) walks out of the Beauregard Hotel, and sits pensively on the steps, sad face framed by the iron railings of the place she lives under her mother’s command. She is waiting for her friend Major David Angus Pollock (David Niven) to come back from his walk and when he does the two share a strange intimacy; his cliched formalities hiding something and she tentative and far younger than her years. Inside the Beauregard they are greeted coolly by her mother Mrs. Maud Railton-Bell (Gladys Cooper, forces’ sweetheart from the Great War and one of the great Dames of 20th Century theatre), who is clearly not impressed with the Major and barely tolerant of her daughter.

Deborah Kerr: you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave?

Mann establishes his characters quickly and economically and we soon understand the other residents, mild-mannered Lady Gladys Matheson (Cathleen Nesbitt), Racing Post subscriber Miss Meacham (May Hallatt, who played the role in London and on Broadway) and retired teacher Mister Fowler (Felix Aylmer) who will spend the day waiting in vain for a former pupil to arrive. Almost everyone is older than they want to be and lonely, even Sibyl, prevented by her mother from the slightest independence.

The exceptions are a couple of young students, Charles (Rod Taylor) and Jean (Audrey Dalton) who have booked the Hotel for revision and a little more.

Deborah Kerr and David Niven, two lonely people

Buzzing purposely around her guests is the hotel manager Pat Cooper (Wendy Hiller) who keeps her head whilst so many are about to lose theirs… and despite Doreen (a lovely cameo from Priscilla Morgan, who will one day marry Clive Dunn), a waitress with attitude.

Then Hollywood comes staggering drunkenly through the patio doors in the form of Burt Lancaster playing John Malcolm, a writer who lubricates his work with frequent trips to the local pub. John and Pat are engaged but the latter is perhaps under no illusions; why does her man drink so much?

Then a car pulls up and the guests rush to the window to see a glamorous new arrival, Anne Shankland (Rita Hayworth); two Americans in Bournemouth at the same time? As John sits down at his table for dinner his mouth drops as he sees Anne, his former wife, seemingly diverted to the seaside on route to her wedding to catch up with her ex…

I read the news today, oh boy...

Meanwhile the Major has seen something shocking in the local paper, he has been put on probation for inappropriate behaviour towards women in the local cinema and what had been private is now public. Before long, Mrs. Railton-Bell, discovering his secret and the truth of his rank and background, is agitating to have him removed from the hotel. Sibyl is beside herself, her friend guilty of such behaviour… her worst nightmare from the only man she trusts.

The two stories play out in balance, a narrative challenge especially as resolution nears, but the passions are well balanced between Mrs R-B’s puritanical mania and the still vibrant affections of John and Anne. In the middle of both is Pat… in love but logical.

Pat has John's number

Wendy Hiller was apparently reluctant to play the role after seeing that Miss Cooper was less significant than in the stage play but she is excellent – the glue holding everything together, a moral and physical centre connecting the characters as she maintains order in the Beauregard. Mann praised Hiller for her consistency of performance and style; she never over-emphasises but it’s all there and you know what she’s thinking as the bravest person in the hotel, no doubt with a huge backstory we can only glimpse.

For Rita Hayworth this was quite unlike anything else she’d ever done, and Mann said he thought she “frightened to death” with all the experience around her but this was one of the roles she was proudest of.

Rita radiates

In David Niven’s case he tapped into depths Mann didn’t expect he could given the distance between himself and the “Major”, he’s superb throughout and if the last scene doesn’t bring a tear to your eye you may need to check your heart. That’s partly down to Deborah Kerr and Mann was convinced that if her part hadn’t been cut down to speed up the introduction of the Hollywood contingent (not his choice) she may well have won the Oscar she was nominated for.

Separate Tables is out on 20^th August on BFI dual format and comes with a handsome booklet and extras including Mann’s commentary and an in-depth audio interview with Burt Reynolds at the BFI in 1972.

Essential watching and listening available from the BFI onlineand in their shop. If you're quick you can pre-order!

Gladys Cooper in 1958 and back in the 1910s...

The art of war... The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (1943)

'No people in the world other than the English would have had the courage, in the midst of war, to tell the people such unvarnished truth…' Anton Walbrook to Winston Churchill (allegedly…)

Of all the war films made by Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger perhaps none challenged the notion of propaganda quite so much as Colonel Blimp. They didn’t want simple preaching but to engage their viewers in their own rational support for war. There are no simple atrocities, no easy clichés and there are even Germans to admire: following on from Eric Portman’s character in 49th Parallel – a brave soldier doing what he must for his country.

Roger Livesey and Anton Walbrook

Perhaps Pressburger’s European view gave them “balance” but I don’t think he was alone in thinking that in order to truly win support for the war you had to help people really understand it and not just generate hate. You also had to respect the opposition and to differentiate professional soldiers from the Nazis: ”the single most evil concept ever bought to life by the human mind”.

In Colonel Blimp extra spice is added by the Archers’ ostensible attack on the traditionalist “Blimps” running the forces who were more wedded to misguided concepts of honour than the need to fight like-with-like against a new generation of enemies who are entirely unrestrained by principle and the Rules of War.

Blimp in the bath

Naturally, elements of the establishment were confused... The fact that Colonel Blimp had been a cartoon strip specialising in buffoon-bashing didn’t help and nor did the good Colonel’s vague resemblance to Britain’s larger than life Prime Minister…But it was never that simple: it never is in the films of Powell and Pressburger.

Colonel Blimp starts off showing us the old and the complacent: stubbornly sticking to the way things should be done… but then it shows us how this man came to be. Turns out he was far more daring, far more dashing than even the young Captain who decides to humble him by attacking six hours before their manoeuvers are due to start.

