When it comes to the well-known Ealing comedies, those 6
or 7 films that (for many people) define what ‘Ealing’ means within British
film culture, it is difficult for me to pick a favourite. The Man in the White Suit (1951) has real bite to it, a pitch-black
satire which shares some similarities with the earlier Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949) and later The Ladykillers (1955); yet the wish-fulfilment of Passport to Pimlico (1949) is
wonderfully performed and presented, and (as readers of the blog know) I do
have a soft-spot for the film often described as the lesser of the comedies, The Titfield Thunderbolt (1953). Yet this
film cannot be ignored, not least for its sheer pace, inventiveness and for the
strength of Alec Guinness’ performance.
The story of Henry ‘Dutch’ Holland (Guinness), a minor
bowler-hatted bank functionary among thousands of his ilk, and the fulfilment
of his (long-held) desire to steal the gold bullion he shepherds from foundry to
bank vault, is likely well known. Planning the heist with his artist friend
Alfred Pendlebury (Stanley Holloway) and crooks Lackery Wood (Sid James) and
Shorty Fisher (Alfie Bass), the film shows us how this small repressed man
changes into a new character through his criminal endeavours. That the scheme –
melting the stolen gold into Eiffel Tower models that can be transported to Paris
– ultimately fails is immaterial to the film’s real interest in Holland’s
blossoming.
As much a tour de
force for Guinness as Kind Hearts
(although less showy), there are key scenes – most notably when Holland arrives
back at the bank with a spring in his step (having recruited crooks and put
plans in place), only to visibly shrink and deflate back to his ‘work’ persona
when called into see his boss. Equally, the moment where Holland realises he is
in charge of this gang, or where he sees the trust that Lackery and Shorty have
placed in him, confirm Guinness’ ability to inscribe the character with nuanced
gesture and expression.
The film also contains many strong visual moments:
Holland and Pendlebury running down the central stairway of the Eiffel Tower is
well known (and a nice visual link to an earlier scene where Holland was made
to spin on the spot to make it easier for Lackery to tie him up), but the film
also contains strong location work (seemingly shot on the same streets around
St Pauls and the City as Pool of London
(1951), which was produced a few months earlier), a speedily-edited car chase
montage (that harks back to Pool of
London and 1950s The Blue Lamp),
and a strong sequence where Lackery and Shorty are recruited into the gang in a
shadowy warehouse (notably Shorty’s initial entrance, as a monstrous and
misshapen shadow cast on the wall, then revealed to be the diminutive Alfie
Bass). Equally, a single-shot sequence following Holland – hailed as a hero –
from room to room in the bank, from Chief Cashier to the Chairman and Board of
Directors, perfectly conveys Holland’s growing sense of himself but adds a nice
satirical note that only in organising this robbery has he achieved this level
of success at the institution he just robbed.
The film maintains a solid balance between its whimsy –
Holloway plays Pendlebury as a scatter-brained Shakespeare-quoting twit, the
laughing schoolgirls who inadvertently buy six of the mob’s Eiffel Towers – and
its broader comic moments. Holland reads pulpy crime novel You’d Look Well in a Shroud to his landlady, Miss Evesham (Edie
Martin); Lackery, stuck next to the safe he’s trying to break into, tucks into
a sandwich; Holland has to mess up and rip his own clothes to establish his
alibi after the robbery; French immigration and customs prevent Holland and
Pendlebury from boarding a ship. These moments punctuate and inform the film’s
strong and propulsive narrative, which only shows signs of flagging in Holland
and Pendlebury’s pursuit of the final Eiffel Tower statue back in England and
the slapstick chase through a police museum exhibition that ensues. This
sequence works, but the move into broader comedy does pull the film away from
the blacker and satiric edge the earlier scenes contained. It does, however,
point up an underlying interest in technology – the large advert for Ekcovision
Television behind Pendlebury as he waits for the heist to begin; the wireless
radio police cars in the chase – and the potential misuse of such technology,
given Holland’s ability to mislead the police using the radio.
At the end of the film, the contrast of the versions of
Holland the film has presented to us becomes clear: pursued by the police,
Holland is able to return to his persona as a ‘non-entity’ among thousands,
losing himself among a crowd of other bowler-hatted city gents; as the film
cuts to Holland in Rio (these sequences bookend the film), however, it is clear
that his meek persona has been replaced by a confident and happy one (fuelled
by money and status), even when he is being taken back to Britain in handcuffs
(a lovely reveal, right at the end, as he and the policeman stand up from their
table). If this film, as has been claimed, is a drama of wish-fulfilment, then
Holland’s dream came true and (as we can see in that final scene) remains true
even when captivity looms.
[The Lavender Hill
Mob is released by Studio Canal on DVD and Blu-Ray, see www.studiocanal.co.uk for more details]
Next time, we head back 'down under' for Ealing Films' The Shiralee (1957)...
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