Protean charmer...

Powell cleverly swims us back in time after Blimp, (Clive Wynne-Candy - played by protean charmer Roger Livesey) pushes this upstart into the bath at his club then emerges out the other side forty years and several dozen promotions lighter. He’s a hero from the Boer War recently awarded the Victoria Cross and  he sets off to Germany in order to help a young Englishwoman who has sought his help in silencing a pro-Boer propagandist: Edith Hunter (Deborah Kerr – we’ll see more of her…).

Deborah Kerr 1 and Deborah Kerr 3...

Candy can’t help but get into trouble driven on by chivalry and his sense of duty. He ends up having to fight a sabre duel with a German officer, Theo Kretschmar-Schuldorff (Anton Walbrook) another who respects honour above his own life and even his natural distaste for the duel. This scene is so well done, as the build-up is shown  in painstaking detail…all the rules of the Prussian duel-book are followed and then, as our two men engage with elegant flashing blades, Powell’s camera lifts up and far above the gymnasium, as snow falls in picture-book silence over the scene around the hall.

The duel...

Cut forward a few hours to a hospital in which both men are recovering, Candy from a slice across his upper lip – eight stiches - and Kretschmar-Schuldorff from a gash on his forehead – 12 stitches… a score-draw, honours almost even. Edith is persuaded to stay on to help provide a cover for Clive’s unauthorised adventure: the fight is to have been over her honour and not the respective armed forces of Britain and Germany. How elegantly the rules are obeyed by both sides.

Anton Walbrook and Deborah Kerr

If it wasn’t clear by now, it soon is apparent that these two military men share similar values. In spite of speaking little of each other’s language the two soon become firm friends with Edith as an interpreter, card companion and romantic interest… Clive is too unaware to notice but even as he congratulates Theo on his engagement to Edith he realises that he has made the most awful mistake…

Clive leaves but he never stops loving Edith. As the year’s roll on and into the War to End All Wars… he keeps seeing her face and eventually marries a Yorkshire nurse Barbara Wynne (Deborah Kerr), after the war, who looks very much the same.

Deborah Kerr 2 and Roger Livesey

Clive encounters Theo in defeat at a prisoner of war camp and the two eventually re-connect as Clive and his other victorious friends try to persuade the German that there’s life after defeat…

Time shifts forward shown by the growth of Clive’s hunting trophies in his den… a succession of Zebra, Rhino, Elephants and other now endangered species attach themselves all showing the locations of their “bagging”  -  a clever device: how else to show the extent of Empire?

Livesey and Laurie

Another shift to 1943 sees Clive considerably older and now relegated to the Home Guard. He’s still aided by his former driver from the Great War: Murdoch played by the great John Laurie…without whom no P&P film would be complete! His new driver is altogether younger and better looking:  a redhead called Angela "Johnny" Cannon (Deborah Kerr again…).

So, women have gone from agitating for men to help them, getting stuck in as war nurses and finally to active combat (albeit as a driver) – so equal they even have men’s names…

"Johnny’s” boyfriend is the over-eager young man who shows Clive and co that you now need to break the rules of war in order to win and this is a message reinforced by Theo as Clive encounters him again as a refugee trying to escape the Nazis.

Theo is detained by suspicious immigration officers and gives a moving account of just how low his country has fallen under the rule of men he barely considers German. This was highly personal not just for the Austrian Walbrook but also for the Hungarian Pressburger whose grandson, Kevin Macdonald, confirms just how close to home the feelings expressed were.

Wake up calls...

Theo too feels that Clive and many Britons needed to adjust to the requirements of fighting total war against an enemy that would do anything to win: never mind kicking off early. Clive cannot take it in and refuses to accept his redundancy even after he gets side-lined… Yet, it’s the death of the Blimp but not of the Colonel … his self-respect is re-focused and he knows there’s still a place for his values only if he puts his faith in those of the younger generation.

Like all Powell and Pressburger films, Colonel Blimp leaves much to ponder but by treating its audience with such respect it leaves them thinking even at a time when the government just wanted them fighting. Yet the majority of those who saw the film would have been on the Home Front and would have needed such rational fare to help sustain them through the closing years of this bitter conflict… a time when the game genuinely did change and Britain did indeed have to find itself anew in the World that remained.

The admirable Anton

The three (five!?) leads are magnificent, Deborah Kerr playing three women kind of based on one, with such conviction that you might be confused if you didn’t already know her face so well. Anton Walbrook acts in such powerful silence that he draws the eye in almost every scene: so sad and angrily-dignified, he sees much more than Candy, having lost early enough in life to learn the skills of adaption.

Then there’s Roger Livesey, initially so unrecognisable as the dashing Laird of Kiloran from I Know Where I’m Going, but who clearly relishes the chance to play a character with less depth and more journey… Were P&P addressing the nature of heroism? Was Candy too insensitive to be a real hero or just blinded by absolute certainty and belief in the greatness of his country?

Old and middle-aged Candy

The Archers, as always, manage to celebrate Britishness whilst also poking holes in its contradictions. But you’re always more hurtful to the one you love and above all they believe in the fairness as much as the fighting spirit: trusting in both.

All filmed in amazing Technicolor by the magical Jack Cardiff, Colonel Blimp looks freshly minted in the recently-released Blu-Ray edition. It comes with an old-fangled DVD and a half hour documentary on the film along with comments on the restoration from Archers mega-fan Martin Scorsese.

I haven’t seen the film for a while and it’s never looked better: Powell and Pressburger on Blu-Ray…you know it makes sense!

It’s available from Movie Mail and all Amazons at very reasonable prices…